Ghost-seeing actor

The script was revised.

Now, Hyunseok trains in the marketplace while passing by his mother’s shop.

He practiced the script over and over again.

“Haa…”

The emotional depth was much more refined than the original script.

He had to convey the turmoil, confusion, and determination of the emotions felt towards his mother in a single shot.

He felt both confidence and pressure.

At that moment, Dongrak rushed over from afar.

“It’s no use. There are too many people now in just 10 minutes.”

Taejoo made eye contact with the filming crew.

“Then Suho and I will enter the market. We can manage to film it between us.”

“Okay, let’s put the camera on the steadicam. Let’s start shooting.”

Taejoo, along with Suho, entered the market.

It was the early dawn.

The bright sunlight fiercely illuminated their faces.

People busily moved through the narrow streets.

When Suho gave the ‘okay’ sign to the camera, Dongrak’s voice echoed loudly.

“Ready, set… Action!”

Taejoo started running energetically.

Into the bustling marketplace.

***

A bustling vegetable market full of people.

In that crowd, Hyunseok runs diligently.

The market was filled only with merchants, not customers.

He managed to dodge and weave through empty spaces.

Arms kept close to his body, and his body remained straight.

Even though his breath was coming up to his throat, he maintained the posture.

His sweat-soaked tracksuit stuck closely to his back, and short, staggered breaths became unbearably painful.

He wanted to stop immediately.

He wanted to take a break.

But Hyunseok knew very well he couldn’t afford to do that.

To win the match, he had to endure.

He had to build endurance.

To endure the opponent’s attacks.

To win the match.

Knowing that he simply keeps running quietly.

***

How many times had he crossed the market?

“Take a break!”

Dongrak’s signal fell.

Taejoo, breathless, moved toward the camera, took a sip of water, and monitored the scene on the monitor.

The screen showed him running diligently.

Dongrak tilted his head and gave instructions.

“The tension is dropping a bit. Try running a bit faster. You can do it, right?”

Suho eagerly nodded.

“Okay, let’s give it a shot. If we run faster, it might shake a bit, but that will enhance the realism.”

Taejoo walked back into the market with Suho.

Though tired, there was no time to spare.

They had to finish this scene and immediately shoot the moment when he passes by his mother’s shop.

At the end of a narrow alley, waiting for the director’s signal.

A merchant glanced towards them.

He was unaware that filming was in progress, as he was late opening his shop door.

However, Taejoo repeatedly ran past him.

“What are you doing in the market so early?”

Fully immersed in filming, Taejoo immediately replied.

“I’m training. Running training.”

“Running? Are you an athlete?”

“Yes, a boxer.”

The merchant looked at him with admiration.

“You’re working hard. Keep it up!”

“Thank you!”

Taejoo resumed running right away.

Suho, holding the steadicam, soon blended into the crowd.

Taejoo gritted his teeth and continued to run.

The paths and landscapes were familiar, countless times run and seen.

His legs trembled with fatigue, and his breath came up to his throat.

His eyes turned red, and he panted harshly when suddenly—

“Yo!”

Hearing someone call his name, Taejoo turned around.

At the same time, a green apple flew through the air.

The apple slipped past his left side.

Thud!

Taejoo extended his arm and caught it in one hand.

It was a reflex even he couldn’t believe.

As he scanned his surroundings, he saw the same merchant grinning widely.

“Keep going!”

It was an unplanned action.

The merchant, wanting to encourage him, impulsively threw the apple.

“Thank you!”

Taejoo raised his hand in gratitude, then bit into the apple right there.

The dry lips met the crisp bite of the apple, releasing a burst of refreshing sweetness in his mouth.

Taejoo chuckled softly.

Acting truly is fun.

Convincing others to believe you are someone else is a strange but thrilling experience.

The lost strength returned.

Struggling alone, he drew strength from others.

[Don’t struggle alone, people are cheering for you. I’m one of them too.]

Jung Hyup, who had been running alongside him, gave a knowing smile.

The absurdity of the situation brought a smile to Taejoo’s face as well.

One thing was clear though.

Acting is an ensemble.

If you’re lacking energy, you take it from those around you.

The environment surrounding the performance is part of the act.

Taejoo pushed himself forward again with renewed strength.

His pace remained the same.

Yet, his expression held more ease.

The surroundings, which he hadn’t noticed before, now stood clear.

Merchants from the shops on either side were watching him.

Some raised their thumbs high.

Their bright smiles seemed to cheer him on.

Before long, the entrance appeared in the distance, and Taejoo’s back drenched in sweat entered it.

Pursuing his dream was something he did alone.

But the many watching and supporting him made the journey bearable.

Taejoo continued to run with everyone until the end.

To the area where the waiting staff were.

***

The streets were now filled with quite a few customers.

Early risers coming to shop at the market.

Their eyes were drawn toward the camera and actors on one side of the market.

The men in the corner were no different.

They were Director Yoon Yi-do’s assistant director and second assistant director, Park Woo-don.

The scene caught Park Woo-don’s eye as he, visiting the set after a long time to see his mother, noticed it.

“A film being shot in the marketplace?”

Initially, it was just a momentary curiosity sparked by the thought of film students shooting a short film.

After hearing that his mother was involved, it seemed worth a quick look.

But as he watched, he became more and more engrossed.

In Taejoo’s passionate gaze.

-“The most important thing for an actor is the eyes. It’s the most powerful weapon to persuade the audience.”

That was a common phrase from Director Yoon Yi-do.

“Acting isn’t done with the mouth, it’s done with the eyes.”

Park Woo-don fixed his gaze on Taejoo, his arms crossed tightly.

The eyes showed intense struggle as he ran.

The revived hope shone in his eyes.

The joy of challenging a dream.

Each expression was different, with a unique depth.

“He’s doing well.”

Park Woo-don leaned toward the staff.

“Let’s watch a little more.”

“Are you not tired? You have a shoot in the afternoon…”

“Is being tired a problem? When a talented actor is right here in front of me, how could I close my eyes?”

His tall stature, handsome face, and broad shoulders weren’t what stood out the most.

It was his expression, changing in an instant.

Watching him felt like watching a scene from the script come alive.

The screen was filled with determination, reaching up to his chin—difficult but unyielding.

Even in a brief moment, his concentration was remarkable.

The acting reflected from that pure face.

A familiar yet fresh mask.

Park Woo-don couldn’t take his eyes off Taejoo.

***

Breathing heavily, Taejoo ran toward the monitor.

He immediately started reviewing the footage.

The previous takes he had done dozens of times were significantly different.

The sudden apple thrown at him had been a stroke of luck.

Nearby merchants approached Taejoo.

“Did you and Jang coordinate the apple throw beforehand?”

“No, it was just thrown to me out of the blue.”

“Seriously? You caught an apple that flew out of nowhere?”

Whispers filled the air in amazement.

“The expression acting was amazing. The apple scene was a stroke of genius.”

“I agree, that scene was amazing.”

Taejoo smiled slightly.

The staff also raised their voices, surrounding him.

“This take seems the best! Your training effort came through, but that apple scene was incredible.”

“That scene captured the intensity and enjoyment together. Your acting earlier was great.”

Dongrak shared the same sentiment.

“The base of training hard for a match is the same. But before, you were just running like a machine. Now, with that apple scene, a touch of humor was added, and I like it.”

“You did well catching the apple. If you had avoided it, that scene wouldn’t have come out.”

“And taking a bite was perfect. That kind of ad-lib is excellent.”

“The moment Taejoo smiled brightly while walking in was my favorite. It showed that training for a match isn’t just painful, but something to enjoy.”

“Trusting Taejoo with it was a good choice.”

Dongrak beamed at Taejoo with a smile.

Taejoo chuckled but quickly returned to a stoic expression.

“We don’t have time to waste here; we need to film the next scene. Where’s your mother?”

“She’s over there, reading the script. She’s incredibly passionate.”

Dongrak checked his watch and added.

“We’ll film in front of ‘Woo-don’s Fruit Shop.’ Let’s take a 5-minute break and then start shooting.”

A 5-minute break was granted.

Taejoo quickly approached the fruit shop owner.

The person who willingly agreed to make a cameo appearance.

“It’s our turn now.”

“It’s already that time?”

The owner looked at him and then set the script aside.

The lines, repeatedly scribbled with a pen, were visible.

“Oh, you’ve been practicing hard.”

“Hardly. Once it comes down to actually filming, I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to die. Why was I trying to act all confident like it’s related to my son being the assistant director?”

“Then think of me as your son’s mother. Imagine a cute youngest son who started boxing again after giving it up due to a difficult family situation. But he can’t tell his mother, worried she might oppose him or be concerned.”

Taejoo gently held the wrinkled hand of the shop owner.

“I still wanted to gain your approval. I wanted to show that I could succeed in boxing, the sport I love, and demonstrate that I’m giving my best effort. That’s why I came here for running training. But I couldn’t bring myself to talk to my mother.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no result yet. I haven’t succeeded. So, I couldn’t stand proudly in front of my mother.”

Wanting to achieve his dream, and work hard, but success feels distant and elusive.

Just like Taejoo’s own situation.

The image of himself being uncharacteristically quiet around his aunt overlapped with his thoughts.

Then, a voice filled with excitement broke the silence.

“There’s no such thing! No mother who wouldn’t support her child.”

The shop owner became completely absorbed in Taejoo’s explanation.

“All mothers will support their children, no matter what they do!”

“That’s exactly how it feels.”

Taejoo saw a glimpse of his mother in her.

The mother silently supported him from behind.

It allowed him to immerse himself more deeply in the emotion.

He almost choked up.

If his mother were still alive, she would have held his hand like this.

She would have cheered for him more fervently than anyone else.

Taejoo would channel those feelings into his acting.

Because that was the best he could do.

He firmly held onto the shop owner’s hand.

“Then, you can be my mother.”

The actress who sees ghosts.