How Is This Even Possible? (2)
Director Hwang Gwang-pyo's promise to spare no support for The Spy and I had been no empty gesture.
"You're looking awfully cheerful, Writer."
"PD Min... is this really the production office for The Spy and I?"
"It is. Though I have to admit, I'm a little choked up myself. I expected some support, but I never dreamed they'd clear out an entire office for us."
A spacious room had been set aside for the production team of The Spy and I.
While hunting for a usable space within the KSM drama department, they had stumbled upon an office previously used by an older drama team. The original plan had been to keep it empty for the next project after The Spy and I wrapped, but with the stakes suddenly raised, handing it over was the first show of support — a gesture meaning: let's do this thing properly.
"Which way is the Director's office, by any chance? I feel like I should offer a deep bow before we even start."
"I couldn't tell you exactly, but it's somewhere upstairs in this building, so just aim at a wall and bow at it."
Truth be told, the office given to the The Spy and I team was hardly luxurious. But the simple fact that they had been granted a private workspace of their own carried real weight.
The less you expect from the start, the sweeter it feels when something actually comes through.
And when they saw the proper conference room set up at the far end of the office, the meaning ran even deeper.
"We're recording the script reading, right?"
"That's the plan. It was originally a filler slot, so it wasn't in the schedule, but now it feels like a proper prime-time slot — we ought to leave a real record of it."
"Haaah..."
"What's wrong?"
"It's just...! It's just too much...!"
At PD Min Byung-dae's words, Writer Ryu Soo-min covered her mouth with both hands and stomped her feet in place.
The truth was, the script she had originally written for The Spy and I was not a work into which she had poured her heart. What the KSM drama department had wanted from the beginning was a modest, middle-of-the-road production of appropriate scale.
Written with a filler slot in mind, the project had been chosen by the network with budget and ease of production as the top priorities, and Ryu Soo-min had written precisely to that brief.
A safe script — provocative in the right measure, without excessive action, with subdued emotional swings, and acting that wouldn't be too demanding.
A "safe" work, was it...
She had never intended to inject any personal philosophy into it. From the moment she began sketching characters, she had designed figures not to be beloved but merely to avoid being disliked, stripping out every element that could draw criticism.
But the situation had changed now.
Is there really any reason to keep it as it is?
A string of unexpected luck had raised the caliber of The Spy and I. She had no intention of swinging the pendulum so far it became unmanageable, but denying that ambition stirred in her as a writer would have been a lie.
"PD Min, let's do this one properly."
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Let's make this one count."
The first script reading, one week away. As the signal flare announcing the beginning of The Spy and I, they intended to be fully prepared.
That said...
Ever since finishing his meeting with PD Min Byung-dae, one thing had been nagging at Min.
An unknown actor suddenly becoming a lead — that's going to cause some grumbling.
Han Seol had no proper broadcast credits to speak of, let alone dramas, and now he had vaulted straight into a leading role. The production staff who had witnessed his acting had no complaints whatsoever, but for the other actors, it was impossible not to be a sensitive subject.
And sure enough, exactly that happened.
"I heard a rumor the leads for The Spy and I changed. Is it true?"
"It's not a rumor. Well — technically the lead didn't change, one was added."
"Added?"
"From what I heard..."
On the day of the The Spy and I script reading, word of the lead casting — officially unannounced — had been circulating on every tongue for some time.
The subject, naturally, was a certain actor whose name no one knew.
Each person had their own theory for why this nobody had suddenly seized a lead role.
There was the rumor that Han Seol was the secret son of Director Hwang Gwang-pyo of KSM.
The rumor that Nam Yoo-hee, the idol he had saved, had thrown a tantrum insisting he be made a lead actor.
And then there was the slander that, whatever else might be true, at least one casting director had been paid to slot him into the lead — a rumor that, among those who knew Yoon Gwang-shik, was gaining credibility by the day.
But setting all of that aside, the person with the greatest grievance about this whole situation was, without question, one man.
Kim Ji-hyuk — the original male lead of The Spy and I.
What on earth is going on here?
He simply could not make sense of the situation.
In a romance drama, the leads were, as a rule, two people. A male lead and a female lead — and every other character existed as kindling to make those two shine brighter.
The male lead in particular had to win the heroine's love at the end and close out the story, which made the whole thing that much harder to swallow.
It was supposed to be my first chance to shine as a lead...
Besides, there had been a special reason why Kim Ji-hyuk, an idol, had chosen The Spy and I as his debut project.
Kim Ji-hyuk was a sub-vocalist with a faint presence even within the idol group Bright Kids. His singing was above average and his dancing passable, but next to the core members who took center, his skill fell just one notch short.
It wasn't that Kim Ji-hyuk hadn't worked hard. If anything, his practice hours were excessive enough to border on self-punishment — but talent is talent, and the gap had proven impossible to close.
He could never stand out among the members on singing and dancing alone.
And so he had wanted a new challenge, and after much agonizing, the answer he arrived at was the path of "actor."
After finishing discussions with his agency, he threw every ounce of energy into finding a project where his talent could shine. Then, as luck would have it, he received word that a lead role had opened up in a drama flying under everyone's radar.
He had truly prepared with everything he had. He sought out acquaintances who had acted — whether in cameos or bit parts — to beg for advice, tracked down scripts on his own, and rehearsed every role by himself.
And, remarkably, Kim Ji-hyuk had a gift for acting.
It wasn't the kind of power that could captivate someone with a single line, but perhaps thanks to the brutal grind of idol life, he had naturally come to sense how to project his presence in front of a camera.
Thus he had passed the audition and won the lead in The Spy and I. An unexpected triumph no one had seen coming — least of all himself.
Not that the pay is much...
Ordinary bit actors worked off a standard appearance-fee chart, but drama leads and name-value supporting actors were a different matter. A famous actor could negotiate his own price up through deals, so contracts were usually struck separately through the agency.
Kim Ji-hyuk, despite holding a lead role, had been forced to sign off the standard fee chart.
The unpopular member of a popular group. An actor whose name no one knew, never mind his acting.
But precisely because of that, he had felt The Spy and I was a perfect fit for him.
He hadn't stepped onto the stage of the living-room screen for money in the first place. The point was simply to let the world know that "Kim Ji-hyuk, sub-vocalist of Bright Kids" existed. Discovering a talent for acting he'd never known he had along the way was a bonus.
And if the project flopped, so be it — it had no commercial value to speak of anyway. There would be nothing to regret.
But that entire plan had begun to come apart, completely, thanks to one person crashing the party.
Han Seol... I think he was one of the extras back then.
He remembered hearing the name around the time of the truck accident. An ambulance rushing in, and the PD asking for the name of the extra who had saved Nam Yoo-hee.
I don't know what his reason is for shoving his way into a lead role out of nowhere, but.
There could not be two male leads in one story. And if that story needed one male lead, it had to be him.
Kim Ji-hyuk clenched both fists and resolved: when Han Seol arrived, he would show him the very best his acting had to offer.
"Ah, Actor Han Seol is here!"
The moment Han Seol arrived at the The Spy and I production office, AD Cho Eun-bi — the first to spot him — greeted him with a radiant smile.
"You came right on time! What a relief."
"I'm relieved I wasn't late. Though... you're AD Cho Eun-bi, correct?"
"Huh? Eh? How did you..."
Flustered by the question, Cho Eun-bi ventured a cautious objection — then quickly remembered she had texted him, and nodded.
"Ah right, I did text you. That's how you remember..."
"Hmm? No, that's not it. We met back then, didn't we? Don't you remember?"
At Han Seol's sudden words, Cho Eun-bi's heart began pounding in earnest panic. When Han Seol had first come to set as a background extra, she herself had been the one to guide him. But that moment had passed so briefly, she'd naturally assumed she was the only one who would remember him.
"Good to see you again. Thank you for showing me the way, back then."
Han Seol remembered her, too.
"Wha — ah! Thank, thank you."
"For what, exactly?"
"Oh, no, no. Just — for remembering me."
"Remembering you is only natural. Though I have to ask — are you guiding me around again today? I'm honored."
"Hehe..."
Cho Eun-bi flushed crimson, wearing a goofy smile. It wasn't just his handsome face. It was the sight of him during the accident, pulling a woman to safety like the hero of an action movie — she had fallen for him, hard and completely.
"S-so, shall we head this way?"
"Yes, please lead the way."
"Okay... yes, of course..."
Han Seol followed Cho Eun-bi toward the back of the office. Familiar faces gradually came into view — among them PD Min Byung-dae and the rest of the production crew, bustling about in preparation for the day's script reading.
"Actor Han Seol, your seat is back there."
Han Seol, glancing around for his seat, turned his gaze toward where Cho Eun-bi was pointing — a spot at the far end of the table, clearly meant for a role of considerable importance. He tilted his head and asked her.
"Hmm... that seat seems awfully central."
"Oh, does it feel like too much? Should I ask someone to move it?"
"No, it's not that it's overwhelming — it's just, seats like that are usually for the leads or the senior actors, aren't they?"
"Huh?"
Cho Eun-bi let out a short, bewildered exclamation.
"Did you not get the text I sent? Hmm... that doesn't seem possible, though?"
"I received the text just fine. I was a little thrown when I spotted a typo in it, though..."
"A t-typo? I'm so sorry! What did I get wrong..."
"The role I'm playing — Muyoung — was listed as a lead, not a bit part."
"......?"
Cho Eun-bi's brow creased briefly at his words. And then, a moment later —
"Then you read it correctly."
"I'm sorry?"
"You are a lead of The Spy and I, Han Seol-ssi. The script was revised, and the leads went from two to three."
"......"
At her words, his brain briefly ceased to function.
How was he supposed to explain this...
Right. Yes.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Apparently words were going to be beyond him after all.
"Everyone, the script reading is about to begin! Please take your seats!"
Barely reining in his drifting sanity, I sat down in "my" seat — the one with Han Seol: Muyoung written across it in letters large enough to read from across the room.
Han Seol — as Muyoung
What on earth had happened here?
Back when they had summoned a mere extra for a script reading with no warning or explanation, I had simply accepted it — ah, so KSM does readings even for extras. But now my position had abruptly transformed from extra to lead...
And honestly, part of me wondered whether I was dreaming — yet I didn't exactly dislike it, either.
For now, focus on the reading.
There was no time to sit around dazed. The leads and supporting cast, gathered around the table, were reciting their lines and moving slowly through the scenes.
Cameras were even rolling, recording the entire reading. Setting aside the fact that nothing made sense, I had no intention of ruining a smoothly progressing reading by making a mess of my one moment in the spotlight.
It was nearly time for the idol sitting over there — Kim Ji-hyuk — to read his lines. I was up right after him, so all I had to do was watch the timing and pick up my cue cleanly.
But then —
Just as everyone was reading their parts lightly, Kim Ji-hyuk dropped his voice low and slipped into character.
Heads turned all around the table, eyes going wide at the sudden shift in tone.
Astonishingly, his acting wasn't bad. No — it was so clean for an idol's first real turn that it bordered on unsettling.
But I, watching Kim Ji-hyuk's sudden sprint out of the gate, simply smiled brightly and looked at Kim Ji-hyuk —
No.
At Kim Ha-jin of The Spy and I.