Chapter – 22
On the set of Your Blue Name.
“This feels off.”
Director Woo Byunghwa frowned slightly as he glanced at Joo Sae-i, who was preparing for the next scene.
Joo Sae-i, the rookie who had landed the notoriously difficult role of young Yeon Do-yeon with just one audition.
When he first saw her acting, even Woo Byunghwa had been impressed.
He had seen dozens of actors play Yeon Do-yeon before, but no one had ever made the character feel as alive as Joo Sae-i did.
It wasn’t surprising, then, that his closest aide, writer Choi Gijeong, praised Joo Sae-i’s acting.
Even Byun Seo-jun, whom he had intended to mentor and groom for the role, began complimenting her acting. That’s when Woo Byunghwa felt a surge of unease.
After watching Joo Sae-i through several takes, he thought…
“She’s way too similar to Sim Ju-yeon.”
Sim Ju-yeon, the actress who had played the female lead in Trap Marriage, the work that had made Woo Byunghwa a renowned director.
Like Joo Sae-i, she had been brimming with talent, drawing everyone around her in with that overwhelming skill.
Woo Byunghwa had always directed to discover and nurture geniuses. Sim Ju-yeon had been a once-in-a-lifetime talent in his career.
He had tried to cultivate her, but…
“New lead actress S. continuously exposes her abuse of power on social media… next project in jeopardy”
It had been a spectacular failure. Sim Ju-yeon’s arrogance and abuses had been exposed repeatedly, spreading widely.
Under the barrage of media and public criticism, she had been forced behind the camera. The projects he had lined up for her had also fallen through.
After that failure, Woo Byunghwa developed a firm belief:
If you coddle a genius too much, they’ll inevitably become arrogant.
Sim Ju-yeon hadn’t been rude from the start. Everyone praised her as a genius, and that praise had inflated her ego.
“Ju-yeon must have been the same at first, in the beginning.”
Even now, she didn’t hesitate to interact comfortably with senior figures like Byun Seo-jun, who had a long career as a singer. She was similarly unreserved with Do Je-hyeon, her peer, even though the experience gap was clear.
It reminded him of how Sim Ju-yeon had behaved casually toward her seniors on set.
From Joo Sae-i, Woo Byunghwa deduced two possibilities:
One, she could grow into an arrogant genius like Sim Ju-yeon.
The other…
“She might be completely meek.”
Yet, he leaned toward the first scenario. She seemed capable of managing her own interests, which didn’t align with the meekness theory.
Even her friendship with Seong Hyesim seemed like networking for her benefit.
Even now, it seemed to be the case.
“Sae-i, when you act, it really feels like watching Yeon Do-yeon.”
“…Shut up.”
He brushed off the set assistant’s praise of Joo Sae-i and simply observed her.
She bowed politely to everyone she made eye contact with. When standing, she bent at the waist to a full ninety degrees.
Woo Byunghwa frowned at her behavior. Before she became arrogant, Sim Ju-yeon had deceived everyone with similar politeness.
Human desire has no end, and once someone tastes the top, their nature is to step on others to climb higher. Sim Ju-yeon had fallen because of that nature.
Yes, her acting was impressive. He acknowledged that.
“But what if she captivates everyone like this and then collapses like Sim Ju-yeon?”
Everyone on set treated polite Joo Sae-i warmly, but Woo Byunghwa felt a subtle pressure because of these thoughts.
Sighing, he refocused his attention. Soon, he called Joo Sae-i for the next scene.
“Let’s prepare for the Yeon Do-yeon scene.”
“Yes!”
Joo Sae-i clasped her hands and ran to the set, as if she had been waiting for this moment.
Her sparkling eyes proved that her eagerness to perform wasn’t just for show.
“Ju-yeon always opened her eyes like a frozen fish…”
But Joo Sae-i’s gaze was different from Sim Ju-yeon’s early days, when she relied solely on talent and lacked enthusiasm.
“Interesting.”
Joo Sae-i genuinely seemed to enjoy acting, like a child in a playground.
Woo Byunghwa closed his eyes briefly.
He wondered if he had been projecting Sim Ju-yeon onto Joo Sae-i because of his bias toward geniuses.
A genius who loves acting would naturally be grateful for every opportunity given. Yes, just like Joo Sae-i before him.
“Hmm…”
Still, he wasn’t ready to fully trust Joo Sae-i. His past experience with Sim Ju-yeon had left scars.
If these sparkling eyes turned into Sim Ju-yeon’s arrogance, the blow would be severe. Carefully imagining Joo Sae-i possibly becoming like Sim Ju-yeon, Woo Byunghwa thoughtfully rubbed his chin.
Some time later.
After today’s shoot, Director Woo Byunghwa couldn’t help but be amazed.
“What is this kid even doing?”
Do Je-hyeon had prior acting experience, so that was understandable. But Joo Sae-i? What had she done to be able to appear more naturally on camera than adult actors at her age?
Woo Byunghwa remained cautious. Even minor mistakes could become glaring issues.
“Did she go through some systematic training at an intelligence agency or something?”
Otherwise, today’s footage made no sense.
He hadn’t expected her to handle the shoot so smoothly. Even if someone was talented, they’d normally have a few NGs (no-goods, mistakes) in their first takes.
Naturally, Joo Sae-i was still a rookie, no matter how well she analyzed the character or the acting.
Rookies tend to reveal their inexperience in static scenes. Sim Ju-yeon had been the same.
It’s in the way they hold their necks or move their eyes—subtle cues visible in still moments.
That’s why static scenes, though seemingly easy, are actually tricky to perform. Experienced actors often prefer dynamic scenes.
Yet…
“Who taught her to lie there and express sunlight without being told?”
The scene had young Yeon Do-yeon and Yoo Hajin lying on a bench, soaking up the sun while talking.
Joo Sae-i’s performance wasn’t just about squinting in the sunlight. She looked away briefly, wanting to peek at Hajin, then opened her eyes again.
Even in close-up, her eyelashes, untouched by curlers, trembled in the sunlight.
Every detail—from her flushed skin to the beads of sweat—was fully immersed in her acting.
It was… remarkable.
“She’s acting like it’s a pleasant summer, that little kid.”
Not only that. She seemed to understand the producer’s intentions in the scene.
In the moment when Yeon Do-yeon fully opens her heart to Hajin, the first take was just a test, with no specific positioning instructions.
Joo Sae-i initially placed her legs neatly, then gradually shifted them toward Hajin as their conversation continued.
There’s a saying: people point their toes toward someone they’re fond of.
Most wouldn’t consciously act on that knowledge—but Joo Sae-i did.
Ji-ing, ji-ing.
Her phone in her pocket vibrated twice.
[How was today’s shoot? I wanted to see some on-set images of Doyeon and Hajin but couldn’t make it.]
[Is the young Doyeon adapting well? I was too focused on finishing the script to check.]
It was writer Choi Gijeong.
Reading the messages from the worried writer, Woo Byunghwa gave a bitter smile.
“You worry about what deserves worrying.”
There was still a chance Joo Sae-i could become like Sim Ju-yeon. But when it came to acting, there was nothing to worry about.
[Worry about what? She’s taking everything in stride…]
[Still keeping an eye on her. Will watch closely.]
“Whether this passion fades quickly, we’ll see.”
Woo Byunghwa decided to observe Joo Sae-i’s trajectory. That way, he might prevent another genius from turning into a Sim Ju-yeon before it’s too late.
