Lee Jin-wook Himself (1)
They ultimately decided to take just a 30-minute break and revise only the parts needed for immediate filming.
And Kim Sang-hee finished all the revisions in 20 minutes.
"Done."
"Already? Wow, as expected from the Word Ferrari. A writing machine, a real machine."
"Cha Do-jin is doing way better than I expected. His acting has improved a lot. More than the last time we worked together."
"Yeah. I was surprised too."
"Is it because you're feeling competitive with Lee Jin-wook or something?"
"Ah, wouldn't anyone? I mean, who scouted him?"
"Yes, yes. Genius PD Song PD scouted him."
"So what did you change? It doesn't look like much."
"I marked the changed parts."
"I thought you'd ripped it all apart, but you barely touched it. Still, that's a relief."
During broadcast, she'd once rewritten an entire episode's script just hours before shooting, so Song Jeong-woo had been on edge, his heart pounding.
But she'd changed less than he'd feared.
"Not much in episodes 1 and 2, but it'll ramp up later. I switched Gu Je-man's psychological concept."
"How so?"
Song Jeong-woo caught on immediately, and Kim Sang-hee lit up as she explained.
"Look at Cha Do-jin's acting. It doesn't show much on screen, but he's starting to harbor doubts inside. He senses something fishy. Still, he decides to trust the client and takes the case."
"Hmm, yeah, that interpretation works."
"Later, when Lee Jin-wook's true identity comes out, viewers will see that Gu Je-man was suspicious from this point on."
"But do we need to be this thorough? Most people will just gloss over it."
"I'm laying the groundwork so people can say, 'I noticed it from here,' and puff up their chests. That's how you regenerate the hooks and get the buzz going."
Song Jeong-woo nodded slowly as he skimmed the script.
"Smart strategy. No wonder you're such a ratings demon. That's why I pay you 8 million per episode."
"Anyone hearing that would think you're the station president."
As the drama unfolds, the unease Gu Je-man feels will deepen, his suspicions grow, until it crystallizes into an unwanted certainty—the exact moment Lee Jin-wook's true face is revealed.
Kim Sang-hee wanted to deliver that shock to the viewers just as viscerally.
"Ah, this'll be tough to act. Cha Do-jin will really have to bring it."
"He can do it now. I believe in him."
Filming charged ahead like a supercar blasting down the autobahn.
Every time the camera rolled, Jeong Seo-hoon felt an ecstatic pull back to that place, so familiar and longed-for.
Past situations and backdrops aligned perfectly with the scene's demands, letting him move freely as a soldier in body and soul for the first time in ages.
He could spit out words, berate, protest, rage.
The studio transformed into the stage from his memories.
His co-stars' faces remained the same, but they morphed into the figures from his recollections—those who tormented, aided, or trusted him.
So he could unleash the soldier's heart without restraint.
This wasn't acting.
He just had to lay bare his true self, unknown to anyone, as freely as he wanted.
No need to suppress the soldier's mind or awkwardly channel Jeong Seo-hoon's emotions in rehab.
It was too easy, too comfortable.
Drunk on the comfort of returning to his rightful place, Jeong Seo-hoon let himself explode fully.
That kid's on fire for real.
Cinematographer Yang Tae-seok kept forgetting to breathe.
A no-name rookie.
The camera director was the first viewer to witness an actor's raw performance destined for the drama.
Never had the camera's display screen felt so small and confining as today.
If only I could see it on a bigger, sharper screen.
Ideally, in a top-notch theater with the best screen and sound...
His breathing synced involuntarily, drawn in.
Even in subdued scenes requiring less intensity, Jeong Seo-hoon's acting shone.
Just as PD Song Jeong-woo had said, it felt like he'd literally pulled Private Lee Jin-wook straight out of the drama.
Another take wrapped.
Cha Do-jin gulped water, catching his breath.
Invisible to the camera, but his back was probably soaked in sweat.
Cha Do-jin's going all out today too. This is gonna blow up big.
Since the cable TV boom, channels bombarded living rooms from every direction.
Viewership highs of 50 or 60% had been occasional in the old days, but now breaking 30% was a miracle.
I won't even hope for 20—just steady teens would be nice, drama executives wished cautiously.
Cable inevitably lagged behind broadcast TV ratings.
Cinematographer Yang Tae-seok made a tentative prediction.
Keeping negativity at bay, just in his head.
Teens for sure. Could even eye the 20s if it goes well.
Great script, upbeat set vibe.
Not forced cheer, but a sweet atmosphere born from smooth, full-throttle filming.
"Cut. Alright, break time, then we move to the outdoor set."
They'd finished the indoor shots 90 minutes ahead of the planned timeline.
Thanks to the actors nailing every take without a single NG, possessed and surging forward.
Tearing his eyes from the monitor, Yang Tae-seok looked at the actor who'd just been Private Lee Jin-wook.
Unlike Cha Do-jin, still lingering in the emotional afterglow, he'd shed the shell of Lee Jin-wook in an instant.
Great energy. Quick changes.
Cha Do-jin was the lead, but visually and atmospherically, Jeong Seo-hoon had a slight edge.
Probably why Cha Do-jin was matching him with extra fire today.
Yang Tae-seok suddenly chuckled.
If we kill him off mid-episode 2, viewers will lose it.
He could already picture the forums flooded: How can you introduce a fresh, talented actor and kill him off so soon?
By the time they realized it was the director and writer's cunning trap, they'd be hooked units boosting ratings.
The outdoor set was right next to the studio building.
No need for cars—just step out and walk a short distance.
Staff bustled, setting up cameras, lights, and rails.
Bodies tired, but faces bright.
Nothing lifted the set mood like smooth filming.
Even amid the frantic dashing, everyone beamed.
Jeong Su-ryeon stole glances at her brother while zipping around.
He sat in a folding chair, arms crossed, eyes calmly closed.
Look at that posture—he could pass for a top star with 10 years in dramas.
Among the staff, curiosity, praise, and fondness for her brother mingled.
Pretending not to hear her own flesh and blood praised made her ears itch.
"Actor Jeong Seo-hoon is way too handsome, right?"
"I think he's even better-looking than Actor Cha Do-jin."
"PD Song loves faces like that, and with acting this sharp? Honey's about to drip from his eyes."
"They basically begged a civilian who didn't want to act."
"For real? With that face, not acting is a crime. PD saved the nation."
Even so, gushing over her brother's looks gave her goosebumps. Couldn't they just praise the acting?
Jeong Su-ryeon approached her brother as casually as possible.
Minding the eyes on her, she whispered.
"Hey, how's it going?"
"Aren't we pretending not to know each other on set?"
"Yes. Is the acting manageable?"
"Very."
"You know two more scenes and your shoot's done, right? Don't just bolt. Newbies who dip early get talked about. Pretend to study, watch the seniors, stick around. If you can."
"Was planning to."
"Short answers? Why act close all of a sudden?"
"No one's listening now."
"What?"
"You know."
She glanced up—nobody nearby paying attention. No risk of their talk leaking.
Does he have eyes in the back of his head?
Jeong Seo-hoon had no need to force himself to stay.
His final scene was with Shooting Team 2, separately. No PD Song Jeong-woo—Assistant Director Kim Hyun-tae would handle it.
His last call with Gu Je-man on Hangang Bridge, then faking a plunge, staging a suicide.
Officially his final shoot.
Jeong Seo-hoon stood at the railing, safety gear secured.
"Standby, cue!"
As the camera rolled, the scenery shifted in a blink, as if by pact.
The 1km-wide Hangang vanished, replaced by a vast, wave-churned sea.
A fortified island loomed ahead.
Landing craft surged toward it, packed with tense, terrified young soldiers.
Among them, the moment he'd steeled himself to dive into the water burned vivid.
Without the invisible observation lenses all around, he might've sworn this was the Cordot Sea.
Eyes locked on the beach's sprawling trenches, the soldier leaped bravely into the waves without hesitation.
A distant voice tapped faintly from outside.
-Cut! Good take!
Lee Jin-wook Himself (2)