Chapter 56

“I am Kim Dae-heon, playing the role of Seung-cheol Im.”

*[The Chaser]* is a story centered around two police officers chasing a criminal.

Im Seung-cheol is the protagonist within the story, a detective known for his relentless pursuit of justice.

Originally trained in martial arts, he is a passionate investigator who does not shy away from physical confrontation with criminals.

And fitting to that character setup, actor Kim Dae-heon indeed had an imposing presence, marked by sharp features.

With a chiseled jawline, thick eyebrows, and piercing eyes, he stood over 180cm tall. Up close, he exuded an undeniable presence that could overwhelm.

“Hey, I’ve played the role of the villain many times, but this is the first time as a detective,” he joked.

The room erupted in laughter at his light comment. Though typically cast as a general in historical dramas, in modern settings, Kim often portrayed the antagonist.

Despite being a first-time detective, there was no concern among the cast about Kim’s ability. His acting prowess was well-known in the industry.

“Han Ye-hwa’s role, played by Jung Si-hyun. Thank you for your guidance.”

A young woman with a pure demeanor bowed to the actors seated around the table. Jung Si-hyun had recently captivated audiences as the female lead in a hit drama.

With a wholesome image and growing popularity, her role in this project was more than just that of a victim—she was the main heroine that the protagonist must rescue.

Then—

All eyes turned toward a young actress.

Seventeen-year-old Sooyeon Joo, the youngest among the cast.

“Princess Yeonhwa, isn’t it?”

“I saw her on TV recently.”

Her arrival was quite unexpected. It was only at this meeting that everyone was meeting for the first time. Until now, director Bae Jin-hwan had been struggling to find the right actress for the key villain role of Cha Sooah.

“Could it really be…Joo Seoyeon?”

Joo Seoyeon, the child actress who mysteriously disappeared from the scene a decade ago.

It’s not uncommon for child actors to suddenly retire due to various reasons, but what made Seoyeon unusual was that she vanished at the peak of her popularity.

“Cha Sooah’s role is played by Joo Seoyeon.”

Her voice was calm and pleasant. Her appearance was composed, yet strikingly beautiful—a perfect match for Cha Sooah’s character.

However—

“Her image as Princess Yeonhwa might be too strongly ingrained.”

“I heard her performance in [Close Your Eyes] really caught the director’s attention.”

Whispers circulated among the staff. For those unfamiliar with her recent theater performance, her selection seemed questionable.

Most recently, she left a lasting impression in [Looking Back at the Past], where she reunited with actors Yoon Seoil and Park Jung-woo after a decade.

Could the gentle and moving Princess Yeon-hwa really be playing a villain?

“Casting Joo Seoyeon as Cha Sooah truly surprised me.”

This statement came from Park Hee-joon, portraying the other detective Seo Kwang-il. While Kim Dae-heon brought a fiery energy to his role as Seung-cheol Im, Park played a more stoic and methodical character.

“This role of Cha Sooah is crucial to the film, so I hope for your best effort.”

Though seemingly a polite expression of goodwill, underlying tension was evident.

Park wasn’t particularly fond of Seoyeon’s casting for the role. How hard had he worked to secure this role, which felt like a career-defining opportunity? With the movie backed by GH Group, its chances for success were promising. With so much at stake, Park couldn’t help but doubt her suitability.

“Director Bae’s judgment is not the issue, but I didn’t expect Joo Seoyeon to play Cha Sooah…”

It wasn’t outright hostility, but a sense of apprehension prevailed. While Seoyeon had received high praise for her acting in the past, that was a decade ago—recent glimpses on variety shows featured only snippets of her skills.

Moreover, her work was mostly in theater, not on the big screen or in dramas. This film was her first significant mainstream project.

The unease was palpable; surely, he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

Just then—

“Let’s proceed with the script reading.”

Director Bae Jin-hwan’s statement resonated. A slight stir rippled through the room.

It was not uncommon to jump into a script reading after introductions, especially in situations where tensions needed to be quelled swiftly.

‘Indeed…’

Cha Dong-jin, the producer present, understood Bae’s intent. He had already witnessed Seoyeon’s theater performance and believed her talent was undeniable.

This young actress—Joo Seoyeon—was the real deal. But others might not see it the same way. To them, she was merely a child actress returning after a decade.

“Let’s go with scene number 24.”

“Scene 24? That’s…”

Kim Dae-heon gave an inquisitive response. Scene 24 wasn’t the part where Cha Sooah fully displayed her villainous nature.

It was the scene where Cha Sooah, waiting at a bus stop, encounters the two detectives for the first time. While chasing a serial killer, the detectives come across Sooah at a bus stop near the crime scene.

Upon seeing her, Detective Im is struck by an odd sensation and initiates a brief conversation before Sooah boards the bus and departs.

A simple scene, seemingly.

“…I understand.”

The actors accepted the director’s decision, though silently wondering how much could be shown in this scene.

Scene 24.

The setting: a bus stop.

The table, where the actors sat facing each other, transformed into a small bus stop. As Kim Dae-heon and Park Hee-joon held their scripts, they turned toward Joo Seoyeon.

“Hey, lady.”

With furrowed brows, Kim Dae-heon—or rather, Detective Im—spoke.

“Haven’t you seen the news today? It’s dangerous out here alone! There’s a murderer on the loose!”

“Whew, Chief. Don’t scare her unnecessarily. Do all people act this way?”

Detective Im was in no mood for jokes. Already, three murders had occurred in his jurisdiction.

The victims included both men and women, making it difficult to profile the killer. While the strength required to kill an adult male suggested a male culprit, confirmation was still elusive.

“Look, but you never know when the killer might just… pop up, right? You should be careful.”

“That’s just nitpicking.”

As the dialogue progressed, both detectives observed the woman calmly waiting at the bus stop.

Something peculiar lingered in the atmosphere.

Ordinarily, Detective Im would have walked past her without a second glance. But this strange aura drew him in. Was she in her twenties, or late teens?

This petite woman hardly seemed capable of killing an adult man, yet there was something captivating about her.

Then, she smiled.

“Thank you for your concern, I’ll be careful.”

A simple line.

Yet, something was off.

It was Kim Dae-heon who first noticed the anomaly. Seoyeon’s portrayal of Cha Sooah’s smile seemed… artificial. Like a painting.

Her expression felt staged—less genuine, more practiced. It didn’t quite gel with conventional ‘awkward acting.’ Instead, it was as though she was consciously acting the act of smiling.

But there was something else, a deviation from the norm—a feeling akin to discomfort.

When observing something nearly but not quite human—a concept known as the “uncanny valley”—humans experience unease. This was akin to encountering androids or dolls, where similarity to humans causes discomfort due to subtle differences.

“Always working hard, isn’t it hard? If things get dangerous, feel free to reach out.”

Another simple line, accompanied by a polite smile. The curve of her lips might have suggested kindness, but there was an undercurrent of eeriness—an unsettling gap between her words and expression.

‘Cha Sooah is similar to me, yet different.’

Perhaps Seoyoen’s prior self had been beloved. Love she had likely cherished deeply.

In her previous life, she had the opportunity to study and mimic human emotions. Though it often involved punishment and discipline, the goal had always been clear: to become an ordinary human. To smile, to cry—to be accepted.

But Cha Sooah never had such chances. Her smiles were mere facades honed under duress—a calculated approach to social interactions.

Seoyeon was aware—she knew at what point people began to notice the ‘awkwardness.’ From countless prior rehearsals of joy and sorrow, she memorized the nuances of human responses.

Now, she was tapping into the fringe of that unease. Her act wasn’t one of genuine emotional mimicry but rather an artful balancing act near the line of awkwardness.

“How long…?”

Seoyeon, in the role of Cha Sooah, spoke again in measured tones.

“You work at the police station nearby, correct?”

A routine question, yet it carried an unexpected weight. What should have been a casual inquiry felt like a thriller scene—sinking deep into the hearts of the two detectives.

“Um, yes, that’s right.”

“Do you always answer calls so promptly? How long does it usually take for you to respond?”

Concerned about the killer’s threat, she seemed overly interested in police response times.

Detective Seo Kwang-il stepped in cautiously.

“Why are you so curious?”

“Because you said it’s dangerous out here,” Cha Sooah replied calmly. “Being a fragile woman, I should prepare accordingly for when and how I might need help.”

Her words lacked concern, carrying only pure curiosity.

Her measured smile added to the unsettling nature of the exchange, a dissonance between her question and her expression.

“Ah, the bus has come.”

Noticing the detectives hadn’t replied, she inclined her head.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

Detective Im might have responded lightly in another situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so now.

A vague sense of déjà vu lingered.

This wasn’t the last time they’d encounter this woman.

The two investigators could only watch silently as she boarded the bus and disappeared.

Thus ends Scene 24, the first meeting between Cha Sooah and the detectives.

“…Ah…”

Someone let out a sigh, the tension dissipating with that release.

The script reading had gone smoothly—calm, uneventful exchanges of lines.

Yet…

All eyes turned to Seoyeon seated at the table.

“Was that…acting?”

Method acting.

No, it was beyond that.

The figure they had encountered was not an ‘act.’

As seasoned actors, they could discern the line between performance and reality. But now, they couldn’t tell.

“Seoyeon…”

Even director Bae Jin-hwan’s voice quivered. He had believed in her abilities, but not to this extent.

Her portrayal was a far cry from her previous role in [Close Your Eyes] as Hong Jeong-hee.

“Yes?”

In response to their reaction, Seoyeon looked genuinely perplexed. What she saw in their gazes was nothing but raw tension.

In that moment, everyone acknowledged something extraordinary.

What they had witnessed was not mere acting—it was something else entirely.

The boundary between performance and authenticity blurred.

And for the first time, they weren’t quite sure where one ended and the other began.

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