“Isn’t there anything whiter? I should have just bleached it.”
“There wasn’t enough time to prepare since it was decided today.”
“Tsk, I guess there’s no choice.”
The director tapped the ends of the wig Sol was wearing, expressing dissatisfaction with the color, but didn’t make a big issue out of it. Instead, after circling around Sol and observing, he gestured.
“Take that off and follow me over here.”
Before Sol could respond to the command, Ji-ho, like a seasoned butler, took off the padded jacket that had been draped over Sol’s shoulders. As Sol followed the director toward the set, he wondered if he should use the Stability Potion now. What if he froze completely like he did during the first shoot? Despite preparing with the other members for the shoot, there was still a long way to go.
Hesitant to use the Stability Potion, Sol missed the timing and, feeling uncertain, followed the director into the set. The pure white set was so pristine that Sol wondered if it was okay to step on it with shoes. As Sol hesitated to put his foot down, the director gestured impatiently.
“It’s nothing complicated. Just sit here and look straight at the camera. It’ll only take a few seconds. Easy, right?”
“…Yes!”
To shake off his nervousness, Sol shook his head vigorously. He sat firmly in the chair the director had pointed to, staring straight ahead, his face clearly showing his tension. He looked so determined that, until the director returned to him after taking just a few steps, his expression appeared almost grim.
“Didn’t you hear the instructions?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What do you think of the way you’re sitting right now?”
“......”
At the director’s words, Sol checked his posture. He was sitting upright, his head held straight, looking directly ahead, with both legs neatly together. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong. Sol, unsure of what the issue was, glanced around cautiously. The director sighed. Seeing his deflated expression, Sol braced himself, expecting harsh criticism. But fortunately, the director didn’t yell. Instead, in a somewhat stern tone, he pointed something out.
“Didn’t you hear that your character’s keywords are ‘fatal’ and ‘charismatic’? But right now, you look like an elementary school student on their first day of school.”
“Oh, oh! Yes. I understand now.”
“Since it’s a short cut, let’s not drag it out and finish in one go. Ready?”
“Yes.”
At Sol’s nodding response, the director made an “O” shape with two fingers and then returned to his position. Though Sol had agreed, he found himself unsure of how to adjust his posture. He tried sitting slightly askew, then slouched into an uncomfortable position, but his body kept slipping from the chair. A headache seemed to be creeping in, and belated worries began to flood Sol’s mind, making him anxious.
The thought of a Stability Potion kept floating around in his head. Deciding that he should use it now, Sol repeated Stability Potion to himself while glancing around. Just then, a notification window appeared, asking if he wanted to use the item, and at the same moment, he locked eyes with Ji-ho, who stood in the distance holding a padded jacket, watching him. Ji-ho gave a small nod and clenched his fist encouragingly. That gesture brought back memories of the profile photo shoot day.
[Would you like to use the ‘Stability Potion’?]
[Yes | No]
Sol stared intently at the word “Yes.” Behind the glowing word, he could see Ji-ho waving at him.
“Cut. Staring won’t do anything....! Oh my, this one’s really stiff, huh? He’s going to be a headache.”
Sol snapped out of it because of the loud sound of something hitting and the booming voice of a man echoing through the large space. Before he knew it, the camera crane had swung in close to him. Filming had already started while Sol was lost in thought. Startled, Sol quickly composed himself and kept repeating, “I’m sorry.”
More than the frustrated look on the director’s face, today, Ji-ho’s face, standing far behind, was clearly visible to Sol. Was it the result of practice, or had Sol finally gotten used to the camera? Or maybe it was because it was being filmed with a machine rather than a person. Sol felt that he could manage just fine without using the Stability Potion. Memories of the members who made him laugh during the profile shoot resurfaced. Ji-ho was standing in a similar spot today.
“I can do this. Ji-ho-hyung is here... I think I can do it.”
Sol dismissed the system window that was obstructing his view. He couldn’t always rely on the Stability Potion whenever something like this happened. There was a limited number of potions, and if he used them carelessly, there might come a time when he really needed one but couldn’t use it. Besides, this wasn’t even during a quest. He knew it would be tough for him, and that he would keep getting scolded like this, but seeing Ji-ho watching him made Sol feel like he could handle it, just like that day. Sol bit his lip firmly.
The same shoot was repeated a couple more times, but the director kept sighing. Sol, who had thought he could do it, grew visibly disheartened by the constant criticism and the heavy atmosphere. It wasn’t because he had any trauma or couldn’t concentrate. He simply had no idea how to sit, what posture to take, or what expression to make, which led to this situation. Just as Sol’s face was growing more and more sullen, Eun-gyeom, who had finished getting ready, appeared on set. As the sound of metal clinking accompanied his arrival, the director immediately complained to him.
“He’s someone you have to guide from start to finish.”
“Really? Then just guide him.”
“Do I look that free to you?”
After a brief conversation with the director, Eun-gyeom approached Sol, who was stiffly sitting in an awkward pose in the middle of the set. In the heavy atmosphere of the set, Eun-gyeom was the only one smiling leisurely. As Sol watched Eun-gyeom approach with a smile, he thought of Ju-hwan, and it almost made him tear up. Whenever Sol was cornered like this, Ju-hwan or Yoo-chan would push through the crowd and come to him. Then, in a kind voice, they would ask him directly.
“Sol-ah, is it really hard for you?”
“…It feels like my arms and legs are broken. I don’t know how to move in a way that will please the director.”
“Can I help you for a moment?”
Looking at Eun-gyeom, who had approached and was now meeting his gaze, Sol silently nodded. The tiny bit of confidence he had painstakingly mustered had long disappeared. The more people sighed, the more Sol, who was already stiff, became even more rigid and awkward, moving like a malfunctioning robot. Eun-gyeom, who had approached Sol, stared at him for a moment as if making a decision, then bent down.
He carefully pressed down on Sol’s knees with both hands and gently bent Sol’s stiff arms that were sitting in a rigid pose like a mannequin. Sol let Eun-gyeom move him as he pleased, relying on his touch like a doll. He had no other options. Eun-gyeom adjusted Sol’s arms and legs at will, like arranging a mannequin on display. After repeatedly bending and straightening his legs, letting his arms droop, and then placing them on his stomach, Eun-gyeom finally stood up and stepped back from Sol. From a distance, he scanned Sol’s appearance before approaching him again.
“Is it tiring?”
“No… I’m just sitting still.”
Sol responded almost reflexively to Eun-gyeom’s question. It would have been a lie to say it wasn’t tiring. In truth, he desperately wanted to escape. At Sol’s response, Eun-gyeom massaged his arm, which he had been fiddling with.
“It’s written all over your face that you’re tired. Relax your arms a little. Why are you so tense? That’s why it’s so hard for you.”
“…I just can’t seem to relax.”
Despite the tension of the shoot, there was also the stiffness from the staff touching Sol while handling his makeup, hair, and wardrobe. Additionally, Eun-gyeom kneaded Sol’s stiffened arm with a gentle touch.
“Think about when you’re dancing. Imagine you’re dancing even now.”
At Eun-gyeom’s words, Sol’s face became even more forlorn. He felt trapped in a fog he couldn’t escape from. Seeing the confusion written all over Sol’s face, Eun-gyeom burst into laughter.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Eun-gyeom lifted Sol’s now slightly relaxed arm and had him clasp his hands over his stomach. Then he had him straighten his back and cross his legs. Sol ended up sitting on the white chair with hunched shoulders and his legs crossed at an angle. Eun-gyeom’s puppet play was quite successful, at least enough to remove his “honor student” look.
“Hmm, stay just like that. And let’s see... what would work? Ah, imagine I’m your super annoying rival.”
Following Eun-gyeom’s direction, Sol tried to imagine and looked at him. But the expression they were looking for still didn’t appear on his face. Fortunately, ever since Eun-gyeom showed up, the staff had stopped sighing in frustration. As the heavy sighs that had filled the room vanished, Sol felt slightly more at ease.
“Your face doesn’t look like you’re glaring at a rival at all.”
“Do I just glare like this? But do I really need to glare at my rival?”
“Haha, well, not necessarily, but right now, your expression looks like you’re about to cry rather than glaring.”
“I do feel like crying... What should I do to get better at this kind of thing?”
“Hmm, it’s like acting. You express emotions when you dance, don’t you?”
“But it’s a bit different from that….”
As Sol responded to Eun-gyeom’s words, he recalled a power-up item from his inventory. The “Acting” skill—if he could level that up, would this kind of thing become easier? He was bound to face similar situations in the future, and he couldn’t rely on help every time.
“Eun-gyeom, step back. Stay just like that…!”
The director, who had been watching Eun-gyeom and Sol in silence, suddenly raised his voice. It seemed he was satisfied with the pose Eun-gyeom had set up for Sol, treating him like a doll.
