TBM Vol 1 Part 8

“Can I go home before the next shoot?” Seung-yeon checked the reply he had received a long time ago. He tossed his phone onto the sofa table, where it slid across the smooth marble surface before coming to a stop at the edge, about to fall onto the floor.

“Ha…”

He sighed, admitting to himself that his comments had been nitpicky. Haru’s breathing, gaze, and movements were all aspects he could have critiqued, but they hadn’t truly bothered him. After delivering his criticism, he recalled Il-seo’s face, which was pale and dejected, a look that tugged at his conscience.

Why had he reacted so defensively when he hadn’t even taken an acting class? He thought about the bed scene, realizing he would have to guide him through it again. Wouldn’t it have been better if Lee Il-seo had handled it competently on his own? Instead of offering constructive feedback, he found himself irrationally pointing out every mistake in front of the director.

After venting his frustration, he got into the car, feeling somewhat relieved, only to notice a small box spilled next to the seat. When he opened it, he found tangerine chocolates haphazardly mixed. The sight brought to mind Il-seo’s copper-coloured eyes, which had seemed so downcast when he’d tried to comfort him. 

He felt a pang of regret.

Having been irritated by the situation, Seung-yeon stepped out of the car and approached Il-seo’s manager to hand him his business card. Shortly after, Il-seo greeted him, and he offered a half-hearted reply, hoping to end things on a somewhat positive note. However, he chose not to respond to the text message he sent him a little later.

“Of all people…”

He thought about the last digits of the number he had memorized: 4566. Il-seo had a way of getting under his skin. He had worked with some despicable individuals on various projects, but this was the first time he encountered someone so undeniably irritating.

“I don’t know…”

Seung-yeon grabbed the chocolate box from the home bar. It was too messy to eat, so he tossed it into a nearby trash can, where it clattered as its contents spilled out.

*****

Il-seo returned home, showered, and tidied up his messy apartment. Despite his gnawing hunger, he opted for a protein drink, then sat at his desk and opened his script. Fortunately, he had two days before the next shoot.

After filming began, the drama had continued without much of a break, but tomorrow was an exception. It was the premiere of a movie starring Seung-yeon. The production team had rearranged the schedule to film other actors’ scenes while Seung-yeon handled press screenings, stage greetings, and interviews. Since most of Il-seo’s scenes were with Seung-yeon, he also had two days off.

“Thank goodness,” he muttered.

Since he had performed poorly on set that day, he knew he needed to dedicate the next two days to practice. Il-seo pulled out a notepad and wrote down a simple plan:

• 7:00 AM: Running, cleaning, laundry

• 9:00 AM – 11:00 AM: Visit grandmother

• 11:00 AM – 7:00 PM: Acting and guitar practice at the practice room

• 7:00 PM – 8:00 PM: Gym (Focus on weights)

• 9:30 PM – 11:00 PM: Watch ★Incomprehensible Relationship★

• Script review and practice it afterwards.

Satisfied with his neatly written schedule, Il-seo twirled the pen between his fingers. He decided to visit his grandmother more often before filming resumed, knowing he wouldn’t get many chances once the schedule intensified. He also planned to use the company’s practice room in the afternoons, as he had an upcoming scene where Haru, his character, needed to sing and play the guitar. The soundproofing in his apartment was poor, so he couldn’t practice there without disturbing his neighbours.

The most exciting part of his plan, though, was watching ‘Incomprehensible Relationship’, Seung-yeon’s new movie. He circled the film’s name with a black pen, and a small smile played on his lips.

Normally, he would watch Seung-yeon’s movies at least four times (excluding special screenings or re-releases), but because of his drama schedule, he’d limited himself to watching the new movie twice this time. Seung-yeon’s new films always gave him a thrill. Something was awe-inspiring about watching him on the big screen, with his every movement and line amplified by the sound and scale of the cinema.

“I want to do well, too,” he murmured to himself.

He wasn’t just worried about messing up his career; he genuinely wanted to act with the same passion and skill as Seung-yeon, to be his equal on set. The pressure he felt was immense. Il-seo rubbed his face with his hand, then slapped his cheek lightly, wincing as he remembered the cut on his lip from today’s filming.

He still found it hard to believe that he was sharing scenes with someone like Seung-yeon. The small scar on his lip felt like proof of his inadequacies. Despite this, Il-seo couldn’t bring himself to open the ointment Kyung-hyun had given him. Every time he looked in the mirror, the sight of the wound was a reminder of his shortcomings.

With a bitter smile, he glanced at his phone, unsurprised that there was no reply from Seung-yeon. Though they both had two days off, Seung-yeon was likely busy with the movie’s promotion. He had offered to let him come over to practice, but given the lack of response, it seemed like a casual suggestion, not a real invitation.

He set his phone down and turned to his script, trying to recall Seung-yeon’s advice to internalize the lines rather than simply memorizing them.

The next morning, after visiting his grandmother for the first time in a week, Il-seo entered the hospital room, while lifting his hat slightly in greeting. Her wrinkled gaze, which had been fixed on the white wall, shifted to him, and a smile bloomed across her face. Il-seo leaned his guitar against the wall and sat on the edge of her bed, quietly explaining why he hadn’t visited in a while and telling her stories about the famous director on set. His grandmother listened, smiling and nodding, though her gaze sometimes drifted off.

When she inevitably asked him his name again, Il-seo hid the despondency he felt, patiently repeating his name as if for the first time.

Later, as he was preparing to leave, a woman in the hospital hallway grabbed his arm.

“You’re Grandma Eun-soon’s grandson, right?”

“Yes, that’s right. Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Thank you!” she said, while lowering her eyebrows and gently shaking his arm.

Il-seo learned that his company had been filling his grandmother’s fridge with fruit and drinks whenever they visited, something he hadn’t been aware of.

“I don’t come here often, but I always feel reassured when they bring such good fruits,” she added.

Surprised, Il-seo nodded. “The company must have taken care of it without me knowing.”

The woman glanced around before nudging him with her elbow and whispering, “You’re an actor, aren’t you?”

Her excitement made it clear that she had recognized him. She gave him a thumbs-up while beaming.

“I’ve seen your face around here a few times. You really stood out! Which show are you in? What time and channel?”

“The drama isn’t airing yet,” Il-seo explained, a bit flustered. “It’ll be available in about four months on Monflix.”

The woman mentioned a few popular series she had heard of on the platform. “My daughter loves dramas. We’ll watch it together!”

“No, no need for that!” Il-seo stammered, suddenly recalling his character’s more revealing scenes. “Please watch it alone!” He tried to dissuade her, but the woman, excited, pulled out her phone and launched the camera app.

“Just one picture! Please?”

“What? A picture?”

“You’re an actor! A celebrity!”

Other hospital visitors started gathering around, and after several more photos, Il-seo finally managed to escape. Standing outside, with his hair dishevelled, he looked up at the hospital building in a daze. It was the first time he had been treated like a celebrity since a group of high school girls had recognized him from a web drama while he was working part-time at a udon restaurant.

Il-seo, with a bashful smile, rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly and walked away. The weight of the script in his bag felt heavier than before.

He knocked carefully on the CEO’s office door before entering. CEO Kim, who was practising on a putting machine, brightened up at the sight of him and set down his golf club.

“Oh, Il-seo, you’re here! Came to practice?” he asked.

“Yes,” Il-seo replied.

“Use the space as much as you need. Kyung-hyun said you’re doing well,” the CEO added with a smile.

“It’s still not enough,” Il-seo admitted, lowering his head slightly.

“Come, sit down,” Kim gestured him towards the sofa. He grabbed two bottles of orange juice from his mini fridge and handed one to Il-seo.

Holding the cool drink, Il-seo smiled faintly before speaking. “I just came back from the hospital. Thank you for everything, CEO.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Kim asked, genuinely puzzled.

“The nursing home’s guardians told me the company’s been taking care of them well. The hospital staff also expressed their gratitude.”

“Ah, that’s part of managing our actors. Your image is as much my responsibility as it is yours,” Kim replied, looking a bit flustered by the appreciation. He quickly opened his bottle and drank a large portion of it.

“Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” Il-seo started.

“Oh? What is it?”

Il-seo pulled out his phone and briefly explained the situation, showing Kim a text message from Seung-yeon. Kim furrowed his brow as he looked at the message, then asked, “What’s this?”

“Does it mean he’s asking me to come over?” Il-seo wondered aloud.

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s telling you to come,” Kim replied with a casual shrug.

Il-seo hesitated, “He gave me acting lessons last time… I just don’t want to come off as being too eager, showing up all the time.”

“If he invites you, then you should go. Don’t overthink it,” Kim said firmly, blowing away any lingering doubts.

Just as Kyung-hyun had pointed out before, Il-seo was still easily intimidated. Even though he was among seasoned actors and big-name directors, his self-doubt wasn’t helping his performance at all.

“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of,” Kim added. “He’s an actor, and so are you.”

“Yeah, but he’s… different,” Il-seo murmured, unsure of himself.

“We’re all in the same boat now,” Kim said, his voice firm. “If you mess up, we all will do. So don’t be scared. Go learn everything you can from him. Even if it’s embarrassing, ask questions, take advice, and improve. No one’s going to hate you for it.”

Though Kim’s words might have been exaggerated, they gave Il-seo some much-needed encouragement. His previously gloomy expression began to brighten, and Kim beamed proudly at his effect.

With a lighter step, Il-seo thanked him and headed to the practice room.