When the Camera Rolls, It's Right There (1)
"I can handle something like this on my own discretion. That's how much I like you, Jeong Seo-hoon. You've got potential. No, you've got more than that."
Song Jeong-woo PD persuaded him with passion in his voice.
"Think about it seriously and give me a call whenever you're ready."
Could seriousness and casualness really coexist like that?
After hanging up, Jeong Seo-hoon sank into thought for a moment.
As a soldier, it was something he had zero interest in.
And right now, his identity was more than seventy percent soldier.
But the body he was actually living in belonged to Jeong Seo-hoon.
And for Jeong Seo-hoon, two million won a day was a massive sum.
He headed to Jeong Su-ryeon's room and roughly shook awake his sister, who was sleeping like the dead.
"Hey, hey. Wake up."
"......Ugh, what? Why are you waking me...... This is gonna mess up my sleep cycle......"
"Song PD called."
"So? I told you to turn it down."
Jeong Su-ryeon grumbled in a voice thick with sleep and irritation.
"But he's offering money."
"Money? What money?"
She sounded baffled, her voice still groggy as she questioned him back.
"He's giving two million won for transport fees if you make half a day free?"
"What?!"
In an instant, Jeong Su-ryeon let out a gorilla-like roar and bolted upright. From outside the door, their mother called out in her clear, sharp voice.
"Stop harassing your little brother, Jeong Su-ryeon."
"Argh! Mom, it's not like that! He barged in and woke me up!"
She huffed, trying to compose herself, her messy bedhead framing eyes wide with disbelief.
"What the hell? Is Song PD crazy? Two million won isn't some kid's name you just throw around. Transport fees? Since when do we even do that?"
"Is this common in your industry?"
"Common? It doesn't even happen. It's not the norm. Hell, rookies cry tears of gratitude just for getting called in for an audition, saying 'Thank you, I'll do my best.' And now transport fees? Two million won?"
"He really wants you to call him back. What should I do?"
"......What do you want to do?"
"Money's not a crime. And......"
"It's always right."
Jeong Su-ryeon met his words with a firm gaze.
She crossed her arms, keeping a stern expression as she locked eyes with him.
"You're not getting any funny ideas, are you?"
"I heard. Two million could get me a MacBook."
"MacBooks aren't that cheap."
"Ah, combined with what I've got saved up. You spoiled me pretty good picking me up."
"Just snag the cheese and bail. Don't get caught in the trap. You confident?"
"What's there to get caught on? I'm not even doing it."
"Yeah, yeah. You've gotta become a computer engineer who surpasses Jim Keller. That's the way. Don't waste that precious major talent."
He paused, buffering as he processed what she meant and decided on a response.
"That guy's not computers. He's a semiconductor engineer."
"Same difference, isn't it?"
"No."
"Sorry I'm a liberal arts major. Anyway!"
Jeong Su-ryeon clapped her hands, wrapping up the conversation.
"Just snag the cheese and bail. And make sure it doesn't cause me any trouble?"
"I'll handle it."
"Then get out. I'm going back to sleep."
Song Jeong-woo was the type of artist who went a bit overboard.
That very trait had allowed him to direct several blockbuster dramas and climb the ranks steadily.
As a result, the network and production companies respected his quirks and authority, turning a blind eye as long as he delivered top ratings—even if he blew the budget on ribeye steak for his whole family.
"......But this is a bit much, isn't it? Calling in the co-lead just to audition a supporting role."
"What can you do? He wants to test their chemistry."
"You were the one singing to Kim Sang-hee about changing the character setup, and now you're scaling up the whole thing because you're hooked?"
"He originally planned to call in Cha Do-jin as the partner to test it with."
"Isn't bringing in the female lead a bit overkill?"
"It's already overkill. Might as well get them in the same shot with the male lead to check it out, something like that."
"Did Cha Do-jin turn it down?"
"Just floating the idea was a big deal. Kim Hyun-tae AD talked him out of it, or we'd be in trouble."
"Song PD, seriously. You're in no position to badmouth Kim Sang-hee as the devil."
"Those two click so well they've already done several projects together."
The camera test setup was so thorough it bordered on excessive.
They even had props and basic set dressing, and they'd called in the partner actor to run lines.
For the partner actor, it was awkward, but his manager just bowed to Song Jeong-woo's name value.
"If he blows this after all the hype......"
"Isn't putting this much into a one-episode role overdoing it? If he's like this already, imagine the leads' shoots. Ugh, my stomach's twisting just thinking about it."
"Same here. That nightmare from last time...... It was brutal."
"But the ratings were killer."
Even for lead auditions, they wouldn't go this far.
Setting up all this for just one guy?
Too much, what's he thinking, he's hooked on something again—whispers like that floated around until, finally, the auditionee arrived.
The staff took one look at Jeong Seo-hoon and chimed in one by one.
"He's handsome."
"Great mask. Too bad to waste on one episode."
"Good proportions. Nice skin tone. If his acting holds up, he'll be leading in no time."
"So PD's eye isn't completely off."
Jeong Su-ryeon strained to pretend she wasn't hearing the murmurs around her.
Most of her colleagues didn't know Jeong Seo-hoon was her actual little brother.
Seeing Song Jeong-woo embrace her brother like a long-lost son was beyond awkward—extremely so.
What the hell does he see in him? The kid who never watched YouTube, just studied—why acting?
But seeing her brother unflinching and composed eased her shoulders a bit.
They'd fought their whole lives—that was their sibling curse—but she couldn't stand seeing him shrink or cower in front of others.
"Just relax, take it easy."
Song Jeong-woo's beaming smile never faded.
To an outsider, it looked like he'd painstakingly lured a top-star on the cusp of breakout to the lead role.
Hwang Shin-yoon, the partner actor, wore a perpetual scowl.
"Hyung, what is this? Wasn't it just a making-film run-through with Cha Do-jin?"
"Beats me. No idea what Song PD's thinking."
"They called me, Hwang Shin-yoon, to run lines with some one-episode nobody?"
"Maybe he called you to test chemistry for the extra. Think positive."
"No way anyone buys that. Shouldn't my agency raise hell over this?"
"You know he topped ratings four projects in a row? You'd need to be network president to stand up to him without flinching."
"Damn. Hwang Shin-yoon's pride is on the line. Let's see what he's got."
"Hey, don't say that. You'll jinx your own role away."
"Jinx my role? Wait, you don't mean......"
"Yeah. Could be Song PD building hype to hand him your role. So tighten up, make your mark. Show him this role's yours—no matter who he is."
"Got it. Now it makes sense, this backwater drama."
Hwang Shin-yoon steeled his gaze and buried his face in the script.
Both pretended to ignore that his role was also a one-episode throwaway.
"Script memorized?"
"Yes. All of it."
"How'd it feel?"
"The situation felt familiar."
"Right. You did your service. When'd you get out?"
I went. Twice, even.
All that blood staining my hands—I remember every drop, crystal clear.
"Not long ago."
"Perfect for immersion then. Just relax, take it easy."
The scene Song Jeong-woo gave him was Private Lee Jin-wook gunning down all his superiors.
At an overseas outpost, stress-relief civilian massacres pull him in as accomplice—rebellion born of revulsion, fear, terror unleashing a shooting spree.
Forced civilian killings, so self-defense might mitigate.
But the officer Hwang Shin-yoon plays is the sole survivor, framing Lee Jin-wook later—he gets death penalty sought for superior murder.
"......This."
To Jeong Seo-hoon, an utterly alien scenario he'd never imagined.
But to soldier Rashid, just one of countless battlefield memories.
Maybe that's why receiving the script brought a twinge of regret.
He'd barely suppressed his soldier instincts, deep in rehab—and now this role.
In a way, Song Jeong-woo PD's eye might be spot-on.
"Camera test starting."
Hwang Shin-yoon—no, the murderous officer—glared death and spoke.
"You've got a bullet in you, Private Lee Jin-wook......"
Jeong Seo-hoon felt a chill crawl over him.
Not overwhelmed by Hwang Shin-yoon's acting.
His voice warped into a strange echo, reaching him slow and deliberate.
As if the flow of time around him twisted.
No—the view and scenery distorted at high speed.
Like paint flaking off canvas, the surroundings warped roughly.
Staff vanished, props vanished, Song Jeong-woo vanished.
Studio vanished, and finally, even the camera faded.
The partner stood there still, but transformed into something else entirely.
A form etched vividly in the soldier's memory.
The blood-soaked officer clutched his severed arm stump, glaring.
Seared into the soldier's memory.
The unforgettable specter mouthed the script's lines exactly.
"Why didn't you obey orders, soldier?"
Incredibly, the battlefield where soldier Rashid existed unfolded all around.
When the Camera Rolls, It's Right There (2)