Scene #114.

The highlight of The Chaser.

Cha Seoa, who has found Han Yehwa hiding in the convenience store, approaches her with a bloodied hammer and knife in hand.

Her gaze falls on Han Yehwa, who is trembling with fear.

‘What kind of expression should I have?’

Seoyeon had hesitated over how to portray this scene while reading the script. Cha Seoa had reached a point of no return—she was beyond redemption.

She had killed too many people and was about to kill another, making it impossible to excuse her actions as mere results of her illness.

‘Especially considering what happens before she meets Han Yehwa.’

Cha Seoa kills one more person before confronting Han Yehwa—the convenience store lady. To the audience, she was just an innocent bystander who made the mistake of saying the wrong thing, but to Cha Seoa, she was much more.

Cha Seoa wasn’t a psychopath or a sociopath. She wasn’t someone who couldn’t feel or understand human emotions.

Rather, she was someone who couldn’t feel them correctly or express them appropriately.

This made her a far more terrifying figure to humans. If someone laughs in a situation where they should cry, or cries when they should laugh, how would people perceive them?

Seoyeon could vividly recall this from her past life’s memories.

‘Not being able to forget is not always a good thing.’

For reasons she couldn’t explain, whenever Seoyeon tried to recall something from her past life, she could remember it with perfect clarity. This had been the case since she was young, and she often used this ability to draw upon her knowledge of movies and dramas.

But it wasn’t just media that remained vividly imprinted on her mind. While the details of her past life were fading, the faces of certain people remained clear.

This was different from the memories related to the entertainment industry. Although she hadn’t understood it before, reading the script for The Chaser made her realize:

Ah, I was deeply hurt back then.

That’s why I can’t forget.

Emotional expression disorder, or alexithymia, is not the inability to feel emotions.

It’s simply the inability to recognize or express them correctly.

The term "alexithymia" comes from the Greek words "lexi" (meaning "word") and "thymia" (meaning "soul"), with the prefix "a-" indicating a lack. Thus, it means "without words for the soul."

‘I once wondered if I truly lacked a soul.’

But ironically, reincarnation proved that wrong. I do have a soul, and now I feel emotions just like anyone else.

It’s a simple physical disorder.

Simple, yet it’s a shackle that one cannot escape for a lifetime.

‘So…’

Even now, Cha Seoa is not without emotions. When she kills the convenience store lady who treated her kindly, and when she kills—or intends to kill—others like Han Yehwa, she feels something. She just doesn’t know what that emotion is.

「…….」

Cha Seoa brings down the hammer, killing the convenience store lady.

The script described this scene as "expressionless and cold."

No.

Seoyeon shook her head. Yes, alexithymia often results in a lack of expression, but that’s because the person doesn’t know what expression to make.

Therefore, in this moment, Cha Seoa should indeed have an expression. But it shouldn’t be one of sadness or pain.

Those would be the appropriate emotional responses.

The blood splattered. Or at least, it felt that way. It was as if she saw the blood splattering in her mind’s eye.

With the motion of swinging the hammer, the convenience store lady, who had been begging for her life, collapsed. Cha Seoa looked down at her, placing her fingers near the lady’s nose to check if she was still breathing.

Then, she brought the hammer down twice more.

Of course, the hammer never actually hit the actor. But the force with which Seoyeon swung it was enough to make the crew flinch.

‘Is this really acting?’

It had felt like this before, but today it was even more intense.

More than anything…

‘That expression.’

Kim Daeheon, who played Detective Im Seungcheol and was waiting to shoot the next scene, swallowed hard. For a moment, he forgot they were in the middle of filming.

‘Is she laughing? Or crying?’

Seoyeon was smiling, yet it seemed like she was crying. Kim Daeheon had seen an actor give a similar performance once before—the legendary Park Seonwoong in a film where he avenges his son’s murder, smiling in the final scene.

But this was different.

Seoyeon’s expression was more complex, filled with multiple emotions.

Park Seonwoong’s performance was clear—he conveyed the exhilaration of revenge and the sorrow of knowing his son would never return. It was a performance you could admire.

‘But…’

Seoyeon’s performance was fundamentally different. She was smiling, but it seemed like she was crying, as if she didn’t know which emotion she was supposed to express. It was like watching a non-human entity trying to mimic human emotions.

「…….」

Her mouth opened and closed as if gasping for breath. Seoyeon—no, Cha Seoa—dropped the tool she was holding and brought her hands to her face, as if trying to understand what expression she was making.

The sight was eerie.

So unsettling that those watching involuntarily grimaced.

‘That wasn’t in the script.’

Anyone who had read the script would think that. Did Director Bae Jinhwan give her special instructions? But judging by the slight widening of Director Bae’s eyes, it didn’t seem like it.

Thunk!

Slowly.

Cha Seoa lowered her hands from her face, then raised her right hand and pounded her chest with her fist.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

As if trying to get her heart to beat.

Or maybe to relieve the tightness in her chest.

Until now, Cha Seoa’s actions had been difficult to interpret. Her emotions and actions never aligned.

But this time, it was clear what she was feeling.

Her actions matched her emotions.

Frustration.

And pain.

Cha Seoa was feeling these things.

She slowly picked up the tool she had dropped.

There was no hesitation, but her hand trembled slightly as she gripped it. Cha Seoa looked at her shaking hand and then tightly gripped the bloodied hammer.

Huff, huff, huff.

She took deep breaths.

And then she headed toward the storage room where Han Yehwa was hiding.

Ironically, Cha Seoa’s back, with her face now hidden, made it easier to understand her emotions. Her pain was palpable.

And so, Scene #114 came to an end.

***

“Here, Seoyeon, some green tea.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Seoyeon accepted the paper cup that actor Kim Daeheon handed her. He always brought green tea to drink on set.

“You worked hard today.”

The filming had wrapped up as the red sunset bathed the set. Although they got Scene #114 in one take, Scene #115 took several tries, resulting in multiple NGs.

Scene #115 was the final, intense battle between Detective Im Seungcheol and Cha Seoa, where both characters were fighting for their lives.

“…Are you okay?”

“Haha, I’m fine, really.”

Kim Daeheon laughed heartily.

But honestly, he wasn’t fine.

Did Seoyeon struggle to coordinate the action scene?

No, that wasn’t it at all.

In fact, Seoyeon was incredibly precise. Kim Daeheon had initially worried about performing the action scenes without a stunt double, but it turned out the problem was with him.

“I’m the one who caused trouble. I didn’t want to lose to a younger actor.”

“…I don’t think there’s winning or losing in acting.”

“Well, it’s just a figure of speech.”

Kim Daeheon joked, and Seoyeon smiled faintly. Her rare smile made Kim Daeheon momentarily lose his composure, forcing him to clear his throat.

“But your acting today was really something. It was almost like…”

Kim Daeheon stopped himself.

He couldn’t quite say it felt like Seoyeon was Cha Seoa herself. But everyone on set who had watched her performance today would likely agree with him.

Honestly, some of the crew even whispered about whether they should take her to a hospital—though it wasn’t out of concern for her mental state, but rather a worry that she might be pushing herself too hard with her method acting.

‘Method acting… is it?’

He was an actor, after all. So he could tell whether Seoyeon’s acting was method acting or not.

It was well-known that Ju Seoyeon specialized in method acting. Most people probably assumed that her portrayal of Cha Seoa was another instance of method acting.

But today, Kim Daeheon realized something.

Seoyeon’s portrayal of Cha Seoa wasn’t just method acting.

It was an expression of something deep within the actor Ju Seoyeon herself.

‘Could it be that she has a similar condition…?’

Kim Daeheon chuckled at his own wild imagination.

In preparation for the role, he had researched alexithymia, the condition of emotional expression disorder.

Of course, someone with that condition wouldn’t be able to pursue acting, let alone method acting, which requires deep understanding and empathy for the character’s emotions.

Alexithymia was the polar opposite of what method acting demanded.

‘But the fact that she understood Cha Seoa so intensely…’

It was a complex role, one he found difficult to grasp. That Seoyeon had portrayed it so powerfully was a testament to her skill. Kim Daeheon had insisted on retaking Scene #115 multiple times because he didn’t want to ruin Seoyeon’s performance with his own shortcomings.

The final take of Scene #115 was something he was genuinely satisfied with.

‘Seoyeon must feel the same, right?’

He looked over at Seoyeon, but she was just sipping the green tea he had given her. While the crew, including Kim Daeheon, had been focused on the acting and its challenges, Seoyeon’s thoughts were elsewhere.

‘I hope they’re going to pay for the damages to the convenience store.’

During the hours-long shoot, Seoyeon and Kim Daeheon had gone all out, leaving the convenience store in a state of utter destruction.

As someone who frequented convenience stores daily, seeing one get wrecked like that was a little heartbreaking for Seoyeon.

“Seoyeon.”

At that moment, Director Bae Jinhwan, who had reviewed all the footage, approached Seoyeon.

“You did great today.”

“Thank you.”

“The scene today will probably be part of the promotional video. It turned out really well.”

Though he hadn’t been thrilled about shooting the highlight scene earlier than planned, the idea of using it in the promotional video didn’t seem so bad.

“And, by the way, have you thought about doing another movie after this one?”

“A movie? Well…”

She had plans.

She was considering auditioning for a movie later this year, a project she had in mind to improve her image and secure that 400 million won contract.

“Oh, it’s not immediate, so no rush. But it might be next year.”

“Next year?”

“Yes, I’ve heard GH Group is preparing another ambitious movie project… But…”

Director Bae hesitated. Watching Seoyeon’s performance today, he realized she was a rising star. Once this movie was released, her value would likely double.

That made him hesitate.

It was a great opportunity, but he was concerned about the director of that movie.

“Seoyeon, do you know Director Jo Bangwoo?”

Director Jo Bangwoo.

He was the father of Director Jo Mintaek, who had helped Seoyeon when she was younger. At the mention of his name, Seoyeon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘So, the time has come.’

There was a time when Jo Bangwoo was called the “undefeated director.” But now, after a string of flops, he was at the end of his rope.

His final film was scheduled for release next year.

And that time was drawing near.