Chapter 3 Part 6: The Home of Stars

After Yejun’s return, the set moved forward at a breathless pace, as if it refused to give Minju—whose heart was pounding wildly from shock—any time to steady herself.

But thankfully, the first take began with Yejun sitting alone on a bench on campus.

From Take 2 onward, the camera would switch to a long shot and only then would she enter, so for now, Minju could watch Yejun’s acting in full.

She stared intently at Yejun as he sat silently on the bench.

He was doing nothing more than sitting still, yet Minju’s eyes gradually widened.

‘There’s… nothing in his eyes.’

A person’s gaze speaks volumes.
No matter how indifferent someone tries to look, fleeting thoughts always leave traces behind.
But the gaze of the man before her was empty.
Not hollow—just nothing at all.

The staff seemed to sense it too, frowning or twitching their brows as they watched Yejun closely.

“Cut! O.K!”

Despite this being a short film with no dialogue in the scene and a tight shooting schedule, the first take earned an O.K. in one go.

Young-ho gestured toward Minju, who still hadn’t calmed her racing heart, and said,

“Minju, you’re in. Camera moves to long shot.”

The camera rolled backward along the pre-laid rails.
Once she entered from the side, it would advance smoothly, closing the distance naturally.

Minju swallowed hard, shook her head sharply, and muttered,

“Focus.

What matters right now isn’t anyone else.

I can barely handle myself.

From now on, I’m Minseo.

I’m Minseo.”

She stepped onto the spot marked on the ground with green tape, continuing her self-hypnosis, and filming resumed.

“Ready, sound.”
“Speed.”
“Camera.”
“Roll.”
“Slate.”
“Nine, two!”
“Action!”

Silently repeating her lines to herself, Minju lifted her phone.

‘Start the line three seconds after the action cue.’

Recalling the director’s instructions, she began walking after three seconds, phone in hand, smiling brightly.

“Yeah!

I’ve got a lot of assignments today, Mom.

I think I’ll be late since I’ll be studying at the library, so eat first.

Oh, I’m fine, really.

Your daughter won’t starve.

You know how good cafeteria food is these days.

It’s not as good as your cooking, but it’s decent enough, so don’t worry.

Yeah, I’ll take a taxi home, so go to bed first.”

It was quite a long line for an opening.

She’d spent days memorizing it, afraid she’d forget even this short speech.
Thankfully, she delivered it perfectly.

As she tried to put her phone back into her bag, she fumbled.
The phone hit the ground, slid across the pavement, and came to rest at the feet of Yejun, who was sitting alone on the bench.

“Ah!”

Minju hurried over and looked down near his feet.

“Um, excuse me… my phone—”

“…..”

Yejun’s head slowly turned toward her from wherever he’d been staring.

A man being spoken to by a stranger, yet showing not even the slightest flinch, gazing at her with agonizing slowness.
The moment Minju met his empty eyes, goosebumps rippled over her entire body.

‘This is insane!’

This wasn’t admiration for great acting anymore.

There was a real killer standing in front of her.
A murderer completely devoid of emotion, incapable of interest in anything beyond killing.

“…..”

A cold line of sweat ran down her back.
Her throat bobbed nonstop as she swallowed.
Suddenly, she desperately needed to use the restroom.

“Cut! Minju, you’re supposed to say the next line!”

“…..”

The director’s cue rang out, but Minju’s gaze was hopelessly entangled with Yejun’s eyes.

She couldn’t look away.
It felt like facing a tiger behind her—turning her back meant certain death.

“Minju?”

She could clearly hear the director calling her.
But her body was frozen.
She couldn’t move even a finger.
Because Go Youngcheol—the terrifying killer—was staring at her with that indifferent gaze.

If she turned away, she would die.
An immense pressure crushed her whole body.

Then, suddenly, the killer Go Youngcheol withdrew his empty gaze.

Like a lie, the suffocating tension snapped and vanished.

“Ghk—! Hah, hah!”

She must have been holding her breath without realizing it.
At the sound of her ragged breathing bursting out the moment the gaze disappeared, Young-ho and Sumi rushed over in alarm.

“Minju! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“…..”

Once her breathing steadied, embarrassment and guilt came crashing in.

“N-no. I-I’m sorry.”

“If you’re not feeling well, you can take a short break.”

“No, no. I’m okay.”

Perhaps it was lucky.

The cinematographer requested a brief pause to adjust because the boom mic’s shadow had crept into the frame.
The set entered a short lull.

Minju looked at Yejun again.

Even after the cut, he was still staring elsewhere with that same indifferent gaze.

‘How can he be like this…?’

Overwhelmed by what she’d just witnessed, Minju found herself staring at him when his low voice reached her ears—quiet enough that only she could hear it.

“I haven’t found a reason not to kill you.”

Minju’s eyes flew wide open.

“W-what?”

Yejun spoke without looking at her, still gazing into the distance.

“I’m not curious about you.”

“…..”

“Minseo, right now, doesn’t know I’m a killer.
That means there’s no reason for you to be that afraid.”

“Ah.”

“Just like I’m Go Youngcheol right now, you’re Kim Minseo.
Kim Minseo isn’t afraid of people.
She wouldn’t sense that someone like me is different from an ordinary person.”

“…..”

Just like I’m Go Youngcheol right now.

He was completely immersed in his role.
An actor who hadn’t even properly debuted on screen—and he was this intense?
Then what about real veteran actors?
Were they even more terrifying than him?
Was that really possible?

Minju was so stunned she didn’t even notice that he’d been speaking casually to her.

“Th-thank you, sunbaenim.”

“Give me a reason not to kill you.
Make me curious about who you are.”

“…..”

“That’s how you survive today—
at the hands of a monster like me.”

Cold sweat streamed down her body.
Her arms and legs trembled violently.

But then, something rose up against the fear—
the refusal to lose.

Minju clenched her fists tightly.

“I’ll try again, sunbaenim.”

“…..”

Yejun simply nodded once.

“Make it.

And walk out alive.”

Don’t die at the hands of a killer—leave this place alive.
Of course, she didn’t take it literally.
He was telling her to immerse herself fully in the role.

Minju bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

‘He’s still kind.
He’s doing this for me.
I’ll do it. No matter what!’

After checking that the staff had finished repositioning, Young-ho looked up to reassess Minju, whose condition had seemed strange earlier.
Seeing her standing there with her eyes tightly shut, concentrating, he smiled softly.

‘Yes. That’s it.
The power to draw other actors into focus as well.
That’s Ma Yejun’s strength—
changing others by changing himself.
That’s what raised the acting level of everyone in The Scarred Mountain Lodge.’

After buying Minju a little more time, Young-ho called out,

“Ready!”

***

“Wow!

When we rolled earlier and I saw Yejun’s eyes, I almost pissed myself.

How is that even possible?”

“You felt it too? So it wasn’t just me.”

“The director wasn’t exaggerating—there was a reason for all that praise.

Seriously, I was shocked.

I was holding the boom mic and my hands were shaking like crazy.

It felt like there was a wild beast in front of me, not a person.”

The first day of filming ended at 1 a.m.

After wrap, the staff gathered at a nearby indoor pojangmacha, chattering excitedly about the day’s shoot.

Minju felt as if her entire body had been burned white, reduced to ashes—
the most exhausting day of her short life.

Yet her gaze kept drifting toward Yejun, who was sitting across from Director Jang Young-ho.

For some reason, the two of them were drinking heavily in silence.
In the time it took her and the staff to down three or four shots of soju, the two of them had already emptied three bottles.

‘He didn’t seem like he’d fully come out of the role of Go Youngcheol yet…’

Even during filming, and even when takes changed mid-shoot, Yejun had kept that same gaze of Go Youngcheol.

After filming ended, while everyone else was thanking each other for their hard work, Yejun casually brushed off his pants, slung his bag over his shoulder, and waited as if nothing mattered.
All the way to the wrap dinner, his eyes had remained eerily empty.

As someone who dreamed of becoming an actor, Minju felt less unease about Yejun’s instability than envy—
envy that he could focus so deeply, to that extent.

“Um, sunbaenim. Please drink slowly. Have some food too.”

Yejun, opening his fourth bottle of soju, looked at her.

‘Huh?’

His eyes were different again—
back to how they’d been during makeup earlier.

“Thank you, Minju-ssi.”

“…..”

Only after hearing him speak formally did Minju realize that he’d spoken casually to her earlier on set.

“U-um, sunbaenim. You can talk casually like before, if you want.”

“Hm? When did I do that?”

“…Earlier.”

“Did I? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.
Eat plenty too.”

“Yes, sunbaenim.”

Watching their exchange with a furrowed brow, Young-ho grinned and raised his glass.

“You’re back, Actor Ma Yejun.”

Back?
What was back?

Yejun scratched his cheek shyly and clinked glasses.

“I didn’t mess anything up, did I?”

“Mess up?

Not at all.

Everyone was blown away by your acting.
Honestly, I’m really glad we cast you.
If it weren’t for Sumi, we never would’ve found you.
I’m newly grateful to her.”

“No, you’re exaggerating. That’s embarrassing.”

A shy smile.
Slightly flushed skin.

Go Youngcheol was gone, leaving behind nothing more than an ordinary young man.

Noticing Minju staring at Yejun with wide, sparkling eyes, Young-ho chuckled.

“Pretty impressive, right?”

Her reply burst out reflexively.

“Yes! He’s incredible!”

“Yeah.

And maybe because of that, your acting was good today too.
If you keep that up, your graduation film will be fine.”

“Thank you!”

If you keep that up.
Which meant that how she survived the next two days—after what she’d experienced today—could change the course of her acting career.

Minju glanced sideways at Yejun’s now-ordinary profile and clenched her fists.

‘The next two days…
I’ll stake my life on it.
I’ll face the real killer—Go Youngcheol!’

A day where Yejun could barely hold onto his own sense of self.

Without even realizing it, he had changed another actor’s life.