Ice Comes from Water (4)
The world's greatest director, Kim Cheol, naturally had a plan.
It was a rather sharp one, too.
Hmm, this Kang Min guy looks like the typical whirlwind type.
His style doesn't seem like the usual method acting, but it feels self-contained anyway. Rather than building up his performance layer by layer, it's like he already knows some ideal acting and is just pulling it out. A classic genius type, and stubborn to boot.
...There's a subtle sense of dissonance, but I can't put my finger on it. He seems promising, so maybe I should give him a hand.
Guys like this are best pushed to their limits and squeezed dry. Those idiots can be useful later—make 'em crash their heads into walls. Run rotations in double-crane mode. If he breaks his limits, great; if not, his flaws will show clear as day, making it easier to push past them.
Instead of relying solely on steadicam wide shots, better to pair him with a reliable focus puller. He probably hasn't seen his own weaknesses properly, so it'll help. Han Ye-seul could regain some confidence too. For later scenes, ditch the runs and focus on tight angles, fine-tuning the movements...
If the director of Korea's Jiho Acting Academy had heard this, he'd have given a wry smile and said, "As expected, you're incredible." It was that incisive an analysis.
Hearing it'd been just half a day since they'd exchanged names? He might've looked dumbfounded. But that was Kim Cheol for you.
Not just Korea's top director, but one of the world's elite.
The pinnacle for countless aspiring producers.
For a man like Kim Cheol, such breakdowns were second nature.
How could someone who couldn't properly read the actors on screen reach that height? Today, too, he felt a quiet satisfaction at having spotted another promising talent.
Yes. It was perfect.
If only the opponent hadn't been Kang Min.
"Graaahk!"
Silence fell over the set in an instant.
A stunned hush settled among the staff who'd been snickering and chuckling as they watched.
No one could process it right away.
"?"
"...?"
Did he just get launched?
Justin Gilbreth, the 25-year veteran stunt actor?
No way, that was impossible—
"...Oh, Gilbreth's really good at stunt action, huh."
"...Yeah, that's why he's a stunt guy."
"Uh, yeah. Veterans are on another level!"
Brains witnessing the absurd desperately twisted it into something plausible.
Because it made far more sense than some rookie actor sending flying a stuntman acclaimed even in Hollywood, with a solid MMA record.
...But the next scene made denial impossible.
In a role meant to rampage with gunfire in despair before suicide, Kang Min charged straight into the lineup of stunt actors in police uniforms.
???
What the hell?
What was this guy doing—
Unlike the dumbfounded crew, the stunt actors snapped to attention.
These were pros who'd survived Hollywood's grind. No way they hadn't dabbled in MMA. They eagerly played along with the ad-lib(?), deploying their specialties.
Of course, none measured up to William White.
"Kuh!"
"What the— Graaak!"
"What the...!"
Now the staff were beyond stunned—straight-up soul-lost.
They knew Kang Min had some action chops. But this was next-level.
It was blockbuster action-scene material, complete with endless flourishes, unfolding live.
Attacks rained from all sides.
A spiderweb of assaults, physically impossible to dodge.
But Kang Min just let his eyes sink calm.
No hesitation in his moves.
Dodge the overhead strike. Snatch the mid-level punch. Slip the low sweep, then grab and eliminate one foe.
Exchanges in the blink of an eye.
No waste.
Not even flow.
Dodge one attack, counter. Twist away, then seize and pummel.
The veterans' eyes shook wildly.
Impossible... self-taught?! At this polish?!
He's no rookie—he's the real deal, battle-hardened!
Lord have mercy, how at that age...!
They dropped all underestimation.
Over-the-top swings for audience flair sharpened into real threats.
And as attacks grew deadlier, Kang Min's eyes sank deeper, his moves bolder.
Escalating brutality.
Eyes hunting gaps.
Tension piling sky-high—
A producer's dream brawl, the kind to make you swallow hard and scream at your crew, played out live.
Everyone watched, slack-jawed.
But there was one problem.
The ad's theme.
?
World-renowned director Kim Cheol blinked blankly.
Where'd the gun go?
The stunt actors wondered the same.
Asked why William White tossed his gun in a gun control PSA, the genius actor replied simply.
"William White doesn't rely on foreign objects."
"?"
Nonsense, but when your opponent chucks his, you can't just stand there holding yours. Caught in the moment, the stuntmen ditched their prop guns too.
No, fuck, why are you throwing yours!!
Whether Kim Cheol's guts twisted or not, the scene rolled on.
Stuntman Kim Ho-jin was no slouch, but he couldn't compare to these Hollywood vets.
This fight outdid any of Kang Min's prior shoots—Oscar-standing-ovation material, relentless.
And as one producer, how could he belittle the scene before him?
Even the staff culprits clutched their heads in remorse.
"Damn it, we were fools! What the hell were we doing?!"
"That actor's the real deal! Insanely real! To pull petty pranks on someone like that!"
"Apologies later! We gotta save that scene!"
"Steadicam and gimbal won't cut it! Leave that to MCC—handhelds for everyone else! Max angles, now!"
"Kuh, did the boss predict this and let us run wild?!"
"Of course! Director Kim Cheol must've seen us as pathetic clowns...!"
If I predicted this, I'd be the lunatic!!
Kim Cheol was losing his mind, hopping mad, but it was too late. Even writer Shirakawa gazed at him with awe bordering on worship.
"Incredible, Director Kim Cheol! You foresaw Kang Min's chaos today!"
"No, that's not—"
"Unimaginable! No wonder you couldn't say! Who'd believe it? Letting those punks' pranks birth something this insane...!"
Before that, as a writer, can't you see something's fundamentally wrong?!
What is this?! No guns anywhere!!
But the staff scattered to their tasks like pros, and Kim Cheol's rep was so stellar no one doubted his "grand plan(?)."
Everyone on set gasped and marveled nonstop.
And then,
Watching the chaos spin out of control in seconds, Kim Cheol had a late realization.
Damn it, my hunch was right...!
Korea's apex, the world's elite—Kim Cheol.
But once, there'd been one who wielded that revered figure like a rag, twisting his guts.
A genius calamity: mad antics, madder bullshit, yet results so perfect you couldn't complain.
Before him was a lunatic on that same level.
Cold sweat beaded.
Kuh, totally misread him! Overconfidence! Gotta rethink from scratch...!
But too late.
Everything already too far gone.
For one, Han Ye-seul spoke up.
"...Thank you, Director Kim Cheol."
"Uh, huh?"
"I think I get it now."
Kim Cheol turned blankly.
Han Ye-seul nodded solemnly, face etched with hard-won certainty.
"So that's what it meant. Abandoning common sense."
"Absolutely not, damn it!!"
#
After the shoot, Kang Min mingled with the crowd.
Very warm vibes.
The stunt actors approached first, wry smiles and handshakes.
"Mind-blowing. I've seen plenty who claim stunt skills, but never a monster like you."
"We'll be seeing you often soon, friend!"
"Young fella, any interest in boxing?"
"Boxing? Hell no! Real men do MMA!"
As they bantered, staff rushed apologies and reconciliations.
Some teared up with guilt.
"We sincerely apologize for our stupid prank. Blind as bats!"
"That Gonzalez punk? Promising future? Sign with us now!"
"Ahem, if you're staying, find James Madison. I owe you—anything free—"
"Ugh."
"We see through you, Madison!"
Kang Min didn't grasp the "prank," but shrugged it off magnanimously.
"What, it's all in the past, right?"
His nonchalance only deepened their admiration.
And, well—
While on-set crew rejoiced, editors tore their hair out.
American-style division dumps field chaos on post, sure—but this was excessive...
"Killer scene. Really killer... but..."
"Mm."
"Damn it, guns? Not a speck!"
"...Mm."
Insanely prime footage. Editors ached to salvage it.
But there were limits. Ditch guns for fistfights—how to sell gun prevention?
"Fists stronger than bullets, so fight fair"?
"Gotta cut it. Unusable."
"Yeah..."
"Mm, but the scene's too good..."
"Then how do we prevent guns with this?! Street Fighter OST?!"
"Yeah..."
"Mm, but the scene's too good..."
Such loops dragged, server-lag style.
Deadlock. Eyes turned to the boss. Kim Cheol would decide, naturally.
Doomed.
...But even the great Kim Cheol had no magic fix.
What trick against a catastrophe he never dreamed repeat? He just clutched his head.
How to—
As staff eyed him and he stewed, a timid voice.
"C-can I suggest something?"
"Mm? Sure! Speak up."
Han Ye-seul stepped forward; Kim Cheol brightened.
Dire straits, but he felt a bond(?) with her. Shooting with that maniac? Endless headaches, right?
He'd liked her before; now genuine fondness bloomed.
Whatever she needed, he'd help.
Tough gig for her too.
As he pondered aid, Han Ye-seul spoke.
"It's simple, right? Gun ad, but no guns highlighted."
"Right."
"Solution's easy then."
"Mm?"
"Make the protagonist a gun with two legs."
"...?"
"......?"
Silence.
All stared blankly at the producer's bizarre, common-sense-defying idea.
Kim Cheol alone gazed ceilingward: She's gone too.
No better options.
Three days later, Kang Min's gun-tossing, common-sense-ditching, New Han Ye-seul-vetted PSA hit the world.