Die On Screen or Die in Dreams
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"We'll go with Ma Do-jun for the role of the warrior Hui-yul."
"...Pardon?"
The response was so baffling it bordered on absurd.
The casting director openly scanned the room with a displeased scowl but soon had to clear his throat and look away.
After all, everyone meeting his gaze wore expressions of utter confusion.
"Ma Do-jun? Who was that again?"
"That guy right before the end. You know."
"Oh, him. He wasn't bad, but..."
Wasn't bad—that single phrase summed up the audience's entire reaction.
Watching Kang Min's thirty-second performance hadn't elicited admiration for some prodigious talent. It was closer to the indescribable thrill you feel hurtling toward the ground during a bungee jump or skydive.
No one in the room had ever felt anything quite like it before.
Debate still raged over that final krheuk, but anyway.
"Shouldn't we at least save him for last? Sure, it might be a career-defining moment, but..."
"What's the upside to picking Ma Do-jun? If we're doing this, go with the finale. Same academy and all."
"Either way, the guy's got the chops to pull off something wild. For a supporting role, it's worth the buzz."
"Honestly, I just don't get the choice..."
From the AD standing in for the PD to the cinematographer and other judges, every face screamed disbelief.
But the casting director was desperate.
He'd been paid handsomely to slot Ma Do-jun into the role.
The sudden shift in audition direction—and tipping him off a month in advance—had all been part of the deal.
To avoid any fallout, he had no choice but to bulldoze through.
"That's my take. Any objections?"
"Hmm..."
The problem was, the casting director held enough sway that his nonsense actually stuck.
Most faces still screamed incomprehension, but no one stepped up to challenge him.
'MBS Park Dae-geun CP's nephew.'
'Suspicious as hell, but why poke the bear?'
'It's just a bit part. Even a standout like No. 51 won't miss out.'
That was the general vibe, so everyone held their tongues.
Only then did the casting manager relax, his expression easing. Kang Min's performance seemed destined to be buried under politics and backroom deals.
Until one rookie, convinced she'd clinched a reversal, piped up.
"I'm against it."
"...Come again?"
The casting director turned blankly. The other judges followed suit.
The rookie shrank under the weight of those stares, her eyes darting, nails digging into her palms.
But she didn't back down.
"I said I'm against it."
"...Writer Baek Chae-i."
How dare this nobody, the casting director seethed inwardly.
He swallowed his irritation and tried sweet-talking her.
"Writer, you might lack experience and not realize it, but don't fall for flashy theatrics. True acting blends seamlessly into everyday life—"
"So, did Ma Do-jun blend seamlessly into everyday life?"
"Well."
"I didn't think so at all."
The casting director ground his teeth behind a frozen smile.
This damn rookie...!
He'd been with MBS for nine solid years—not counting prior gigs, even longer.
Yet here was Baek Chae-i, a debut writer with just one short drama under her belt.
It felt like watching a pup yapping at a tiger.
No backing, just a lucky break—and she thinks she can charge me?
The casting director snorted derisively. Fine, time to put her in her place—
"I already checked with PD Yu Ho-hyeon."
"...Pardon?"
"Asked if we could tweak the script a bit. He said he'd review it and get back to me, but no word yet."
His jaw dropped.
Stunned by the pup's fearless lunacy, the casting director's lips twitched helplessly.
The judges exchanged dazed glances.
Something had gone seriously off the rails.
#
Yu Ho-hyeon was a ten-year veteran PD at MBS.
In his prime, he'd been one of the more ambitious ones in the drama department, but lately, he just coasted through everything.
Age had worn him down, sure.
But despair over his own limitations hit harder.
'Too many monsters these past few years.'
The last decade had brought a seismic shift to Korean home theater.
Dramas that once barely crossed over to Japan or Asia exploded in scale and quality, thanks to a handful of powerhouse PDs.
A smash hit in Korea spawning foreign spin-offs? WebFlix global No. 1 dominance drawing worldwide eyes? That was just a few years back.
Yu Ho-hyeon couldn't keep up.
'I'm too old.'
His eye for scripts and shots topped out at clichéd family soaps or Cinderella tales.
No knack for spotting hot new scripts, no directing chops to elevate them.
'Tried pushing once...'
The result? His career-worst flop. Lesson learned, he kept his head down since.
'Climb to CP or retire quietly.'
That was his mindset lately.
When King and Sovereign got rushed into the slot after another early cancellation—and he was tapped as PD—he barely blinked.
Just direct by the script. Good ratings if it hits, nada if it flops.
That was it.
—Sorry to bother you, but I'd like to tweak the script a little.
In that context, a message from the rookie writer made his eyebrow twitch.
Planning approved, leads cast, supports auditioning, location scouting underway—and now script changes?
Debut or not, does she have no sense at all?
Yu Ho-hyeon debated yelling. But her follow-up was quicker.
—I know it's insane. Total nonsense. Won't touch casting. I can rewrite in a week.
"Hmm."
—Just want to bump up one role's screentime.
"...Which one?"
—Guard warrior Hui-yul. Please.
"Hui-yul?"
Now it was Yu Ho-hyeon's turn to tilt his head.
Unexpected didn't cover it.
No matter how he racked his brain, warrior Hui-yul was barely a role—more extra than anything.
Best perk: sticking by a lead for steady camera time.
—Saw an incredible actor this time. Imagining him in it makes the current script feel lacking. Please. I'll do great.
"Hmm..."
A high-and-mighty demand? No. This groveling for a nobody bit part's expansion? Harmless.
Pondering, Yu Ho-hyeon PD decided to see what had her hooked first.
"Send the performance video. If it's that good, they'd have picked him already."
—It's... under discussion.
"Pardon?"
—We all think he has to be it, but the casting director's digging in hard...
"Hrm?"
Yu Ho-hyeon PD nearly called the casting director.
Switched to the AD instead.
"Young-wook. Got the round-four supporting audition footage? Yeah, that. Come deliver it yourself. I need a look."
Yu Ho-hyeon played the video with zero expectations. What eye does a rookie writer have?
An hour later, he called the AD again.
"Drag that bastard Park Seong-gyun, the casting director, in front of me. Now."
#
Three days post-audition.
And I still hadn't had a nightmare.
The so-called No-Acting Dream billed more precisely than auto card payments. Rule so far: anything acting-like meant dying in the dream.
Interpreting the finale as "enough" felt off no matter how I sliced it.
Weird enough that I couldn't resist some experiments.
And today, I finally had my answer.
"So."
I rubbed my temples.
My head throbbed.
It was the only conclusion that made sense.
"—No matter what, I have to play a role that dies to dodge that damn dream?"