Chapter 32: The Official Character Portrait Shoot
9:30 a.m.
Kim Da-won slammed the steering wheel as he turned into the underground parking garage of the studio.
The air on the third floor of the studio was a mix of cold air and the scent of hair spray.
A crew member holding a floor plan blocked their way. “Change first. Go to Makeup Room 3, fourth door on the left.”
“Got it.”
In the dressing room hung impeccably ironed suits.
After changing into his suit, Kang Jae-hoon pulled back the curtain and sat before the makeup mirror.
The table was cluttered with cans of hair gel and foundation brushes. The stylist pinched his shoulder and gestured twice before finally applying a layer of matte wax just to his sideburns.
The hem of his navy suit shimmered with satin luster as he moved. The unpadded shoulders made his silhouette even sharper.
Park Hyung-sik tugged his bow tie and emerged from the adjacent dressing room.
“Do I look like Gu Jun-pyo from ‘Boys Over Flowers’ in this?”
“You looked pretty much like a realtor when you were selling houses.”
“Hey! You see everyone as a real estate agent because you sell houses every day!”
Kang Jae-hoon rolled up his sleeves and adjusted his watch. “Wasn’t this your hairstyle when you auditioned for Choi Young-do?”
“The stylist insisted that showing my forehead made me look more mature. Blame my baby face. But…”
Park Hyung-sik suddenly lowered his voice. “I heard Kim Woo-bin crashed his motorcycle yesterday.”
Kang Jae-hoon paused his watch adjustment. “Switching actors?”
“Not sure…”
Then Park Hyung-sik poked his shoulder. “Is your suit custom-made?”
“Stylist just picked it from inventory.”
“Lucky you,” Park Hyung-sik said, pinching his own suit’s shoulder pad. “Mine has four layers of interlining. The stylist said my head-to-body ratio isn’t right.”
Kang Huh-na pulled back the dressing room curtain, his dark gray pinstripe suit making him look like a moving ginkgo tree.
“You should change your fitness coach, not your shoulder pads.”
“...”
After getting dressed, the three sat side by side on plastic chairs in the lounge.
A crew member pushed a rolling rack full of clothes across the corridor.
When the dressing room curtain lifted again, Lee Min-ho’s silver-gray suit sparked a small stir.
Kim Ji-won leaned toward Jung Soo-jung and whispered, “There’s a loose thread on his left shoulder.”
“Where?”
Kim Ji-won never said who she meant, but Jung Soo-jung instinctively glanced toward Kang Jae-hoon.
“Just kidding. But Soo-jung…”
Kim Ji-won crossed her arms and regarded her with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Are you learning your lines for the sake of the play or for yourself?”
“Of, of course, for the play.”
---
“The day before yesterday you secretly photographed his script notes, yesterday you switched seats, and today you peeked six times… Is that dedication or going too far?”
Jung Soo-jung avoided her gaze, clicking her heels hard against the tiles.
“Dedication.”
“Three days is enough to learn Kang’s method of marking scripts. Any longer and it’s just selfish.”
“It’s too noisy here. I can’t hear.”
“...”
After a moment, all the actors finished changing. A crew member tapped the microphone to call them.
The studio lights snapped on, and the reflectors flattened the shadows of the actors into thin silhouettes.
“Everyone, first a group cover shot!”
The photographer’s assistant shouted to arrange their positions.
“Kim Tan, step half a pace to the left—yes, cover Lee Hyo-shin’s shoe tips...”
Kang Jae-hoon was placed just behind and to the left of Lee Min-ho; the navy and silver-gray fabrics created a subtle contrast under the lights.
Kim Woo-bin was absent today; a body double took his place for the still shots, to be edited in later.
After five minutes of adjusting spacing and formation, the photographer called out:
“Take a step forward together! Ladies, lift your skirts in sync! Gentlemen, keep your hands in your pockets but hide your watch faces!”
“Imagine you’re acquiring a rival company with every step forward!”
“Ready—”
“1, 2, 3—”
The clapper snapped, and nine pairs of leather shoes and heels struck the floor simultaneously.
The shutter and flash began to synchronize.
“Click—”
The photographer frowned slightly at the photos.
“Again.”
The sound of shoes retreating echoed like a tape rewinding.
“1, 2, 3—”
“Again.”
“...”
After fifteen takes, the stylist stepped forward to retouch makeup.
During the break, Park Hyung-sik poked Kang Jae-hoon’s lower back.
“Aren’t your knees sore?”
“What?”
“Every time you step back, you move like a caliper resetting.”
In all fifteen takes, none were redone because of Kang Jae-hoon’s mistakes. His hand in his pocket always rested at the camera’s golden ratio point, the watch’s edge perfectly shadowed.
Kang Jae-hoon stared at the floor where the assistant marked footprints with a marker.
“Practiced.”
---
His stage experience of stepping backward twelve paces without hitting any props was more than enough for these still shots.
After the makeup touch-up, shooting continued.
The flashes chopped time into fragments, and the photographer’s calls of “1, 2, 3” grew faster.
When the twenty-third shutter clicked, he finally waved them off.
The stylist handed out crystal crowns to the female actors one by one. Jung Soo-jung lost two strands of hair while adjusting hers but bit her lip and said nothing.
After the two cover shots, all actors changed into their costumes and took individual photos in order of billing.
The individual shots progressed much faster than the group ones.
When Kang Jae-hoon put on an off-white crewneck sweater, the stylist casually removed his watch.
“Yoon Chan-young doesn’t need luxury goods.”
The lighting board switched to soft light. The photographer tilted his head, sizing him up for two seconds, then suddenly pulled back the backdrop.
“Go by the window. One hand in pocket, looking outside.”
Kang Jae-hoon leaned against the faux wood window frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
As the shutter clicked, he lowered his gaze to the floor—this was the “empty gaze” technique taught by Hwang Jung-min, designed to give the eyes a story.
“Okay, next Park Hyung-sik!”
…
By the time the last outdoor group shot was finished, the sunset had dyed the western clouds red.
Wrap-up was forty minutes behind schedule.
The studio lights went off one by one, and crew members began folding up the reflectors.
Kang Jae-hoon, back in his casual clothes, was the first to bow in thanks to the crew. He grabbed his backpack from the chair and bowed as he backed away.
“Thanks for all your hard work.”
Park Hyung-sik was undoing his bow tie in front of the mirror and sprang up at the sight.
“Going to the gym to work on your shoulders?”
“Something came up.”
“You’ve turned me down three times already!”
“Really can’t today. Maybe next time.”
Kang Jae-hoon pressed the elevator close button a half beat before answering.
When the elevator descended to B2, he glanced at his phone: 6:27 p.m.
Kim Da-won rolled down his window and waved a cake box at him. The dumbbell gift set lay quietly in the trunk.
Once inside the car, Kang Jae-hoon’s first task was to check the order receipt, making sure Kim Da-won hadn’t secretly changed the congratulatory message to “Wishing my roommate happiness as vast as the East Sea.”
The brake lights of rush hour stretched like a river of red on the road.
Kang Jae-hoon opened KakaoTalk. Lee Sung-kyung’s chat window still showed her one-word reply from last night: “Hmm.”
His thumb hovered over the send button. The input box held half a sentence: “What are you—”
The car’s air conditioning brushed across his neck. He deleted the text and typed instead: “When will filming end?” The cursor blinked for five seconds before the message was erased again.
At the light turning green, Kim Da-won hit the gas hard, and Kang Jae-hoon’s finger accidentally tapped the emoji panel. A grinning yellow soybean figure suddenly popped up in the chat window.
“Ah, damn…”