Chapter 6.2

Chapter 6.2

“Hyuna, listen carefully. This scene is crucial for our film. I’ll shoot it artistically, so you have to take responsibility for it. Make sure Kang practices and bring her here perfectly prepared.”

When he patted Hyuna’s bu.tt, she flinched but smiled so hard that her lips trembled.

“Of course, Director. You can count on me!”

Seongho handed the script to a production assistant to make copies, then returned to the set. Miran and Hyuna followed the assistant to the stationery store and each received a freshly printed script from the machine.

Knowing that a film set operated haphazardly was one thing, but seeing the director rewrite the script on the spot was a first for Miran.

“No need to be surprised. This happens all the time in both movies and dramas,” Hyuna said, acting like it was no big deal.

“I see…”

It was Miran’s first minor role in a film by a renowned director, but it was regrettable that she didn’t receive a proper script, often called a ‘book,’ and only received three or four pages

and she was a bit disappointed to only receive a few pages of the script, colloquially referred to as “chek” (book). However, she knew she couldn’t expect everything on her first try. Standing in front of the stationery store, she skimmed through the revised lines and directions and felt her face turn pale.

“Unni? This seems, um, strange.”

“Huh? What does?”

Hyuna finally looked at the script in her hand, rubbed her forehead, and muttered a string of vulgar curses. Then, with a deep sigh, she grabbed Miran’s wrist.

“Let’s go inside and talk.”

“What? Where all of a sudden—”

Glancing around, Hyuna dragged Miran across the street to a shabby teahouse. The window, with the name “Palace Teahouse” written in red calligraphy, was coated in a milky film that had yellowed at the edges. As they opened the door, the smell of fish wafted out from a large aquarium filled with koi.

As their eyes adjusted to the dim interior, they heard the sound of gum being chewed. Looking toward the sound, they saw a middle-aged woman with an 80s-style perm and bright blue eyeshadow sitting behind the counter.

She looked up from her magazine, startled to see two women who looked at least forty years younger than her usual clientele.

“Let’s sit down.”

“Unni, this place is a bit—”

Ignoring Miran, Hyuna dragged her to a nearby table and plopped down on a worn-out sofa. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and an indescribable stench from the sofa made Miran’s stomach churn.

The faded crochet cloth covering the wooden table was weighed down by a heavy glass top, and on it were a blackened plastic ashtray and an octagonal matchbox. The few old men scattered around the small teahouse, reading newspapers and playing chess, glanced at the two women.

Unfazed by their stares, Hyuna shouted toward the counter.

“Two coffees, please.”

The madam, who had been watching them with curious eyes, walked out from behind the counter in bright blue shoes and a matching dress and disappeared somewhere.

Unable to hold back any longer, Miran accused Hyuna in a low voice.

“Did you know about this? Is that why you told me to wear something revealing? If you had told me it was a stripping role, I wouldn’t have even auditioned.”

“I’m really pissed off right now, so can you just shut up for a second?”

Hyuna pulled a Marlboro Light from her large logo-printed handbag and lit it. Miran frowned. She already felt nauseous, and the cigarette smoke right in her face made her feel like she was going to throw up.

Suddenly, as if overcome with rage, Hyuna threw the cigarette onto the table. The cigarette snapped in half and fell to the floor. Miran secretly sighed with relief.

“It was originally just me who had to strip. Your role was to say a few lines and pour drinks on the side. But that perverted director saw you and decided to make you strip, too. Do you think I would have let a junior audition for a stripping role without telling her? I know what people say about me, but I’m not that much of a trash.”

Hyuna spat out bitterly.