Free Web Novel* * *
I tapped Choo Gaeul lightly on the shoulder near a low wall a little distance from the coffee truck. She looked completely drained.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you? Normally you’d be yelling, ‘Hey! Han Yeoreum! What’s the point of two types of churros if there’s nothing to dip them in?’”
“What....”
“You’d be complaining about why there’s no chocolate dip by now.”
Who crushed my girl’s spirit?
Well. Do Gyeoul, obviously.
“I don’t know.... I really tried.”
I decided to start by lifting her up.
“It’s only natural your rhythm wouldn’t match ordinary actors.... Choo Gaeul... this is a child who’ll be called a ‘stage hurricane’....”
Silence hung for a second. I nudged Myeong Jeha with my elbow.
“You need to support it here, sir.”
Let’s go again.
“The kind who makes even child actors look slow... a true ‘stage hurricane.’”
“Choo Gaeul... a frightening child....”
“Yeah! That’s it!”
Apparently he had flipped through the acting textbook 〈YurigaX〉 at some point, because Myeong Jeha smoothly picked up the line. I was busy admiring the seamless delivery when Gaeul’s face flushed red.
“Hey! Han Yeoreum! Don’t do that!”
“What, you haven’t even read 〈YuriX-myeon〉? An actor shouldn’t be like that, right, sir? Lacking basic posture. You should scold her.”
“True... that won’t do....”
“Myeong Jeha, why are you turning into Han Yeoreum too?!”
There it was. That sharp, ringing voice. That projection. I sipped my coffee while comfortably receiving Gaeul’s scolding.
Maybe because I paid for it with my own money, the coffee tasted great.
Please let Do Gyeoul’s coffee be brewed with burnt beans.
“Is the character analysis not working?”
Myeong Jeha suddenly asked her sharply. He had hit the sore spot. A brief silence fell.
“...Yeah.”
Gaeul answered in a voice that barely escaped her throat.
“Han Yeoreum—if it were you, how do you think you would’ve played Sukbin Choi?”
The end of her voice trembled, like she was asking for help.
* * *
“...Wow.”
Behind the wall, Director Hwang crushed a cigarette under his shoe and listened to Han Yeoreum’s interpretation.
‘So there was a reason they kept saying DaeYeJong, DaeYeJong.’
Hwang Heenam knew Han Yeoreum well enough.
There wasn’t a single person in this industry who hadn’t felt the madness of 〈Strange Tales〉 last year.
Even screening the final episode in theaters as a bold move. It was the kind of project every director dreamed of.
“Sociopath? Sukbin Choi? But I have to smile a lot.”
“Idiot. Who said you shouldn’t smile? Think, Choo Gaeul! Stage hurricane!”
“Frightening child....”
They sounded like they were bickering playfully, but the content was razor sharp. It was a direction even Director Hwang hadn’t considered.
The Sukbin Choi he had written was a cliché. He thought twisting Jang Huibin alone was enough.
‘Yeongjo’s paranoia coming from Sukbin Choi, huh....’
Obsessive-compulsive disorder. Repetitive thoughts born from anxiety.
Compulsive repetition of certain behaviors to reduce that anxiety. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
“Then what if you show Sukbin Choi’s modesty as obsessive-compulsive?”
“How?”
“An obsession with arranging things neatly. Symmetry. Alignment.” ƒreewebɳovel.com
Choo Gaeul, who had been listening to Han Yeoreum’s interpretation, slowly began to grasp it.
‘Then what about paranoia?’
Paranoia born from excessive suspicion and distrust of others.
Director Hwang was curious how that self-centered interpretation and exaggerated sense of victimhood could appear as “modesty.”
“Side glances.”
As if answering his unspoken question, Han Yeoreum replied.
“Sukbin Choi will have her head lowered often.”
“Right. If the other person isn’t in her direct field of vision, she’ll feel anxious. So her eyes move.”
It didn’t break the script’s flow. But it created a Sukbin Choi distinctly different from the rest.
Director Hwang was dying to hear more.
‘But if I step in here....’
Choo Gaeul’s fragile line of thought—just beginning to form—would snap. He held himself back and waited.
“I get it now. How I should smile.”
Choo Gaeul spoke with certainty.
“Hey! Han Yeoreum! Myeong Jeha! Thanks! I’m going to look in the mirror now! Bye!”
Her footsteps retreated.
“Yeoreum, can you grab me a coffee? I’ll see Director Hwang before I leave. Meet me in front of the van.”
“Age before beauty, right? Anyway, I’m glad it helped!”
As Yeoreum’s voice faded, Director Hwang nearly called out to stop her.
He felt it in his bones now—why every director kept talking about Han Yeoreum.
“Director. Enjoying the show?”
The voice came from above him.
Director Hwang’s heart dropped.
Myeong Jeha was looking down at him. He didn’t know when he’d noticed.
‘He couldn’t have seen me over the wall....’
Reading his expression, Myeong Jeha answered lightly.
“I could see the cigarette smoke. Only one person’s worth.”
True. No staff member would be smoking alone right now. It was too busy for a personal smoke break.
Unless it was someone like Director Hwang.
“Did you say all that for me to hear?”
“To some extent.”
Director Hwang looked at the actor before him, interest gleaming in his eyes.
A face sculpted perfectly between boy and man.
The kind of face you’d want to capture at least once on camera.
“And such a good interpretation wouldn’t be free.”
“Nothing like that. Just... later, maybe spread some good words about her to the people around you.”
Myeong Jeha lowered his well-shaped brows slightly.
“She works hard. But there are already rumors floating around.”
“What? What rumors?”
He’d thrown bait, and Director Hwang bit immediately.
“You know those initial articles. Saying Rising Actress H got audition opportunities thanks to Top Actor J, and that it’s suspicious.”
Director Hwang knew exactly who that meant. His brows knitted.
“Tsk.”
“The reason Top Actor J opened that audition. You felt it clearly today, didn’t you?”
Myeong Jeha’s voice lowered, almost a request.
One public mention from someone in the industry carried weight.
Especially from Hwang Heenam, who had successfully steered every historical drama he touched.
“They’re pushing hard to cast that idol-turned-actor K. If it were me, I wouldn’t stay quiet either. I’d do something.”
“Exactly. She basically earned that spot through skill. But the people writing those initial articles... why are they like that....”
Director Hwang nodded.
“Fine. It costs me nothing.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re good at maneuvering. You’ll last long in this industry.”
Director Hwang let out a hearty laugh.
Myeong Jeha smiled back.
“Yes. For a long, long time.”
“Good! We’re doing the next project together. Got it?”
Myeong Jeha turned his head slightly.
They were near the end of the wall. Just around the corner—a ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) perfect place for someone to be standing.
The faint sound of footsteps moved away.
* * *
“Gyeoul, what’s wrong?”
“Manager, just a second. I need to look something up.”
Do Gyeoul hammered at the keyboard.
She wanted to carve every single word Han Yeoreum had said into her brain.
Sukbin. Modesty. Intelligence. Sociopath. Purpose-driven. Choi. Yeongjo’s paranoia. Obsession.
All of it.
‘Did she notice?’
The moment the word “sociopath” left Han Yeoreum’s mouth, Do Gyeoul had nearly screamed.
The interpretation was too precise. It understood someone who lived beyond normal emotional thresholds.
The joy that surged through her was dizzying.
‘How? How?’
It wasn’t a shallow “she’s strange” or “she’s different.”
It was understanding.
A reading that felt like someone had dissected her entirely.
Her fingers moved faster. Typos slipped in, but she didn’t care.
‘How did you understand?’
Even from a distance, every syllable of Han Yeoreum’s voice had reached her clearly.
“Because they think people ruled by emotion are stupid.”
A shiver crawled down her neck.
She realized instantly why Han Yeoreum had always bothered her.
Han Yeoreum resembled her.
And only Han Yeoreum understood her perfectly.
“Ahaha!”
After typing down every word Yeoreum had spoken and saving the interpretation, Do Gyeoul burst into laughter.
Ignoring the strange looks from those around her completely.
