The filming location that Director Kakeba Hiro had agreed upon was a deserted alleyway.

    Nearby, there was a playground, suggesting that the two scenes would be connected.

    "There are so many actors in school uniforms here."

    Of course, only a few of them were actual high school students. Most of them were adults.

    According to what Seoyeon had heard, the lead actress and a few other female actors were indeed supposed to be high school students.

    “I never imagined we’d meet under these circumstances.”

    Kakeba Hiro was a tall man with a strong, masculine appearance.

    He seemed to be in his mid-thirties, with looks that could easily be described as handsome.

    It was no surprise that he had many female fans among young actors.

    "D-Director Kakeba says it’s an honor to meet you."

    "The pleasure is mine."

    Seoyeon bowed politely as she responded.

    Then, she hesitated, wondering if she should add anything.

    Having never watched any of Director Kakeba Hiro’s works, she wasn’t sure where to start.

    Seoyeon subtly glanced at Sora, silently pleading for help.

    Catching Seoyeon’s gaze, Sora, now accustomed to such situations, began translating.@@@@

    “It’s an honor to meet the renowned Director Kakeba Hiro. I’m Ju Seoyeon, a Korean actress. I’ve heard you mentioned a cameo role. Please guide me, and I’ll do my best.”

    Though Seoyeon didn’t understand the exact words, judging from Kakeba Hiro’s expression, the statement seemed to have been well-received.

    “This is convenient.”

    Director Kakeba didn’t understand Korean.

    This meant Seoyeon could say whatever came to mind, and Sora would handle translating it appropriately.

    Of course, if Kakeba could understand Korean, Seoyeon wouldn’t have spoken so freely, but since he couldn’t, there was no helping it.

    Seoyeon sat with Director Kakeba in a separate space and exchanged some light conversation.

    For reference, present at the table was:

    “It would be great if you could also talk a bit about The Chaser.”

    Yuito, a journalist who had organized the meeting, seemed to be in an excellent mood, grinning ear-to-ear.

    After all, an article about Ju Seoyeon meeting Kakeba Hiro would undoubtedly generate high traffic.

    “Ah, please don’t spoil The Chaser for me. I’m planning to watch it without knowing anything beforehand.”

    “Ah, of course! That makes sense.”

    “By the way, I believe your name is Furihata? Thank you for setting up this meeting with Actress Ju Seoyeon.”

    Furihata was Yuito’s last name.

    Even though the request was sudden, Kakeba had readily agreed because Yuito had dangled a tempting bait—Seoyeon’s photograph in a direct message.

    Kakeba couldn’t resist.

    He was that intrigued by Seoyeon.

    “I want to see her acting in person.”

    Thus, he had hoped she would agree to appear even in a brief cameo role.

    “So, what kind of role is it?”

    “Since it’s a cameo, the screen time won’t exceed a minute. Think of it as a quirky high school girl who crosses paths with the protagonist on the street.”

    The conversation continued through Sora’s interpretation.

    A “quirky” character?

    Noticing Seoyeon’s reaction, Sora added an explanation.

    “In Korean terms, it’s like a 4D personality type.”

    “Oh, I know what that means.”

    Rather than being confused, Seoyeon found the role surprisingly distinct for a cameo appearance.

    The reason was simple.

    The character had been improvised by Kakeba after seeing Seoyeon’s costume from a previous project.

    Inspired by her appearance in a “landmine style” outfit from a photograph, he had crafted the character on the spot.

    “Thoughtful script.”

    The lines Seoyeon received were written in Japanese with Korean pronunciation guides and translations.

    The total screen time was less than a minute, just as Kakeba had said.

    “For now, feel free to relax before filming begins.”

    After a brief conversation, Kakeba stood up.

    Yuito followed him, perhaps for a separate interview.

    “I guess we should wait nearby too.”

    Walking around was out of the question; Seoyeon had already attracted curious gazes during her talk with Kakeba.

    “A Korean actress?”

    “Why all of a sudden? Who is she?”

    Many Japanese actors on set were eyeing Seoyeon with curiosity.

    Though some seemed skeptical, Kakeba Hiro was a director who took his craft seriously.

    He wouldn’t invite someone onto his set simply because they were popular or because he liked them.

    He prioritized actors who fit his vision and could deliver their roles, even for extras.

    “Apparently, she was on a variety show recently.”

    “Oh, that’s why she looks familiar.”

    “But, how should I put it...”

    Some of them swallowed nervously.

    Seoyeon, quietly reviewing her script, was a striking figure.

    Even in an industry full of beautiful and handsome actors, she stood out.

    “Wow, honestly, with looks like that, who cares if her acting is mediocre?”

    “I looked her up—apparently, she’s famous in Korea as a genius actress.”

    “Well, if she’s promoted as a genius, I guess it’s justified.”

    There was a stereotype that attractive actors often lacked acting skills.

    Especially younger ones—they sometimes relied on their looks to cover for any deficiencies.

    "Wow!!"

    Heads turned as Seoyeon appeared on set in her landmine-style outfit.

    ‘It really does suit her.’

    When she had worn the outfit at the hotel, it had been more of a casual look.

    But today, with full makeup, Seoyeon’s appearance was flawless.

    She looked so natural in the costume that it was hard to believe it was merely a role.

    No, if anything, she seemed born for this kind of eccentric, quirky image.

    "Let’s start off lightly," said Director Kakeba, clapping his hands.

    Everyone nodded in agreement.

    Filming was rarely completed in just one or two takes; it often required long hours of shooting.

    Seoyeon’s eyes darted around, quickly scanning the scene.

    It seemed like she was assessing the camera positions.

    But there wasn’t much to figure out.

    Unlike Korean dramas, Japanese productions didn’t use as many cameras.

    ‘Their primary cameras are high-quality, but they don’t have many.’

    It was a manpower issue.

    They didn’t have the staff needed to operate a variety of cameras.

    ‘Budget constraints, probably.’

    Korean drama productions typically had larger budgets than their Japanese counterparts.

    Even the filming locations reflected this.

    The alley and playground nearby, while serviceable, were far from ideal.

    It was clear that the locations were chosen due to limited permissions from local authorities.

    Seoyeon took a deep breath, observing the actors taking their designated positions.

    As she watched them, she mentally overlaid the tone of First Love Moment, the Japanese drama she had been studying since yesterday.

    This wasn’t a Korean drama.

    It wasn’t just the equipment that differed—it was the entire approach.

    ‘I’m just a cameo.’

    Her screen time would barely last a minute.

    A quick appearance, a few lines, and that would be it.

    But she had no intention of treating it lightly.

    Even if her motivation stemmed from personal ambition, her professional dedication as an actress was unwavering.

    “Ah, whatever! Kusakabe-kun, do whatever you want!”

    “Sato, you can’t just—!!”

    The exaggerated gestures and dramatic delivery stood out, even compared to other Japanese dramas.

    But it was still distinctly different from Korean acting styles.

    Seoyeon subtly moved her lips, mimicking the intonations and delivery she had heard.

    The tone, the drama’s unique atmosphere—she absorbed it like a sponge.

    It was like selecting the perfect paint color for a canvas.

    To Seoyeon, this process was second nature.

    When it was her turn to step onto the set, the actors who were to appear alongside her froze in place.

    A moment ago, Seoyeon had been expressionless, blending into the background.

    Now, her face was vividly painted with the character’s essence—a slightly eerie, unsettling presence of a quirky, “4D” high school girl.

    Her sudden transformation was so striking that the actors paused mid-step, caught off guard.

    “Earlier, you asked why I was the one reading the script out loud, right?”

    Sora’s voice broke the silence as she turned to Yuito, answering the question he had asked earlier.

    “Actually, Seoyeon was already rehearsing back at the hotel.”

    “Rehearsing? At the hotel?”

    But Yuito was no longer paying full attention to Sora.

    His eyes were locked on Seoyeon, pen and notebook in hand, as though he couldn’t afford to miss a single moment.

    “Yes, she was refining the tone of her performance.”

    “The tone?”

    “And her pronunciation.”

    Even with the lines written out phonetically, delivering them in Japanese required capturing the nuances—the emotions embedded in the words.

    Seoyeon had repeatedly listened to Sora read the lines, interpreting the character in her own way.

    It was a blend of Japanese and Korean acting styles.

    “What’s this? A handsome oppa all alone?”

    Seoyeon’s voice rang out, embodying the creepy yet oddly charming essence of her character.

    Her tone was exaggerated, with a slightly nasally, playful edge—just enough to sell the quirky vibe without feeling unnatural.

    She was unsettling yet endearing, like a caricature of a landmine-style girl.

    The balance was impeccable.

    And in that moment, all eyes were on her.

    Even though she was just a nameless extra, she had captured the entire set’s attention.