An Ad-lib Beyond the Script

Director ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Gong stared at Yeo-reum on the monitor.

The look is a perfect match, for starters.

Influencer 1, more or less as Director Gong had imagined her, was right there. Yeo-reum drove with one lazy hand on the wheel, chattering cheerfully with her friend in the passenger seat, visibly bursting with delight as if she couldn't hold in her laughter a second longer.

"Dude, I am literally losing my mind. We're mutuals now? Can you believe it? Me and HER! Check my following list. See her? Right there?"

A bright smile bloomed across her whole face, then—deciding perhaps it was uncool to look *that* thrilled—she pressed her lips inward to smother it. Even so, the smug satisfaction soaked through anyway, impossible to hide.

"Ohh~! Me? Phew…. Obviously~ I got the invite! People who scrap for crumbs off a reserved table are on a whole different level from me."

And that was when it happened. The scene reached the moment just before the accident.

Now—make it look natural.

The car was about to jolt to a dead stop. Yeo-reum pulled down her sun visor. Then, checking her face in the mirror, she said:

"I am SO posting a video of this traffic light!"

Right on cue, the tow truck carrying Yeo-reum's car slammed on its brakes.

"Ahhh!!!"

Yeo-reum's forehead smacked against the steering wheel. At the same instant, Director Gong shouted:

"…Cut!!!"

It was a flawless ad-lib from Yeo-reum. The script had contained only this much:

From that single stage direction—acting distracted—Yeo-reum had built out an entire layer of detail. It was exactly the kind of behavior you'd expect from Influencer 1, a girl obsessed with being seen, addicted to showing off.

Through the lens, Director Gong saw Yeo-reum meet his eyes, silently asking whether the take had landed.

"…One more time. Same movements exactly."

Director Gong wanted to watch her do it again. Looking at an Influencer 1 so vividly, so fully alive, made his heart pound.

Somehow, a vision of Faster Than the Law 2 kept flickering at the edge of his mind. A faint thread of a clue was beginning to take shape. A new skill blinked into being, then faded away again.

"Hey. That was an ad-lib, wasn't it?"

"…Yeah. I think so."

Near the tow truck that had carried Yeo-reum's car, the crew stood waiting. Watching the truck make a U-turn back toward the original shooting location, they murmured among themselves.

"Glad we rewrote the script."

Yoon Hyun-jo, the lead of Faster Than the Law playing elite Detective Yoon, was giving the script one final review while his stylist fussed with his hair. Not a single strand out of place, slicked back perfectly clean—he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked to anyone like the very picture of a high-strung, obsessive-compulsive elite detective.

"How's the shirt collar here? Good?"

"Yes, yes! Both sides perfectly symmetrical!"

"Mm~. Thank you."

The role felt so tailor-made that you'd think Director Gong had written it with Yoon Hyun-jo in mind. The germaphobic intolerance of even the slightest disarray, the clean, understated features, the calm voice with its crisp articulation. Having checked his collar one more time, Yoon Hyun-jo looked over at Director Gong and the rookie actress, both buzzing with excitement.

"Yeo-reum! That sun visor thing you did earlier—what was going through your head?"

"I was thinking about what kind of movement would make the audience, the very first time they meet Influencer 1, go: *how can a person actually be that thoughtless?*"

Director Gong's delighted laughter rang across the set.

"That's it! That's exactly it! Right? Right!!!"

Yoon Hyun-jo watched the director and thought for a moment.

Is that really something to get that excited about?

Yoon Hyun-jo did not care for ad-libs. Every additional contingency meant the shoot dragged on longer. He wanted to wrap efficiently and quickly.

"Director~. I'll get in the car now?"

"Ah, ah—Yoon Hyun-jo! Let's go straight into it."

Cut after cut followed, a rapid-fire exchange between elite Detective Yoon and Influencer 1. The crew had blocked the scene so the acting played out between two cars with their bumpers pressed together.

Yoon Hyun-jo smoothed his collar one last time and climbed inside.

If she performs even as well as she did at the table read, that'll be enough.

Solo acting was one thing, but two-person scenes required chemistry, and that was never easy to establish with a rookie. The greener the actor, the worse it got. Stumbling over lines, breaking into laughter, or—most common of all—rushing the breathing until every line sounded panicked and breathless.

How many NGs are we in for~.

The moment the director's cue sounded, Yoon Hyun-jo opened the car door.

It was a restrained, contained movement, as if he were holding back fury. Widening his stride, Detective Yoon crossed the distance to the rear car in a few steps.

Thump, thump.

"Lower your window."

"…."

"I said, lower the window."

At those words the glass slid down, very, very slowly. Influencer 1 peeked out with just her eyes before showing her face.

"I'm sorry…. Really. From the bottom of my heart. So. Deeply. Sorry."

A faint tremor ran beneath the stammering voice. Detective Yoon knocked on the window frame once more, gaze ice-cold.

"Forget the window. Open the door and step out."

The instant the line left his mouth—a mere sliver of a second—

"Do I really have to get out? I mean, your body might be hurting all over, or… it's not even like it's a huge accident, right?"

Tears welled up in Influencer 1's eyes, as though the apology just now had been a desperate struggle to hold her feelings in check. A flicker of bewilderment crossed Detective Yoon's face.

"Do you have to be dying on the spot before you'll get out of the car? When I tell you to get out, you get out."

Into that line—absurd, exasperated—poured genuine conviction. Director Gong's thrilled cut sign rang out.

"That's it! That's it exactly!"

While his stylist came over to fix his slightly mussed hair, combing it smooth with a tail comb, Yoon Hyun-jo spread his stance to even out their heights and thought:

That's strange?

They filmed a few more short takes, and the scene was called an OK on the spot. For syncing up with a rookie, the pace was astonishingly fast.

She's almost too efficient.

Shooting the next scene, Han Yeo-reum didn't produce a single NG either.

She didn't stumble over lines. She didn't break into laughter. She never lost control of her breathing and swallowed her own pronunciation.

The look in Detective Yoon's eyes—the way Yoon Hyun-jo regarded his scene partner Han Yeo-reum—began to change.

"Yeo-reum! Have a meal before you go!"

Film shoots ran practically the whole day through. Stopping by the salon at dawn before heading to set, running one route check, filming a handful of scenes—half the day had already slipped away by the time we finished. I nodded quickly at the director.

Now that all the tension's drained out of me, I'm starving to death.

We'd grabbed only a light lunch on set, and my stomach had been quietly growling for a while now. The director called me over along with the assistant director, the script supervisor, and a few other staff. The outsourced filming crew had already split off into their own group, evidently.

"You're coming too, Hyun-jo?"

"…Should I not~?"

"No, no—that's not it. I'm just a little surprised, is all. You never come to company dinners, Hyun-jo. The man who only ever showed up to wrap parties because they were, and I quote, 'efficient.' What's gotten into you?"

Even at this hour, Yoon Hyun-jo was flawlessly put together, quietly falling into step behind us.

We headed to an izakaya nearby. A few patrons recognized Yoon Hyun-jo's face and started whispering to each other. Apparently used to this sort of thing, Yoon Hyun-jo just said to the director:

"I'll have a cider~."

…He really doesn't care at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all. Me? If someone recognized me, I'd have a pen out in a second, asking where exactly they'd like me to sign.

So that's the poise of a seasoned celebrity.

Once we settled into a private room at the izakaya, side dishes came streaming out one after another—someone must have called ahead. I ate diligently whatever Director Gong set down in front of me.

Even the rolled omelet tastes different when you're eating somewhere this expensive….

It was a truly moving flavor. When I made it big, I was going to eat this stuff every day.

At me, working my chopsticks without a moment's rest, Director Gong poured me a cider and asked:

"Oh, right—Yeo-reum, you still don't have an agency, do you? Must be rough handling everything on your own?"

Director Gong asked it as a genuine question. But remembering the days when I could roll around in the gutter from dawn to dusk and still couldn't land a single line of dialogue, the answer shot out of me immediately.

"Oh no, not hard at all. Truly!"

At my answer, Director Gong laughed, while Detective Yoon—Yoon Hyun-jo—gave me a look that said he knew perfectly well it was a lie.

It's the truth, though. How could something this small possibly be hard?

Compared to my extra days—assembling at dawn in Yeouido or Sinsa, standing by all through the night, and for what? Three seconds of screen time as Extra Who Laughs and Chatters—this was nothing.

"I hear Jegal Rok has his eye on you, Yeo-reum. Did you know?"

"Hahaha…. I wouldn't really know. Me either way."

"Right. I don't usually say things like this, but…."

Director Gong gave me his advice with uncharacteristic seriousness.

"No matter what terms anyone else offers you, don't sign. Wait for Director Jegal Rok."

I'd heard the name Jegal Rok only secondhand and third-hand. But his was a legend familiar enough even to aspiring actors like me. Coming from someone actually in the industry, though, the weight of it landed entirely differently.

And that Jegal Rok… is watching me.

An indescribable sense of accomplishment swelled up in me. I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, yet I felt drunk on the adrenaline surging up the back of my neck.

Knock, knock.

Just then, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a polite knock sounded from outside.

"Director, thank you for inviting me."

The one who opened the izakaya door and stepped inside was Myeong Je-ha. As if our sweetly menacing phone call a few days ago had never happened, he came in wearing his usual grin, all smiles, and took the seat beside me.

"Ah, ah—you got here fast. You know Hyun-jo, right? Je-ha."

"I do. You two are school classmates, I heard?"

"Yes, sunbaenim. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Myeong Je-ha."

Receiving the drink Director Gong offered with impeccable manners, Myeong Je-ha looked like a complete stranger. The way he handled his elders was almost unnervingly natural.

Why is he here?