Chapter 43 : White/Hundred (4)

“I’ll hang myself. I don’t need wires.”

The atmosphere on set froze. Kim Dohyung, feigning confusion, tilted his head.

“You… want to what?”
“Hang myself.”

At Haram’s blunt reply, the director’s face hardened.

“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“It’s dangerous. We don’t have the proper safety equipment, and the potential for injury is too high. It’s simply not feasible.”
“What if the risk is worth the reward?”

Dohyung groaned inwardly. He rubbed his eyes, sighed, and then said,

“You didn’t like the revised storyboard?”
“It was fine.”
“Then why change it?”
“It wasn’t… good enough.”

Filming the previous scene had made me realize something. The act of hanging herself was crucial to understanding Seol’s character.

Seol was both innocent and cruel. Like a child tearing the wings off a butterfly, as Dohyung had said. I had to convey that unsettling juxtaposition to the audience.

The close-ups and fragmented shots in the storyboard would make the audience think, but it wouldn’t evoke the visceral reaction I wanted.

“You’re not entirely satisfied with it either, are you?”

Dohyung knew. He knew that my original vision for the scene was… perfect.

But practical considerations, budgetary constraints, and concerns about my safety had forced him to compromise. And I didn’t like it.

Dohyung rubbed his nose, lost in thought. He frowned, bit his lip, then sighed.

“Hold on, everyone, let’s take a break.”

He went to the living room, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and gulped it down. Hankyul, who had been watching quietly, turned to me.

“That’s… dangerous, even for me. You should listen to the director. You said the storyboard was fine.”

He looked at me with concern. I smiled.

“Settling for second best is… giving up. And if you give up once, you’ll keep giving up.”

The world was divided into success and failure. And if success was my goal, then anything less was failure.

“And if you keep running, you’ll eventually lose everything.”

I had already lived a life of running away, watching as my misfortunes, like a snowball rolling down a hill, grew larger and more destructive.

“I know what it’s like to lose everything. That’s why I’m not running away anymore.”
“…Sometimes, retreating is the wiser choice. What if you get hurt?”

I nodded at Hankyul’s words. If I were a pessimist, content with mediocrity, I might have compromised. But I was greedy. I couldn’t give up, not on what I had, and not on what I wanted. To have it all, I had to strive for the best, always.

“I’m not thinking about that. I’m not…capable of running away anymore.”

Even if it was scary, even if it hurt, it was better than losing everything. A coward like me couldn’t afford to run.

Hankyul nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. Dohyung returned, his decision made.

“We’ll do it your way, Haram. But be careful. Your safety is my priority.”
“Hee… accidents happen… but I’ll be careful.”

I smiled, pleased with his decision. He was a kindred spirit, an artist who prioritized vision over practicality.

The atmosphere on set was tense. The director’s voice, sharp and commanding, made the crew even more nervous.

“Safety first, everyone. If anything seems even remotely dangerous, we stop immediately.”
“Even I’m scared of doing this twice.”
“If you’re scared, maybe you shouldn’t do it.”
“I trust you, Director Kim. Just… make sure I don’t die.”

Dohyung shook his head at my attempt at humor.

“Why me?”
“You’re the one in charge. And you’re the adult here.”
“You’re… unbelievable.”

I grinned. The sound of the slate snapped me back to reality.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, immersing myself in the role, painting Seol onto the blank canvas of my mind.

Seol was a blank slate, a canvas for the world to paint on. Her innocence readily absorbed every color, every experience.

A thrill, a tingling excitement, made her hum a cheerful tune.

“Hmm hmm hmm…”

The melody, an expression of her untainted joy, made her sway gently. She climbed onto the chair, her heart filled with pure, innocent curiosity.

Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, she placed her head in the noose, a doorway to a strange new world.

She gently nudged the chair with her toes.

Thud.

The chair rolled away, and the rope tightened around her neck. Her breath hitched. The airway wasn’t completely blocked; a small passage remained, enough for a ragged, desperate gasp. It only prolonged the agony.

The oxygen deprivation spread through her, starting with her extremities. Her hands and feet tingled, then went numb. She thrashed, her toes curling, her hands reaching for the rope that was choking her.

But the struggle was brief. Her body went limp, only twitching occasionally.

She realized, with a terrifying clarity, that there was no escape. Her mind began to cloud, the numbness spreading upwards, from her calves to her thighs, her arms to her shoulders, her chest to her throat…

Her body ceased to exist, replaced by a sense of… freedom. A strange euphoria, a feeling of omnipotence. And then, the darkness reached her mind. Her vision faded, replaced by a buzzing sound in her ears.

A strange sensation, as if her very being was dissolving.

It was terrifying. This feeling of… nothingness.

“Gasp… ugh…”

Her body convulsed involuntarily, a final, desperate attempt at resistance.

Just as she gave up, a jarring sensation, a sudden shift, pulled her back. She heard a scream, and her body was lifted, then dropped. A sharp pain in her neck.

“Cough…”

Pain, confusion, disorientation… a strange mix of sensations, all new, all… exhilarating. Her mom was selfish, keeping this all to herself. She savored the sudden rush of air into her lungs and smiled, a silly, giddy grin. The world seemed… beautiful. Bright light streamed through the window.

Her vision flickered. She had been looking at the window, and now… she was looking down, at the familiar sight of her bedroom.

“Huh?”

She turned her head, feeling the weight of her body, the solidity of the bed beneath her. A man was holding her, his arms wrapped around her, sighing with relief.

Director Dohyung watched intently, calculating the timing. Haram’s hands clutched at the rope, her toes pointed downwards. Baek Hankyul, playing Sung Jihoon, looked at Dohyung expectantly.

Dohyung gave the signal as the strength drained from Haram’s hands. Hankyul rushed forward, then tripped over the chair in his haste. The crew stifled their gasps.

“Cough…”

Haram let out a strangled cough. Dohyung, watching her closely, suddenly noticed something.

She was smiling. Tears streamed down her face, her body convulsing, yet… she was smiling. A strange, unsettling smile.

Hankyul, his face pale, righted the chair and loosened the noose.

“Huh?”

Haram looked at him, her eyes unfocused, her expression dazed. He gently lowered her onto the bed, his arms still around her, and sighed with relief. His concern seemed genuine, not an act. Dohyung, feeling a strange mix of guilt and satisfaction, called out,

“Cut!”

The crew rushed to Haram’s side. She coughed, rubbing her neck.

“Ugh… cough…”
“Haram, are you okay?”
“Hee… I think… I have a mark on my neck… how are we going to… cover that up?”

She smiled, tears still in her eyes, and Dohyung was speechless.

“Is that what you’re worried about?”
“My… my parents will… be worried…”

He had known, from the moment she started discussing the script with Saeron, that she was… different. He sighed.

“You’re insane. Truly, irrevocably insane.”