He Only Plays Villains 026: What He and She Hide (4)
“Oh my, oh my, that suit looks perfect on our Jin-wook. Doesn’t it, Seo-hoon?”
“Mom, who the hell did you call? Just tell me one name.”
“Look at that fit. It’s spot-on. I had no idea our Jin-wook pulled off a suit so well. Su-ryeon, where can we buy one like that?”
Jeong Su-ryeon grumbled a bit as she pulled out her phone and started searching.
“It’s so hard to get used to Mom talking to me all polite like that. It’s embarrassing.”
“You little punk. Do you know how proper I am? That’s why I married into the Jeong family.”
“But Mom, you’re not a Jeong. Ah, found it. The whole outfit Private Jeong is wearing—pants, shirt, everything—runs about 4 million won.”
“That’s expensive. Who the hell buys stuff like that?”
“Mom, real luxury brands don’t even do sponsorships. What do we do? Want to go buy one?”
“4 million’s still too steep.”
Mom pondered her bank balance for a moment, then clapped her hands lightly.
“Right! Anyway, what happens next episode? When does Prosecutor Hwang Sun-hye finally meet him?”
“No idea. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you. If I did, the whole country would know within three hours.”
“You brat. What do you take your mom for? I won’t tell a soul, so just whisper it to me.”
“Ugh, forget it. Ask Seo-hoon yourself.”
Jeong Su-ryeon shot up from her seat.
***
The suit worn by Lee Jin-wook—who usually showed up in shabby, wanted-criminal getups—stirred quite a stir.
The synergy between the custom-tailored fit, stitched with meticulous care, and the drama’s tension created a powerful pull. Searches for the brand exploded on shopping sites.
More customers flooded the brand’s stores, dragging along boyfriends, husbands, or grown sons.
“PPL’s working great. Sales are up over five times from usual.”
Kim Sang-hee shrugged.
“That was entry-level stuff anyone could wear. It’s just Lee Jin-wook’s clothing glow-up. What’d I even do?”
Song Jeong-woo chimed in with a grin.
“I figured we’d get a scene of Hwang Sun-hye shopping for a suit to gift her dad.”
“Who does that blatantly anymore? It’d get us roasted. You don’t know ggu-an-ggu? Slip in the PPL all casual, like it’s not even there.”
With the drama sailing smoothly, the production meeting buzzed with optimism.
“How’s the next location scout going?”
“Narrowed it to three spots. Once we finish recon on the last one, we can lock it in and start prepping the set.”
“No actors banged up or wiped out stamina-wise?”
“Not yet. Yoo Jeong-ah’s doing fine now too.”
“Still, keep checking with their managers. She passed out, remember? Ah, maybe we should’ve wrapped shooting that day instead of pushing through.”
“She insisted she was okay and demanded we continue. What could we do? Shots turned out great anyway.”
“PD-nim, Yoon Min-gi’s side keeps asking when shooting wraps because of his overseas CF. Shouldn’t we firm up the dates?”
“Yeah? Let’s see... Four days from now, we’re done.”
“Overseas means no reshoots, so drill that in.”
“Then five days. After that, they’re free to do whatever. No more call times.”
“Got it, I’ll pass it on.”
After triple-checking for loose ends, the lengthy meeting finally wrapped.
Song Jeong-woo clapped to rally everyone.
“Alright, Episode 7 airs soon. They say a good start is half the battle, right? We’ve aired half already, so we’re basically at the finish line.”
Everyone gathered their papers and gear while listening.
“Shooting’s past the eight-tenths mark now. Let’s stay sharp till the end.”
Kim Sang-hee muttered under her breath.
“Anyone’d think we’re wrapping next week.”
***
Episode 7 air date arrived, and eagerly waiting viewers gathered in living rooms to catch the live broadcast.
Prosecutor Hwang Sun-hye, tracking missing persons linked to Hwang Hak-jin, gets ambushed by a car in an alley.
Injured and fading, she glimpses a face that shouldn’t exist in this world.
Lee Jin-wook—the man she prosecuted, who claimed innocence before killing himself.
Unable to withstand the shock, Hwang Sun-hye blacks out and awakens in a dreary abandoned building.
Regaining consciousness, Hwang Sun-hye sees Lee Jin-wook right in front of her and realizes it wasn’t a hallucination.
—You’re... alive...?
—Still got that fire, I see.
—How...?
—Not how, but why.
His grotesque sneer hits hard, and Hwang Sun-hye realizes she’s not tied up.
As she scans her surroundings for an opening, Lee Jin-wook chuckles.
—What, want me to hand you a pipe?
—...
—Think that’d do you any good?
Lee Jin-wook tosses an iron pipe right in front of her, like he’d been waiting.
Hwang Sun-hye gauges the distance between the pipe, Lee Jin-wook, and herself.
Would I grab it faster, or would he lunge first...?
—Just grab it. I’ll stand still.
—...
—Come on. Hurry.
He even steps back a few paces, demonstratively.
The pipe’s now over twice as far.
Plenty of time to grab it and counter.
But as her foot twitches to move, Hwang Sun-hye meets Lee Jin-wook’s eyes.
Those pupils, brimming with bizarre hunger, send a chill down her spine.
As if he were strongly anticipating her grabbing the pipe and charging to kill him.
She gives up in the end, and Lee Jin-wook smacks his lips in disappointment.
—Come on, just close your eyes and muster some guts. No balls at all.
—What are you thinking?
—I’ve got my rules. To not get eaten. No reason to kill you now, but self-defense? Sells my conscience real nice.
—Eaten by what?
—Gluttony. Lose yourself to it, and you go blind and deaf. Stuff your face till your gut bursts, and you drop dead without knowing.
Hwang Sun-hye had taken the Lee Jin-wook case purely by assignment.
Her senior prosecutor, who’d drawn it first, suddenly bailed.
In that ravenous gaze, she felt herself reduced to mere prey, a queasy sensation.
Maybe that’s why her senior dipped too...
—Why work under Chairman Hwang?
—He gave me an identity, cash, a place to crash.
—You kill for money?
No way.
Crass numbers wouldn’t suffice for a man like him.
—How much for that pipe? Renting this dump? The car that hauled you here, prosecutor? Gas money?
—...
—Everything costs money. I don’t love it, but I know how vital it is. Even popping someone takes a bullet’s worth.
Hwang Sun-hye realized he was truly deranged.
Their oddly coherent chat, running parallel all the while, proved it.
That subtly welcoming attitude from the start? Creepily ominous.
Like he’d been waiting for this day.
—Jeong Yi-seon, Choi Pan-woo, Im Seong-hoon, Lee Min-ah, Lee Young-sil, Kang Seok-jung. All you?
—Yup. Thank me?
—Thank you? What...?
—Guys who’d get the death penalty by the book. You’re a prosecutor. You hate judges slapping life on death-row scum and probation on lifers.
—When did I ever...?
Hwang Sun-hye’s lips quivered.
She couldn’t bear faintly agreeing with a twisted killer’s madness.
—I know how righteous you are.
—That’s not true. I’m...
—We could be alike, you and I?
Extreme duality converges through identical evolution.
—Don’t chase. Just watch.
—...
—Then you’ll get what you want.
Lee Jin-wook approaches slowly, brandishing a chloroform rag openly.
—Useless scum in the world—you want them gone, right? I’ll do it for you. Cleaning up what you prosecutors left to fester. No complaints.
***
The viewer board was overheating with theories.
The TV, now post-broadcast, ran commercials.
It was an image ad for the clothing brand Jeong Seo-hoon had worn.
Jeong Seo-hoon recalled matching moves with Lee Min-soo in that outfit.
—Good. Time to work.
His superior’s face overlapped—the one issuing unjust sacrifices for military merit.
‘Lee Jin-wook’s a stray that won’t serve his master. Don’t forget.’
Following the PD’s direction was easy.
Channeling enemy-killing rage just right? Routine.
Then, the invisible lens only he could see—the reality-warping view—locked on Lee Min-soo too.
The veteran flinched in response.
As if swept up in the enigmatic observer’s aura visible only to Jeong Seo-hoon.
‘Yoo Jeong-ah too.’
Same when she fainted.
The unseen camera captured her alongside him, and she reacted.
Cha Do-jin as well.
‘Their different reactions...’
Maybe down to acting approach, experience, depth?
Jeong Seo-hoon remembered the PD’s delight with Lee Min-soo’s performance.
“This is fun.”
For the first time, he felt not nostalgia for acting, but genuine interest. He buried the feeling.
***
Location shooting was locked in.
A 2-night, 3-day shoot in mountains hours from Seoul.
“Scenery fits the script concept perfectly, no nearby residences for smooth filming. Local permits secured. Best part—condos nearby.”
“Big action scenes ahead, so injury watch. Travel however, but be at the condos by the set time.”
“Condos have everything—pack personal stuff like it’s a hotel. Might extend a day depending.”
“Stunt team?”
“Chartered bus, already en route. Props team prepping on-site. Just finalize and shoot.”
Not overseas, but a major regional expedition kept things hectic all day.
***
Jeong Seo-hoon parked near the studio, and Jeong Su-ryeon climbed out with a pout.
“Leaving a perfectly good car to bus that far.”
“Then out yourself as dongsaeng friend.”
“Timing’s off for coming out as little bro’s sis. Looks like riding coattails. Let it slip naturally later. Drive safe.”
“For what? Me? Or the car?”
“Car, obviously. Mom said she’ll give it to me when she makes AD. Treat it like your wife’s ride. Got it?”
***
Yoo Jeong-ah was skimming the updated script when she jolted.
A word that should never appear in Kim Sang-hee’s scripts had popped up.
She fired off a frantic message.
Writer-nim, script must be wrong.
No way. What’s up?
Kiss scene! Sub-writer mess up?
You know I got no subs. It’s mine.
Yoo Jeong-ah dissected the kiss scene line by line, then giggled.
She messaged again.
Writer-nim, into this kinda thing?
The typing indicator—“1”—stayed lit all night.
Not Leaving Just a Bitter Taste (1)