Chapter 13 : Behind the Camera’s Eye

“Huh?”

I glanced down to find a fluffy white Maltese standing on its hind legs, clinging to my knee with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Arf! Arf! Woof!”

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” a panicked voice called from a distance.

The dog’s owner was sprinting toward us, her face a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Woof! Woof!”

The Maltese stuck out its pink tongue, wagging its tail with such vigor it seemed it might take flight.

“Do you… know me?”

I asked, crouching slightly.

This little furball was my old walking buddy, a familiar face from our strolls around the apartment complex.

“You! Don’t just bolt off like that!”

The owner finally caught up, tugging at the leash in a futile attempt to peel her dog off me.

But the pup wasn’t having it, digging its paws in with surprising determination.

“Whine—woof!”

“I’m so sorry,” the owner said, scratching her head with an awkward smile.

“He doesn’t usually act like this with strangers. I don’t know what’s gotten into him!”

I waved it off.

“It’s fine. Hey, buddy, long time no see, huh?”

I crouched lower, meeting the dog’s sparkling eyes.

It leaped with its stubby legs, licking my face with unrestrained joy.

Long time no see!

Where’ve you been?

Why’d you take so long to come back?

Wait, how are you human now?

What’s going on?!

The little chatterbox didn’t let me get a word in, yapping away as if we were catching up on years of gossip.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I chuckled.

“I’ve been doing alright, and I’m happy to see you too!”

“You know our Kkumi?” the owner asked, watching us with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Oh, yeah, we used to walk around the complex together a lot,” I explained.

“We got pretty close.”

“Really? Then why do I feel like I’ve never seen you before?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering in her gaze.

In a tight-knit community like this, where dog owners knew each other’s business inside and out, a new face was bound to raise eyebrows.

“I usually come out in the mornings,” I said smoothly.

“I’ve seen your mom around more often.”

I knew their routine—mornings with the mom, evenings with the daughter.

“Oh, that makes sense!”

Her suspicion melted into a bright smile.

“No wonder Kkumi’s so excited to see you. He doesn’t just warm up to anyone like this.”

Perfect timing, I thought.

This is my chance to dig for some answers.

“Mind if I hold him for a sec?”

I asked.

“Go right ahead!”

I scooped Kkumi into my arms, his soft fur tickling my hands.

Leaning in close, I whispered so softly the owner wouldn’t catch it, “Hey, buddy, can I ask you something?”

“Woof! Woof!”

“You know my owner, right? Heard anything about someone visiting them recently? Who was it?”

“Arf! Arf! Woof!”

Kkumi launched into an animated recount, spilling everything he knew with the enthusiasm only a dog could muster.

So that’s how it is.

“Whine… whimper…”

Kkumi’s tone softened, his eyes glistening as if consoling me.

He knew my owner was gone.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, planting a grateful kiss on his furry head before handing him back to his owner.

“Thanks for the chat.”

“Thank you,” I said to the owner with a smile.

“No problem! Let’s say hi if we run into each other again.”

“Definitely! See you later, Kkumi!”

I waved as they walked off, Kkumi glancing back with a reluctant whimper.

I kept waving until they disappeared from view.

Wait a second… how did he recognize me?

Neither Hyungcheol nor Jungwoo had a clue who I was in this new form, yet Kkumi knew me instantly.

That’s… weird.

I should’ve asked him how he knew.

According to Kkumi, three types of people had visited my owner’s place: a con artist, a reporter, and a sobbing fan.

The complex had been buzzing for a while after the incident, but none of those visitors seemed particularly suspicious.

Scammers were a dime a dozen, the reporter was probably sniffing around for a scoop, and the fan… well, they were just heartbroken.

Looks like I’ve only got one path left.

My eyes landed on a billboard in the distance, where Han Jungwoo’s face beamed, a beer bottle in hand, his expression as cool as the drink itself.

***

At a set in Namyangju, the air buzzed with the rhythmic click of camera shutters and the pop of flashing lights, filling the studio with frenetic energy.

“Okay, great! Tilt your head just a bit to the left.”

I followed the photographer’s direction, striking poses with an ease that felt almost second nature.

“Did you come straight from a modeling gig or something?” the photographer asked, peering over his camera.

“Huh? Oh, no,” I replied, caught off guard.

“Most newbies are stiff as boards, but you’re a natural,” he said, clearly impressed.

I smirked inwardly.

My owner had shot countless ads and editorials—I’d watched them all.

I was just mimicking what I’d seen.

“With looks like that and a face that photographs this well, you’re a rare find,” the photographer continued.

“Right? We picked a real gem this time,” a staff member chimed in, grinning.

“Wow, Hyeonjae, you’re absolutely stunning,” another added, eyes glued to the monitor.

Okay, enough with the praise already.

Dogs are suckers for compliments, and I was no exception.

I’d come here thinking of this as just a job, but their words lit a spark in me.

Now I really want to nail this.

“Alright, let’s make the product pop a bit more. Bring it forward… yes, perfect!”

I held the moisturizer under my chin, closing my eyes and flashing a radiant smile, the kind that screamed fresh and vibrant.

“Oh, yes! That’s it!” the photographer exclaimed.

“Gorgeous!” another staff member squealed.

“It’s perfect!”

With every pose, their cheers grew louder, and I poured everything I had into it.

“Great, let’s switch outfits and go again,” the photographer called.

“Got it!”

I replied, heading to the dressing room where a stylist handed me the next look.

“You’re killing it for your first ad,” she said, her eyes wide with admiration.

“So professional.”

“Oh, well… I’ve watched a lot of, uh, monitors,” I said, catching myself before mentioning my owner.

“Of course, so prepared!” she said, giving me a thumbs-up.

Kyungho always said you’ve got to earn your keep.

Someone who takes money without doing the job right is just as bad as someone who doesn’t pay for work done.

I wasn’t about to be that guy.

“Huh? Why are the pants so short?”

I asked, glancing down.

The hem barely reached my ankles, exposing my peach-bone.

“Short?” the stylist echoed, frowning.

“Didn’t your profile say you’re 183 cm?”

“Yeah, that’s right. So why…?”

“You’re actually 183 cm?” she asked, skeptical.

“Of course!”

Why would I lie about something like that?

“Oh, that explains it,” she said, nodding as if solving a puzzle.

“So many people fudge their height. They say 183 when they’re really 181 or 180.”

“Why would anyone lie about that?”

I asked, baffled.

“Taller looks cooler, doesn’t it? 178 becomes 180, 180 becomes 183…”

She rolled her eyes.

“Then they complain when the fit’s off. Ugh, it’s so annoying.”

“People like that are worse than dogs,” I muttered, shaking my head.

The stylist blinked, then burst out laughing.

“You’re right. Suddenly, everything feels okay.”

“Huh?”

“We’re shooting mostly bust shots, so the length shouldn’t matter too much,” she reassured me, adjusting the outfit.

Just then, a PR team member poked their head into the dressing room.

“Hyeonjae! After this, we’ll take a quick break before moving to video.”

“Got it,” I said.

I’d expected as much—my owner often pulled all-nighters on shoots like this.

“Oh, and we managed to get a special director for this one,” the staff member added, a hint of pride in their voice.

“Special director?”

I asked, curious.

“Yeah, he’s not just an ad director—he’s a film director. Took some serious connections to get him.”

A film director?

My head tilted in confusion.

What was that about?

The staff member chuckled, dropping the pretense.

“Okay, fine. We got a friend to do it to save some budget. But don’t worry—he’s a big name!”

Ad director, film director—it didn’t matter to me. “Alright, sounds good.”

“But, uh, this director’s a bit…”

The staff member trailed off as another crew member burst in.

“We ready yet?”

“All set!” the PR staff replied.

“Hyeonjae, you’ve got this!”

The outfit change went smoothly, and the shoot continued with more praise showering down.

The crew had been nervous about working with a newbie, but as things flowed effortlessly, the set’s energy soared.

“For the video, just nail the line,” a staff member instructed.

“‘Feels dewy when you apply it, but wakes up soft and smooth.’”

“Got it,” I said, repeating the tagline in my head.

“Our director’s here!” someone announced, and the staff member I’d been talking to hurried off to greet them.

I glanced over.

That’s… the director?

He shuffled in wearing stretched-out sweatpants, a faded gray T-shirt, and a black cap pulled low over unwashed hair.

He looked like the unemployed guy who loitered around my neighborhood.

“Director!” a staff member called.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s make this quick,” he grumbled, dragging his slippers as he plopped down in front of the monitor.

“Already?” someone asked.

“What’s the holdup? Everything’s set, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Where’s the model?” he barked.

“Right here,” I said, stepping forward.

He sized me up, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.

“Eh, looks decent enough. You got the lines down?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t mess it up later. If it’s not working, speak up now.”

“I’ve got it memorized,” I said, a little annoyed. Did he think I was some amateur?

“Alright, let’s wrap this up fast,” he said, waving his hand like he was being chased.

The crew scrambled into action.

“Lie down, get up, stretch, touch your face, then say the line. Easy, right?” he explained, summarizing the storyboard.

Wake up, use the product, look amazed, and show it off.

“Ready? Let’s roll,” the director said.

“Ready… shoot,” he mumbled, his voice dripping with apathy.

I followed the cue, rising from the bed, stretching, and brushing my left cheek.

“Feels dewy when you apply it, but wakes up soft and smooth.”

“Cut. Okay, one more time,” he said, offering no feedback.

Here we go.

My owner had worked with directors who gave detailed notes, tweaking every angle and expression.

This guy?

Nothing.

I had a bad feeling about this.

“Cut. Alright, change the angle.”

“Cut. One more.”

This isn’t right.

Even a rookie like me could tell something was off.

My owner’s shoots were never this directionless.

“Director,” I called out.

“What?” he replied, barely glancing up, irritation in his tone.

“How about we try it a bit brighter?”

I suggested.

If this guy wasn’t going to step up, I would. We were all working hard—one lazy director wasn’t going to ruin this.

“Fine, whatever,” he muttered.

“Sis, which hand—left or right?”

I asked the stylist.

“Hmm, both look good. Whichever feels better for you.”

“Right,” I decided.

Huh.

Maybe he’s not completely useless.

He’d seemed disinterested, but his brief answers were spot-on, revealing a surprising depth of skill.

“Wow, the right hand’s way better,” a staff member said.

“So much more natural,” another agreed.

Guess he is a big-name director.

He acted careless, but his instincts were sharp, his choices precise.

“Director, should we review the monitor?” a staff member suggested.

“Do whatever,” he said, waving a hand.

“Hyeonjae,” another called, motioning me over.

We gathered around the monitor to check the footage.

“The product logo’s not fully in frame here, right?”

I pointed out.

“It’s fine, looks good to me. You’re stunning, Hyeonjae,” a staff member said, grinning.

“Maybe it feels too abrupt when I get up. Should I smile first, Director?”

I asked, my eyes flicking to him.

My owner’s ads had trained my eye to spot the smallest flaws, and something about this felt… off.

“Uh, sure,” he mumbled, barely engaged.

“This is my first gig,” I said, locking eyes with him.

“I want it to be perfect.”

Come on, tell me what’s missing.

I had a hunch this guy knew exactly what was wrong.

And sure enough, ten minutes later, the director who’d been halfheartedly muttering “okay” transformed.

“Hold up! The lighting’s all wrong. Shift it mid-shot so it brightens when she gets up. That’s the effect we need!”

“Hey! Move that camera—wrong angle! Why even have a set if you’re gonna shoot it like that? Might as well use a backdrop!”

The crew snapped to attention, and I couldn’t help but smile.

There’s the director we needed.