After the Storm

Seoyeon sat on a bench, eyes downcast, looking like a scolded puppy. Her gaze flickered sideways, trying to avoid Jiyeon’s stern look. Jiyeon sighed deeply, already knowing the situation before speaking.

“You know...” Jiyeon began, her tone weary.

She had anticipated this. Seoyeon must not have been satisfied with her ghost performance during practice. It was likely that she had sought inspiration from movies or practiced separately to improve.

‘The Exorcist,’ Jiyeon mused. The upside-down stair crawl had clearly been inspired by that film. Jiyeon had felt her own hair stand on end when she saw Seoyeon’s performance, but honestly, it had been too fast. Instead of evoking the horror of a ghost, Seoyeon had come across more like a giant insect. It was terrifying in its own way, but still...

“Did you know?” Jiyeon asked, watching Seoyeon’s uncomfortable fidgeting.@@@@

“Know what?” Seoyeon replied hesitantly.

“That people are saying you’re a real ghost.”

“N-no, I didn’t know that...” Seoyeon stammered, her voice trailing off.

Despite dialing down her performance after meeting Jiyeon, the haunted house had become wildly popular, largely due to the intense reactions to Seoyeon’s earlier, more enthusiastic performances.

“People couldn’t believe someone could move like that. They’re treating it like they saw a real ghost.”

Seoyeon looked remorseful. She had been aware that she might have gone too far. The students who had made it to the second floor were few, and no one had reacted as dramatically as those boys who had been so genuinely terrified.

‘I got too carried away,’ Seoyeon thought, inwardly apologizing to the boys. They had given her such a strong reaction that she couldn’t help but chase them down, not realizing it might go too far.

Despite everything, Seoyeon couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that she couldn’t continue. Even though waiting alone in the dark building had been unsettling, scaring the students had been exhilarating. She now understood why the creatures in horror games pursued their victims so relentlessly.

“Ju Seoyeon, you’re going to get hurt one day. What if one of those boys had panicked and fought back?” Jiyeon warned.

“I’d win,” Seoyeon answered matter-of-factly.

“...” Jiyeon was speechless. Sure, Seoyeon could probably hold her own, but the fact that she even considered fighting wasn’t what a typical actor should think about.

Seoyeon was about to go off on a tangent about grappling techniques, but Jiyeon quickly changed the subject before the conversation could spiral into a discussion on combat strategy.

“So, did you make any friends?”

Seoyeon paused mid-sentence, her expression thoughtful. She looked out at the schoolyard where they were sitting. It was the final day of the school festival, and Seoyeon had been busy playing her ghostly role.

“Halfway, maybe.”

“Halfway?” Jiyeon echoed, slightly amused.

“I’m in the class group chat now,” Seoyeon said with a hint of pride.

“That’s... good for you,” Jiyeon responded, smiling wryly.

“The rest will happen soon,” Seoyeon said confidently, though she didn’t notice some of her classmates giving her a wide berth. The sight of Seoyeon crawling on all fours had left an indelible impression on them.

“Ju Seoyeon,” Jiyeon said, her tone softening.

“Hmm?”

‘Why?’ Jiyeon wondered. ‘Does Seoyeon know them? If she does, why isn’t she saying anything?’

Before Jiyeon could ask, Seoyeon murmured to herself, “I see.”

It wasn’t much of a statement, just an acknowledgment. Seoyeon then turned away from the scene, her expression calm.

“I needed to see something for my role,” Seoyeon explained as they began to leave.

“For Cha Seo-ah’s motivation?” Jiyeon asked, still puzzled.

“I think I understand now,” Seoyeon said, smiling gently.

As they returned to Seoul, Seoyeon felt a sense of clarity. She had seen something that helped her grasp the emotions driving Cha Seo-ah’s character. The sense of envy, the desire for something she couldn’t have—it all made sense now.

***

The Chaser was now in its final stages of filming. Most of Cha Seo-ah’s scenes had been completed, and the atmosphere on set was one of quiet satisfaction.

“Great work, everyone!” Seoyeon called out as the final scene wrapped up. She wiped the sweat from her brow, feeling a mix of relief and pride.

Director Bae Jin-hwan watched her thoughtfully, noticing a change in her performance.

‘Her acting has improved,’ he mused. In the earlier scenes, Cha Seo-ah had seemed like an extension of Seoyeon herself—a character she was born to play. The highlight scenes had been particularly impressive, and he had expected the connecting scenes to be solid but not extraordinary.

“To be honest,” Bae Jin-hwan said with a grin, **“every scene you’ve done is so good, it’s going to be tough to edit. The crew is already worried about how to choose the best takes.”

“Really?” Seoyeon asked, blinking in surprise.

**“Absolutely. Where did you pick up these new skills? Cha Seo-ah’s performance is a real gem.”

In a thriller, the villain is crucial. The audience needs to feel the terror the villain brings, to understand their motivations, to be fully immersed in the story.

Cha Seo-ah’s motivations were complex, driven by more than just simple jealousy. Seoyeon had managed to convey this depth through her performance, turning a potentially shallow character into one with real emotional weight.

“It’s a deeply emotional performance,” Bae Jin-hwan continued. **“Considering your age, it’s honestly astounding.”

“Is it?” Seoyeon said, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. She was, after all, just a high school student.

“Now that filming is nearly done, it’s time to start promoting the movie,” the director said.

“Promoting?” Seoyeon repeated.

**“Yes, we’ll need to do some interviews and maybe appear on a few shows. Do you have anything in mind?”

Seoyeon thought for a moment, but nothing specific came to mind. She was familiar with promotional work from her previous acting experiences, but this time it felt different—more intense, more focused on her role as the villain.

“If you don’t have anything particular in mind, I’ll coordinate with the PR team,” the director offered.

“Please do. I’ll trust your judgment,” Seoyeon replied, nodding.

**“Don’t worry too much. The other actors will be involved too, so it won’t all fall on you.”

Seoyeon felt a bit more at ease with that reassurance. Promotional work was necessary, and while it might be daunting, she knew it was part of the job. And this time, she was ready to face it, just as she had faced everything else in her career.