Chapter 42 : White/Hundred (3)

Kim Dohyung frowned, biting back a curse. A familiar sensation, a director’s intuition, told him that the actor before him was about to do something… unexpected. He called it intuition because it was a feeling, an inexplicable awareness, that defied logic.

The human body perceived more than the conscious mind could process. Sometimes, the subconscious registered something first, triggering a physical reaction before the mind could catch up. And when an actor tapped into that instinct, the performance transcended the ordinary.

He had seen Lee Haram’s talent at the Theater Festival. Raw, untamed, but undeniably powerful. He had thought, with a little polishing, she could become something truly special.

But it seemed she needed no polishing. She was a raw diamond, her performance unfiltered, natural, almost… unsettling.

The sound of a spoon scraping against a bowl.
Lee Haram, sitting before the prop corpse, eating her lunch, humming a tune, completely immersed in the role of Seol.

“Hmm hmm hm…”

He knew it was just a performance, but the girl’s casual indifference, the unsettling normalcy of her actions, made his stomach churn. There was no humming in his storyboard. Yet, she hummed, swaying slightly, a disturbingly cheerful melody.

He called “cut” just as she let out a soft giggle, fighting back a wave of nausea.

“Haram, why were you humming?”
“Was it… strange?”
“No, it… worked. Visually.”
“Oh… I just… I was thinking like Seol, and it just… happened.”

Dohyung exhaled slowly. He had heard this kind of answer before, from another actor, years ago, when he was just starting out. He shook his head, pushing away the memory.

“Hee… so… my acting was… good?”

She leaned closer, her face inches from his, and he frowned, the image of her cheerfully eating lunch in front of her mother’s corpse flashing through his mind.

“Haram, can you… back away a little?”
“Why?”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“What?”
“Seriously, step back.”

She smirked and moved away. He hated being so blunt, but he couldn’t help it. A wave of nausea had almost made him gag. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

Park Jungchul, the cameraman, walked over, holding out the camera.

“Director Kim, check this out.”
“What is it?”
“The scene we just shot. It’s… pretty damn good.”

Dohyung watched the footage. The wall in the center of the frame divided the screen. On the left, the darkened bedroom with Haram as Seol. On the right, the brightly lit living room. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the living room, while Haram, in the darkened room, hummed cheerfully as she ate her lunch.

“We got lucky.”
“It’s better than I expected. Are you sure she’s only done theater?”
“I feel… scammed.”

Sometimes, it happened. A perfect shot, born from a series of fortunate coincidences.

But beginner’s luck rarely lasted. He silently prayed, despite his atheism, that this lucky streak would continue.

That bed was evil, a comfort trap. I was lying on it, wrapped in the soft blanket, when the director walked in.

“Haram, there you are. The next scene is a bit… physical. You up for it?”
“Physical?”

I tilted my head, and he chuckled.

“It’s the most important scene.”
“Ah, you mean… this?”

I mimed slitting my throat.

“That’s the one. We’re ahead of schedule, so let’s make this count.”

I smirked.

“Don’t worry.”
“Why?”
“This might sound weird, but… I’m really good at playing dead.”
“That is a strange thing to say. We’ll start when Hankyul arrives. Get some rest.”

Dangle.

Seol stared at the rope hanging from the ceiling.

Curiosity filled her. How fun must this toy be for Mom to have played with it all by herself? She felt a pang of jealousy.

She dragged a chair over, climbed onto it, and untied the knot. Her mom, released from her constraints, fell to the floor with a soft thud.

The floor looked cold, so Seol picked her up and carried her to the bed, struggling under the unexpected weight. She tucked her in, a satisfied expression on her face.

She climbed back onto the chair and retied the rope, mimicking the knot she had seen earlier. Pleased with her handiwork, she placed her head in the noose, just like her mom.

To Seol, the rope was a doorway, a portal to another world. A small smile played on her lips as she anticipated the journey.

She gently kicked the chair away.

She gasped, her body convulsing as the floor disappeared beneath her feet. A torrent of emotions – euphoria, pain, a fleeting sense of exhilaration, followed by terror – washed over her as she lost consciousness.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a man’s face, his expression a mixture of relief and concern, his arms holding her close.

I sat on the bed, reading the script, when Baek Hankyul walked in.

“Haram, I heard you were doing great.”
“Oh, you’re here.”
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, it’s fine. Come here for a second.”

I kept my eyes on the script, patting the space beside me. I heard him sit down, then pointed at a section of the script.

“How did you interpret this part?”
“Which part?”
“The scene where Sung Jihoon finds Seol hanging and saves her.”

I covered my mouth with my hand.

“Doesn’t it seem… strange? It takes place inside the apartment. She wouldn’t be able to scream, so how did he even know she was there? And Park Saeron isn’t the type to write something so… convenient.”
“Ah, that. Hold on.”

Hankyul opened his script to the same page. It was covered in notes.

“I think the writer wants us to… question Jihoon’s motives. We don’t know anything about his past. Is he a good guy? A bad guy? We have no idea.”
“That’s true.”
“So, instead of imposing my own interpretation, I’m just going to play it as it’s written. Convey the urgency, the relief… that’s all.”

I nodded.

“Not bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re… taking this seriously.”
“Why do you think that?”
“The script doesn’t lie.”

I smiled at him, and he stared at me, a bewildered expression on his face.

I felt a pang of regret. Had I said something wrong? He was a senior in the industry. Just then, the director called us over.

“Ready to shoot?”

We went to the bedroom, where Dohyung explained the changes he had made to the storyboard.

“If we had a bigger budget, we’d use wires and do it in one take. But since we don’t, we’re going to break it down into smaller shots and edit them together.”
“How?”
“We’ll do a single take for the part where you lay your mother on the bed, and then we’ll do close-ups of the chair, your feet, your hands, the noose… and then a medium shot of you hanging. We’ll edit it all together later.”

I nodded.

“I think I understand.”
“Good. Let’s start with the scene where you put your mother on the bed.”

I started the scene.

Seol looked at her mother hanging from the rope, tilted her head, and then dragged a chair over. She stood on her tiptoes, straining to reach the knot, and untied it.

The body fell to the floor with a thud. Seol stared at it for a moment, then climbed down from the chair. She tried to lift the body, grunted with the effort, then gave up and dragged it to the bed, struggling to pull it up. She covered the body with a blanket, a satisfied expression on her face.

“Cut. Perfect.”

Another one-take wonder. The atmosphere on set brightened, buoyed by the successful shot. I walked over to the director, a frown on my face.

“About the next scene…”
“Yes?”
“Can we… do it the way I originally envisioned?”
“What do you mean?”

I pointed at the rope.

“Let me… actually hang. I don’t need wires.”