Chapter 30: All Eyes on You

The set was nothing short of lavish.

Words like “ultra–high budget” and “unprecedented production scale” didn’t feel like exaggerations at all.

It wasn’t just the money—apparently, a full year had been poured solely into constructing this set.

Calling it a “set” almost felt disrespectful.

Inside, it looked so real that one might mistake it for an actual hospital.

The patient rooms, the hallways, the ER, the operating rooms, even the ICU—every space overflowed with realism that drew awe from both actors and staff.

For Han-geon, who was stepping onto a filming location for the first time, it was jaw-dropping.

He wandered around, mouth hanging open, drinking in every corner.

“Hello, sir!

Hello, Geon-ho!”

Just as he was about to enter through the main doors, he spotted the team leader and his group.

Han-geon hurried forward to greet them, and the group responded with welcoming smiles.

“Oh, you’re here?

You look great.

Healthy.”

“Haha… It’s my first shoot, so I’m nervous and excited.”

“Well, of course.”

The team leader patted his shoulder encouragingly, then shot a quick glance at Eun-gyeol’s face.

Even after noticing the group, Eun-gyeol merely gave the team leader a small nod.

He seemed lost in thought, unusually quiet.

The leader, familiar with this side of him, directed the question to Han-geon instead.

“How’s Eun-gyeol’s condition?”

“Oh… good, I think.

Seems like he slept really well.”

“Good.

That’s a relief.”

Then the leader leaned closer—so close his voice brushed against Han-geon’s ear.

“He gets a little sensitive before filming starts.”

“…Ah.”

So that’s how it was.

Instantly, Han-geon resolved to watch him even more carefully today.

“Cha-cha, let me check your makeup once more!”

“Okay.”

Yoojin hurriedly guided Eun-gyeol away, and Han-geon quickly followed.

Actors were moving in and out of the large makeup trucks parked nearby.

Yoojin, however, passed the trucks and entered a large, spotless container next to them.

Despite its plain exterior, the inside looked exactly like a full-fledged makeup studio.

Wide mirrors like those in a salon, perfect lighting, and an array of tools—Han-geon realized this was the separate makeup room prepared exclusively for the lead actors.

Inside, Juwon was having her hair touched up.

She spotted him in the mirror and chirped a greeting.

“Oh, hi!

Oppa!”

“Hey.

You’re early.”

Her already flawless skin looked like porcelain now.

Her hair and makeup matched her role as a resident doctor—clean and polished.

As soon as Eun-gyeol sat down, both the makeup artist and Yoojin surrounded him.

They’d already finished everything at the hotel earlier, but they wanted to go over it lightly one more time.

Not wanting to get in the way, Han-geon kept a respectful distance.

“You can sit, you know,” Yoojin told him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Just then, Juwon finished and stood up.

“Oppa, how is your skin this perfect even before makeup?

Seriously, it’s unfair.”

“You’re prettier.”

She smiled, watching Eun-gyeol through the mirror as the blow dryer whirred.

The expression on her face was the same as the day under the tree during script reading.

In the mirror, Eun-gyeol responded casually, but his voice had a sweet undertone.

Han-geon swallowed hard, hot tea warming his throat in more ways than one.

He had promised himself—hundreds, thousands of times—that he wouldn’t get shaken even when watching affectionate scenes between them on camera.

It was just acting.

But what rattled him more were moments like this: their easy chatter, the natural way they fit together, like a picture colored in soft tones.

“See you in a bit,” she said.

“Yeah.

Oh—did you see?

The fan café already sent a coffee truck.

From Chaol.”

“Mhm.”

Chaol was Eun-gyeol’s fan club.

Of course, Han-geon had secretly been a member for years.

He had even chipped in to help fund the coffee truck that arrived earlier.

When he saw it at the set, he’d felt a quiet burst of pride.

“Oppa’s so popular.

Amazing.”

“You’ll get one soon too.”

“Well, yeah… but still.

Anyway, thank you for the coffee!

I’ll enjoy it.”

“Mm.

See you later.”

Makeup finished quickly.

Yoojin smiled, saying there wasn’t much to do since his skin was already good.

While the hair designer worked diligently on his hair, Eun-gyeol sat calmly, eyes forward.

Then—

“Han-geon.”

“Huh?”

“My script.

In my bag.”

“Oh—one sec.”

Han-geon owned a copy of the full script himself, but he had never looked inside Eun-gyeol’s personal one before.

His heart beat a little faster as he lifted the bag.

The bag was almost empty—just the script inside.

Its cover was worn soft, edges frayed.

The pages inside naturally fanned open, overused.

Highlights everywhere, and tiny notes cramped between the lines:

Control breathing.

Add more depth to emotion.

Build slowly… then explode fully.

“Is my script that interesting?”

“Oh—!

S-sorry.

I didn’t mean to… it was just open a little so…”

Flustered, he handed it over.

“If you enjoyed it, that’s fine.”

Eun-gyeol gave a faint smile.

Sweet—like breaking off the tiniest piece of the world’s most sugary chocolate.

Behind them, Yoojin whispered to the team leader,

“Sir, look at him.

He never lets anyone touch that script.”

“True… If you’re not Han-geon, good luck surviving.”

Han-geon’s neck flushed red; he pretended not to hear.

“All done!

Thank you!”
the hair designer chirped.

Eun-gyeol looked perfect.

Nothing too flashy—just polished, crisp.

With his hair styled neatly and his makeup matching the resident doctor role, he looked every bit the real thing.

“Great.

Let’s go get your wardrobe checked.”

“Okay.”

Once he changed into scrubs and a white coat, he looked exactly like a doctor.

The thrill he’d felt during the script reading washed over him again.

And now he would get to watch the real scene unfold.

Staff members called for them to gather, and the group followed into the deeper part of the set.

It was chaotic—actors everywhere, extras in patient gowns and nurse uniforms, staff racing around.

Han-geon didn’t know where to rest his eyes.

But Eun-gyeol remained calm, greeting the director, senior actors, fellow cast members.

“Alright!

Let’s start with the poster shoot!”

At the director’s command, everyone moved swiftly.

The lead actors lined up in front of the surgery suite set.

Reflectors were lifted; bright lights washed over their faces.

“Walk toward me.

Naturally.”

The five leads began walking toward the camera in their scrubs and white coats.

Eun-gyeol, in pale blue scrubs, walked with a blank, steady expression straight ahead.

Han-geon held his breath, standing with the other managers, eyes locked on his actor.

Camera shutters fired like rain.

Hundreds of eyes—actors, staff, even the infamously picky director—watched the lead cast with sharp attention.

Han-geon’s heart thudded.

His lips were dry, fingertips cold.

But Eun-gyeol looked utterly composed.

As if he couldn’t even hear the storm of shutter clicks.

“Good.

Let’s take one more in front of the ER and then go straight into the first scene,” the director said, satisfied.

Everyone moved toward the ER set.

Poster shooting wrapped up, and the first scene began.

Because it was the first scene filmed here, the air was thick with tension.

Extras in nurse and patient costumes held their positions stiffly.

The first scene:
A restaurant patron collapses, is loaded onto a stretcher, and rushed into the ER.

Since the restaurant was right beside the hospital in the drama, CPR had to be performed during transport—by Eun-gyeol, playing Cha Kang-woo, and by Juwon.

“Stand by!”

Lights and cameras positioned themselves.

The stretcher carrying the “patient” waited at the ER entrance.

Eun-gyeol climbed over the patient, taking the position right before chest compressions.

The director watched the monitor and called out—

“Action!”

Eun-gyeol’s arms straightened sharply—one, two, three—counting compressions.

As the ER doors swung open, the stretcher rolled inside.

The jib camera swooped overhead, capturing every motion.

“New patient!

Bed ten!”

“Check vitals first—prepare for intubation.

Portable X-ray?”

“Already called!”

“Get the defibrillator ready while we run the ABGA!”

The medical staff swarmed around the patient, attaching equipment in seconds.

The chaos was overwhelming even from the sidelines.

Yet in the center of that storm, Eun-gyeol remained steady—eyes sharp, voice controlled and authoritative.

Watching him, a tingling jolt ran through Han-geon’s fingertips.