He Only Plays Villains 014: This Guy's the Real Culprit, Right? (2)
A perfectly executed masterpiece of acting exudes an effect that permeates its surroundings.
Even those whose performances are a bit clumsy get swept up in that aura, drawing out better acting than usual.
An actor who reaches that realm young is hailed as a top star, while one who ripens with age earns the title of veteran and commands respect.
Acting that shines like the sun, illuminating and guiding those around it.
Cha Do-jin couldn't accept it.
It made no sense for a total rookie who'd never acted before to possess such talent.
After all the grueling effort he'd poured in to polish his skills and get this far.
Talent that casually surpassed all that?
He couldn't spot a single trace of Jeong Seo-hoon anywhere in his opponent.
By now, he was Lee Jin-wook.
A soldier wrongly accused after the fact, once his comrades' murders came to light, long after his honorable discharge.
But what was that faint smirk that briefly disrupted the illusion of injustice?
It's not just innocence, Cha Do-jin thought.
A guy delivering such stable acting wouldn't deliberately throw in an out-of-place blemish.
Especially one so precarious, so subtle that you wouldn't notice unless you focused intently.
Unless it was a botched performance—which it wasn't—there was only one answer.
This guy's the real culprit.
'Gu Je-man' forcibly suppressed his trembling heart.
According to the script, he was simply deciding to take on the pro bono defense of a pitiful reservist private first class.
Old memories resurfaced, he reflected on how he'd lost his初心 amid the ennui of affluent Gangnam housewives, killing two birds with one stone.
But now, the初心 that had slumbered through his long divorce battles, shed along with his judicial robes, began to boil up again.
"Iran. That's where I was."
"Oh my, you were stationed even that far away."
"We got attacked at least once a month. Every six months, there'd be fatalities—friendly or enemy."
"Wow, serving there would drive anyone mad. Why'd you go all the way out there?"
"Money. Better three million won an hour than a hundred."
"What about your comrades dying?"
"The unit got wiped out in combat. I was the sole survivor—or so I thought."
"So there was another survivor."
"That guy framed me."
"How did the other survivor turn up?"
"The follow-up search team found him. They thought he was a corpse at first. Everyone figured he was dead, but he woke up months later."
"And you, Client Lee Jin-wook, had no idea he was alive all that time?"
"No. I got sent back stateside right after discharge and received my honorable discharge papers within a week."
Cha Do-jin was already sinking deep into the scene.
A unfamiliar sense of unity draped his soul in languid bliss, swelling his veins without respite.
Like stepping deeper into enveloping mud with every footfall, the sensation caressing his skin too exquisite to stop.
He was intoxicated by that pleasant haze.
Wanting to stay lost in it forever.
Cha Do-jin refused to admit his opponent was leading him.
This unity was purely the fruit of his own effort and immersion—or so he wanted to believe.
But his eyes told the truth.
They were busy capturing the faint dissonances flickering in 'Lee Jin-wook,' deciphering the meaning hidden within.
His breathing grew a touch ragged, but masked so well even the high-end mic couldn't pick it up.
And finally...
"I'll take your case. Consider me on board."
"Cut!"
The moment Song Jeong-woo called cut, the studio air rushed into his lungs like a dam breaking.
At the same time, the air of Gu Je-man's law office drained from his lungs, Cha Do-jin's eyes jerking wildly left and right.
Ah...
An inexplicable regret filled his chest.
Just moments ago, he hadn't been playing Gu Je-man—he was Gu Je-man.
Swept into the intangible aura radiating from Lee Jin-wook, he'd moved and breathed in sync.
For that instant, it hadn't felt like a set at all—like they were truly in a divorce lawyer's office in Seocho-gu.
Now, only a hazy afterglow remained, like a dream that had vanished in a blink.
***
"Kuh... eeeeeh...!"
A drawn-out wail echoed from some distant horizon.
Overlapping Cha Do-jin's face, the expression of pity from his superior—who'd believed in him to the end—began to peel away.
The cold iron bars of the detention cell faded, revealing the multitude of erased cameras.
It was as if his superior's voice from their final pre-trial meeting reverberated.
Soldier, never give up. We all believe in your innocence.
For shooting the company commander who'd led him and his comrades to their deaths—what had become of him afterward?
As he groped through his memories, the scenery snapped back to the set in an instant.
The presences of countless people, blocked off until now, flooded his senses, bringing on vertigo.
He'd wanted just a little longer to gaze at that benevolent superior who'd cared for him...
"Great job. Really great."
Song Jeong-woo PD clapped him heartily on the shoulder, his face slightly flushed.
"I don't ask for much. Just keep that potential you showed today. I'll grab you by the collar and make you a star actor myself."
"PD, that's hurtful. What about me?"
"Oh, come on, our Cha Do-jin is already a top star—what more can I do? If anything, you should grab me by the collar and make me a top PD."
His manager hustled over, handing Cha Do-jin a water bottle.
Cha Do-jin felt his back soaked with sweat and let out a hollow chuckle.
He'd gone all-in on what was just a minor first-meeting scene early in the drama.
The manager fussed a bit dramatically.
"Do-jin, I saw you in a whole new light. Figured you'd coast through this flat bit, but you really powered into it."
"There're no flat scenes. From the moment the camera rolls till cut, every part's equally vital—every scene's the stage."
"Spoken like the top star Cha Do-jin. My heart's fully satisfied. Anyway, you two have killer chemistry. Breaks my heart we gotta split you after just two episodes."
"You really splitting us after two eps, PD?"
Song Jeong-woo shrugged.
"What power do I have? I just follow the script."
"That's why I'm asking if the script keeps doing that later, PD."
"......"
Song Jeong-woo pondered briefly, glancing around.
The other actors and staff reacted as expected.
Cha Do-jin going full throttle from the start, great momentum, saving even more for the climaxes, etc.
The first meeting between Gu Je-man and Lee Jin-wook seemed trivial at a glance.
But digging deeper, it symbolized Lee Jin-wook confessing his future crimes through the bamboo grove that was Gu Je-man.
"Uh, yeah. Let's take a quick break and check the monitors."
"Sure. I wanna see how it turned out too."
Cha Do-jin snuck a glance at Jeong Seo-hoon.
He'd already shed Lee Jin-wook's mask completely, back to his usual expression.
Immersion so thorough it bordered on loathsome, and an instant reset.
As the two actors and PD huddled around the monitors, Kim Sang-hee poked her head in to watch.
"Um, Do-jin. That part where you dragged your breath longer than needed? Kinda off, but overall solid, so we'll keep it. But why'd you act it that way?"
"I don't even know myself."
"What?"
"Just... when the client says he killed them, those three words gave me chills. Seo-hoon's face—Lee Jin-wook's—loomed huge there. And there was this weird dissonance, like it flickered in and out..."
"And?"
Song Jeong-woo asked in an extremely cautious tone.
Lee Jin-wook as the major antagonist was a twist to squeeze out brutal ratings, so it had to stay hidden until the scripts were out.
Song Jeong-woo and Kim Sang-hee were dead serious about those ratings.
No way...
"It felt like what Gu Je-man would think: This guy's the real deal, just putting on an innocent act right now."
"......"
"......"
The PD, and the writer who'd slunk in like a desert camel, were speechless for a beat.
Song Jeong-woo forced an awkward smile.
"Nah, it's not like that. If it were that big a reveal, why hide it from the actors?"
"You're a pro at that stuff. Hiding spoilers till the scripts drop lets you pull even more intentional scenes out of us."
"PD, we need script tweaks. Hour break?"
"Kim, please no, come on!"
"Just a sec. Gotta save that beat. Do-jin, I see you now. You're one hell of an actor."
Cha Do-jin beamed, glancing around before lowering his voice.
"Writer, so Lee Jin-wook is the real culprit?"
"Nope."
"Aw, why? Feels like we've spilled it already."
"Anyway, no."
Lee Jin-wook Himself (1)