Chapter 5: Rising Star, Shaky Fists

The moment the word “Action!” rang out, Cheon Ian transformed, as if possessed by Lee Geom-il.

From the upright and righteous Cheon Ian, he became the sly Lee Geom-il.

At the judge’s words, Jo Arin stood and took the witness stand. With sharp, venomous eyes like a snake, she stared straight ahead—she was no longer Im Bada.

She was Jo Arin, a character consumed by rage and resentment, standing alone against the world.

The moment she saw Lawyer Lee Sang-cheol, she spat on the floor.

The sudden ad-lib startled the other actors. But just before filming began, she’d said:

“Sunbae-nim, this might be rude, but could I try an ad-lib?”

“An ad-lib?”

“Yes, please go along with it.”

Since she’d given him a heads-up, Cheon Ian wasn’t thrown off.

In fact, he thought, Hmm… that does feel like something Jo Arin would do.

Watching Im Bada’s performance, Cheon Ian slipped back into Lee Geom-il, raising an eyebrow playfully and responding with his own ad-lib.

His previously emotionless gaze softened as he looked at the judge.

“Our wise judge, please forgive our witness for her impudent act of spitting.”

His low, resonant voice carried through the studio, captivating everyone.

Then, Lee Geom-il turned to Jo Arin and greeted her.

“Hello?”

Lee Geom-il’s voice instantly stole the attention of Jo Arin, who was glaring venomously at the defense. When she didn’t respond, he snapped his fingers as if he’d forgotten something.

“Whoa, whoa. We agreed to stay calm in this sacred courtroom, didn’t we?”

Jo Arin, who’d been staring silently at Lee Geom-il with lifeless eyes, suddenly came alive, her gaze sparkling.

As if she’d met her savior.

‘…What’s that?’

Her expression weighed heavily on Cheon Ian, not as Lee Geom-il but as himself. As they locked eyes for a moment, Director Han Jun-hyuk removed his headset and called out.

“Cut!”

At the word “cut,” Im Bada snapped out of Jo Arin and leapt from her chair.

“Thank you, sunbae-nim, for going along with my ad-lib.”

“Uh, sure.”

‘It reminds me of my rookie days when I didn’t rehearse…’

To find an actor whose chemistry clicked without rehearsal was rare, and Cheon Ian, feeling the shoot was fun, covered his face to hide a creeping smile.

After clearing his throat, he asked Im Bada, who was watching him intently.

“I’m curious—why did you spit on the floor? It would’ve been fine without it.”

“I thought about how Jo Arin lived from the moment I got the script. She’s driven by a fierce determination to save her sister and can’t stand injustice.

I interpreted her as someone who’d see the defense’s lack of care for her sister as despicable, so I ad-libbed the spit.”

He noticed the tattered script in her hands.

‘…It’s been a while since I’ve seen a rookie this dedicated.’

Im Bada thanked him again.

Some actors dislike ad-libs—Cheon Ian, the “rehearsal maniac,” was one of them. She knew how big a deal it was for him to go along with it.

“Hmm.”

Cheon Ian felt good meeting a talented junior. But as a good senior, he had to look out for her.

“You still need to rehearse when it’s necessary.”

“Yes, sir!”

“For the hallway scene, we need to coordinate how you’ll fall forward or sideways, and how I’ll catch you.”

“Got it…”

“And since I’m your senior, let me tell you something!”

Cheon Ian grinned proudly down at Im Bada.

“You can’t just say you don’t want to rehearse without a plan.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Im Bada bowed apologetically.

“Have we met on a set before?”

“…Uh.”

“Why?”

“I used to do a lot of minor roles and extra work.”

“Then I must’ve seen you in passing?”

“Probably.”

Normally, a rookie would seize this chance to network, but Im Bada’s calm demeanor made him tilt his head.

‘This rookie isn’t ambitious?’

“It’s my first time working with a great senior like you, so I’m a bit clumsy.”

“……”

“Please guide me. I want to learn acting from you, sunbae-nim.”

A junior saying outright they want to learn from him was a first. Cheon Ian gestured toward the monitor with a grin.

“Shall we go review the footage?”

“Yes!”

★★★

It was morning when we arrived, but it was evening by the end. Later, drama working conditions would improve, but right now, just before that shift, there was no such thing as leaving on time.

I’m exhausted…

After finishing the remaining scenes, Director Han Jun-hyuk slapped my arm.

“…Im Bada-ssi, really.”

“Yes?”

“The hallway scene was great. Really great.”

He said it every chance he got during filming. I must’ve heard it a hundred times.

“I don’t say empty words, but once episode 7 of The Life of a Prosecutor airs, your name will hit the real-time search rankings.”

“Will it?”

“The hallway scene was that good.”

The hallway scene, where I poured everything in, clicked so well with Cheon Ian that we nailed it in one take. When I snapped out of Jo Arin, the staff’s applause and cheers poured in.

The thrill was new and electrifying. But the shoot didn’t stop—it went on, filmed from multiple angles, multiple times.

In my past life, I’d heard from lead actors that Han Jun-hyuk’s shoots were grueling, but I didn’t realize how grueling.

“But… if the writer sees this episode 7, they’re going to lose it.”

“What? Why? Did I do something wrong…?”

‘Did I?’

I blinked at the director’s muttering.

“Wrong? No way. Jo Arin’s character came so vividly to life, they might want to add more scenes.”

‘More scenes…?’

“I liked it too.”

I knew Han Jun-hyuk’s drive. He was the type to make things happen. I had a strong feeling the future I knew might shift slightly.

“Thank you for seeing my acting positively.”

“No, if we add more scenes, you’ll do it, right? No, you have to.”

“I’m happy to.”

‘More scenes? I’d love that…’

Han Jun-hyuk lowered his voice so others couldn’t hear.

“But, you know.”

“Yes?”

“In the last hallway scene, your fist was trembling.”

Expecting a scolding, I lowered my gaze. I brushed my hair back to focus on Director Han Jun-hyuk’s words.

“Honestly, that trembling in that scene was great.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you plan that, Bada-ssi!?”

The trembling was great?

“Why are you stammering your lines!”

“If this were the era of film reels, you’d…”

In the past, Director Kim Jin always scolded me.

“No, it wasn’t planned.”

Honestly, the emotions of protesting against Lee Geom-il collided like a wall in my mind. I forgot the stage direction and stammered.

‘Should I admit I forgot the direction?’

That thought quickly faded.

Revealing weaknesses in this industry wasn’t wise.

Just then.

“Hey! Director!” Yeom Hae-jin appeared, naturally ending the conversation.

“Hey, Hae-jin. Great casting.”

“Oh! Thank you! I’ve got an eye for talent, don’t I?”

Yeom Hae-jin’s grin was so wide it felt like it could reach outer space.

“Where’d you find an actor like this?”

“We were in the theater club together.”

“Oh, theater club. No wonder she’s good. She’s a bit unpolished, but her facial expressions are top-notch.”

I didn’t know where to look with all this generous praise.

“Shall we take our rookie actor, Bada-ssi, to the wrap party?”

“…Me?”

“There’s a wrap party tonight. Join us. As a rookie, you should get close to the staff. You never know, right?”

A wrap party wasn’t on my schedule.

I desperately wanted to crash at home. But when else would I get industry insights?

“Oh, Kim Jin.”

And there was Director Kim Jin, from before Painful Him, Happy Her. I’d felt someone watching me closely—was it him?

“You’re joining the wrap party, right?”

“Of course!” Kim Jin replied.

He glanced at me, frowning.

“…I really enjoyed your acting earlier.”

He extended his hand, and after hesitating, I shook it.

“Thank you.”

I gripped his hand firmly. From months of working with him, I knew one thing: if Kim Jin liked me, that was the consensus.

‘Ugh, I feel sick.’

Unaware, Director Han Jun-hyuk laughed and asked Kim Jin, “This guy’s already trying to cast her? You must like Bada-ssi.”

“Well, her face fits the character I want.”

As I expected, Kim Jin would soon be directing a drama. I subtly pulled my hand from his and stepped back.

“Your acting gave me chills earlier,” he said.

“Right? Me too,” Han Jun-hyuk agreed.

“I was overwhelmed by that acting…”

No matter how many awards Kim Jin’s drama won, I had no desire to join it.

I studied the set closely, taking it all in. In my past life, I’d chosen Kim Jin’s drama out of a desperate desire to rise quickly.

Now? I wanted to act more.

Having learned so much from Cheon Ian, I wanted to find a drama where I could apply it.

Natural, flowing acting. Commanding expressions. Resonant vocal delivery and pronunciation.

I’d look back and be glad I joined this drama.

While I was lost in thought, Yeom Hae-jin was chatting with Kim Jin.

“Wow, sunbae, you’ve got to cast me in your next project!”

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t join my projects?”

“Well, that was…”

Then Cheon Ian came out, makeup removed.

“Ian, you’re coming to the wrap party, right? No shoot tomorrow.”

“…True, I don’t have a shoot tomorrow.”

“Let’s go. Our rookie actor’s coming too.”

“Really?”

Yeom Hae-jin signaled with her eyes for me to agree, and I reluctantly nodded.

“Yes… I’ll go.”

“Well, I’ve got some questions to ask, so I’ll join,” Cheon Ian said with a mischievous grin that made me uneasy.

Very.

Extremely.

★★★

At the barbecue restaurant, I was seated between Cheon Ian and actor Lee Sang-cheol, with Yeom Hae-jin across from me, and Directors Han Jun-hyuk and Kim Jin next to her.

‘It’s like I’m the star of the show.’

Every time I ate a piece of meat, Cheon Ian grinned.

He’d said he had a question for me, and I was watching for when he’d bring it up.

“Hey, Ian! Stop staring, you’ll make Bada-ssi choke!” Han Jun-hyuk teased.

“No, I’m just waiting for the right moment because I’m curious.”

“Sure you are,” I said, stuffing a piece of pork belly wrapped in lettuce into my mouth.

“Now’s the time? Why was your fist trembling earlier?”

The lettuce caught in my throat, and my face flushed. I managed to swallow it with water, but I kept coughing.

“…Huh?”

“I mean, you were acting so well, and then you trembled. Was that intentional?”

Han Jun-hyuk, curious too, widened his small eyes.

“Yeah! I meant to ask earlier, but you didn’t say anything.”

I couldn’t exactly lie in front of actors and directors…

As I worried about what to say, Yeom Hae-jin exclaimed, “Oh?!”

She handed me a tissue, shocked.

“Bada’s so startled she’s got a nosebleed!?”

“What…?”

A warm liquid touched my philtrum and trickled to my lips. I hurriedly grabbed the tissue from Yeom Hae-jin and wiped my mouth.

Cheon Ian, as if realizing something, pointed at me with the tongs he was using to grill meat.

“I got it!”

‘Got what?’

I kept wiping my nosebleed, waiting for his words.

“You stayed up all night, didn’t you?”

He wasn’t wrong, so I nodded.

“She didn’t forget her lines!”

“…….”

“She’s a prodigy.”

What?

“Hey! Your nosebleed’s getting worse!”

“Hahaha.”

‘What do I do…’

Everyone started focusing on me at Cheon Ian’s words.