Chapter 34 : The Art of Not Saying It’s Bad

The first day of script reading wasn’t much different in atmosphere from the reading for Blue Sky Spring. 

Laughter and light chatter filled the room as the cast settled in, ready to dive into the lines. 

“Haha, alright then, shall we get started?” 

“Yes, let’s go from the top.” 

That is, until Taehwan opened his mouth. 

“What the hell is this guy saying right now?” 

Huh? 

I blinked, doubting my own ears for a moment. 

What did I just hear? 

“Are you messing with me? You expect me to do this? Face-to-face with you?” 

The bizarre, almost theatrical tone of his delivery made me lift my gaze from the script. 

Across the table, my eyes locked with Jewooks. 

From the look on his face, it was clear he was thinking the same thing I was. 

This… is how he’s doing it? 

The absurdity was staggering, but no one dared say a word to Taehwan, though glances were exchanged. 

“Ahem, maybe we should call it a day here?” 

The director, clearly unable to stomach any more, cut the reading short at episode one, despite the plan to cover two. 

“Sounds good to me,” someone muttered. 

“Everyone’s probably tired. Let’s pick this up again next week for another reading. Taehwan, you’re okay with that, right?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

Taehwan’s expression remained unchanged, as if he were blissfully unaware of the tension in the room. 

“That’s a wrap for today, everyone. Good work. Writer, a moment, please…” 

“Yes, Director.” 

The director and writer hurried out of the room, no doubt for an emergency strategy session. 

If they cast him, they must’ve seen something in his acting, right?

Or was it just his image? 

From the looks of it, even they hadn’t anticipated this level of… disaster. 

“Hyung! Your acting was amazing today!” 

Jiwon, sitting across from me, bounded over with exaggerated enthusiasm. 

Wow, talk about no conscience. 

Even if it was Taehwan, how could he say that with a straight face? 

“Oh? Really? I was pretty nervous since it’s my first time.” 

“Nah, everyone’s nervous at their first reading. I was shaking too, right, Hyung?” 

“It’s always like that at the start,” Jewook chimed in, not offering Taehwan any real critique either. 

Is this normal? 

Sure, you can’t exactly call out someone’s acting to their face, but when it’s this bad, wouldn’t it be better for everyone—especially Taehwan—if someone said something? 

“Okay, let’s take a quick group photo for promo!” 

“Sure thing! Hyung, stand over here.” 

Jiwon pulled Taehwan to his side, throwing an arm around his shoulder for a friendly shot. 

“You guys are already so close?” 

A making-of camera appeared, capturing the moment. 

“Haha, yeah. Since the chemistry between the four friends is so important in this drama, we met up beforehand to bond.” 

“Everyone’s got such great personalities, so we clicked right away.” 

“With all these good-looking guys, the viewers are in for a treat!” 

“Oh, stop, you’re making me blush.” 

Jiwon, who’d starred in plenty of web dramas, handled the camera with ease, while Taehwan, a ten-year veteran idol, played his part effortlessly, exuding charisma. 

“Please look forward to the chemistry between our four friends!” 

“And lots of love for Today’s Fruit Shop!” 

Unlike them, I felt a little awkward under the spotlight of the everyday cameras. 

“Taehwan.” 

His manager called out to him cautiously. 

“Got it. I’ve gotta head out early today.” 

“No worries, go ahead!” 

“See you at the next reading.” 

“Good work, Hyung.” 

Taehwan left promptly, and only then did the others let their true thoughts slip. 

“Man, I was shocked earlier.” 

“It was… rough.” 

They clearly shared my opinion about Taehwan’s acting. 

“Don’t idols usually take acting lessons?” 

“Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know.” 

I shook my head at Jiwon’s question, deflecting. 

If you’re so curious, why didn’t you ask him when he was here? 

“He said he wasn’t interested in acting, so maybe he never bothered with lessons.” 

“Still, isn’t this a bit too much?” 

“Didn’t an article come out recently about his group, BIP, failing to renew their contracts? There were rumors of discord between the members. Maybe he’s been too distracted to practice.” 

The news about BIP’s contract fallout had been all over the place, with speculation about internal conflicts swirling. 

“Come on, acting skills don’t change overnight. Hyung, aren’t you shielding him a bit too much because it’s Taehwan?” 

“Shielding? You saw that the director couldn’t even say anything.” 

“When you’re not famous, it really stings. If I acted like that, I’d probably get chewed out and cut on the spot.” 

Jiwon’s grumbling hit a nerve, but Jewook just shrugged. 

“Let it go. The director didn’t say anything, so what can we do? Besides, if he flops, it’s better for you, isn’t it?” 

Jiwon’s eyes lit up, as if he’d just realized something. 

“You’re right!” 

My mentor once said acting is all about chemistry, but why would that make things better? Curious, I asked, “Why’s that a good thing?” 

“Are you dense? If someone’s bad, it makes the person next to them look better by comparison.” 

Jiwon’s bluntness made my brow furrow. 

What kind of logic is that? 

Even if Taehwan’s acting was awful, wasn’t it crossing a line to say something like that? 

“I wasn’t expecting much anyway.” 

“They’ll probably adjust his screen time.” 

“Most likely.” 

Jiwon and Jewook seemed to have predicted this after seeing the director and writer rush off. 

“Yes! I hope Beomwoo’s part gets expanded. It felt smaller than in the original, which was such a shame.” 

“They’ll figure it out.” 

Jiwon was already daydreaming about the extra screen time he might snag. 

This won’t make the whole project go off the rails, will it? 

There was a reason the protagonist’s name was in the title. 

If they started tweaking the script because of acting issues, who knew how it’d turn out? 

“By the way, Hyunjae, your line delivery was pretty solid.” 

“Yeah, you were good.” 

“No, I was just reading.” 

Taehwan’s performance was so jarring that I couldn’t even focus properly, let alone perform. 

“Just reading? Haha, wow, Hyung, check out our maknae!” 

Jiwon laughed, brushing it off as youthful bravado, but Jewook gave me a different look. 

“You go to an acting academy?” 

“No, I’ve never studied formally.” 

“Really? Then…” 

“Sorry, I need to clean up the meeting room…” 

A staff member interrupted, asking us to clear out. 

“My bad.” 

“Wanna grab a quick drink later?” 

Jiwon suggested a casual afterparty, but Jewook declined. 

“I’ve got a study group.” 

“Study group? What kind?” 

“Acting study group.” 

An acting study group? 

“Hyung, you do that? You’re Kim Jewook!” 

Jewook had been a fairly well-known child actor twenty years ago. 

“That was then. Things are different now. Gotta keep up somehow.” 

“That’s kinda cool.” 

“I’m beat today, but let’s meet up next time.” 

“Alright, no biggie. See you next week!” 

“I’m heading out too. Good work today.” 

As they left, I felt a presence behind me. 

“Hm?” 

Hayoon had been standing there, waiting quietly. 

“They said we need to leave…” 

“You could’ve just called me. Were you waiting long?” 

“No, not really.” 

We left the meeting room and climbed into the used car the company had provided. 

“…The reading ended early.” 

Hayoon, who rarely spoke, broke the silence as she drove, eyes fixed on the road. 

If she was asking, she was genuinely curious. 

“Yeah, we were supposed to do two episodes, but we stopped after one.” 

“Was something wrong?” 

“Uh…” 

I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her. 

But the staff would spread the gossip anyway, and I didn’t want to keep her in the dark. 

“Taehwan Hyung’s acting was so bad, the director cut it short.” 

“Oh…” 

“Hyung, why didn’t anyone say anything to him? He’s got people around him, doesn’t he?” 

It was strange that no one—not even his manager—called him out. 

It’s not like we’re trying to make a fool out of him. 

Someone should’ve said something, even if it wasn’t the director. 

“Well… maybe there’s a reason they didn’t.” 

“A reason?” 

To spare his feelings?

Afraid he’d get upset and quit? 

No matter the excuse, it didn’t make sense. 

“It’s still harsh.” 

“Maybe he already knows…” 

“What? No way!” 

Even if being an idol was his main gig, no one would want the label of “bad actor.” 

Besides, if he knew, wouldn’t he have reacted to Jiwon’s over-the-top praise? 

He hadn’t shown any sign of discomfort. 

“Or… maybe you could tell him, Hyunjae?” 

“Hm, wouldn’t he get mad?” 

Sure, I might be better than Taehwan, but to him, I was just another rookie. 

Would he even take me seriously? 

Probably not. 

The odds were slim—nonexistent, really. 

“I… I’d be grateful.” 

“Grateful?” 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe that’s just you, Hyung. 

Hayoon’s gentle nature might make it possible for her, but the world wasn’t full of kind people. 

“Ugh, I don’t know.” 

Human social dynamics were still so complicated. 

“It’s okay. You can think it over slowly.” 

“Yeah, I guess. By the way, this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk, Hyung.” 

In the month we’d been together, this was the most we’d ever spoken. 

“S-sorry.” 

“No, it’s great! I like it, so keep talking.” 

“…Okay.” 

Whatever.

It’s not my job anyway.

If he’s got any sense, he’ll show up next week a little better prepared. 

I was wrong. 

A week later, at the second script reading, nothing had changed. 

“Ugh, I told you from the start I didn’t want to do this crap!” 

I couldn’t help but press a hand to my forehead as I stared at the script. 

“You signed the contract, didn’t you? So you have to do it. I paid off your debts with the deposit from my house.” 

“What?” 

“So you’d better listen to me.” 

The scene was about Dohwan, who tracks down Ohnyoung—expelled from high school after an incident and living recklessly—and brings him to the fruit shop inherited from their grandmother, settling his debts. 

“This is your grandma’s shop.” 

“Hey, just sell this place and pay off your money—” 

“No, she left this shop to me, not you. If you don’t like it, pay me back right now.” 

The two characters, lifelong friends, were supposed to bicker after reuniting due to a misunderstanding, but Taehwan’s delivery kept breaking the rhythm, making it feel disjointed. 

Seriously… 

My mentor was right—acting was about chemistry. 

Taehwan’s constant fumbling threw me off, making it impossible to perform at my best. 

Frustration was starting to bubble up. 

How is he exactly the same as last week?

Not even a 1% improvement? 

“Uh… good job.” 

Good job? 

The director’s half-hearted praise, though reluctant, was the final straw. 

I can’t take this. 

If we filmed like this, the drama would be branded as a showcase of infamously bad acting. 

“Hyung.” 

If he was too oblivious to pick up on the mood, a direct hit might be the only way to get through. 

“Why are you acting like that?”