A cluster of stars spills across the night sky.
As if trying to catch the falling stars, ancient, towering trees rise endlessly towards the heavens.
In the secluded mountains of Gangwon Province, an unusual array of lights fills the area. It was because a broadcast crew had gathered there for a night shoot.
A bonfire burns in a halved drum can, and people huddle around in small groups to warm their hands.
“Director Yoo, when are they supposed to arrive?”
“They said it would take about another hour.”
“Of all days, it had to be today, on the night of an overnight shoot, that the ENG camera breaks down. Can’t we use the spare one we brought?”
“The quality isn’t good enough, so it would be hard to salvage the footage with post-processing.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told the assistant director to prepare more thoroughly. It was working fine until just before we left; who would’ve thought it would suddenly stop working?”
“Hey, it’s not your fault, senior. I’ve already told Youngmin, so as soon as Team B wraps up, they’ll bring the equipment over.”
It was a sudden camera malfunction. Since they were shooting in the remote mountains of Gangwon Province, and Team B was far away at the Yongin Folk Village, they were stuck in a bind. It was a disaster.
“Director Yoo, we’ll probably have to stay on standby until daylight. The ground is too frozen for track installation right now, and even if the lighting team uses tungsten lights and brings all the reflectors they have, it’s too dark to illuminate faces. If we proceed like this, it could lead to accidents…”
“We have no choice. Once the camera arrives, we’ll shoot the background first and film the actors at dawn when there’s more light. But, senior Kim and the others, are you okay with this?”
“For us, it’s no big deal. We’re used to eating and sleeping outdoors. My wife even asked me if I was still working since overnight shoots have become so rare. I used to hate overnight shoots, but now that they’re so infrequent, it’s kinda fun. But Director Yoo, are you okay? I saw that Cha Hyejin seemed pretty upset earlier.”
Overnight shoots often come with such challenges.
When you actually get to the shooting location, conditions are often worse than expected, or equipment breaks down, causing delays. It’s a common occurrence.
As a result, not only the staff but also the actors had to stay on standby.
They never knew when the shoot might start. Famous PD Yoo showed a wry smile and moved away.
“How long do we have to stay on standby?”
Cha Hyejin, the actress, twitches her cheek. It’s already been two hours. She had heard earlier that the shoot was delayed due to a camera malfunction.
The heater in the van was on full blast, but Cha Hyejin’s face remained icy.
Her manager was so worried she might throw a tantrum that he couldn’t even speak properly.
“Cheolmin, turn the car around.”
“What? Unnie, what do you mean?”
“Are you deaf? Turn the car around. Are we going to sit here all day? The sun will come up at this rate. Let’s just head back to Seoul.”
“Shall I inform PD Yoo?”
“Like he’d let us go. Just turn the car around!”
At that moment.
“Cha Hyejin?”
It seems she can’t behave like a noble. Famous PD Yoo knocks on the van door.
Cha Hyejin barely swallows her rising emotions and opens the van door.
As the warm air from inside the van meets the cold outside, condensation quickly forms on the windows.
“PD Yoo, how long do we have to stay on standby? It looks like today’s shoot is a bust, so I’ll head back to Seoul. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?”
“I’m sorry, but the equipment will arrive soon.”
“Oh, forget it. Honestly, PD Yoo, I don’t get it. Jang Youngguk gets to do overnight shoots at the folk village, but why do I have to come all the way to the remote mountains of Gangwon Province?”
‘Well, because the scenes we need to shoot are different.’
How could you compare Jang Nok-su with King Yeonsan-gun? While the king inspecting the people could be filmed at the folk village, Jang Nok-su’s scenes required a different setting.
However, Cha Hyejin’s frustration wasn’t just about that.
“And when Jang Youngguk had overnight shoots, you cleared his schedule, but why can’t mine be adjusted? I’m busy too. Just because Jang Youngguk is a bit more famous now, are you already categorizing us into A-list and B-list?”
Famous PD Yoo finally spoke up.
“With Youngguk, it couldn’t be helped. His college entrance exams were coming up, so we tried to accommodate his schedule. And Cha Hyejin, you should know that overnight shoots often continue into the next morning. The staff is struggling outside fixing and setting up the equipment, and you’re having a hard time waiting in a warm van? If you’re only going to complain, just go back to Seoul.”
“What?”
“Go back to Seoul.”
‘Does he think I won’t go if he says that?’
Just as Cha Hyejin was about to close the van door, her cheeks twitching.
“PD Yoo!”
A familiar voice called out from somewhere. Both famous PD Yoo and Cha Hyejin turned towards the direction of the voice.
There, walking with AD Kim Youngmin who had brought the equipment from Team B, was Youngguk.
It was a night that called for some warm soup. He wished he could rent a food truck, but in this era, such things were hard to come by.
Only later would various food truck services like snack trucks and coffee trucks become prevalent. Back then, even using a meal truck at a filming site was rare. Instead, they had prepared some fried chicken in advance.
“Youngguk, what’s all this?”
“I thought the crew might be hungry, so I brought some food. There’s not much to order in the mountains.”
“Wow, Youngguk, you’re the best! The best!”
Cinematographer Kim Deukhyeong’s excited voice echoed through the quiet mountains.
The crew gathered around the burning drum can. They each grabbed a piece of the savory fried chicken.
Famous PD Yoo asked AD Kim Youngmin.
“How did you end up coming with Youngguk?”
“Youngguk called first. He asked where the crew was in Gangwon Province. He said he needed to go to the site because of some issues, and it was perfect timing, so we came together. I had no idea he would bring this much fried chicken.”
“Huh.”
Famous PD Yoo clicked his tongue in amazement at Youngguk’s keen understanding of what the filming site needed.
Such awareness doesn’t come from just being perceptive. It comes from years of experience on set. Even knowing what to do, how many actors would actually take action?
“Youngguk, isn’t your graduation tomorrow?”
“Why? Are you planning to send a wreath?”
“Why not? It’s your graduation. How about we all go together after the morning shoot?”
“No need. I appreciate the thought. I told everyone who wanted to come to just let my mom come. It would be too chaotic otherwise.”
It wasn’t a lie. So many people wanted to come to his graduation.
Starting with agency head Kim Seonghwan, actress Park Sooyoung, even his grandfather and uncle, not to mention the broadcast crew and reporters who wanted to cover the event.
In the end, to prevent chaos, he told his agency’s staff and even his grandfather and uncle to celebrate together after the graduation.
“You’ll be busy with your graduation tomorrow. If you head back to Seoul at dawn, when will you sleep?”
“It’s fine. You guys and the other directors and staff are working hard. I can’t just sleep comfortably on a soft bed while you’re doing an overnight shoot. By the way, I see everyone but one person. Where’s Cha sunbae?”
At that moment, Cha Hyejin, who had been listening from a distance, blushed.
Was it because of the winter night’s chill or because she was embarrassed? Only she would know.
Graduation.
Though the new buds that had been dormant all winter had yet to emerge, the school yard was already buzzing with the vitality of spring.
In front of the school gate, vendors selling flower bouquets made from fresh flowers lined up. But true to the saying “people are more crowded than flowers,” the area was already packed with broadcasting staff and reporters.
‘They just don’t listen.’
He knew the broadcasting people were notoriously inconsiderate, but he didn’t expect this level of disregard.
The agency had explicitly stated that graduation would not be filmed.
Yet, as if they had swallowed those words with their soup, they immediately thrust their cameras forward. With journalists also gathering, the area in front of the school gate was a chaotic mess.
‘Thank goodness the principal is preventing them.’
Human nature is such that people crave both fame and recognition. Showing up on national TV would undoubtedly raise the school’s profile.
However, the principal seemed to have made a decisive move for the students, the true stars of the graduation. He declared that only parents and close relatives were allowed entry.
As a result, the broadcasting crew and journalists were left filming the school gate in vain, like dogs looking up at a chicken on the roof.
“Youngguk, want to take a picture together?”
Classmates approached him.
They were all smiling, cherishing the last memories of their school days, knowing they would never return.
Youngguk stood up and took pictures with them. They were friends with whom he had played soccer and basketball.
“Youngguk!”
Just then, his mother entered the classroom, holding a bouquet. Beside her was a familiar face he hadn’t seen in a while.
As if proud of guiding his mother to the classroom, the person beside her shrugged their shoulders.
“Oppa, take a picture with mom quickly.”
It was Yeonsu.
Yeonsu picked up a film camera and took photos of Youngguk and his mother, directing them like a seasoned photographer.
She told them to stand closer together. His mother’s face was beaming with joy.
You could tell just by looking at her face how happy she was to attend her son’s graduation while he was still in his school uniform.
“Youngguk, take a picture with Yeonsu too.”
“Alright, but I also want to take one with the class president.”
Youngguk waved at the class president, who was peeking from the back of the classroom.
They had become close while serving as class president and vice president in the second year, but since their classes changed, they rarely met.
Today might be the last time they see each other for a while.
“Class president, let’s take one last photo together?”
After taking pictures in the classroom, they all headed to the auditorium where the graduation ceremony was being held.
The students’ faces were already flushed from the excitement of the graduation, and at the back of the auditorium, parents and relatives held bouquets, looking emotional as they watched their sons and daughters graduate.
‘Thank goodness I don’t have to give the valedictory speech.’
Before the ceremony, both the homeroom teacher and the principal had urged him to.
They suggested that after the student council president’s speech, Youngguk could go up and give a valedictory speech. But Youngguk had waved them off.
While he had made meaningful memories during his school years, he felt it would be inappropriate to deliver the valedictory speech.
“First, I would like to thank everyone who came here today to celebrate our graduation. During the past three years at Sehwa High School… (omitted)… We will strive to be proud seniors and students to our juniors and teachers. And to the classmates who shared these high school years with us, remember that this parting is not a final farewell…”
The student council president choked up and began to cry while delivering the speech from the podium.
The graduates, aware that today was their last day of high school, clapped with teary eyes in encouragement.
Youngguk was no different. How many memories had he built over the past three years?
As he looked around the auditorium, shadows cast over his eyes, reflecting the traces of time.
Some might say they wanted to graduate quickly and step into adulthood, eager to enter society.
