The Doll
Before long, Yeon-woo lifted his hips just enough to squeeze in beside Maseok Do, worming his way toward the monitor.
"Ah, it's tight! You elephant."
Something had clearly shifted. Yeon-woo launched into the scene with newfound confidence, and Maseok Do matched his rhythm without missing a beat. The massive frame was comically shoved aside by Yeon-woo's leaner build.
"Hey now, come on."
"Come on? Hey nooow?"
Pierre Choi dragged the words out, glaring at Kwak Ji-chul. Ji-chul flinched under that murderous stare, then stammered out a protest.
"Q-quit picking on me already! Come on. Seriously."
"Hahaha."
Pierre Choi threw his head back and laughed like a madman, then twisted his neck with a sharp crack. His face transformed into something demonic, radiating raw charisma.
"Hey. Kwak Ji-chul."
At Pierre Choi's low, gravelly voice, the hulking Kwak Ji-chul's neck shrank into his shoulders like a turtle's.
"You think the fee you offered can even cover the rates of the team I brought in? That deer over there won't so much as twitch for less than five hundred grand."
Pierre Choi pointed at the monitor as he spoke. On the screen, Jennifer had just slipped free of Park Kang-woo's grip and was walking toward the water cooler; she flipped off the CCTV camera with her middle finger as she went.
"Why did I take this job? To clean those guys out? Well, yeah, that's part of it."
Yeon-woo nodded toward the thugs on the monitor, then turned his gaze back to Kwak Ji-chul.
"…I thought you were helping because you felt sorry for my family's situation."
Kwak Ji-chul folded his massive frame as small as he could, making space and sliding the chair farther toward Yeon-woo.
"Sorry for you? Don't make me laugh. In the world I live in, bullying that pathetic doesn't even get reported to the parents."
"…Uh, but, Fixer, sir… what does that have to do with you taking up so much of the chair…?"
Pierre Choi suddenly pulled a handgun from his pocket. Kwak Ji-chul recoiled in shock, both hands flying up.
In truth, the unexpected turn had genuinely startled Maseok Do, and the camera caught every authentic flicker of surprise on his face.
"Kwak Ji-chul. This is your instructor speaking. Drop and give me push-ups. Now!"
"N-now!"
The camera frame had been locked on them while seated, so when Maseok Do dropped to the floor, only his broad back and rear filled the shot—making the whole thing even funnier.
"I took this job for exactly one reason, Client Kwak Ji-chul."
Click—
Pierre Choi pulled the trigger. A pathetic little lighter flame sputtered up from the muzzle.
"Because it's fun. Joke."
One corner of his mouth curled as he looked at Park Kang-woo on the CCTV feed. That mischievous smile carried an aura no one could touch.
"Okay! Cut!"
An okay after only half a day. Applause and cheers erupted across the set at Yeon-woo's meticulously "planned" improvisation.
Meanwhile, Yeon-woo hurriedly hauled Maseok Do up from the push-up position.
"Seok-do hyung, I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? But when did you even prep this? Scared the hell out of me."
The clean okay lightened Seok-do's mood; he clapped Yeon-woo on the shoulder.
"Scene probably cut great. That was good, Yeon-woo."
Grateful that Seok-do had rolled with the ad-lib exactly as intended, Yeon-woo smiled.
Director Park Chan-hong turned to the assistant director beside him.
"That spark of creativity from an actor on set. The young one's leveled up another notch today."
This was precisely why the AD respected working under Park Chan-hong—even if it sometimes felt like the director casually tossed the important scenes to the actors.
Meanwhile, one hour earlier.
"Do they even sell those anymore? Where the hell am I supposed to find one?"
Faced with Yeon-woo's sudden, desperate request for a toy lighter gun, Min-su floored it out of the remote set location and into downtown Paju.
He had already hit four convenience stores, stationery shops, and a big-box mart; every clerk said they hadn't seen one in ages. Having watched Yeon-woo grind through the morning shoot, Min-su's insides were burning.
Ryu Yeon-woo was no longer just the actor he managed. He was a ridiculously kind little brother—and, separate from the company paycheck, the best employer who personally piled bonuses on him. That was why Min-su was desperate to help somehow.
Driving down a side street toward yet another shop, he spotted one.
"Huh? …Maybe there?"
He slammed the car to the curb and bolted inside—a claw-machine arcade that had sprouted like weeds a few years back during the boom, then withered just as fast.
"Please, please."
Min-su muttered the prayer as he scanned the machines. He swept the interior at speed and found it: a plush with a lighter gun hanging from it.
"Yes! It's here! It's here!"
He wanted to scream jackpot. But the prizes inside a claw machine weren't his yet. He converted a fat stack of bills at the unmanned changer and started feeding the machine.
Most of those things were bait prizes, though, and winning one was never easy. Minutes ticked by; three useless plushies near the lighter came up instead.
"Ah, this is basically impossible with the claw."
Then the notice on the wall caught his eye.
If the machine malfunctions or you run into any problems, please call the number below.
Min-su dialed in a hurry.
"Hello?"
"Ah, are you the owner of the claw-machine place? We're in the middle of a film shoot and we urgently need the lighter gun among the prizes inside. I'll pay whatever it takes—can you come open it right away?"
"Ah, what should I do… I'm a bit far right now… I was going to head over anyway, but it'll take about forty minutes?"
"Ah, then I'm sorry, but please get here as fast as you can. I'm begging you."
The second he hung up, Min-su converted every bill left in his wallet and stacked the coins beside the machine.
"Damn it. Let's see who wins."
For thirty solid minutes he locked onto that one target, attacking with the scrawny three-pronged claw.
"Yes! Right there, good, good."
At last the claw slipped between the yellow rubber band tying the lighter to the plush. The doll rose, dangling precariously with the lighter gun.
"Ohhh. Please!"
Ziiing—
Thud—!
A heavy drop, and the plush with the lighter tumbled into the prize chute.
"Waaaaah!"
Min-su screamed like a maniac inside the empty claw-machine shop. Thirty minutes of battle. Fifty minutes since leaving the set. Victory.
"No—this isn't the time."
He raced back to the car. Since he'd already won them, he scooped up the extra plushies too and sprinted with an armful.
After wrapping the day's shoot successfully, Yeon-woo climbed into the car home, body completely spent. He clasped the hands of the day's MVP, Min-su, with both of his own and poured out thanks with sparkling eyes.
Even he felt today's experience had pushed his acting up another level.
But… had the car always looked like this?
"Min-su hyung, did you always keep this many plushies in the car?"
"Haa… that's a long story if I explain it."
Min-su's car rolled from Paju toward Seoul.
The cherry blossoms that had bloomed so brilliantly were beginning to fade as mid-April arrived, and filming rolled forward without a hitch. They weren't shooting in scene-number order, of course, but by the script they had reached roughly the midpoint.
According to intel gathered by the information broker "Junk Shop," there was a major underworld player called "Chairman No" who had backed Park Kang-woo during his organization days in Incheon. Park Kang-woo had fallen into debt with Chairman No over money-management issues at the establishments, missed a payment deadline, and been cast out of the good graces of a man who prized trust above all else.
The reason Park Kang-woo had overextended into Gyeonggi Province, hired Kwak Ji-chul, and resorted to threats was simple: the Kang-woo faction's funding pipeline had gone unstable.
Pierre Choi had recorded the voice of one of Chairman No's close aides; Kwak Ji-chul converted it into a program and built a voice modulator. Then, using the SIM card Jennifer had swapped into Park Kang-woo's phone, Kwak Ji-chul successfully hacked the smartphone and placed a call that displayed a different outgoing number.
Rrring— Click.
"Well, if it isn't Manager Gu! It's been a while."
The connection tone gave way to a voice bright with forced delight. Park Kang-woo.
Kwak Ji-chul, wearing headphones, gave the okay sign. Pierre Choi leaned into the mic.
"President Park—no, Chairman Park now, isn't it? I heard the news that you've reinvented yourself as a construction company."
"Hahaha. Chairman? Please. I'd be terrified if Chairman No overheard that."
Pierre's voice was flawlessly modulated into that of Chairman No's right-hand man, Manager Gu, and transmitted.
"Then let's stick with Representative Park. Representative Park, the Chairman is holding a banquet soon."
A gathering where the people Chairman No sponsored met to exchange information and network. An invitation to that party was effectively a declaration that Chairman No intended to sponsor you again. Even when Park Kang-woo had actually been under Chairman No's wing, he had never received such an invitation.
"…You're telling me about the banquet… meaning…?"
"The Chairman said enough time has passed and ordered us to call Representative Park again. Didn't Chairman No always favor you especially?"
"Aigoo, what an honor. Please convey my deepest gratitude, Manager Gu."
"Yes, Representative. We'll send someone soon. You know the rules, of course? Absolute silence about the banquet, and you attend alone."
Whether such a rule actually existed, Park Kang-woo had no way of knowing. But the hope of re-entering the underworld mainstream after falling from Chairman No's favor made him bow repeatedly toward the invisible phone.
"Yes. I'll keep that firmly in mind."
Click—
The call ended. Beside him, Kwak Ji-chul—who had been monitoring the conversation in real time—thrust out a hand for a high-five in pure triumph.
Pierre Choi grinned back, reached out… then suddenly pulled his hand away and switched to a fist-pump instead, just to mess with him.
Kwak Ji-chul's massive, muscular arm slapped empty air. He scratched his head, sheepish, and muttered,
"Come on, seriously. Embarrassing. I'm not a kid."
"Come ooon? Kid?"
Pierre stretched the words again. By now Kwak Ji-chul had adapted; he casually slipped the headset back on and grumbled,
"Aigoo, I've got a mountain of work left."
Watching him, Pierre Choi let out a quiet snort of laughter.
"Okay, cut!"
At Director Park Chan-hong's okay, Maseok Do pulled off the headset and opened his mouth.