I Know Someone
"Does this even make sense?"
"I know, right?"
The two of them sat side by side, staring so hard at the screen that it seemed they might burn a hole through it. PD Kim found it absurd that she hadn't noticed from the very first viewing.
"He's handsome."
"Isn't he?"
The comments that slipped out were all about his looks. Still, as a producer, a fresh worry had taken root.
"Should we cut the scene?"
"No way. Just think about it."
PD Kim listened calmly as the assistant PD made her case. Under normal circumstances, this was exactly the kind of footage that would end up on the editing room floor. If an extra stole the spotlight, it would be a disaster. The lead was the one who needed to shine.
But the assistant PD's point was simple. Had she felt that way the first time she watched it? Not at all.
When the scene first played, she hadn't even registered his presence. Only after rewatching it two or three times for editing did he suddenly leap out at her.
PD Kim Ji-yeon's face flooded with astonishment. She prided herself on knowing her way around this industry. Yet she had never seen anything quite like this.
An actor who could disappear so perfectly into the role of an extra. And with a face that handsome, no less. She knew exactly how difficult that was. It was the classic pitfall for idols making their first foray into acting.
But this was the first time she was seeing him. A new recruit being groomed by one of the big agencies? No, if that were the case, word would have reached her long ago.
"I looked him up. He's a complete unknown. Apparently he's done some work in Daehakro."
"AD Jo..."
Discovering new talent always sent a thrill through her. Especially when the newcomer wasn't a rough stone but a gem already cut and polished to brilliance.
They had worked together so seamlessly for so long that she pulled out the company card without hesitation.
"Pork belly and soju?"
"I'm in."
With filming wrapped, only editing remained. The pair decided it was time for a long-overdue celebration.
The rich, greasy pork belly that soothed every salaried worker's soul. The soju washed away more than just oil. It carried away layers of exhaustion too.
Right in the middle of grilling another round, PD Kim's phone rang. She checked the caller ID and answered in a neutral tone.
"Who is it?"
"Writer Ko A-rin."
There was no reason to ignore the call. It wasn't her boss, just an industry colleague. After swallowing her bite of food, PD Kim took the call.
"Hello? PD Kim, are you busy right now?"
"Not at all. I'm just having dinner with AD Jo."
At the mention of dinner, Writer Ko A-rin asked where they were. She wondered if she could join them for a meal. PD Kim instinctively sensed there was more to it, but she didn't refuse. Ko A-rin was talented, and there was nothing to lose by meeting.
"Oh, that would be wonderful. You know Flying, right?"
"Of course. I'm nearby. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Sure. Take your time."
After hanging up, PD Kim smiled. Whenever industry people gathered, something always came up. Plans were made, schemes were hatched. She already felt the familiar itch of anticipation.
"Writer Ko A-rin is coming too. Is that okay?"
"Of course. It gives us a good excuse, and it'll be nice."
Ko A-rin was a rare breed. In an industry where women dominated directing and men dominated screenwriting, she had boldly claimed her place through competition wins and established herself in serious genres.
Time passed, and the writer arrived. The three of them began sharing drinks. After about a bottle had gone down, the casual chatter gradually shifted into sighs and laments.
"Haah..."
"Is something bothering you?"
The assistant PD, who had been pouring soju, asked gently. After a brief hesitation, Ko A-rin opened up.
"You know I'm working on that Netflix project, right?"
"Of course. Streaming is the big thing these days."
The real complaints began to pour out. Ko A-rin was famous for sharp, romance-free stories aimed at female audiences. That reputation had allowed her to step confidently into the OTT world, and everything should have been smooth sailing. But life rarely followed the script.
She had run into an unexpected wall. When she lowered her head, her light brown bob swayed. The motion somehow reminded one of a flying squirrel, yet her convictions remained rock-solid.
"There aren't any suitable male actors..."
"Ah..."
Every director, writer, and industry professional would agree. It was a problem no one could openly point out, yet it was the undeniable reality. The two women nodded. If even one of PD Kim, AD Jo, or Writer Ko A-rin had been a man, the conversation would have sparked controversy. But fortunately, all three shared the same perspective.
Those who pursued art with genuine passion felt it even more deeply. They chased romance as fiercely as they chased money.
"The role itself is the issue..."
She had heard the rumors. Though they had never worked together directly, they kept in touch through mutual connections. The new series was a brutal crime thriller. The role that needed filling was a male villain.
It was something everyone in the industry and the audience knew but tried to ignore. Now it was being spoken aloud.
"He's a psychopath. It's a supporting role, but it carries significant weight."
"That must be a headache..."
PD Kim nodded. In crime and investigation dramas, the villain was often the most crucial element. Of course the justice-seeking lead needed to shine. But light only burned brighter when there was a deep shadow to contrast against.
This was the core of Ko A-rin's dilemma. A psychopath demanded exceptional acting ability. If the top female actors scored a ten in performance, the top male actors topped out at eight.
Naturally, people spoke more about praising the male actors than openly critiquing them. Still, those who craved truly great performances could only grow frustrated.
At that moment, both the assistant PD and PD Kim's eyes sparkled.
"Writer Ko A-rin."
"Yes?"
One person had flashed through their minds. The only acting they had seen from him was as a nameless extra, yet his presence had been extraordinary. He was worth recommending. Besides, they genuinely wanted to see more of his work.
"If there were a male actor with outstanding skill, would you believe us?"
"Oh, those big names won't work. We're already stretched thin on budget..."
Production budgets were always a struggle. The main cast lineup was solid, like a reliable bowl of soup with nothing missing, but they couldn't afford to bring in a true top star. It would be like the belly button being bigger than the stomach. Yet PD Kim wore a meaningful expression.
"A newcomer."
"A total rookie...?"
Recommending a rookie? Ko A-rin's face filled with confusion.
"Korea National University of Arts."
Confusion turned to shock.
"Daehakro."
And then she sat there dazed, like a girl who had fallen in love.
"How about an audition? Would you like to see him?"
"...Thank you."
She nodded. Since they might end up working together someday, owing a small favor wasn't a bad idea.
"I'll treat you to beef."
"Obviously."
Of course, it wasn't really about wanting to eat beef. Ko A-rin extended her hand. The psychopath role that had remained vacant. If someone appeared who could fill it, she would treat them to beef ten times, a hundred times... well, a hundred might be excessive, but ten times was well within her willingness.
PD Kim shook the offered hand. Audition secured.
A week had passed. Woo Dan-wol was feeling a twinge of regret.
The acting he had done after so long. Theater, where everyone performed together instead of alone, had a completely different flavor.
It was as if his body was itching. He had jumped out for no good reason. When they told him to leave, he had actually left like a madman. Now he felt like a monk who had tasted meat. He was going crazy with the desire to act again.
A week had gone by since that day, but his daily life hadn't changed much. He had saved money diligently, so his bank account was comfortably full. Thanks to his mother's card, living expenses were no issue.
The version of himself from before the accident seemed surprisingly responsible. Still, there had been one change in his routine.
"Rina, are you home from school?"
"Yeah, oppa..."
Woo Ri-na, wearing her middle school uniform. Woo Dan-wol, who had remembered her name instantly because of how unusual it was, began preparing dinner for her.
After the incident, his worried parents had eventually sent the youngest member of the family to him. It was early June. She had transferred to a school in Seoul with half a year left until graduation.
"How's school? Should I talk to Mom and Dad?"
"No, I was the one who said I wanted to come up."
His parents had offered the choice rather than forcing it. Woo Ri-na had made her decision, and now they were living together without any particular stress.
It had only been two days, but from Woo Dan-wol's perspective, having a younger sister to look after felt strange yet wonderful. In his previous life, their relationship had been distant.
"You're such a good kid."
"D-don't pat my head!"
"Okay, okay."
There was an eight-year age gap. Because of it, she felt less like a sister and more like a daughter. Maybe it was because she was a teenage girl. When Woo Dan-wol reached out to stroke her hair, she shouted in irritation.
"You're embarrassed? Is the jeyuk good?"
"It's edible..."
Despite saying that, she was already on her second bowl. As he watched her eat with such enthusiasm, a warm feeling spread through him. Worried about her school life, Woo Dan-wol asked various questions.
"The kids aren't bothering you, are they?"
"What do you take me for? I'm doing fine."
"It's because your name is so unique."
That had been his worry from the moment he heard her name. "Woo Ri-na." From elementary school onward, she must have been teased with nicknames based on it.
"They do call me 'Our Country' all the time, but I'm used to it."
"That's a relief."
"I said stop patting my head!"
"Got it."
Looking at his adorable younger sister, he couldn't help but pat her head again. She resembled him, but having a sister who hadn't existed in his previous life wasn't unpleasant at all. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail. She looked just like a puppy, which only made her cuter.
Suddenly, a phone rang in Woo Dan-wol's pocket. It was an unfamiliar number, but it started with 02, so he answered. It was a rule he had kept ever since starting to act again.
Gradually, Woo Dan-wol's expression grew strange. He stepped outside, continuing the call. Woo Ri-na glanced at her brother's face once, then focused on eating her jeyuk. Even though the version of him who had lost his memories felt awkward to her, the food was delicious.
"Maybe I'll have some more..."
In the end, Woo Ri-na started on her third bowl. Her belly swelled out noticeably against her slim frame, but she couldn't hold back her desire. It was no wonder. This was the best jeyuk she had ever tasted.