On the stall lay large codfish with their mouths wide open. Their flesh was plump due to the spawning season, and the bright red sheen visible through their gills indicated their freshness.
The presence of thin ice forming on the red tubs filled with live fish spoke of the harsh winter cold.
However, the famous merchants of Namhang Market were undeterred by the cold and raised their voices even louder.
Amidst the maze-like Namhang Market, a girl with earmuffs and her father walked together.
“Dad, it’s here. Here!”
The girl, who might have been a middle schooler, pulled her father’s hand and led him. The place they arrived at was a small shop.
Like a woodpecker finding its hole, the girl quickly entered the shop without stopping.
Who did she inherit such a hasty personality from? Her father, unable to resist his daughter’s urging, followed.
“Auntie! We’re here!”
Just like the ebbing tide, customers had left and Youngguk’s mother, who had been preparing for a snack, was surprised and greeted them warmly.
Wasn’t this the child she had met earlier at the Namhang Merchants Association? Even after that, they had exchanged friendly greetings whenever they met in the market.
“Is that Jisoo? What brings you here at this hour?”
“My dad has something to say!”
“Your father?”
Unlike the rough Gyeongsangdo men, he was shy. While selling side dishes, he often smiled warmly at the elders, but now he hesitated.
Frustrated by the father who was as silent as a broken machine, the daughter poked him in the ribs. Only then did his pale skin flinch and he started to speak.
“Do you, do you have cockles?”
“Cockles?”
“Yes, yes. I want to make some cockle salad as a side dish.”
“Oh no, the fresh ones of the season are all gone by morning. Do you need a lot?”
“Oh, no. Just a little bit will do. It’s not for sale. We just want to eat some ourselves and share with the elderly neighbors.”
“Wait a moment, I set some aside for making side dishes.”
The seasonal cockles were generously packed into a bag. The daughter, still frustrated with her father, gestured as if to hit her chest.
Finally, the father, who received the bag, took out some bills from his wallet. But Youngguk’s mother waved her hand and smiled.
“It’s okay. I heard you help the elderly who collect waste paper. How could I take money for such a good deed? And didn’t you bring a lot of kimchi when Youngguk won an award? Put it away.”
“But still…”
“Have you had your meal? It’s almost time for the night market to get busy. If you haven’t eaten, sit down and have a bite here. Jisoo, have you eaten?”
“No, I’m hungry!”
Unlike her father, the daughter was quick-witted. Before they knew it, three of them were sitting around a small table set up for a snack.
While the two women chatted like mother and daughter, Jisoo’s father, Mr. Kim from the side dish shop, still looked uncomfortable. Noticing this, Youngguk’s mother added with a kind smile.
“Don’t feel too burdened. We don’t have many side dishes, so it’s just a few more spoons added. Jisoo comes to our shop so often.”
The girl with earmuffs smiled brightly. Though she was a regular, she often got more from the shop than she bought.
“Does Jisoo bother you?”
“Bother? No way. She comes by to chat when she’s bored, and I’m so grateful.”
Just then,
“Youngguk’s mother, let’s eat!”
A voice like a cannonball, it was Mrs. Yang who had come to join the snack. Entering the shop, she was startled to see the man inside, then realized it was Mr. Kim from the side dish shop and her eyes showed both surprise and curiosity.
“Did I come at a bad time?”
“No, you came just in time. Is that mackerel in your hand? Looks delicious. Jisoo, you came at the right time.”
It was a cozy time. Market merchants usually ate early to avoid the rush of customers. Their meals were often simple, barely enough to get by.
But today, with more people and a variety of side dishes, it was truly a feast.
“Youngguk’s mother, there’s a call.”
Just as she was about to take a bite, the phone in the shop rang. It was an unexpected time for a call, so Youngguk’s mother picked up the receiver curiously.
As she listened to the voice on the other end, her expression changed from surprise to happiness, and then to tears.
Seeing her suddenly cry, not only Mrs. Yang but also Mr. Kim and his daughter Jisoo were shocked.
“Youngguk’s mother! What’s wrong?”
“It’s a call from Youngguk.”
Wiping her tears with her sleeve, she explained.
“From Youngguk? Did something happen in Seoul?”
“No, it’s very good news.”
“What news?”
Mrs. Yang, Mr. Kim, and even the girl Jisoo couldn’t hide their curiosity. The answer that came next was so surprising that even the grilled mackerel on the small table seemed to open its mouth in shock.
“Youngguk, our Youngguk got accepted into the law department at Korea University…!”
His nose almost touched the ground repeatedly as he moved up and down. Sweat droplets dripped from his flawless skin. His muscles swelled as if screaming, and his rough breathing reached his chin.
“Whew!”
Like a car warming up, steam rose from Youngguk’s shoulders as he sat on the waiting room floor. Watching him, the famous PD asked.
“How many did you do?”
“I didn’t count, but it feels like it’s been about two hours.”
“You’re really consistent, Youngguk. It’s not even a scene where you take off your clothes. You could’ve just shot it with your usual workout routine.”
Despite his words, the PD seemed pleased. After all, it’s rare to find a young actor so dedicated to his role these days.
Not only did he memorize the entire script, but his acting skills were also superb. He put in tremendous effort to immerse himself in his role, making him the best actor with nothing to criticize.
“Don’t even start. I’ve been dragged around so much because of the college acceptance. The agency’s president keeps buying me delicious food. At home, there’s always a feast. I’m worried I’ve gained a lot of weight.”
“That’s hardly weight gain. By the way, when’s the orientation?”
“Next week. Fortunately, it doesn’t overlap with the graduation ceremony.”
“Wow, you’re finally going to be my junior.”
As the PD continued to give advice about today’s shoot, he suddenly paused and said apologetically.
“Our schedule has been moved up.”
“What?”
“About a month earlier than planned. The current drama airing is getting low ratings and is set to end early.”
The entertainment industry is truly a jungle. If a drama gets low ratings, it gets cut short, no matter if it’s in a prime time slot.
“It’s not finalized yet, but it will probably be around March. I wanted to give you a month to enjoy as a new student, but it looks like that’s not possible.”
“It’s okay. I figured I might not be able to attend school properly for the first semester anyway. But do schedules often get moved up like this?”
“Because of the early ending, there’s a month-long gap. They can’t just leave that slot empty. The higher-ups saw our pre-recorded footage and scripts and decided we could move up. Normally, it’s unheard of.”
“And you just accepted it?”
The PD smiled slyly.
Of course not.
“How could I just accept it? I’m not a pushover. I said I couldn’t do it and told them to cut me loose. Honestly, the scripts are coming out smoothly now, but if the writer gets stuck towards the end, it would turn into a script war. It’s better to push the airing date as much as possible.”
“So, what conditions did you set?”
“Smart kid. I got more budget. I told them to give us the leftover budget from the early-ended program. Also, from now on, we’ll have B team and even C team for shooting. Please understand about the sudden schedule change, Youngguk.”
Though it was unfortunate that the schedule was moved up by a month, the benefits far outweighed it.
Increased budget meant improved production conditions, and having additional teams meant smoother shooting schedules and no overnight shoots. It was truly a golden work-life balance. Just then,
- PD Yoo!
The urgent voice of AD Kim Youngmin came over Yoo PD’s walkie-talkie.
The atmosphere on set was tense, matching the urgency of the voice. The head of the costume team had a face red with anger and held a burnt costume in hand.
“With the shoot just around the corner, you burned the lead’s costume? Where’s your head at? I told you to spray it wet and then iron it with a cloth over it! Are you trying to mess with me?”
The rookie from the costume team, who caused the problem, hung her head in shame.
Here’s what happened. The outfit was for Youngguk’s character, Crown Prince Yi Yung, during his physical training in the Eastern Palace. It was meticulously made to match historical accuracy.
But perhaps because of the thin material, the rookie burned the top while ironing. PD Yoo shook his head and asked.
“Do we have a spare?”
There’s no point in assigning blame now. After all, it was a rookie’s mistake. The head of the costume team was venting publicly to handle her own.
“We do have spares, but they’re all for minor characters, so they don’t look as good. Since there are only a few physical training scenes, we only made one set of the Eastern Palace outfit. Moreover, the embroidery with gold thread makes it tough to fix right now.”
Nobody could blame the head of the costume team. It was all about budget cuts.
Since they had to follow historical accuracy, the cost of materials and experts was high.
They hadn’t considered making spares for a costume that would be used a few times throughout the drama.
“What to do….”
PD Yoo pondered deeply. Using a spare meant the costume wouldn’t look as good. After all, he was portraying a Crown Prince.
In the Joseon dynasty, clothing held significant meaning. It was a marker of social status. As he was deep in thought,
“PD Yoo, let’s just shoot it.”
“Huh?”
Youngguk stepped in. The situation was already a mess. There’s no point in dwelling on it when the burnt costume wouldn’t fix itself. Such unexpected incidents were common in historical dramas.
Youngguk emphasized again.
“Let’s shoot it shirtless.”
A new moon was covered by gathering clouds. As the drizzle fell, the atmosphere in the Dowager Queen’s quarters was tense.
The guards glared around, wary of any intruders.
“Your Highness, you must make a decision.”
The ministers were paying their respects to Queen Dowager Insu. Usually divided by political factions, both the Hungu and Sarim officials were united in persuading her.
“The King is gravely ill. If the Crown Prince ascends the throne, there will be a bloodbath in the court. Your Highness, you must appoint a new heir now.”
King Seongjong’s condition was worsening by the day. Despite the royal physicians’ best efforts, his boils had swollen to the point where he couldn’t move, and the lump in his chest threatened to strangle him.
According to the royal physicians, it was too late to reverse the illness.
“I understand your concerns. However, it is impossible to revoke the Crown Prince’s appointment. Moreover, the Crown Prince is not as cruel as you fear. The truth about his mother’s death can be kept secret for a hundred years if need be.”
“Your Highness, pardon my boldness, but the Crown Prince may already know what happened to Lady Yun. He might be keeping quiet…”
“Nonsense! If he knew the truth, he would not have stayed silent for over ten years! Do not speak of Lady Yun in my presence again. I understand your concerns, but do not act recklessly and bring about your own deaths. It is late; please leave.”
A person who reveals their intentions is less dangerous than one who hides them. The ministers judged Crown Prince Yi Yung to be the latter. His true intentions were unfathomable.
The camera then switched from the Dowager Queen’s quarters to the Eastern Palace where the Crown Prince resided.
“Whew.”
He exhaled heavily. Crown Prince Yi Yung’s temples bulged as if his veins were about to burst. His muscles flexed, showcasing their strength.
The reason for his rigorous training was simple. The court was a treacherous place, where his life was constantly in danger from both the Hungu and Sarim officials. Assassins could appear at any moment.
“Wow, Youngguk’s workout really paid off.”
PD Yoo was inwardly impressed. Any worries he had were unfounded.
Youngguk’s shirtless push-ups revealed a physique that could be described as sculpted. The female staff on set were certainly enjoying the view.
Sweat trickled down his chiseled muscles. As he stood up, the dawn light filtered through the paper windows, highlighting his silhouette.
At that moment, someone hurried into the Eastern Palace.
“Your Highness, it’s Gwak San!”
“Enter.”
“You must go to the Main Hall immediately!”
It was early, even before the ministers had entered the court. The urgency in Gwak San’s voice could mean only one thing.
“Could it be…”
Gwak San didn’t answer but bowed deeply. There were no wails of mourning yet, so it was likely a royal command.
Crown Prince Yi Yung wiped his sweat and put on his top. As he headed to the Main Hall to witness the final moments, he wore a faint smile.
Time passed.
The camera then showed the roof of the Main Hall. A palace servant climbed up, carrying the king’s robe and shouted.
The royal robe, once worn by the king, fluttered in the wind, now ownerless.
The expressions of those watching were varied. Some mourned the departed king, while others regretted not changing the Crown Prince. But they all knew.
It was now the era of Yeonsangun.
