TBM Vol 1 Part 4

Seung-yeon arrived a little late, taking a seat behind the camera. He chatted easily with one of the supporting actors, and soon, people began to gather around him. Regardless of their status, everyone seemed drawn to him. When he spoke, they laughed, their eyes sparkling with admiration. Seung-yeon often smiled with his eyes closed, reclining comfortably as if used to being the center of attention.

This was the Sa Seung-yeon Il-seo knew—gentle on the surface but undeniably strong. Even his relaxed and innocent smile carried a subtle edge that made it clear he wasn’t to be underestimated.

The title “The Man of a Thousand Faces” was often attributed to Sa Seung-yeon. In the early stages of his career, however, his roles had been somewhat repetitive. His image as a right-wing alpha male with a privileged background had garnered attention, solidifying his status as a noble and righteous character.

But Seung-yeon broke out of that mold when he took on the role of Lee Eung-soo, a gangster in the film Synergy. It was a casting choice that raised eyebrows, with many questioning how someone with such a clean-cut image could portray a character who lived with harsh curses and vulgar behavior. But once the film was released, Seung-yeon’s performance was a revelation. He skyrocketed to stardom, expanding his range and proving himself as a versatile actor.

That same raw charm was visible now as he sat in for makeup. Light scars were painted on his face and his blood-splattered shirt was unbuttoned. He looked like Lee Eung-soo, the rough-edged character he had brought to life on screen.

“……”

Il-seo, who had been watching Seung-yeon from a distance, turned his attention back to the script. But even as he read over the lines, Seung-yeon’s presence lingered in his mind. He had always known Seung-yeon— as a confident, cool, and with an aura that attracted attention—long before others did.

—

Seung-yeon stared at Il-seo with cold eyes. In contrast to Il-seo’s gaze, he held a reckless mockery, completely opposing the clear eyes blinking up at Seung-yeon with an almost innocent expression. It was just a simple line, something anyone could say offhandedly. But who would have thought this young man, seemingly with nothing to lose, would convey such fierce spirit with such a great clarity?

Seung-yeon thought to himself: He’s actually quite good. Initially, he had seen some hastily scribbled notes in the script and worried the newcomer might overdo it, making the performance awkward. This was the second time he had misjudged Il-seo.

Director Chae Geum-soo also seemed unusually excited. Even if the scene didn’t turn out exactly as he envisioned, he would push until it did. He didn’t give Il-seo much direction, aside from a few pointers on eye contact and movement.

During a short break, Manager Hwan stood by Seung-yeon, taking the water he had just finished. The stylist, busy touching up Seung-yeon’s makeup, noticed something under the chair.

“A caramel is dropped here. Is it yours, hyung?”

Only then did Seung-yeon realize he had dropped the candy. With his eyes still closed and expression unchanged, he replied, 

“No.”

“I’ll head to rehearsal,” he said, as the assistant director called him to set. With a calm, cool response, Seung-yeon stood, stretched, and began walking toward the set. As he moved, the caramel, nudged by his foot, rolled across the floor.

—

“Cut.”

The cold voice froze the entire set. Seung-yeon let go of Il-seo’s collar, and Il-seo lowered his hand from Seung-yeon’s shoulder. The pale, thin fingers gripping the hem of his clothes trembled slightly. Director Chae Geum-soo’s voice grew louder.

“How many times do I have to explain it for you to understand? Do you even care about my direction?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Reset the scene. Ready.”

The crew hurriedly returned to their positions. As Il-seo wiped his lips with the back of his hand, the makeup team quickly moved in, pressing a sponge to his face, and reapplying foundation over his swollen, red lips. Seung-yeon grasped Il-seo’s forearm as the director gave him the signal.

“Action.”

Seung-yeon glared at Il-seo, whose relaxed gaze met his. He frowned and pressed his lips against him. Seung-yeon expected the scene to be cut again as soon as he approached. His performance was fine until the moment they kissed, but each time they got close, Il-seo would pull back, holding his breath. He didn’t open his mouth at the right moment and trembled when Seung-yeon grabbed him. Though he tried to remain focused, Seung-yeon couldn’t help but sigh as Il-seo gasped for air and awkwardly parted his lips.

“Oh, cut.”

“… …”

“… …”

“Il-seo, are you kidding me?” Director Chae’s voice cut through the silence. Il-seo turned pale and nodded. The staff and extras on set glanced nervously, gauging the director’s reaction. Seung-yeon, balancing on one leg, ran his hand over his mouth and brushed his hair back. When he looked at Il-seo, he noticed his shoulders had slumped, completely drained. His lips were swollen and red from the repeated attempts.

“Let’s take a break, Director,” Seung-yeon suggested. Director Chae sighed deeply, collecting his emotions, and finally waved his hand towards Il-seo, signaling him for a break.

“Il-seo, come over here.”

Il-seo stood before the director with a frozen expression. The same instructions had been repeated, and the numerous failed takes were solely due to his acting. The scene, meant to show Haru calmly controlling Jang Tae-hyun’s wild kissing, had instead become the opposite. Il-seo wasn’t controlling—he was being overwhelmed. Seung-yeon could sense this scene was beyond saving as he watched Il-seo’s uneven breathing and trembling pupils. He muttered under her breath, irritated.

“This is turning into a mess.”

Manager Hwan, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. 

“I thought things were going smoothly, but it’s all falling apart.”

“He was fine earlier, but now we’re losing it.”

Seung-yeon, who despised inefficiency, felt irritation rising to his scalp. Hwan, noticing this, handed him a cold coffee and checked his expression. Seung-yeon’s dark eyes swept over the filming set to where Il-seo stood with a lowered head. Every time the director spoke, Il-seo’s pale face and sharp jawline seemed to sink further.

His initial impression of Il-seo, formed during their script reading, had shattered twice: once after their first filming, and now again. He had been competent during the action scenes, where he evaded him during a chaotic club fight. But in this intimate moment, he seemed completely out of his depth. Il-seo, now worn down by the director’s relentless critiques, slumped into a chair on the edge of the set, ignoring his manager’s offer of a drink and instead flipping through his battered script. Watching him focus intensely on the page, Seung-yeon couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Does practicing kissing scenes work by reading scripts?

From his perspective, it was baffling that he struggled so much yet had no one around to help him. It was frustrating to see him shrink even further, especially since he’d noticeably lost weight since the script reading.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured to himself, trying to suppress unnecessary emotions. Just then, Director Chae approached Seung-yeon, while pulling up a chair beside him.

“Seung-yeon, I think you’re intimidating him.”

Seung-yeon snorted as his eyes widened. 

“Intimidating? Have you seen the way he says his lines?”

“Reciting lines is one thing, but skinship is another. Why are you kissing him like you’re trying to devour him?”

Seung-yeon shook his head while lifting his shoulders in exasperation. “Isn’t he the problem? He can’t handle it.”

So why did you cast him in the first place? Seung-yeon stifled his frustration and managed a polite smile. There was only one solution now.

“If it’s that bad, just recast him.”

“No,” Director Chae replied, “get closer to Il-seo before the next shoot.”

Seung-yeon’s lips tightened. He looked at the director, suppressing his irritation, while he gently patted his shoulder.

“He hasn’t had proper lessons. Take him out for a meal, introduce him to Mr. Park. Okay?”

“Aren’t there any replacement actor?”

The thought of having to help Il-seo outside of filming stirred discomfort deep within him. Sensing this, Director Chae laughed heartily.

“If I recast Il-seo, I’d have to recast everyone. Haru was cast because of him.”

“What? Why did you cast me then?”

The director laughed again. “You fool, I cast you to match with Il-seo.”

Now it hurt his ego. What exactly was Lee Il-seo? Was it really like Gu Dong-young said, that this is all because of an infatuation with Lee Il-seo?

Still, Seung-yeon knew stepping down from this highly anticipated film, which had garnered attention both domestically and internationally, wasn’t an option. With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to the situation. They decided to postpone the kissing scene and move on to the next shot.

Filming continued late into the night. When it finally ended, Il-seo hurried through the dispersing crew to catch up with Seung-yeon, who was already leaving the set. He spotted something familiar on the ground—the caramel Seung-yeon had dropped earlier. As he reached for it, a staff member kicked it out of sight. Shaking it off, Il-seo dashed up the stairs after Seung-yeon, while calling out for him.

“Senior!”

Seung-yeon paused, just about to get into his car.

“Excuse me, can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Is it fine here?”

“Yes, of course.”

Despite Seung-yeon’s reputation as a top actor, known for his charm and sly jokes on set, he now seemed distant and cold towards Il-seo, while his gaze tinged with pity. Il-seo nervously rubbed the back of his neck before speaking.

“I’m sorry for causing the delay in filming.”

Seung-yeon lit a cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke, and replied, “Are you going to be okay? There’ll be more scenes harder than a kissing scene.”

He intended his words to be a challenge, hoping Il-seo might quit. Il-seo, his ears turning red, tightened his lips and nodded resolutely.

“I’ll practice harder. I won’t cause any more trouble.”

“Fighting,” Seung-yeon said while patting Il-seo’s shoulder.

“Oh, senior, I noticed you dropped some caramel earlier on set. It was so chaotic…”

Il-seo pulled out some caramels from his backpack but, spotting the manager nearby and awkwardly put them back.

“They’re delicious, please share them.”

When Seung-yeon didn’t reach for the candy, Manager Hwan took them. Seung-yeon smiled politely, said goodbye, and got into the van. As the door shut and the window rolled down, the manager gestured for Il-seo to step back. He did so, while looking dejected.

From a distance, Kyung-hyun honked, signaling for Il-seo to come. His gait was heavier than usual as he approached the car. Kyung-hyun’s voice was bright.

“You worked hard today, Il-seo.”

“Thank you.”

“Nothing to worry about. It’s just the beginning, let’s focus on the scenes ahead.”

“Of course.”

As Kyung-hyun sped off, Il-seo faintly smiled through the rearview mirror. Despite the brave promise he had made to Seung-yeon, guilt weighed heavily on his heart. His eyes, gazing at the quiet, early morning scenery, slowly blinked shut as drowsiness overcame him.