Three days after filming began, a major accident had almost occurred. And right where the child was.
Mooyoung brushed off the goosebumps crawling up his arms and looked toward where the stray spirit had vanished.
Did it just… help me?
Or had he simply witnessed it in time to prevent the disaster?
Whatever it was, he felt oddly grateful—and relieved—that he could even see such a thing in the first place.
"Director! You done checking that side?"
"Yeah! Just to be safe, go over everything again."
"This area's clear!"
While the lighting crew inspected the ceiling, all production came to a halt. Everyone watched anxiously.
"Director Jin,"
The lighting director approached, wiping sweat from his brow.
Lighting and sound teams were usually subcontracted by the production company. They occupied vital positions on set—technically equal, yet in truth, there was always a clear hierarchy.
"I don't know what caused it, but I swear we secured everything properly when we installed the rig."
Especially when safety or negligence was involved, that hierarchy became painfully obvious.
"You secured it properly—then why was it loose?"
Jin Kyung-moon placed his hands on his hips, his usual calm expression gone. His eyes were sharp as frost.
"W-well, we're not sure either… Maybe the still photographer touched it while climbing up—?"
At that, the still photographer lowered the camera hanging from his neck, shaking his head firmly in innocence.
"I only pressed the shutter. I didn't touch anything. Want to see the photos?"
The lighting director went silent, lips pressed tight. Jin just rubbed at his temple, sighing.
"Of all things, the rail…"
He forced down his irritation and took a deep breath. Too many people were watching. Even if the lighting crew was outsourced, they were still his colleagues—some of them for over a decade.
"Haah… Lighting Director, this isn't good."
"I-I'm sorry."
"We'll talk in private later. For now, check everything. Safety first, second, and third. Got it, everyone?"
"Yes, sir!"
The air was thick and heavy. Though their replies were loud, no one dared move under Jin's stern presence.
Then Mooyoung bent down and picked up the shattered light pieces.
"Should I clean this up?"
"I'll do it, Mooyoung. Got a broom and dustpan?"
That finally snapped the frozen crew into motion. The icy tension began to melt under his calm tone.
"Anyway, we're lucky. No one got hurt, and the accident was prevented. We already used up our bad luck, so let's just focus on shooting from now on."
"Right! If it weren't for Mooyoung oppa, we'd all be squashed—ugh!"
Yuna jokingly drew a finger across her neck.
"What if oppa hadn't noticed the shaking light?"
"Someone else would've seen it."
"No way!"
She rejected that instantly—and she wasn't wrong. Everyone had seen the shaking, but only Mooyoung and the still photographer had checked it closely.
"Director, a word?"
Jin signaled the lighting director and stepped outside, pausing to pat Mooyoung's shoulder.
"Good job, Mooyoung."
He didn't say, If it weren't for you, it could've been bad, but the warmth in his gaze said enough.
"Ah, no, really—it was nothing."
"Assistant director! Keep cleaning up here."
With the directors gone, Mooyoung helped the staff tidy up the set—Yuna still clinging to his waist like a koala.
"Guess they cut corners building this set."
"Shh, they'll hear you."
"So what if they do? It's only been three days and we already have this kind of mess. That's beyond bad luck."
A few staff whispered among themselves, casting side-eyes at the lighting crew standing awkwardly in the corner. With their boss gone, they were left floating.
"But Mooyoung, how'd you even see it shaking?"
"Yeah, it was so dark up there."
"If that had fallen on someone walking by… it would've made headlines for sure."
The murmurs carried a weary frustration. The incident had shattered their focus, their mood, even their early optimism about a smooth crank-up (wrap).
"Yeah! Oppa kept looking up the whole time," Yuna said.
Mooyoung hesitated.
"Actually—"
He thought for a moment. How could he lift the mood again? He wanted to shake off the heaviness. Then he remembered Na Geum-dong's words: Seeing ghosts brings good luck.
"I kept seeing something weird."
"What?"
Everyone froze.
Their expressions screamed disbelief. He couldn't say everything, but maybe a little exaggeration wouldn't hurt.
"W-weird, like what?"
"Ah! Don't joke like that—it's creepy."
Just a bit of improvisation. It wasn't even a complete lie.
"Something kept flickering past my eyes. I thought it was a rat, but… no, it wasn't."
"A rat's scary enough! What if it fell from the ceiling? Ew!"
"Didn't you take pictures earlier? Let's check them."
"Huh? Oh, right. One second."
The still photographer turned on his camera, fiddling with the buttons. Everyone crowded around him, peering at the small screen. What exactly had been captured up there?
"Gasp!"
"Waaah!"
The photographer inhaled sharply. Between the tangled wires and white panels of the ceiling—three black dots.
"Wait, is that… a face?"
"Holy crap, it is! Eyes, nose, mouth—everything!"
"Let me see!"
"Whoaaa—"
They passed the photo around in shock. A ghost! It's totally a ghost!
Only one light had been shaking, and now this bizarre image? The coincidence was too much.
"Uh… hmm?"
When the photo reached Mooyoung, he tilted his head with a puzzled smile. It didn't look like the spirit he saw at all—more like…
Just a smudge?
But the crew was already swept up in excitement.
"The ghost must've warned us—so no one would get hurt."
"Right? If it hadn't, this could've ended really badly."
"Wow, that's crazy. We're off to quite a start, huh?"
"They say seeing a ghost brings luck, but if a ghost saves you, that's gotta be double luck! Hahaha!"
The staff chatted noisily, one person's words tumbling over another's.
Mooyoung simply smiled, gently patting Yuna's head as he watched them with a soft gaze.
Yeah. What's good is good.
Even if it's a misunderstanding, who cares? A good outcome is what matters.
Besides, the faint golden dust—like flower pollen—drifting from the cracks above confirmed it. This whole incident would, in the end, bring good fortune.
"Mooyoung, you sure you're okay? You're not scared?"
"Eh? Of what?"
"The ghost! You saw one, didn't you?"
"Ah, right. Haha. But since it helped us, I'll take it as a good sign. Tomorrow's my first real shoot, and it feels like I just hit the lottery."
His bright smile gleamed in the studio lights, dazzling in a way that made everyone pause. How can someone that handsome have such a gentle personality too?
The staff found themselves quietly impressed.
"Oppa, you're the best—"
"Me too, me too!"
Yuna nuzzled her cheek against his waist like an affectionate kitten.
"Hey now, Yuna—your makeup's smudging."
"Anyway, why's the director taking so long?"
"Guess he has a lot to discuss. Assistant Director! What should we do once this is cleaned up?"
"Yuna, come here. Let's fix your makeup."
"Alright, everyone! Back to your positions for now! Go over the safety checks again and review the updated schedule," the assistant director called.
"Yes, sir!"
The team sprang into motion, still whispering excitedly about the "ghost" caught on camera.
What had been a near-accident had now become a sign of great fortune.
The once-tense set buzzed with renewed energy—brighter and livelier than before.
"An accident?!"
Meanwhile, the CEO of Monnette Productions nearly jumped out of his seat when Director Jin Kyung-moon called.
They'd barely started filming—how could something have already gone wrong?
— Luckily, no one was hurt, Jin said between drags of his cigarette, but we can't just let this slide.
He'd even pulled the lighting director aside privately to talk, trying to save him from public embarrassment. But instead of remorse, the man just kept making excuses.
Must've been because we were rushing the schedule to meet the deadline.
Probably the rookie messed up—he's still in college.
I think, maybe, perhaps—
Think, think, think!
There wasn't an ounce of responsibility in his tone. How could a team leader just dump the blame onto his juniors?
— Honestly, I've lost confidence in him.
"So… are you asking for a replacement, Director? Including the staff?"
Since the lighting crew were contractors, swapping the director would likely mean replacing the entire team. They all worked under their team lead. If he went, the whole subcontractor company went with him.
"Director, I completely understand how you feel," the CEO said carefully. "Negligence like this is inexcusable. But… you know how complicated this can get."
He wasn't wrong.
First, replacing the lighting team meant redoing all the pre-production meetings and technical breakdowns.
Second, delays would push the schedule and drive up costs. The early start date was meant to save money—now it might do the opposite.
"If you could just let this one go…"
Jin's weary sigh hissed through the receiver. Then—silence. The CEO could almost hear the man thinking.
— The subcontractor's SaveVideo, right? There's Director Lee Taek-kyung over there.
The name rang a bell.
— He and I worked together on two projects—Hormone Parasite and Your House. Solid guy. Quick, reliable, great sense of lighting and tone. He quit for family reasons, but still.
"You're suggesting… bringing him back?"
— Ask them. If it's him, we can swap directors without replacing the whole team—they're from the same company.
And more importantly, Jin knew from experience that Lee Taek-kyung understood his vision. He didn't need endless explanations; the man just got it.
— Even if it slows us down a bit, it's better than shooting under these conditions.
"Understood. Have you spoken to the current lighting director yet?"
— No. He stormed off to the bathroom halfway through. Please, reach out to the company and make it happen.
The Monnette CEO ended the call politely, though his expression twisted. Would that even work?
Would SaveVideo really rehire someone who'd already left? Unlikely.
"Ugh…"
He ruffled his hair, scrolling through his contact list until he found SaveVideo's number. His fingers trembled slightly as he hit Call.
"Alright… let's do this."
If it was Jin Kyung-moon complaining, he had to at least try.
The line began to ring.
Beep.
Jin ended his call and crushed the cigarette underfoot.
"Why's he taking so long?"
Mooyoung peeked his head out from the storage room, searching for the director.
Jin exhaled, a sigh that shimmered faintly in the light.
To Mooyoung's eyes, however, the smoke wasn't gray—it scattered like gold pollen.
What the…? What did he do?
That faint sparkle lingered in the air.
The incident with the lighting director's replacement—
the "accident," the "ghost," the sign—The pollen was showing him something:
the misfortune had already transformed into luck.
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