Hong A-yun
The day after meeting Director Lee Yong-su, Yeon-woo arrived at the company and called a meeting.
In the session with the working staff, he carefully walked them through the decision to produce the screenplay Moon, beginning with his conversation with Director Park Chan-hong and ending with the meeting with Director Lee Yong-su.
"When you said you had a meeting with Director Lee Yong-su, I wondered if there was some commercial schedule the company didn't know about. But it seems you were busy moving on your own, Actor?"
Executive Director Yoon Mi-yeon shot Yeon-woo a light glance that clearly asked why he hadn't consulted the company first.
Yeon-woo scratched his head and offered an excuse.
"I was planning to just have a light conversation and then bring it to the company, but I never expected things to move this fast."
Somehow the project had advanced to the point where they could begin filming the moment casting was finished.
Location scouting had already been completed by Lee Yong-su, and production and investment fell to Saebyeol, so there was nothing else to secure. Special effects and music were, for all practical purposes, already assigned as well.
Considering how deeply Director Jeong Yo-han and Chrissy Monroe doted on Yeon-woo, even if they were currently tied to other projects they would set everything aside and place his request at the top of the list.
At that moment Representative Jeong Hyeok, who had been quietly reading the screenplay copy Yeon-woo had handed out, lifted his head with a deep hum.
"Hmm. Just reading the screenplay leaves a faint aftertaste in the heart."
That was high praise.
A screenplay was not a romance novel that piled on elaborate description; it was difficult to convey the full texture of a finished work from the pages alone. When people watched a film while following the script, the gap in quality between the final product and the written pages was often so wide that the common verdict became, "They wrote it like garbage and somehow made it perfect." Writers and directors sometimes did this deliberately—too much description could become a frame that limited the imagination of the director and actors on set.
So a screenplay is specialized in explaining situations cleanly and dryly, if you want to put it kindly. If you want to put it unkindly, it's actually a bit shabby.
For Representative Jeong Hyeok to say that even the bare story, stripped of everything else, still left a lingering feeling was, in its own way, the highest compliment.
"Then what's left is outside investment and casting. You said the director already has an actress in mind?"
At Yoon Mi-yeon's question Yeon-woo nodded.
"An unknown actress named Hong A-yun. She's left the industry and only does small theater pieces as a hobby now."
"So she's essentially a civilian…?"
"Yes. Her original agency was Plus10."
"Ah…"
Everyone at the table understood at once.
Quite a few people, including Jeong Su-yeon and Gong Min-jeong, had moved from the collapsing Plus10 to Saebyeol. The atrocities Plus10 had committed were already widely known both inside Saebyeol and throughout the industry. The single fact that she had once belonged to Plus10 was enough to guess why an actress named Hong A-yun had retired.
After a moment of thought, Yoon Mi-yeon spoke again.
"Then why don't we thoroughly check her background, ask whether she's willing to participate, and hold a private audition?"
Even if Director Lee Yong-su wanted that unknown actress, the production company still needed to verify her. Yeon-woo had already planned to do exactly that. The background check, however, was already finished—she was one of the people in Han Hae-un's database.
"I heard through someone that she's currently performing with a small troupe at a rental theater in Hongdae. She goes on stage every Tuesday and Thursday and works part-time the other days."
And today happened to be Tuesday.
Yeon-woo grinned and held out the ticket exchange vouchers he had already booked online.
"We can even hold a private audition without the actress herself knowing. Why don't you come watch a play with me?"
Representative Jeong Hyeok was busy coordinating security and local schedules for the Brazil trip, so Executive Director Yoon Mi-yeon and Manager Kim Min-su accompanied Yeon-woo to the play.
In the car heading toward Hongdae, Yoon Mi-yeon scratched her cheek.
"Honestly, if we go all the way there, watch the play, make a casting offer, and she turns us down, it'll be a little funny."
Yeon-woo smiled and lightly shook his head.
"She probably thirsts for acting more than anyone. She might be sick of the entertainment industry, but the fact that she keeps performing in a small theater like this tells you everything."
In his previous life Yeon-woo had thoroughly experienced the burning thirst of being blocked from doing what he wanted. He therefore understood, to a degree, the feelings that drove an actress named Hong A-yun onto the stage of a rental theater in Hongdae with a troupe that was barely more than amateur.
"Min-su hyung, do you usually watch plays?"
"No. Honestly, the first and last play I ever saw was the one you performed in—Mirror."
At Kim Min-su's words Yoon Mi-yeon clapped her hands lightly.
"Ah! I wanted to see that play too, but I always failed to get tickets."
"Hmm? Didn't I give you tickets?"
"No. You didn't."
At the executive director's firm answer Yeon-woo broke into a cold sweat and turned his gaze out the window.
Back then his contract with LN Entertainment had almost run out and he had no intention of renewing. Toward the end of the run he had been busy dismantling Baeksol while simultaneously founding Saebyeol.
"…Next time we do a play, I'll definitely give you opening-night tickets."
Yoon Mi-yeon's eyes lit up.
"Oh, you're going to do another play?"
"There's no plan right now, but one of our affiliates is Theater Group Saebyeol, right? We'll do one again someday."
After that earlier production became a hit, the troupe had grown more famous than many of the main-street companies in Daehangno. Jeong Cheol-min's company was currently leasing the space and staging several plays, including Mirror. Since the building itself still belonged to Yeon-woo, he remained the troupe's owner.
Our members are about to enlist, so we'll rest for a while, but someday we'll put up another play.
Yeon-woo briefly thought of Woo Seong-sik and Kim Jun-su. Even now Kim Ju-hyeong was writing new plays in the gaps between other work.
Hmm, maybe I should attach Kim Ju-hyeong to Director Lee Yong-su over this break.
Lee Yong-su was essentially a newcomer when it came to feature-length directing, so having an assistant would make things easier. And Kim Ju-hyeong's ability as a writer was more professional than most people realized; putting the two together would create real synergy.
While he was turning these thoughts over, Kim Min-su's car carrying Yeon-woo and Yoon Mi-yeon arrived in Hongdae.
Wearing a hat, a black mask, and a baggy coat, Yeon-woo stepped out of the car.
"Is this enough?"
"Yes. No one should recognize you."
Yeon-woo turned in place once and asked; Kim Min-su nodded.
Hat and mask alone were not enough—his height and proportions still stood out from ten meters away and would give him away instantly. So he had put on a long, almost raincoat-like robe that completely hid where his legs began and ended.
Yoon Mi-yeon added a comment of her own.
"It's a rather avant-garde look. Still, we're lucky it's Hongdae. There are plenty of people like this around here. Shall we go?"
Suddenly labeled "people like this," Yeon-woo followed Kim Min-su and Yoon Mi-yeon.
"What do you think?"
Looking at the empty stage after the play ended, Yeon-woo asked Yoon Mi-yeon.
"Her acting definitely stands out. She's too good for a stage this small."
Yeon-woo agreed. Of course stage acting and camera acting were different textures, but that was something he could help her adapt to.
He turned to Manager Kim Min-su for an opinion.
"Well, what would I know about acting? But I can definitely tell she's beautiful."
Even as an unknown she had been cast in commercials several times; her looks were outstanding. More importantly, it was not simply a matter of prettiness—her face suited the story of Moon.
We needed a face whose age you couldn't pin down—someone who could look twenty and thirty at the same time.
Now he understood why Director Lee Yong-su had marked this actress.
"Then shall we make contact?"
While they talked the audience had filed out; only the actors on stage and Yeon-woo's party remained in the small theater.
Yoon Mi-yeon approached the stage first.
At first Hong A-yun had watched them with puzzled eyes because they stayed seated after everyone else left. The combination was strange: a tall man wrapped from head to toe like a vampire avoiding sunlight even though the weather had already turned warm, a large man stuck to his side like a secretary or bodyguard, and a career woman who did not look romantically involved with either of them. They were definitely not the usual type of audience that came to a small theater.
Then those audience members stood and began walking toward her.
Hong A-yun smiled, ready for a photo, as Yoon Mi-yeon approached and took a business card from her pocket.
The moment Hong A-yun accepted it with a puzzled expression, her eyes went wide.
"Hello. I'm Yoon Mi-yeon, executive director of Saebyeol Media. I was deeply impressed by your performance, Actress Hong A-yun. If you have a moment, could we talk briefly?"
At those words Hong A-yun's face flooded with a complicated mix of emotions.
Ah… even if I receive a good offer, I can't accept it anyway…
An awl in a bag will always poke through no matter how carefully it is hidden. While she had been doing these small performances, industry people had come to the theater more than a few times. Every one of them approached her for casting, only to back away the moment they learned about the debt contract she still carried with Plus10.
From childhood she had been raised as a trainee, receiving both idol lessons and acting classes. The inflated costs had piled up and locked around her name like shackles; the chains only grew thicker. Even when she shot commercials the debt never shrank. In the end she could no longer endure the unreasonable demands, fled the company, and under the contract was forbidden from any entertainment activity until she repaid the hundreds of millions she owed.
But Saebyeol…
She could no longer set foot in the industry, yet her interest had not vanished. Saebyeol was currently the hottest company—the one every aspiring celebrity dreamed of after watching A-list stars live like family on their YouTube channel.
Joy at having her talent recognized and a deeper despair born from that same joy crashed over her at once. Every time industry people came with offers, her heart sank further. At first she had felt only hatred and rage toward Plus10 and the filthy parts of the business; as time passed she began to blame her own foolishness for having been used so easily since childhood.
It's a dream, but I wish I could act freely too.
The ash-gray chains binding her felt more hateful than usual today. Her eyes quickly reddened. She had held on well, yet today the tears felt ready to fall. She forced them down and opened her mouth.
"Ah… I…"
Unaware of the full story, Yoon Mi-yeon was flustered by the expression on Hong A-yun's face. She had only handed over a business card and asked for a short conversation, yet the actress looked as if she were about to cry.
Then the vampire who had been wrapped head to toe behind them began peeling off the mask and strange coat that had hidden his identity.
"Wow, this is inhumanly hot."
The temperature was still too mild for air conditioning, so the theater had none; spending an entire performance sealed inside a baggy, non-breathable outfit had nearly cooked him alive.
"Hong A-yun."
At Ryu Yeon-woo's sudden appearance, Hong A-yun's eyes and those of the other actors went round.
Yoon Mi-yeon might not understand, but Yeon-woo fully grasped why Hong A-yun was reacting this way. He knew every detail of the contract.
"I'll take care of the unfair contract with Plus10. Don't worry—can we talk for a moment?"