Chapter 39: The Actress Returns

To rise to the ranks of a top star with immense popularity in the media, what you need is 99% talent and 1% effort.

There’s a reason you never hear modifiers like “hard-working” attached to the title of top star, while you often hear “talented singer” or “skilled actor.”

That’s because talent, unlike effort, is something you’re born with—half of it is innate.

Seo Ji-won was a case of lacking experience rather than effort.

As soon as she regained her self-esteem and gained a bit of experience, she demonstrated skills more than worthy of a lead role in .

From the start, she had already proven her own talent by spending so many years as an idol, excelling in dance, singing, and variety shows—a true all-round artist of this era.

‘Seo Ji-won’s talent comes from her well-balanced versatility—like a perfect hexagon, each side even.’

Ahn Yoo-seok, the actor I’d marked after previewing him on Godflix, is the same kind—his acting talent is a few levels above even Seo Ji-won’s.

His outstanding ability to analyze, immerse, and embody a role is partially thanks to effort, but it’s not something that could be achieved by effort alone.

Of course, his looks are handsome enough to befit an actor, but in truth, Ahn Yoo-seok’s talent is focused on his acting.

‘And Cheon Na-young’s talent lies in her overwhelming visuals.’

An attractive appearance is crucial for making a strong first impression on the audience. If your visuals are outstanding, even if your acting is just average, you pique curiosity for the character and draw people in.

Moreover, the more visually striking the actor, the broader the range of roles they can take on.

While actors with unique and quirky looks have their own appeal, those who are simply beautiful or handsome have a wider pool of roles available.

That’s why I judged Cheon Na-young’s “visuals” as a talent on par with Seo Ji-won’s versatility and Ahn Yoo-seok’s acting.

‘That’s why, even before checking the documentary on Godflix, I was already tempted to cast her.’

I wasn’t the only one with these thoughts, whether in detail or more generally.

Everyone on site who witnessed Cheon Na-young’s shooting seemed to think the same as I did.

Most of the staff for , led by Park Sang-tae, are veteran crew members who have worked with Kim Seung-pyo for years.

Of course, while they might not be called the best in the industry just yet, they’re still experienced and capable enough to rank near the top.

All of them were showing the same expressions and reactions as they watched Cheon Na-young.

Even Park Sang-tae, who had filmed countless stars under Kim Seung-pyo, had never experienced something like this before.

After shouting “Cut!” and chewing on his lip for quite some time, Park Sang-tae was deep in thought when I approached him and asked,

“Are you worried about something?”

“Hoo… Yes, because it’s good. It sounds strange, but it’s so overwhelmingly good that it’s giving me trouble.”

“Because she stands out too much?”

“Yes. The only line she’s said on screen is ‘Hello.’ The problem is, just by greeting and sitting down, she comes off as the lead of .”

“So that’s why you said it’s a good kind of trouble.”

Even though it wasn’t a scene requiring deep acting skills, and even though she was a total rookie with no top star image ingrained in the public’s mind, everyone who saw Cheon Na-young instinctively perceived her as “lead” material.

Her scene-stealing “visuals” were Cheon Na-young’s greatest weapon, but from a director’s perspective, who needs to weave everything together into a coherent drama, she must have looked less like a standout and more like a blindingly bright corner piece.

But telling her to act worse wasn’t something a director could say, either.

After agonizing for a while, Park Sang-tae shouted to the staff in the corner.

“Costume team, do you have any extra hats or glasses? Bring something that can naturally cover her face as much as possible.”

“Yes, director.”

A moment later, the costume staff came back with a pile of big beanies suitable for winter and several pairs of horn-rimmed glasses in various designs.

But because her head was so small, even the beanies and glasses looked ridiculously loose, almost to the point of comedy, leaving everyone in shock. Luckily, they managed to find some children’s props that fit her somewhat, so at least her face could be covered.

With an unfashionable brown beanie and a pair of red horn-rimmed glasses that had gone out of style ten years ago, Cheon Na-young’s visuals finally looked a little less overwhelming.

Seeing her like that, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why are you laughing, mister?”

“It’s just… you look like someone from a variety show ten years ago.”

“Really? How do I look right now?”

“Uh, you look like an actress pretending to be down-to-earth for a rural experience program.”

“Oh, come on!”

Just as Cheon Na-young finished getting ready to shoot again, the lead actor of , Park Hyung-jun, approached her.

Startled, Cheon Na-young bowed quickly in apology.

“I’m sorry, the shoot got delayed because of me.”

“Haha, it’s fine. It’s not like you messed up your lines, and I’m grateful you’re filling in as a stand-in.”

Even as the shoot was delayed by a minor role, Park Hyung-jun kept his signature warm smile.

But then, Park Hyung-jun turned to me with an unexpected suggestion.

“Writer, if it’s alright, how about we try some ad-libs with Cheon Na-young’s lines? Is that okay?”

As a veteran known for his kind and comedic father roles, Park Hyung-jun was also famous for actively suggesting ad-libs on set.

While this project aimed to faithfully recreate the Godflix original, I had a hunch that, given the circumstances, he could make the situation come alive in a more flavorful way.

“If it’s Park Hyung-jun’s ad-libs, I’m looking forward to it too. What did you have in mind?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to ask this actress here, but today’s our first meeting. May I ask your name?”

“Yes, I’m Cheon Na-young.”

Park Hyung-jun looked between the two of us as if seeking our permission before continuing.

“If I’m interpreting the script correctly, Na-young’s character is an office worker, exhausted after work, looking to unwind with a nice dinner and a beer. That’s why she wears a coat and shirt and is sociable enough to greet the owner of her regular restaurant.”

“That’s right.”

“But with this outfit, rather than a typical office worker, she comes off as timid and deeply introverted.”

It was true—she’d changed into a hoodie, pulled the beanie down, and was wearing those outdated red horn-rimmed glasses. Just as Park Hyung-jun said, Cheon Na-young now gave off a more casual, less office-like vibe.

“Since her vibe is standing out a bit, how about this: She comes in quietly, all shy, and I’ll greet her gently and draw her out with conversation.”

This was Park Hyung-jun’s proposal.

Instead of Cheon Na-young’s original lines—“Hello,” and “The usual, please”—they’d be replaced with her saying, “Thank you,” when served the food and, after tasting it, bashfully expressing, “Wow, it’s delicious.”

Either way, his character was supposed to be a thoughtful restaurant owner with deep rapport with his regulars, and since this was Na-young’s only scene, there was no issue.

‘No, this actually livens up the scene and brings out the protagonist’s warmth even more.’

We relayed Park Hyung-jun’s suggestion to Director Park Sang-tae, and soon the shoot resumed.

While watching from the side, I could sense a new sparkle of focus in Cheon Na-young’s eyes.

‘She must be enjoying the process of studying her role and acting for the first time in a while.’

In fact, Park Hyung-jun’s idea wasn’t just about matching the situation to Cheon Na-young’s appearance.

Usually, you hire minor actors to brighten up the scene and respond energetically for a simple reason.

Socially adept, unremarkable roles don’t stress viewers out.

They serve as cogs that keep the drama moving smoothly, without creating special quirks or curiosity.

‘But Park Hyung-jun gave the minor character a rare personality—shy and introverted.’

I waited, curious to see how the chemistry between the veteran actor and Cheon Na-young would unfold, until Director Park Sang-tae gave the signal.

Soon the shoot resumed, and Park Sang-tae picked up his megaphone.

“Alright, let’s go again. Cue!”

Transformed into a thoroughly gentle introvert, Cheon Na-young didn’t slide the door open in one go like before, but inched it open slowly before entering the restaurant.

Wearing a headscarf and apron, Park Hyung-jun greeted her with a soft smile.

“Welcome. Please, sit wherever you like.”

Cheon Na-young silently bowed her head and took a seat one spot over from the original, but Park Hyung-jun didn’t miss a beat and continued his lines naturally.

“It’s gotten really cold, hasn’t it? That seat’s a little warmer, at least.”

“……”

“Shall I bring you the usual? Steamed egg and soy sauce pork stir-fry?”

“……”

Cheon Na-young started to open her mouth, but then closed it again and simply nodded quietly.

Seeing this, Park Hyung-jun smiled kindly, tied his apron, and cracked an egg into a bowl.

“Alright, I’ll get that ready for you.”

The next shot focused on close-ups of the cooking process, so Director Park Sang-tae, looking satisfied, beamed broadly and shouted, “Cut!”

Watching the live feed through the camera, I couldn’t help but murmur in admiration.

‘So this is why Director Park Sang-tae insisted on casting Park Hyung-jun.’

He softened Cheon Na-young’s overwhelming visuals with an introverted character, letting the scene flow without any lines.

On top of that, he played the warm, considerate restaurant owner in a completely new but perfect way.

The actors’ ad-libs, tailored to the situation on set, added a richer, warmer seasoning to the project.

Then, I noticed Park Hyung-jun and Cheon Na-young lingering in their spots even after “Cut” had been called.

Park Hyung-jun smiled gently and praised Cheon Na-young in a soft voice.

“You didn’t open the sliding door all at once—was that an acting choice for the introverted role I suggested?”

“Oh, yes. When I was working part-time, I noticed that the way customers entered depended on their personality.”

“And sitting further inside, opening your mouth to answer but then just nodding—was that for the same reason?”

“Yes, that’s what the introverted customers I saw would do.”

Park Hyung-jun smiled approvingly, taking an interest in Cheon Na-young.

“You responded to my impromptu ad-libs right away, you have great observational skills, and your visuals are fantastic. I can see why Writer Lee Jung-hyuk picked you.”

“What? Mister—no, Writer, you picked me?”

Only then did Cheon Na-young realize, albeit vaguely, that today’s sudden shoot had all been part of my plan.

I pretended not to notice her glare, but when she stomped over and stared daggers at me right up close, it was hard to keep feigning ignorance.

“You’re really sneaky. So sneaky.”

“Haha, good job. Do you want me to give you a ride home?”

Imitating Park Hyung-jun, I put on my most genial smile.

“So is this it for today?”

“Of course, you did so well I’ll even ask for extra pay for you. You’ll get your appearance fee, too.”

Snorting, Cheon Na-young took off her hat and glasses and, with an expressionless face, brushed past me.

“I’ll go return the costume.”

***

It was past 10 p.m.

As I drove down the quiet Olympic Boulevard with Cheon Na-young in the passenger seat, I sneaked a glance at her.

“Ms. Cheon Na-young, are you still mad I made you act out of the blue?”

“It was kind of off-putting that you didn’t tell me beforehand.”

“Ahem. Sorry about that.”

She still seemed upset, her gaze fixed on the streetlights streaming by outside the window.

But then she quietly spoke.

“But… I liked it.”

“What did you like?”

Looking now, I realized Cheon Na-young wasn’t actually pouting. She was deep in thought.

She’d been replaying the moment acting with Park Hyung-jun, over and over.

“It’s been more than ten years since I last acted, and I had no idea what to do. But standing in front of the camera, my heart was pounding so hard I thought I’d go crazy.”

“You didn’t seem nervous at all.”

“It was beating because I was excited. Ah, I realized I can still act. That I really, really love acting.”

Thank goodness.

Cheon Na-young was just as I’d thought—an actress through and through.

A true actress whose heart raced at the thought of studying her character and shining before the camera.

“I’ll ask you once more. Ms. Cheon Na-young, will you try acting again?”

Her eyes, which had been fixed on the streetlights outside, slowly turned to my face.

Though I was keeping my eyes on the road, I could feel her gaze piercing my right cheek.

After a moment of hesitation, she finally spoke.

“I’ll do it. No, I want to do it. I want to act.”

I almost broke into a huge smile but barely held it back.

‘That’s it. With this, I can complete the Godflix quest too.’

Some might call it mercenary, but I couldn’t help feeling happy, thinking the Godflix reward was right around the corner.

“Okay, then it’s decided—you’re going to act. I’ll be cheering for you.”

“Alright, then from now on, you’re responsible for me, Writer.”

“Responsible? In what way?”

“You have to put me in your work.”

“Hmm…”

I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and straightened my back.

“What do you mean? Of course, you have to pass the audition to get the part.”

“What? I thought you’d just cast me!”

“Nope, that’s not it.”

And so, with the sound of a young, naïve actress’ playful complaints, the year’s first snow began to fall in the sky above the open Olympic Boulevard.