'There's a class I haven't taken yet...'
I looked at the bulletin board in front of the classroom, which had become quite familiar by now.
The last class on Friday, the last day of the week.
It was the first hour of the second practical class: Script Theory.
Knock, knock.
When it was time for class, the teacher in charge entered the classroom.
Tall, slim, and seemingly thin—her long, wavy hair was neatly tied down, revealing her slender face.
The students cheered at the sight of Park So-yul wearing a long one-piece dress that was difficult to pull off.
It was a splendid appearance, like that of a musical's heroine.
Park So-yul had received a lot of applause when she was introduced at the entrance ceremony.
"Wow! Teacher, you're so pretty!"
"You're beautiful!"
Crunch. Crunch.
But Park So-yul walked briskly to the podium with a cold expression and slammed down the attendance sheet.
"Everyone, quiet."
The students were confused and began mumbling.
For kids who had just graduated from middle school, Park So-yul's strong impression was bound to be unfamiliar.
Everyone widened their eyes and stared blankly at her commanding presence.
"What...?"
"Her expression is so intense."
As the commotion continued, Park So-yul spoke again.
This time, she pointed at a student who had just opened his mouth.
"Shut up."
Quiet.
This time, the students fell silent without exception.
Everyone froze, and some even adjusted their posture in fear.
Han Do-jae barely held back his laughter.
Seeing that teacher again reminded him of his first Script Theory class.
It had been so intense that it was still engraved in his mind.
He hadn't remembered just by looking at her face, but seeing her demeanor now brought it all back.
'Expression management, expression management.'
If everyone else was frozen and he was the only one smiling, Park So-yul would definitely notice.
Park So-yul, who had been observing the students, moved again.
This time, she raised one corner of her mouth and placed her index finger lightly on her lips with a seductive expression.
"Shh."
The students stared blankly at Park So-yul.
They wondered what on earth was happening.
Some exchanged bewildered glances.
'All the teachers here are unique.'
As the students stood there in shock, Park So-yul quickly reverted to her original expression and spoke.
"I just told you to be quiet. How was it?"
Park So-yul asked, lifting her chin while placing one hand on her waist.
She called what she had just done an 'ambassador'—meaning all those actions had been an act.
The students, realizing it too late, finally understood.
Only then did they release the breath they'd been holding.
While everyone else was startled and making a fuss, Im Hyuk raised his hand and said,
"I thought Heaven's prediction was truly amazing—that a teacher would tell her students to shut up."
Park So-yul glanced at Im Hyuk, then pointed at the next student who raised their hand without saying anything.
"All three have the same meaning, but they feel very different."
"Bingo."
Park So-yul wrote one word in large letters on the blackboard:
'Intention'.
Then, she turned back to the students and finally introduced herself.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Park So-yul, in charge of scenario creation and scriptwriting."
A woman rumored to be well-off.
That's why she exuded luxury from head to toe.
Though rumors swirled, little was actually known about her.
Whenever there was a special lecture or festival at school, Park So-yul would take charge of recruitment and bring in incredible stars,
leading to speculation that she had an extensive network.
"Please take care of me."
Even though she didn't speak forcefully, there was a strange strength in her words.
Her presence was undeniably powerful.
Who would've thought she'd come to class with a prepared script for a scriptwriting lesson?
The other students were stunned.
Even Woo Ji-ho, sitting next to Han Do-jae, remained dazed.
"How should an actor read a script? First, an actor must understand the intention behind every word written in it."
The class began naturally.
After introductions, no further small talk followed.
Park So-yul continued lecturing, moving between desks while making a rattling sound.
The students suddenly became engrossed in the lesson.
"An actor must continuously study the intention of the lines—from beginning to end—and the reason the text was written. And it doesn't stop there. Remember to question it. I call this a 'tug-of-war with the script.'"
Park So-yul mimed pulling a rope with one hand.
"The one who knows everything wins every battle. To win this tug-of-war, you must first understand the script thoroughly."
Strangely, her words had a magnetic pull.
The students displayed intense concentration at Park So-yul's engaging delivery.
As expected from an acting teacher, she not only had exceptional vocal skills but also the charisma to command the room.
"So the class you need right now is this one—Script Theory: The Birth of a Scenario. This is the class you'll be taking with me."
When the theoretical explanation—almost like an interlude—ended, the students collectively went, "Oh!"
Park So-yul raised her hand in an exaggerated gesture, signaling them to calm down.
Han Do-jae nodded unconsciously.
It sounded like something any theater director might say, but her persuasive delivery was remarkable.
That was precisely the skill an actor needed—the ability to convince the audience.
And her control over 30 students in this small classroom was no ordinary feat.
"In that spirit, today we'll tackle a simple quiz."
Park So-yul turned around as she spoke.
Immediately, groans of protest erupted.
As if expecting this, she smiled brightly and struck the same "shh" pose from her entrance before handing out the quiz papers.
"This is a test to get to know you all. Write your thoughts for each question without worrying about others' opinions. And—"
She paused for emphasis.
"—the last question is tied to an upcoming assignment, so don't rush it. Think carefully before answering."
Park So-yul glanced at the wall clock, then added,
"The total class time for Script Theory is two hours. We still have a while left."
"Is there enough time?"
The students answered in unison: "Yes."
Park So-yul nodded and sat at the front of the podium, saying, "Begin."
As if prepared, she opened a book and started reading.
Scratch, scratch.
The students picked up their pens and began filling out the quiz seriously.
But their focus didn't last long.
Within 20 minutes—some even in just 10—those who had quickly answered the first 10 questions began fidgeting.
Since Park So-yul didn't seem to mind, some started doing other things, thinking they had plenty of time.
Flip.
Yet Park So-yul kept reading, undisturbed.
She only paid attention to the students who were genuinely working.
'This isn't kindergarten.'
That had always been Park So-yul's philosophy.
Especially for students who'd fought hard to enter Sky High School—known for its rigor—she believed they needed self-discipline.
Thirty minutes passed.
'Should I check on them now?'
Park So-yul looked up from her book and scanned the room.
Though they didn't cause a scene with her present, the classroom was quietly chaotic.
Some whispered with friends, others napped.
After observing for a while, Park So-yul's gaze landed on one student with a serious expression.
'Im Hyuk.'
This was a student Jo Won-ho, the drama department's top teacher, had taken an interest in.
'Ah, right. There was something like this.'
The test content felt unfamiliar, as if seeing it for the first time in ten years.
'If I remember all this, I'll ace every test.'
Han Do-jae, smirking, studied the quiz with keen interest.
There were two main sections:
1. Interpret the given scene and answer the quiz.
[S#11 Dark Room.
Two men and a woman sit around a round table.
Ding-dong. The bell rings.
Man 1 looks quietly at Man 2.
Suddenly, a cell phone rings.
Man 1 answers.
Man 1: Hello.
Man 3 (on phone): This is the police. By any chance...
Man 1 drops his phone into a cup of hot coffee.]
Reading this far, Han Do-jae recognized it instantly.
'It's from the movie Red.'
After debuting and gaining fame, Han Do-jae had watched any movie he could get his hands on since going out became difficult.
Excited by the familiar scene, he read on.
[Woman 1: Did you eat?
Man 1: Yeah. A little while ago.
Woman 1: Yeah... That's good.
A kitchen knife rests in the sink.
The wooden door creaks as it slowly closes.
Man 1: Just die. Peacefully.
Man 2: What? Why would you say that?!
Man 1 (eyes unfocused): That's right. Why would I say that?]
The scene played vividly in his mind, as if he'd watched it yesterday.
He checked the quiz items below:
[Quiz]
(1) What E. is needed for the scene?
(2) Suggest a suitable CU shot.
(3) Identify where F. should be applied.
(4) Provide DIS direction.
These were easy if you knew the abbreviations.
E stood for effect (sound), F for filtering (e.g., muffled phone audio), and CU for close-up (like the phone dropping into coffee or the knife).
DIS meant dissolve—a transition blending two shots.
'This scene doesn't need DIS.'
After a moment's thought, he wrote that omitting it would be more effective, including a brief explanation.
The terminology section was a breeze—finished in under 10 minutes.
'The creative questions are more fun.'
Han Do-jae wrote his answers with intense focus, losing track of time.
Then came Question 10:
[(10) Freely interpret the scene.]
Though not part of the quiz, something clicked.
MacGuffin—a plot device that heightens tension without affecting the narrative, coined by a British director decades prior.
This script was full of them: the bell, door creak, phone ring, kitchen knife.
Han Do-jae began his analysis with MacGuffin, delving into the script's nuances.
After finishing Section 1, he moved to Section 2.
2. Complete the following sentence freely. (Acting majors only!)
- [I ___ died.]
"Hmm."
Han Do-jae paused.
He realized how this sentence would be used later.
Unlike the earlier questions, this one required deep thought.
'I can't just write anything...'
Two major performances awaited first-year Sky Theater majors this semester.
One of them began with this very line.