Perfect Audition 2 (3)
“Honestly, I’m a little hurt!”
At the exact same time Seo Bom was kicking off her blankets in frustration,
inside the MBS Die to Live team conference room.
Yoo Ji-yu, the actress with her signature layered haircut neatly tied back, gulped down her Americano with a beaming smile.
“We might be worse than enemies, but she’s still my little sister. If you needed an actor, shouldn’t you have come to me first?”
“...I’m her brother.”
“Yeah, in your head. Oh, you’re Director Shim Yu-hyeon, right? Nice to meet you!”
“Uh... yeah, sure.”
What to say,
up until then, the Die to Live production team had always been oddly reluctant to bring up actress Yoo Ji-yu.
It went without saying that it was because of the writer.
“Ji-yu... she’s something else. Amazing, but...”
“Yeah, she’s a bit much? Always getting compared to her talented family.”
“No, that’s fine. I came into this industry prepared to be compared to Ji-a unnie for life as a writer.”
“Good girl. Here, have a one-time-use William White coupon.”
“What’s that supposed to be...”
Yoo Ji-min’s older sister was a legendary figure in the writing world, someone even Baek Chae-i had once worked under as an assistant writer and thought, I’ll never catch up in my lifetime.
But Yoo Ji-min was even more reluctant to mention his twin little sister, who wasn’t even in the same category.
— Ji-yu’s just... hard to deal with...
— Huh? Isn’t Yoo Ji-yu famous for her great personality? No scandals or rumors.
— Well, yeah... she’s not bad or anything...
Anyway, since he kept hemming and hawing, everyone just assumed there was something off and let it slide.
Even the straightforward Shim Yu-hyeon, who admired Yoo Ji-min’s lack of rough edges, went so far as to harbor an open prejudice that the sister must have the personality issues.
...Until they actually met her, that is.
“The Ottoman Empire? Oh, you mean Turkey?”
“Y-yeah... right. But calling Turkey the direct successor to the Ottoman Empire is a bit problematic. Sure, Atatürk’s Turkish War of Independence was a direct succession, but it’s like saying modern Italy is Rome after the Western Roman Empire fell...”
“Wow, you know so much!”
“Uhaha! Uhahaha!”
A top actress laughing along to a 40-something uncle’s kebab stories had the same shine as a KAIST student explaining why Expo bridges are sturdy on a blind date—except she was young.
Shim Yu-hyeon fell hook, line, and sinker, as if he’d never held any prejudices, and Han Ye-seul did too.
Considering the fee they’d called her in for, there was no reason not to.
— A thousand per episode?! You’re really okay with that?! Ji-yu’s last project fee was...
— It’s fine. It’s my family’s debut project. If the quality drops because of my fee, that’d be unacceptable, right?
— Oh my god...!
Han Ye-seul, battered by the audition fiasco and the bald guy’s unreasonable pressure—You knew and didn’t tell me! Spill it!!—put a hand to her chest, deeply moved.
In her eyes, angel wings fluttered behind Yoo Ji-yu’s beaming smile.
With the PD and VFX director like that, the other assembled staff were even more smitten. Yoo Ji-yu melted effortlessly into the production team, as if she’d never been a newbie.
Kang Min, however, showed a subtly wary attitude.
“I heard the rumor! Senior Choi Na-kyeong ran off under a blanket, right? I always thought she’d get her comeuppance someday.”
“No way! Senior Choi bullied me too, back when she was a year-and-a-half ahead. Let’s get her.”
“Come on, I’m only two years younger—don’t call me senior. Ji-min’s my little brother; if I’m your senior, it messes up the order!”
“Honestly, as an actor, I’ve got a lot to learn from you. Looking forward to working together! Oh, if you have time, could you give me some acting pointers?”
Even as Yoo Ji-yu clung openly to build rapport, Kang Min subtly kept her at arm’s length.
Curious, Han Ye-seul asked quietly.
“Um, Min, you don’t like Actress Yoo Ji-yu?”
“Pardon?”
“Your attitude says it all. I get it’s a shame, but if the lead actor and planner isn’t keen, I won’t push. Be honest.”
“Oh, no, not at all.”
Kang Min gave a wry smile, as if he understood.
In truth, he had zero complaints about Yoo Ji-yu as the female lead.
After all,
“Someone who wraps herself in acting all day like that—why bother with her serious performance? I’m really looking forward to it.”
“...Pardon?”
#
At the same time,
a somewhat personal conversation was unfolding between the two siblings in the car.
“Seriously, why’d you come?”
“What if I hadn’t?”
Yoo Ji-yu frowned.
Her trademark beaming smile was gone, replaced by a calm, irritated expression.
For Yoo Ji-min, it was far more familiar than her weird character act.
“You’ll drive me crazy. No matter how much I beg, you insist on being a writer.”
“...I’ve told you a million times, it’s my life.”
“And you’re Ji-a unnie’s little sister.”
“.......”
“You can ruin your own life for all I care, but if you drag down Ji-a unnie, I’ll make you drink sundaeguk through your nose. Got it?”
Yoo Ji-min fell silent. He had his own thoughts about the sister who’d raised them both since middle school, juggling multiple part-time jobs.
Besides, Yoo Ji-yu had once actually made him drink cola through his nose.
No point poking the bear...
“...I won’t drag her down anyway. Everyone’s nice.”
“Idiot. The problem isn’t that they’re nice—it’s that they’re talented.”
“.......”
“If this drama flops, who do you think they’ll blame? Monster Kang Min? Hotshot Han Ye-seul? It’ll all be your fault. And it will be your fault.”
Then the articles would fly. And those articles would splash headlines about how pathetic “Yoo Ji-a’s sister, the writer” was.
They’d dig into how a writer like that ended up on Kang Min’s project—nepotism, connections, etc.
Yoo Ji-yu figured choking her brother unconscious first would be better.
She clenched and unclenched her fist out of his sight.
“...So that’s why you’re cozying up to Min oppa so hard?”
“I need to. That weird director too.”
Yoo Ji-yu sighed.
Who cares about kebabs anyway—
At least the environment allowed her some input now.
“Anyway, Kang Min’s tricky, but the rest are easy. I can blend in and nudge the direction in meetings.”
“Nudge it?”
“You think your script’s sane right now? Make it safe, middle-of-the-road. So no one can blame you. Why take unnecessary risks?”
“.......”
No answer came.
Yoo Ji-yu snorted.
“Don’t like that? Too bad—it’s not your call anymore. Staff, PD, everyone’s on my side. Tweaking the script by shifting the vibe? Piece of cake.”
She’d done it plenty before.
The world was kind to bright, bubbly, sociable beauties. Yoo Ji-yu had dodged uncomfortable scenes and situations with that persona.
This time, she could subtly steer the whole plot. The PD liked her already—easy.
“?”
But timid Yoo Ji-min blinked for the first time here.
Huh...?
“What, scared?”
“No, it’s just... you’re missing the most important person for that to work—”
“Nonsense. PD, directors, all the staff love me. Who else?”
“.......”
“Don’t scheme. Stay put before I suggest hiring another writer.”
Frankly, Yoo Ji-yu’s plan seemed solid.
Even Han Ye-seul, whom she hadn’t realized, would cheer it on.
But Yoo Ji-min just watched his sister with lukewarm eyes.
And, well.
—Naturally, Yoo Ji-yu hit a wall right from the first meeting.
“Director Shim Yu-hyeon. Are the 50-meter fall, 100-meter fall, and 180-meter fall done?”
“Heh, well said, Actor Kang. I, Shim Yu-hyeon, have crafted CG that’s perfection itself—”
“No, wait!!”
Yoo Ji-yu, who’d been beaming and trying to slyly intervene, couldn’t hold back and shot to her feet.
She stared at Kang Min, forgetting to control her expression.
Fif... one-eighty... what?
“What’s that?”
“Death scenes, obviously.”
Kang Min said, puzzled.
“You saw in the script there’s a falling death scene.”
“No, I know, but do we need to distinguish them as separate scenes? They’re all just falling to death—”
“Hah.”
“Oops.”
Kang Min sighed softly, and even Shim Yu-hyeon shook his head.
We have to start from basics like this?!
“Check the script again, Senior Yoo. The protagonist needs to retrieve a USB at the mountain peak.”
“Yes...”
Why a USB at the summit? Whatever.
“First, the protagonist falls from the mountainside while being chased—50 meters. Like a 20-story apartment, but mountains have obstacles. It’s not pure fall; injuries from tumbling worsen, leading to death. The protagonist would feel bewildered.”
“?”
“Conversely, 100 meters—like St. Mark’s Campanile. Symbol of the first stable parachute landing. She could’ve survived barely, so her face needs that injustice at her bad luck.”
“???”
“180 meters? Just dead. That’s the difference.”
“?????”
It was weird.
Even hearing the explanation, she couldn’t grasp it.
As dazed Yoo Ji-yu sat there, Kang Min smiled contentedly at Shim Yu-hyeon’s bold claims and turned.
Next up: Han Ye-seul PD.
“PD Han. Stunt actor secured?”
“...Posted the ad. But finding someone like you want won’t be easy.”
“Take your time. I’ve got an ace up my sleeve if needed. Better to find someone who can distinguish being stabbed fatally from dying incidentally from a stab—”
“Wait! Hold on!!”
Yoo Ji-yu tried to hold it in this time but failed.
She asked blankly.
“What’s the difference...?”
“Hmm.”
Kang Min swallowed a grunt and flicked his hand.
Twice, sharply.
“This is stabbing to kill.”
“?”
“This is accidentally killing while stabbing.”
“???”
“See the difference? The actor’s reaction has to match.”
“??????”
No clue.
But Shim Yu-hyeon and Yoo Ji-min nodded as if it were obvious.
What the hell.
Am I the crazy one?
Han Ye-seul smiled warmly at Yoo Ji-yu’s blank face, glad for another sane ally.
Or maybe,
it looked satisfied, like spotting a bird flying into a trap.
‘······.’
Reality finally sank in.
Cold sweat beaded automatically.
Uh...
So......
‘Did I completely misread this...?’
After that, contrary to her ambition(?) to steer the meeting, Yoo Ji-yu sat dazed, unable to utter a word as it flowed on.
She had no choice.
What could she add against lunatics seriously debating how much glottal closure to assume for the ‘gurk’ sound when stabbed under strobe lighting?
‘God help me...!’
Yoo Ji-yu suddenly realized the root of this madness.
This insane script wasn’t Yoo Ji-min’s stupidity.
The ranting lunatic actor was the one polluting the room like seven-colored factory waste!
Yoo Ji-yu frantically calculated escape routes.
‘Miscalculation... retreat for now, find another way...’
But it was too late for regrets.
The lunatic had already spotted the promising(?) actor playing mute all meeting.
Gauging her distress, Kang Min sighed softly and stood.
“Everyone, sorry, can we wrap today’s meeting here?”
“Huh? We’ve got more to cover.”
“I know you’re busy, but Senior Yoo seems the type who needs to feel it in her body. She asked for pointers earlier, so the two leads should train alone.”
“Hmm...”
“If you say so.”
Normally, Yoo Ji-yu’s image would have her flashing that eye smile: What weird ideas are you having~? and dodging.
But not this time. She’d approached asking for acting lessons.
And Kang Min had no ulterior motives.
Dead serious about death acting, he dove straight in.
“First, the female lead’s initial death scene. Let’s go.”
“···Pardon?”
“Her first death. Show me your take, Senior Yoo.”
“Uh, that’s... k-krgh...?”
“God, no time for that leisure. Sharper!”
“K-krgh?”
“Shorter. ‘Gurk!’”
“Gurk!”
“Nasal! Not choking!”
“Keurk!”
“Again!”
“Gurk...!”
“Good! More from deep inside!”
“Gurk!”
“A bit more—embrace life’s futility!”
What the hell does that mean!!
Top actress Yoo Ji-yu swallowed dizzy tears, repeating nothing but gurks for hours.
With her karma from begging for lessons, no escape.
Grinding her teeth inwardly through incomprehensible gurks,
‘Kuh... fine, I get it. You’re the boss. Noted. Next time’ll be different!’
And a month after Yoo Ji-yu steeled her resolve.
Time passed, and the scheduled MBS Die to Live production press conference was held.
#
Typically, at drama press conferences, reporters prepare question lists in advance.
With limited slots, they prioritize the juiciest figures and backups.
Yoo Ji-yu ranked second or even first for most.
She was a top actress, and the visuals were gold.
Gathered reporters buzzed.
“Kang Min’s great, but Yoo Ji-yu’s got more meat.”
“Yeah. First time she personally scouted for a role. Not her style.”
“Gotta ask about Choi Na-kyeong. Whatever she says, it’s clickbait.”
“Poke the writer brother?”
“I’ll prod lightly. Hate’ll come, but so will views.”
Personality issues aside, it was solid work ethic for entertainment reporters. They’d promote since invited, but needed their cut.
They prepped gems like ‘Why personally request casting?’ ‘Thoughts on senior Choi Na-kyeong flunking audition?’ ‘Proud of writer brother?’ ‘Sister’s help?’ and grinned.
—Then, the conference started, and all forgotten.
“?”
“?”
“···?”
Shouldn’t she be in the hospital...?
Even the most vicious reporters thought it momentarily.
Yoo Ji-yu looked that haggard; Kang Min, the opposite—radiant.
So radiant he boasted.
“Senior Yoo Ji-yu? Incredible actor. Never met anyone who sees one thing and knows ten.”
“Mark my words: she’s this drama’s true lead, not me. Believe it.”
“And we’ve another lead here.”
Reporters’ eyes skipped past Yoo Ji-yu’s near-faint expression to the ‘other lead.’
Familiar face, Kang Min’s acknowledged best friend.
But somehow, paler than her.
‘Damn it, shit...! Why is this happening...!’
Beaming Kang Min.
Ashen Yoo Ji-yu.
Trembling stuntman Kim Ho-jin—
Reporters tilted heads at the trio.
‘Flu going around?’
Two weeks after the worrisome conference ended,
the groundbreaking Die to Live teaser finally turned the world upside down.
...Truly groundbreaking in every way.