༺ Chamomile ༻
“3 presence?”
It was unexpected.
Yoomyeong thought it would be a very difficult task and that Miho would demand something even more tremendous, but it simply asked him to receive an additional 3 presence.
He had even received a presence of 2 from a simple coaching about acting.
3 for such an important deal… Wouldn’t that be okay?
{Yeah. It’s quite a concession.}
Miho stuck out its small tongue and licked its lips.
‘That concession is indeed true…’
Transferring the ownership of presence was a big loss.
Even considering being on the ‘boundary,’ Miho could have asked for up to 5.
But the reason Miho only asked for 3 was…
“Yes. It was originally 57, so even with the addition, it’s 60. That seems fine. Let’s make the deal.”
Yoomyeong accepted the deal, and a notification soon appeared.
According to the contract, the control of presence will be transferred.
The silver thread that had been connected to Miho snapped with a -pop-.
At that moment, Miho wrinkled its nose slightly.
And then…
According to the contract, you must accept the presence of the spirit fox.
〈 Presence 〉
59(32+27)/100
‘Hmm…?’
〈 Presence 〉
62(32+30)/100
A warm cluster of light moved over…
And nothing happened.
{What… What the heck?}
‘Why… don’t I feel anything?!’
The Spirit Fox was flustered.
That could only mean one thing.
‘Did his inherent presence increase by more than 1 in the meantime…?’
Increasing presence through acting and gaining attention was normal. An actor who works hard can gain up to 1 presence a year.
Yoomyeong had been acting diligently and had received a lot of attention since returning, so Miho had calculated that his presence would have increased to that extent.
That’s why the Spirit Fox suggested the ambiguous number ‘3’.
If his presence hadn’t increased at all during that time, receiving 3 would have reversed the presence.
If it had increased by 1, receiving 3 would make it equal.
When it was equal, the one who got the right to use the body depended on their ‘will’.
In a way, Miho was trying to give Yoomyeong one more chance.
But… why…?
Had his presence increased by more than 1 in a year? Was that possible through human power…?
The Spirit Fox’s voice became sharp and piercing.
{…What was ‘your’ presence number in the notification just now?}
“Huh? Well… I don’t remember… Can’t you check it?”
Seeing Miho’s sudden change, Yoomyeong chose his words carefully.
For some reason, Miho couldn’t check the amount of his presence directly.
And, protecting that information…
A premonition that protecting it might be important subtly brushed against Yoomyeong’s subconscious.
Seeing the caution arise in his expression, Miho sighed again.
{Right. Grr. The deal is done, so go and practice your acting.}
The Spirit Fox left the room swiftly to conceal its emotions.
*
“Cut! Thank you for your effort!”
Wowwwww—
Director Ki’s face was overflowing with surprise and admiration.
After two weeks of hard work, the actor brought results that greatly exceeded his expectations.
“Should we reshoot this scene… doing more than a waist shot for the whole thing, Director?”
“I think so, too.”
The director and cinematographer consulted together, holding the script.
Originally, this scene was supposed to combine full shots, waist shots, and close-ups.
However, this atmosphere wouldn’t come to life if they used a stand-in.
It was better to focus on capturing only Yoomyeong’s upper body, even if it meant showing less of the technical ballet part.
“We also shouldn’t do the shot hanging over Hwaran’s shoulder.”
“That’s right. The focus goes to the female lead, doesn’t it?”
It was about the scene where the Phantom dances the ‘Ghost Giselle’, whose presence seemed to fade.
To express Hwaran’s view of the Phantom, a shot was planned where he was filmed over her shoulder. And now, that shot was deleted.
That was because the attention might be drawn to Hwaran’s shoulder even more than to the Phantom, who was dancing in the center.
His performance was so aptly described as ‘ghost-like,’ as the viewer’s focal point unknowingly became blurred.
But because of that, it was beautifully ethereal, as if he would vanish at any time.
“34 takes 7 and 2—”
“Ready— Action!”
As they focused entirely on the Phantom in the center without any interruptions, only the dim image of him dancing enchantingly faintly floated on the screen.
As the dance ended…
“In this part, you need to express the profound desolation of the second act’s Giselle that even the sound of her moving wouldn’t be heard.”
While instructing Hwaran, the Phantom’s presence filled the space once more as if he resurrected.
The gap between the two teetered between human and non-human, making it impossible for anyone to look away from the monitor screen as if their gazes were nailed to it.
“Director Ki, this is really… it seems like we might encounter something unexpected?”
Cinematographer Choi spoke with a voice as if he was in a dreamlike state.
“That’s… right.”
Director Ki’s voice also trembled.
And Seryeon, it seemed, took a big hit from the ‘Giselle of a non-expert.’
‘That kind of… Giselle…’
*
She removed her red lipstick.
She changed from her flashy outing outfit into a plain leotard.
She wrapped her long hair into a bun, securing it tightly at the crown of her head with a net.
‘In the end…’
What was in the mirror was a familiar, plain face.
When she did ballet, she never wore a miniskirt on cold days. Her muscles always needed to be warm and supple to avoid injuries during practice.
Back then, the fancy makeup, stylish clothes, and pedicures, which were absolutely impossible to have when wearing pointe shoes, looked so pretty.
— I can do this now that I’m not doing ballet.
In an attempt to console herself that way, Seryeon dressed as glamorous as possible when she went out. Then, her dad also thought that she was feeling better and was pleased.
However, it wasn’t all that enjoyable.
Dressed in practice clothes, Seryeon started stretching.
Her legs stretched effortlessly, unlike those of a retired person two years ago. Each segment of her spine lengthened to its limit, reaching the floor.
— I couldn’t stop practicing.
Even while trying to accept that she had retired, she couldn’t skip a single day of practice.
Throughout the long night, when she couldn’t sleep due to a sense of loss, she tormented her own body.
She didn’t want her hard-earned physique to go to waste.
— No, no. That’s an excuse.
If she ever made up her mind, what if her body was no longer up to the task?
Even on the day she first met him,
On that determined night when she couldn’t sleep, she punished her body.
Seryeon relaxed her body and settled on the floor in a seated position, recalling the Giselle she saw earlier in the day.
Giselle, so light that not even the sound of the air brushing against her while turning was audible, was airy like the atmosphere itself.
No matter how much that was called ‘acting,’ it was frustrating.
Giselle belonged to the ballerinas.
As someone who had practiced Giselle hundreds, or thousands of times, she thought…
‘I can express it better…!’
She couldn’t help feeling this way.
Seryeon cautiously lifted her right foot, flexing and pointing her toes.
She stretched it and curled the sole of her foot.
Incredibly slowly, almost suffocatingly so.
The ligament, already worn and torn, was diagnosed as irreparable. She had no choice but to strengthen the auxiliary muscles and ligaments as replacements.
It was a slow, tedious marathon with no guarantee of a finish line even if she ran diligently.
Seryeon took her first step on that journey.
Shaaa—
The night breeze carried the scent of apples.
Chamomile.
Commonly used as a soothing tea to calm the mind, the flower of this herb emitted an apple scent. Despite its delicate appearance, it grew vigorously, much like a weed, and was resistant to the cold.
Therefore, the flower language of this small flower is…
‘Unyielding strength in adversity.’
The chamomile looked infinitely delicate and pure white, but was actually strong.
It began to struggle to bloom.
*
“Something big happened!”
Director Ki burst in.
“Why?”
“Director, what’s going on?”
He spoke, catching his breath.
“Hye… Hye…”
“Hye?”
“We’ve been booked at Hyejeondang!”
“What?”
“We put our storyboard in the Young Artist Support Project organized by Hyejeondang, and they’re going to lend us a location at Hyejeondang to shoot the ballet theater performance.”
“Wow!”
Cheers erupted.
*
It was already June. The shooting had gone over two months, and the scenes shot on the indoor sets were mostly wrapped up.
What remained were the theater performance scenes to be shot with the Aurora Ballet Company.
It was a place that didn’t exist in reality but was portrayed as the ‘National Opera House’ in the film.
Since securing the location had been challenging, they had settled for filming at the Aurora Ballet Theater, although it was slightly cramped. But now, happy news had come.
“Hyejeondang is not only strict in evaluating performances, but it’s also famous for not easily permitting film locations. They barely grant it to one or two works a year, and only if the work is deemed to have its own artistic value. It seems they liked the script.”
Ki Do-han looked at Seryeon, who felt shy but let out a pleased smile.
“Is it perhaps Sujeondang?”
At Youmyung’s question, Ki Do-han shook his head regretfully.
“Sujeondang is Hyejeondang’s signature, so they don’t permit shooting there at all. But still, it’s at Woocheondang, which is the next size down!”
“Wow…!”
“They can’t spare it in the evening because there’s a performance, but they said we can shoot on several days until 3 PM, before the standby for Woocheondang.”
The staff couldn’t contain their joy.
That day, the director and cinematographer were busy discussing which cuts to capture as they intermittently laid out aerial views of Woocheondang.
Only one person tightly tied the ribbons of her ballet shoes and continued practicing.
*
Ten days later.
Finally, the day of the shooting at Hyejeondang arrived.
The actors and staff were already setting up at Hyejeondang.
Rustle—
The Aurora Ballet Company finally arrived. A whopping 32 ballet dancers poured into the performance hall in succession.
“Wow. It’s nerve-wracking to stand on the stage of Hyejeondang, right?”
“It’s not an official performance, so what does it matter?”
“Still, it’s cool. It feels like standing on the stage of the Paris Opera House.”
“Comparing it to the Paris Opera… What nonsense are you talking about?”
The owner of the slightly husky voice was a very thin and nervous-looking ballerina.
As she scolded her colleague next to her upon entering, she discovered a familiar face.
“Yoon… Seryeon?”
“Ah… Dohee.”
“What are you doing here?”
“…I wrote the script for this movie.”
“Oh… a writer? Did you switch careers to that?”
“Not exactly switched, it just happened. I’m also acting in it.”
Just as her eyes slightly narrowed, trying to probe into more detailed circumstances, the other ballerinas who followed her in also noticed Seryeon.
“Oh my, aren’t you Seryeon?”
“Seryeon—”
Senior members and colleagues surrounded Seryeon with surprised faces.
“How did this happen? You didn’t get in touch.”
“Is your body… okay?”
“Hehe… yes, well… I’m sorry for not getting in touch. My heart has been somewhat…”
“What is she talking about?! Ah, how much our Seryeon must have struggled.”
A circle formed around her.
It was clear to see.
Yoon Seryeon had always been like this. There were true rumors that her family was wealthy because her shoes and leotards were all luxury brands, and with her pretty face, the attention from their male colleagues never ceased.
She was even so straightforward that the seniors unusually favored her.
Park Dohee hadn’t envied her from the start.
Yoon Seryeon from Jinhua Arts High School. She was so famous because her name flew around in every contest, and Dohee also had a desire to become best friends with a pretty and popular friend.
That was until she became a ballet company colleague and were compared at every turn.
— Look at the height and accuracy when Seryeon does the jeté. It’s like a textbook jeté.
— Are you Yoon Seryeon’s colleague? Does she have a boyfriend?
— Yoon Seryeon has been promoted to a soloist (a dancer who plays significant roles in ballet) this time.
Not to mention the ego of those who were practicing arts.
When one’s ego is positively expressed, it could lead to self-improvement.
However, what if the person who was clearly born to be the lead role was right by your side, even putting in a lot of effort, making the possibility of winning against them almost non-existent?
‘It’s infuriating.’
When Dohee heard the news of Seryeon’s injury, such a thought arose.
Such sentiment was not even surprising anymore, as the darkness inside her had grown so much.
‘Why is she…’
Dohee cast a fleeting glance at Seryeon’s foot.
They had said that her ligaments were worn to the point of no return for rehabilitation. There was no way she could come back…
“Wow~ Seryeon is the lead? So, you’re playing the role of Giselle today?”
“Yes. Since my foot is like this, I can’t do pointe (standing on tiptoes), and I need a stand-in for full-body shots.”
“I see… but still, doing something like this is really amazing.”
Dohee snorted derisively inside.
If you can’t do pointe, then what kind of classical ballet is that?
Right now, she is a soloist herself. Even if Yoon Seryeon didn’t do ballet, she would live well and eat well… but at least in ballet, Dohee won.
Feeling a sense of victory for the first time, a smile spread across her face.
And then…
It was the stage setting for <Giselle>, and after the splendid corps de ballet, the protagonist Giselle appeared.
Seryeon, tightly tying her ballet shoes, stood in the stage pocket.
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