Chapter 21: Instructions for the Vomiting Scene

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As the first light of dawn crept onto the windowsill, Jaehun was awakened by the sound of a yoga mat scraping against the floor. Seongkyung was holding a plank position, stretched across the living room hallway, her sports tank top soaked through with sweat, outlining a dark V-shape. The stopwatch in front of her ticked steadily—she had maintained her core tightness for two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

Her recent discipline was no coincidence; she was preparing for her debut at Seoul Fashion Week in September.

“Seongkyung…” Jaehun, tousled and sleepy-headed, shuffled over to the refrigerator. “Aren’t you pushing yourself too hard with the workouts lately?”

“You still have fifty-four minutes before you have to head to the agency.”

“I quit yesterday.”

Seongkyung suddenly lifted her head.

“Quit?”

The damp sports tank slipped slightly with the movement, the morning light catching beads of sweat in the hollow of her collarbone.

Jaehun’s gaze snapped up to the ceiling as if burned.

“The movie… is about to start filming…”

“Hah—”

Seongkyung grabbed a towel to wipe her sweat, the outline of her chest pad faint beneath the fabric.

“So… the agency trial period is over?”

“Yeah…”

“And the commission from the Apgujeong shop’s final payment is gone too?”

Jaehun swallowed hard.

“I handed that deal over to my mentor. He promised to give me 20% commission…”

“If you dare peek at my sports tank top again—”

Seongkyung warned coldly, “I’ll make you feel what 20% commission turning into 20% bone fracture really means.”

Jaehun grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and gulped it down to cool off.

Fortunately, the microwave’s sharp ding saved him from further embarrassment.

Downstairs, Kim Daewon’s used Kia blared out the rhythm of “I GOT A BOY.”

Jaehun, with a rice ball in his mouth, hurried downstairs.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

He paused mid-step.

Seongkyung tossed him a can of coffee.

“Promotional sample—tastes horrible.”

Jaehun noticed the label on the can: “Limited Edition Endorsed by Hyun Bin.”

Seongkyung had already slammed the bathroom door behind her.

When Kim Daewon saw Jaehun again after more than half a month, the toothpick in his mouth fell in surprise onto his pants.

“Hey, kid, your tie actually looks proper now.”

“Heh heh~”

“You’ve gotten a few shades darker, but it washed away that Mrs. McDuff’s creamy scent.”

Jaehun scratched the sunburn peeling on the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly.

“Been out on field assignments every day for the agency.”

“You still got real estate flyers stuffed in your suit pocket?”

“Habit…”

“Heard you ended up giving all your commission to the cat?”

“Not entirely.”

Jaehun scratched his head, embarrassed. “I also used some of the real earnings to buy stuff for Seongkyung.”

Kim Daewon flicked ash from his cigarette and laughed, showing his molars.

“Buying a collar for the lioness? You’ll get your throat bitten off sooner or later.”

Jaehun’s ears flushed red as the used Kia sped past the Han River Bridge.

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The glass curtain walls of Apgujeong gradually gave way to the old brick walls of Sinchon-dong. The parking lot attendant stood under an advertisement board, signaling to them.

Jaehun glanced at the giant poster of “Gangnam Style.”

—PSY’s horse-riding dance moves looked much more polished than when Jaehun had chased a bus four months ago.

The old brick wall of Sinchon-dong was covered with ivy.

Wild daisies sprouted through cracks in the asphalt, trampled askew by the film crew’s assistants.

Han Dongwook gripped a microphone wrapped in red silk, his forehead shining in the sunlight reflecting off pigeons circling above.

“Thank you to all the media friends for taking time out of your busy schedules…”

The director’s opening remarks were instantly shredded by the relentless shutter clicks.

Kim Daewon nudged Jaehun and nodded toward Han Hyejin, the lead actress on stage.

“This lady just got married and came straight to film.”

“Really?”

“Her husband is Ki Sung-yueng, the Korean national player for Swansea in the Premier League. On their wedding day, the whole Jeonbuk Hyundai team’s bus came as the wedding car.”

Jaehun followed his gaze.

—Indeed, Han Hyejin wore a half-length platinum necklace around her neck, sparkling like a miniature galaxy in the sunlight.

The shutter clicks briefly subsided.

Hwang Jungmin weighed the microphone in his palm, preparing to answer reporters’ questions.

“Hwang Jungmin-ssi!”

The first question came from a reporter of The Chosun Ilbo: “Does missing the Baeksang Best Actor award change how you select roles?”

“To say I have no regrets would be a lie.”

He stroked the stubble on his chin and smiled. “But ‘New World’ made audiences remember the character Jung, more than any trophy could.”

A reporter from Women’s East Asia turned the microphone to Han Hyejin.

“Back to work on the third day after your wedding—did your husband have any objections?”

“Ki Sung-yueng said that both the Premier League and film set require the same professionalism.”

In the shadows behind the scenes, Jaehun pulled out a small notebook and feverishly took notes:

[Han’s Crisis PR Strategy]
1. When faced with sensitive questions, first touch the wedding ring (to divert focus).
2. Always mention spouse with professional title (to reinforce positive image).
3. Tilt left cheek 15 degrees when smiling (best angle for lighting).
…

The opening ceremony ended; reporters dispersed.

The crew of “When a Man Falls in Love” officially began work.

“Scene 1, Take 1!”

At the snap of the slate, Hwang Jungmin’s drooping eyelids shot open.

He sat down in front of the boss, chewing on a half-cold sausage, grease dripping from the skewer onto the IOU note.

On the monitor, his cheek puffing speed gradually increased.

Each swallow of his adam’s apple made the boss sweat even more nervously.

“Tai-yi, I beg you, please give me another three days…”

“Damn it.”

Hwang suddenly threw the sausage aside, grabbed a gasoline can, and tilted his head back to gulp.

The close-up on the monitor clearly showed the liquid’s path down his throat—it was actually iced barley tea dyed to look like gasoline.

The trembling boss actor sprayed his lines with spit:

“Gas-gasoline? Are you crazy?!”

Hwang splashed the can’s contents on the table, soaking the ledger.

He suddenly grabbed the boss’s neck and forced him down:

“You drink too! If you don’t pay, we die together!”

The cinematographer zoomed in on the bulging vein at Hwang’s temple.

The medium shot cut to the boss’s trembling knees.

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“…”

“Click!”

Hwang immediately released his grip and grabbed a tissue to wipe the co-actor’s face:

“Sorry, senior, I used too much force.”

“No problem.”

The co-actor was a veteran—Jang Gwang, who played the principal in “Silenced.”

Second take.

Hwang crossed his legs and counted money while spitting on it.

At the thirteenth bill, he suddenly threw a stack across:

“For the kid’s tuition.”

The bills landed ten centimeters to the left of the script’s mark, perfectly covering the photo of the boss’s daughter.

Han Dongwook suddenly grabbed the walkie-talkie:

“Close-up on the money and photo!”

Behind the monitor, Jaehun swiftly added to his notes:

[Hwang Jungmin’s Improv]
—Adjusted prop placement to guide camera focus.

After this scene was shot, they filmed a supplementary take of Han Tai-yi vomiting dyed barley tea against a shop wall.

It had to be said, Hwang was fully in character—even vomiting looked like acting.

After watching the entire take, Jaehun added to his [Vomiting Scene Key Points]:
1. Left hand pressing the wall harder than right hand on knee.
2. Dry heaves spaced 1.2 seconds apart.
3. Tongue flicking back with facial twitching.

During a makeup break, Hwang caught Jaehun taking notes and slapped him on the back:

“Hey! The key to vomiting scenes is the expression control I taught you! Flare your nostrils, squint your eyes, and squeeze out three wrinkles on your nasolabial folds!”

Jaehun nodded respectfully inwardly thinking:

[You just twisted your face into a rag, where’s the expression control?!]

…

Just after lunch boxes were cleared away, Jaehun crouched behind the crew’s catering truck practicing vomiting.

He mimicked Hwang’s rhythm with left hand on the wall and right hand clutching his throat:

“Ugh—1.2 seconds—ugh—”

On his third dry heave, a crew member rushed over:

“What’s wrong? Did the kimchi soup cause a problem?!”

Jaehun wiped away nonexistent drool, explaining:

“N-no, I was just…”

“Someone’s food poisoned! Help!”

“…”

The next day at noon, an A4 sheet was taped to the catering truck’s partition:

[No Method Acting Actors Allowed Near!!!]

Under three exclamation points was a hastily drawn stick figure kneeling and vomiting profusely.

Judging by the rough strokes, it was drawn in a rush with a marker.

Kim Daewon chewed on a fish cake skewer and smirked at the stunned Jaehun:

“Maybe you should change your name to Jaehun Vomit.”

“…”