Yoon HayulBeside the turned-off camera, only the sound of rain grows fainter. The next scene is not yet projected on the rain screen, and two different pages of final lines lie on the table inside the tent.
Hayul tries to fix his emerald lapel pin before lowering his hand. His gaze wavers briefly under his short charcoal bangs, and he folds the script, placing it on his lap.
The camera is off. My answer this time might not be cool, but will you still listen?
I want to leave a final silence. But only within the boundaries we set. Before the rain stops, I want to hear the ending you want and the parts you won't compromise on.