I Don’t Want to Play Villains Anymore - Chapter 26

In

It hasn’t been long since the production wrap party ended, and the day for the script rehearsal is approaching.

This work is a professional thriller, so there is absolutely no room for mistakes.

“If I mess this up, my pride as an actor won’t be able to handle it.”

I sincerely promised myself that I wouldn’t miss a single scene.

From now on, it’s time to change my assessment of Baek Ha-neul’s acting from “amazing” to “terrifying.”

SCC 6. In the meeting room where the bright sunlight was seeping through the glass walls, several actors had already settled in.

The director, producers, the writer, the production staff, the assistant director, sound, and video staff.

And the actors.

Among them, the one shining the brightest was…

“I am Lee Jae-wook, playing the role of Shin Do-hyeong.”

Ugh. Another alpha male…

Whether it’s Seo Hyun-woo, Na Jae-hyeon, or Lee Jae-wook, somehow the role seems to be filled with alpha males.

Su-a is the only hope…

“I’ve done lead roles many times, but this is my first time in a thriller, so… I’ll do my best.”

Clap, clap, clap!

“Oh…”

I was surprised.

I thought the applause would be an emotionless, perfunctory response.

I was quite taken aback by the enthusiastic claps from some of the female staff.

I pondered whether to cough or not while awkwardly smiling.

To be precise, my ears felt a subtle warmth.

Well, whatever. Clapping is free, and I just have to focus on the script…

But Director Gong Mu-heon’s voice was clearly audible.

“Our little actor seems to be a bit surprised.”

The assistant director next to him chuckled, and other staff members wore subtle smiles.

I can’t help but feel that I’m at the center of attention, and honestly, it makes me a bit uncomfortable.

I’m also a staff member, but suddenly becoming this ‘cute rehearsal star’ feels a bit weird.

Especially since I should be Suha right now.

I quietly straightened my back, staring straight ahead, and opened my mouth.

“…It’s not that I’m surprised. It’s just that the sound of applause is louder than what I expected.”

Cool and somewhat mechanical. A tone that tried to exclude as much emotion as possible.

The Suha inside doesn’t feel anything in this situation.

Not a bright child with sparkling eyes and a cheerful smile, but a child who, even while smiling, gives off a somewhat strange vibe.

At that moment, the Shin Do-hyeong actor, Lee Jae-wook, smiled at me and slightly bowed his head.

“Our Suha has come; focus is remarkable.”

…Deumbae-nim. Please don’t look at me like that.

I’m not a genius child actor.

But Lee Jae-wook seemed to be sincere.

His gaze was careful, almost as if trying to confirm something, and yet deep.

Such situations can be a little overwhelming.

When someone tries to read your emotions, Suha needs to emerge even deeper.

The director continued quietly.

“Haneul, could you please give a brief introduction to the role of Suha?”

Well, is this turning into some sort of school event?

There are no other young staff members as young as me, so I must seem cute.

I nodded and opened my mouth, not taking my eyes off the script.

“The Suha I am playing this time is an ordinary elementary school student in appearance. But as the story progresses, you will come to realize that this child is somewhat unusual.”

Everyone was quietly listening to my words.

That silence, accentuating their focus, felt somewhat nice.

“Rather than being a monster disguised as a child, I felt that he is the most pure representation of innocence.”

“Oh…”

“That in itself is more terrifying.”

I continued quietly.

“When we think of monsters, we usually imagine strange appearances and abnormal emotions. But Suha… is far too normal.”

Someone stopped turning the pages of the script.

I didn’t lift my eyes. I continued speaking while staring at the script.

“Yet he is endlessly dry and feels no guilt. When he hurts someone, he doesn’t perceive it as a wrongdoing. That’s just how Suha sees the world.”

A quiet stillness.

And very softly…

“…Huh.”

Someone let out a breath.

“So I thought I would have to strip away my emotions while acting Suha. That’s the kind of mentality it takes.”

I lifted my eyes.

The writer’s gaze met mine directly.

He was silent for a long time.

Then he murmured to Director Gong Mu-heon standing next to him.

“I guess I don’t need to explain emotions in detail.”

Director Gong Mu-heon slightly frowned and slowly nodded.

“That kid is scarier when he’s speaking than when he’s acting.”

At that, the whole rehearsal set quietly laughed.

But I didn’t laugh. No, I decided not to.

This is not a joke.

What I have to present from now on is neither the cuteness of an elementary school student nor just the cruelty of a villain.

It is ‘a kind of indifference wearing the face of innocence.’

The collision of that strangeness must be made real by the essence of this character, Suha.

“Then, we will proceed to scene 3 of Episode 1.”

Scene 3.

It looks like an ordinary day in elementary school, but it’s a somewhat unsettling scene.

This scene marks Suha’s first appearance, which seems ordinary but is anything but.

“This is the most important scene,” said the assistant director.

At those words, the actors adjusted their positions.

I fixed the script firmly on my lap and slowly chose my breaths.

“The setting is a peaceful morning in an elementary school. The children are laughing, drawing together, and cutting out colored paper.”

At that, a child actor recited the line.

“Suha! Can you pass me the eraser?”

“Ah… okay.”

That one line.

Though brief, I deliberately added a considerate breath.

I responded with a childish smile, but beneath that smile, I left a subtle hint of ‘detachment.’

The look in my eyes while gazing at my friend was innocent and harmless, but somehow it gave off a hint of emptiness.

At that moment, the performance began.

I didn’t turn the page of the script.

I had already memorized this scene to the point it was engraved in my hands.

Sitting in my chair, I raised my right hand slightly to carefully pick up the imagined eraser sitting on the desk.

Then, with my other hand, I slowly and naturally took out a pair of child-friendly safety scissors.

“…”

Without the sound of a breath,

my hand touched the eraser.

Squelch.

The subtle feel of the pressed rubber was imprinted in my mind.

I raised the blade of the scissors above it.

Snip—

Soundlessly, in my imagination, the eraser was cut.

With a regular pair of scissors, it might have taken a bit, but the scissors that Suha had sharpened beforehand split the eraser in no time at all.

I maintained a bright smile on my face and handed over one half across the table.

“Here.”

My fingertips were honest.

The cut face of the neatly exposed eraser displayed a small gesture that filled the room with strange silence.

Outwardly, I’m a kind, gentle child.

But there hides a strange kind of indifference, treating the act of ‘sharing’ as something valuable.

‘This child is somewhat strange.’

I didn’t speak those words, but I subtly tilted my head to convey that to my friend.

“With this, we can both use it.”

Those were words not written in the script.

But I felt it was necessary to add that line.

This child would likely say something like that.

With the ordinary laughter of a five-year-old, very innocent.

The rehearsal room held its breath.

A silence like a ticking clock settled cautiously on the table.

The absence of sound was noticeable enough for me to feel nervous about it.

I slowly lifted my eyes.

“Is it okay?”

At that short question—

Lee Jae-wook, playing Shin Do-hyeong, who had been observing closely from the front,

slightly furrowed his brows.

The change was minimal, but I couldn’t miss it.

It felt less like an actor’s reaction and more like an instinctive response.

‘Something feels strange.’

If I could feel that emotion, I would consider it half a success.

Outwardly, this scene is so very ordinary and mundane.

An elementary school student sharing an eraser. Kind and gentle, a friendly child.

But I wanted to instill a subtle metallic sense of unease buried beneath that surface.

That’s it.

This performance is meant to capture the moment when ‘Suha’ is first encountered.

Even thinking he’s just a cute and nice child, I need to make people feel a chill down their spine somehow.

Outwardly, he seems innocent.

His smile, his words, his rhythm.

But behind his gaze, something other than innocence must reside.

So, I maintained my eye smile,

and slowly, gradually revealed the emotions in my eyes.

Softly. Very softly.

I extracted warmth from the living gaze.

Then, the final silence without any dialogue.

The child receiving the eraser laughed, and ‘Suha’ returned to his seat.

I slowly scanned the script and lightly pressed my fingertips against it.

My fingertips were cold.

That was the coldest heat known as regret.

It carried a suffocating sense as if holding my breath underwater for too long, alongside a sense of calm.

It was a familiar feeling.

A familiar feeling that is terrifying.

I quietly let out a breath. Very quietly and carefully.

Out of fear that this air I’ve worked hard to create might shatter.

“…Let’s move on to the next scene.”

The assistant director’s voice was still composed, but there was a hint of unease mixed into the end of his words.

He probably felt it too.

The air that had dominated the room until just a moment ago.

That was not made by a child.

Not by an actor either.

It was an uncomfortable presence, ‘Suha,’ something other than innocence, creating a certain tension.

My hand, turning the page of the script, slipped slightly.

It was not mine but the hand of the sound technician sitting next to me.

He didn’t say anything, but to me, the present air felt as if it had punctured each person’s heart with small metallic needles.

“Just now… Haneul, did you memorize the script and act it out?”

Someone asked, cautiously.

It seemed like someone from the planning department. The soft tone held a genuine curiosity.

I tilted my head slightly and answered.

“Yes. I’ve already internalized it.”

It wasn’t simple confidence.

It was a kind of conviction as in ‘I’ve already lived as this child.’

At my response, a fellow actor sitting on my left chuckled softly.

“Scary…”

That was high praise.

But at that moment—

I felt another gaze.

Straight ahead. The eyes of Lee Jae-wook, silently observing me.

Those eyes held a gaze full of solid determination.

As if looking at me as ‘someone to face on the same stage.’

‘When you throw your emotions at me, how will you handle it?’

An adult actor’s curious challenge, tinged with intrigue towards a child actor.

‘Are you really ready to act?’

I didn’t shy away. No, I didn’t want to shy away.

That was something akin to wordless confrontation before the act itself.

The next scene.

Shin Do-hyeong’s brother visits the elementary school, marking the first time Suha is seen.

Literally a ‘first meeting’ in the script, but the actors already knew that this scene was the heart of the story.

‘The crossing of gazes.’

Those few short seconds will hint at the entirety of the upcoming narrative.

The moment ‘Suha’ first sees him.

He smiles innocently.

But his eyes do not smile.

The corners of his mouth lift in a friendly manner, but within those pupils, there’s a void so stark it’s alarming.

Yes. It should be like this—

“That’s enough. Haneul, stop.”

…Oh.

Without realizing it, I had started to mimic that moment.

Dangerous. This is why improvisational acting can be perilous.

But just now…

Lee Jae-wook’s eyes, trying to seem nonchalant,

were very subtly—

‘Shaken.’

‘…Jae-wook-nim.’

Was it due to instinct, or was it acting?