Superstar From Age 0

Translator: MarcTempest

Editor: AgRoseCrystal

Chapter 568

The next day.

The [Fire] team, who had successfully finished filming last night, continued with their next shoot.

“Ready, action!”

Another letter had arrived.

Mr. Lee who received the letter directly became thoughtful.

The young master, who had failed to read the letter that Min-han had tried to read earlier (it must have been good news), slowly came out of his room, turned pale and locked himself in his room again after reading the letter.

They were afraid of what would happen every time a letter came.

And this time, too, Min-han couldn’t read the letter.

“Sigh…”

That was what happened two days ago.

“Phew.”

Min-han, who had laid down the blanket on the bed, stretched his sore back.

He was cleaning the rooms in the mansion with Mr. Lee. They had cleaned occasionally before, but today was more thorough than usual.

“Are more guests coming?”

‘Then they might need more help.’

Min-han thought that maybe he could work here a little longer.

He went downstairs after tidying up the bedding. It was almost lunchtime, so he had to bring lunch to the young master who was locked in his room.

“I’m here.”

“Wait a minute. I’ll get it ready soon.”

“Take your time.”

Min-han sat on a chair in one corner of the kitchen.

Madam Go, who had teary eyes while reading the letter, seemed to have returned to her normal self. Maybe she was used to these kinds of letters.

Did he not need to know what they were?

Before he came here, the Western-style mansion that he had seen from afar was only mysterious and beautiful, but now he didn’t know what was going on here.

“Are you going to bring lunch to the young master?”

Mr. Lee appeared in the kitchen. Min-han nodded.

“Yes.”

“…He should cheer up a bit…”

Mr. Lee’s expression clouded. Min-han sighed deeply with the same feeling. The clattering sound of Madam Go preparing lunch was heard.

“By the way, Min-han, you said you were looking for someone?”

“…Yes?”

Min-han tilted his head at Mr. Lee’s sudden words.

“Among the guests who came here, there was someone you were looking for.”

Min-han blinked his eyes. What person… Ah…!

“Oh, yes… But how did you know?”

“The young master asked me to find him.” ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

“…The young master?”

“Yes.”

Min-han just stared at Mr. Lee with a blank face. No, he was thinking of the young master who had smiled brightly.

When, when did he ask him to do that?

Min-han felt a little tightness in his chest.

“He came here 13 years ago. There were a few guests then, so it took some time to find him. This time… He came with the letter that arrived.”

“Oh, yes…”

Min-han listened to Mr. Lee’s words.

It was him. The one who gave him a name.

His heart pounded. He had only thought of finding him later, when he became a famous merchant in Hanyang, but he didn’t expect to hear this story.

He felt a bit nervous, but also full of anticipation.

Mr. Lee opened his mouth with a pitying expression on his face. Madam Go, who had heard the story from Mr. Lee first, also had a similar face.

“He was a teacher…”

So his surname was Lee.

Just like Mr. Lee. Then I’m Lee Min-han now. I should tell the young master soon. And the people in the village, too. I learned how to write, so I should write my name as Lee Min-han.

‘Oh, the letter.’

I should send a letter, too. Write Lee Min-han, and send it to the teacher.

Min-han, who had a bright expression on his face, heard Mr. Lee’s voice. It was a voice full of sadness and regret.

“…He passed away two years ago.”

***

Meanwhile, Seo-jun, who had no scenes today, was with the art team.

The art team, who had decided on the paint, was now practicing how to draw on the snow.

“/Is this depth okay?/”

“/It’s fine. The smudging is good, too./”

Matteo, who was in France, also participated in the practice, even though it was very early in the morning. It was probably around 3 a.m. in Paris now.

“/Thank you, Matteo./”

“/Don’t mention it. I’m really curious about what kind of painting it will be. Show me everything from the beginning to the end when you film the day after tomorrow./”

“/I will./”

That’s how the real painting practice began.

The art team members, who held long sticks, tapped the snow.

There was something attached to the end of the stick, which was wider than the stick itself, and it looked like a human foot in shape and size. There was paint on it, so every time the art team members tapped the snow, the paint stained the snow along with the footprints.

It looked like they were tapping the snow with paint-stained feet.

A painting drawn with feet, not hands.

The painting that Seo-jun, no, the ‘unknown painter’ would draw the day after tomorrow.

“A little more to the right…”

“Hey! Don’t step there!”

“Senior! Is this right!?”

There were a lot of mistakes in the first large-scale practice. Even so, the faces of the art team looked happy. It was a rare job to draw on the snow.

“Please shovel some snow over there!”

“Okay.”

At Yu Seo-young’s call, a prop team member who was holding a shovel carefully moved and scooped out the snow stained with paint and covered it with fresh white snow. The art team member tapped the footprints again on the snow that looked like it had been taped over.

Seo-jun, who was talking with Matteo, asked Yu Seo-young.

“Can I practice, too?”

“Sure. But don’t overdo it. Go in if your feet get cold.”

“Okay. Don’t worry.”

Seo-jun changed into the shoes prepared by the prop team.

These shoes were similar in color to Seo-jun’s skin and had no patterns, and the material of the shoes was so thin that they seemed impossible to wear as shoes. Of course, the invisible soles were quite thick.

He was the ‘unknown painter’ who walked barefoot on the snow and drew a picture, but they couldn’t make Seo-jun walk on the snow barefoot, so they made his feet look like bare feet as much as possible from a distance.

‘Of course, I’ll have to move barefoot for the close-up shots.’

Seo-jun, who had put on the shoes, attached small paint pouches to both of his calves.

This was also a device made by the prop team, and when the paint pouches were pressed, the paint came out through the connected tubes.

The connected tubes were connected to the sole of the shoes.

‘I just have to press them whenever I stagger.’

Seo-jun, who had finished preparing, stained the sole of his shoes with paint and walked on the snow with a thud.

He pressed hard to make the paint stick well to the snow, and walked lightly as if he had lost his strength, and staggered to draw petals.

He also didn’t forget to check if the paint pouches attached to his calves were working well by pressing them occasionally.

“Wow…!”

“/That’s amazing!/”

They exclaimed at the sight of Seo-jun. It was a light practice, but it felt good.

That’s how fairly large flower buds began to be drawn on the snow.

***

Two days later, the day of the climax shoot.

The [Fire] team started to move busily. It was an outdoor shoot, so they had to prepare lunch and shooting equipment, and they had to transport the thirty-two team members back and forth several times in a nine-seater van.

The prop team and the art team moved first, followed by the shooting team, the lighting team, the sound team, and the actors.

Seo-jun and Hwang Do-yoon, who had changed their clothes at the accommodation, widened their eyes as they saw the tent set up by the prop team. Baekgu was sitting there wagging his tail.

“No, why is Baekgu here?”

“I don’t know. He must have followed us when the car moved.”

“Woof!”

As Hwang Ji-yoon answered Hwang Do-yoon’s question, Seo-jun smiled and lightly stroked Baekgu.

“You have to be quiet when we shoot, okay?”

“Woof!”

Seo-jun, the two people, and Baekgu headed to the shooting location together.

If they removed the wooden pillars that were moved around on the left side, they could see a hill that had turned into a blank white sheet of paper.

The team members who had arrived first seemed to have finished preparing already, and soon Kim Se-yeon raised her voice.

“Let’s start shooting!”

Everyone headed to their places.

Seo-jun, the main character of today, also adjusted his white cloak once more and recited the unknown painter in the script.

The unknown painter, a cool character.

He wanted to act well enough to show his heart.

“Ready,”

Seo-jun breathed in and out lightly. And then,

“Action!”

The unknown painter felt like his chest was going to explode.

The heat in his chest spread throughout his body, making him breathless, dizzy, and melting his head.

He felt suffocated even in the cool wind, and he couldn’t cool down even when he stepped on the cold snow with his bare feet. Rather, it seemed to ignite a bigger fire.

In such an insane state, he walked and walked until he reached the hill that had remained deep in his heart for nine years and died. The hill where flowers did not bloom. He felt more miserable, sad, regretful, and pitiful when he saw the trees standing tall on both sides.

‘Aren’t they just like us?’

“Haha.”

He spat out a dry laugh as he looked at the hill covered with white snow. But his expression was distorted as if he was about to cry.

“Why is it so hard to bloom a single flower…”

The unknown painter buried his face in his trembling hands. He felt like tears were about to burst, but they didn’t come out, maybe because he had cried too much.

‘Ah.’

He wanted to draw.

A small desire of his own sprang up in his mind, beyond the noble thoughts. He wanted to draw a proper picture with his broken hands.

Broken hands.

He choked, and as always, he unknowingly resented the past, and once again disappointed himself, and once again thought of Min-han.

He thought of Mr. Lee. He thought of Madam Go. He thought of the villagers. He thought of the people in Hanyang. He thought of people.

His messed up head.

The unknown painter’s gaze suddenly turned downward. And he turned his head back. The footprints that followed the unknown painter were red. They were red like petals, like paint.

The unknown painter turned his head again and looked at the white hill.

The hill where flowers did not bloom.

The unknown painter wanted to draw flowers.

“Cut! Okay!”

“The art team is coming in right away!”

Yu Seo-young and the art team quickly started to draw on the snow. As they tapped the snow with the foot-shaped sticks, red flowers began to bloom on the white snow. Of course, they left out the part that Seo-jun had to draw, so it was incomplete.

Wow!

They exclaimed even with that.

The art team, who had drawn the background picture without any big mistakes, came down with a proud face. We think we did well.

Seo-jun, who smiled at that, stepped on the snow and started to prepare for the shooting again.

“Move wherever you want, the camera will follow you. Just like you’re the unknown painter. Think about the picture.”

“Okay. I will.”

Seo-jun nodded at the director Hwang Ji-yoon’s words, who gave freedom to the actor.

“Ready,”

Hwang Do-yoon exhaled nervously, and Seo-jun lightly placed his foot on the snow. The white cloak that Seo-jun wore fluttered in the wind.

The shooting team, the sound team, the lighting team, the prop team, the actors and Kwon Se Ah, and even ‘that thing’ that looked like Baekgu seemed to hold their breath in the atmosphere.

“Action.”

Min-han, who had been running around to find the young master who had disappeared in this cold weather, slowed down his steps at some point.

On the hill that should have been covered with white snow overnight, red flowers were blooming.

In front of the hill.

Min-han, who had stopped walking, looked up blankly.

the young master was there, between the white snow and the red flowers.

Red petals appeared under her feet as she walked.

The unknown painter moved his feet. His white and red feet pressed down on the cold snow.

He didn’t care about the wind that seemed to burn his skin, and moved his feet again. Sometimes he pressed hard, sometimes he walked lightly, and sometimes he staggered, leaving red footprints on the snow.

Ha, his breath that was like life rose like smoke.

Red petals were engraved on the snow again. The unknown painter’s eyes shone like flames.

He didn’t know if it was because he was drawing, or because he was pouring out his emotions that filled his throat, but Min-han couldn’t tell.

Thud. Thud.

His feet that pressed down on the snow had no sensation as if they were frostbitten. But the unknown painter didn’t care. Rather, he pressed his soles harder on the ground as if to hurt his blood that was running out. The hot and red blood stained the snow again.

That’s how one flower was completed.

The hill seemed to have turned into a canvas.

Using the wooden pillars that were irregularly lying around as branches, he slowly drew large and small red flowers from the bottom to the left end.

They looked like camellia flowers in shape. But they might not be.

A picture that was like a flower and also like a fire flower.

He felt like he had poured out the anger(:rage) in his chest.

He was out of breath. His muscles spasmed. His lips were dry and his hands and feet were numb. But his mind was clear. His heart raced as he drew the picture for the first time in a long time. He even chuckled.

Flowers.

There were flowers here, too.

He moved around and drew what he had in his mind, and the unknown painter left his last brushstroke, no, footprint.

The picture was completed.

He gasped for air.

“…Master! Young master!”

And then he heard the voice. It was Min-han.

…The one who said there were no flowers here anymore.

The unknown painter, who stood on the red petals, smiled faintly with a pale face.

“…Hyung.”

“Young master, come down quickly!”

His mind was clear, but somehow his vision turned white. So he couldn’t see Min-han. But the unknown painter wanted to tell him this.

“…Hyung…flowers…”

‘You said they wouldn’t bloom.’

“…There are flowers here, too…”

‘So we, too…’

‘Someday…’

The unknown painter’s eyes closed slowly. And he collapsed, as if he had breathed life into the picture.

His face, fallen on the white snow, was visible. Tears pooled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He was miserable, sad, regretful, and pitiful, but… he had a faint smile.

The wind blew.

The white cloak that the unknown painter wore fluttered and spread.

It looked like a white butterfly that had landed on the red flowers.