Chapter 14

Do Je-hyeon was sick of the entertainment industry.

No — more precisely, he was weary of living up to the expectations people placed on him.

Talent, he had in abundance. He commanded the highest fees of any child actor and had built a solid filmography, and yet something inside him felt hollow.

Just when he’d grown tired of people who approached him only for his fame, the script for Your Blue Name landed in his hands.

The male lead, Yoo Ha-jin — a character who carried the whole village’s expectations on his shoulders, yet whose heart was always empty.

Pressure, lack, a strangely off-putting air, the weakness of being sick of the village and yet unable to even think of leaving it.

Everything that made up Yoo Ha-jin felt exactly like himself — someone who couldn’t leave the entertainment industry either.

I think I understand why she insisted on sending me the script to check for myself.

Je-hyeon could tell exactly why Writer Choi had insisted on him through four separate rounds of auditions.

Without question, he was the only actor who could play Yoo Ha-jin with any real depth.

Preparing for the auditions, he’d spent a long time digging into the character’s background and emotional arc.

Unlike Yoo Ha-jin — gentle on the surface but secretly weary of everyone’s affection — Yeon Do-yeon was prickly on the outside while actually longing to be loved, by anyone at all.

Through that Do-yeon, young Ha-jin comes to realize that love and attention aren’t entirely useless after all.

Once he comes to want to give and receive love with a Do-yeon who seems indifferent but never actually pushes him away, Ha-jin grows up emotionally in a real way.

It struck Je-hyeon, out of nowhere, that he envied Yoo Ha-jin.

If only someone like Yeon Do-yeon would show up for me too…

He didn’t care who it was — if only a moment like that, being wanted and loved by someone, would come find him too.

Would this industry feel even a little less tedious then? Could he grow, the way Ha-jin had?

If he couldn’t find a person like that in real life, then he wanted to become Yoo Ha-jin himself, if only to experience a Yeon Do-yeon.

That was exactly why he hadn’t been able to stand Joo Sae-i — someone who’d parachuted into the role of Yeon Do-yeon without putting in any effort at all.

And yet, as he went over the script with her again and again, why did Joo Sae-i keep overlapping with the Do-yeon he’d pictured in his own head?

…Must just be my imagination.

It didn’t matter anyway — once the reading actually started, he’d naturally lose whatever interest he had in her.

“Now that we’re done with introductions, let’s get into the episode 1 reading!”

At Director Woo Byeong-hwa’s cue, the actors opened the scripts set at their seats.

Beside him, meanwhile, Joo Sae-i kept rustling about. She fussed around for a moment, then pulled a thick stack of papers out of her bag.

Every single thing about her grated on him.

The reading’s about to start — what does she think she’s doing?

Je-hyeon turned to shoot her a pointed look, and froze on the spot.

What Joo Sae-i had taken out was a script bound thick with sticky notes crowding every edge, covered in handwriting so small it looked like sesame seeds.

Sae-i had waited only for this moment.

To show her own interpretation of Yeon Do-yeon in front of her seniors and the production staff!

Just imagining it made her heart race, so every spare moment she’d had, she’d spent poring over the script.

First time out of the gate~

Setting out, for the first time on set, a script bound as thick as all the effort she’d put into it, her confidence surged.

She could feel Do Je-hyeon staring hard at her from beside her, but Sae-i didn’t let it bother her.

After a few deep breaths, the signal to begin came down. Phew — Sae-i closed her eyes and let out a shallow sigh.

…Let’s think like Yeon Do-yeon.

The early part of episode 1 centered on the young, elementary-school-aged Do-yeon and the narration of Park Yeon-hui, who played grown Do-yeon.

Before her turn came, Sae-i ran back through everything she’d pieced together about Yeon Do-yeon.

A seventeen-year-old like a cat — prickly, but gentle underneath if you looked closely.

A child for whom every stray glance from her mother mattered desperately, because her brother — three years older — had claimed all of their mother’s attention.

A gifted student whose talent for schoolwork, which should have been recognized long before, had gone unnoticed because of it.

A fragile teenager who went around telling all her friends she wished her brother would just disappear — never imagining that the brother who’d gotten into Daehan University, the country’s top school, would actually die like that.

…This much should do.

Inside her, the pieces of Yeon Do-yeon’s character clicked together like a puzzle.

And right on cue, it was time for seventeen-year-old Do-yeon to appear.

Sae-i closed the script she’d had open. To clear her head, she squeezed her fists shut with her eyes closed. Opening her eyes again, now as Yeon Do-yeon, she spoke.

“Must be nice, being you. I could die and never get that kind of attention.”

Her tone was bright and yet somehow sullen.

She hadn’t raised her voice much, but the projection that still filled the whole reading room made the behind-the-scenes crew turn to check on her.

“Hey, boss. She’s not even looking at the script right now, is she?”

“Not dropping a single stage direction either. Hey, we’ve landed ourselves a good one.”

Writer Choi Gi-jeong’s lines tended to run long.

So at a first reading, before most actors had the script fully memorized, it was common for them to keep their eyes glued to the page.

“The chemistry with Do Je-hyeon looks solid too. Hey, doesn’t this make for a good clip? ‘Rookie child actor with insane skill, discovered by Choi Gi-jeong’ — something like that.”

While the whole behind-the-scenes crew nodded along unanimously at their team lead’s words, Do-yeon’s reading went on.

“You wouldn’t know, living the way you do with everything handed to you. Look at me — I didn’t even go to cram school last time and I got a perfect score, you know what Mom said?”

“…What did she say?”

“She told me not to tell you. Said you’d get stressed. But now that you’ve gotten into college, I figure it’s fine to say it now, isn’t it?”

In place of a mother who played favorites, it had been her brother, Yeon Do-hun, who’d looked after Do-yeon all this time.

And he was always the one Do-yeon dumped her complaints about their mother onto.

“…I see. Good for you, Do-yeon.”

“That’s it? I’m good at studying. I do fine without some expensive cram school like you had, without anyone pouring money into it! So why is it only you that—!”

“Do-yeon, I’m a little tired right now, so—”

All her friends said they fought tooth and nail with their own brothers, but Do-yeon couldn’t understand a brother who only ever let things slide.

“Ugh, it’s so annoying! At least get angry for once!”

That her always-obedient, always-gentle brother’s insides had actually been rotting away the whole time — Do-yeon wouldn’t realize that until after he died.

“I’m going out to meet a friend, so if Mom asks, tell her that. Not that she’ll even come looking for me anyway.”

Glaring sideways at the brother watching her with such a mournful look, Do-yeon turns sharply away.

“Do-yeon, eat properly. Be careful crossing the street, and careful around people too…”

“Ugh, stop it! How many times do I have to say I’ve got it handled before you get it?”

Even snapped at like that, her brother only looks at her with gentle eyes.

“I’ve always been sorry. I should have looked after you better.”

“Ugh, so cringey… Is this because you’re just heading off to the dorms? It’s not like we’re being torn apart forever or something…”

Without realizing that her brother’s words were a goodbye for good, Do-yeon shoves her feet into her shoes and walks out the door without another word.

And that was the end of young Yeon Do-yeon’s first scene.

“…..”

For a moment, the reading room sank into silence. After Do-yeon walked out, Yeon Do-hun was supposed to carry the scene forward with a monologue — and he didn’t say his line.

“…Well, I just got eaten alive. By a total newbie.”

The assistant director muttered it under his breath.

It was the moment Joo Sae-i’s presence burned itself into the memory of the entire Your Blue Name team.

Your Blue Name‘s first script reading came to a close.

Writer Choi Gi-jeong wanted to add a few brief comments on today’s reading.

“About Your Blue Name — of everything I’ve written, this one demanded the most from its child actors. Youth itself is endlessly light, but our leads’ story isn’t light at all.”

Mic in hand, Writer Choi gave a quick wink and a smile.

“Since I needed convincing child performances, I asked our Je-hyeon here, who’s played a child role in my work twice already, to take on Ha-jin. Did he suit the part?”

“He was Ha-jin, through and through!”

The scene-stealing supporting actor from Choi Gi-jeong’s faction took it upon himself to answer.

“And Do-yeon — Do-yeon worried me a lot, all the way from the casting stage. And that’s when our Sae-i here showed up.”

Gazing quietly toward where Joo Sae-i and Do Je-hyeon sat, she broke into a smile.

“Sae-i’s never filmed before, so she’d have every reason to be nervous, but she’s genuinely good — there’s nothing for me to even give feedback on.”

“…!”

“Thank you, both of you. For showing me my Ha-jin, my Do-yeon.”

Writer Choi Gi-jeong had openly singled the two of them out to thank them. It was unusual, to say the least.

“Alright, let’s give them a round of applause! For our young leads!”

Amid the burst of applause, Joo Sae-i stole a glance at Do Je-hyeon. He must have been watching her already, because their eyes met instantly.

“Wh-what are you looking at…!”

The way he tried to act calm while his body stayed stiff as a board, the way his eyes kept noticeably flicking toward her.

…What’s with him?

Whatever happened to the cold brush-off from before — Do Je-hyeon was acting like a machine overheating and breaking down.