Master Plan – The Operation
Meanwhile, on the evening of the day Han Hae-un first met Jeong Hae-min and collapsed.
Han Hae-un opened his eyes in the emergency room where he had been brought.
"Oh my, are you with us, sir?"
A nurse who had been tending to another patient nearby noticed Hae-un sitting up on the cot and spoke to him.
"…Ah, yes."
Still reeling from the memories that had surged up just before he blacked out, Hae-un answered blankly.
Seeing the state he was in, the nurse continued.
"I'll go get the doctor, so please lie back down and wait a moment. Don't pull out the IV."
Hae-un hurriedly stopped the nurse as she turned to fetch the physician.
"Ah, I'm sorry. The woman who came with me—what happened to her?"
"The woman? If you mean the person who called it in, she only made the report at the scene. She didn't come along."
Hae-un nodded.
"I see. Thank you."
Ignoring the nurse's protests, he pulled out the IV himself, went to the administrative office, and paid for the emergency treatment. Gathering the coat he had been wearing, he stepped outside the hospital, found a quiet corner, and lit a cigarette with a dazed expression.
"Team Leader Jeon Su-hwan. Jeong Hae-min. Baek Yu-hyeon. Haah… Does this even make sense?"
As if he needed time to sort through his thoughts, Hae-un sat there for a long while, chain-smoking in silence.
The day after the awards ceremony. Yeon-woo arrived on set first thing in the morning.
"Ohhh. Look who it is—the rising star who just took home Best New Actor."
The staff spotted him and called out with playful grins.
"Hahaha. Come on, what are you talking about, Min-jae hyung."
"Congratulations, Yeon-woo!"
These were the people who had been watching TV the night before—whether from home or some bar—praying for him to win. Yeon-woo was grateful for every one of them.
Maseok Do came up from behind and clapped him on the shoulder.
"We've got a pretty intense scene today, huh?"
"Ah, you're here. Yeah, looks like it."
The "intense scene" Maseok Do was referring to was today's party sequence—the one where Yeon-woo's greatest strength, his meticulously detailed and endlessly shifting facial acting, would decide the entire sequence's quality.
"All right, then. Let's get ready."
"Yes, Seok-do hyung."
They headed for the dressing room set up in one corner of the rented party hall.
When Yeon-woo opened the door, Jeong Ha-gyun was already there, seated and waiting.
"Hello, sunbaenim."
Yeon-woo bowed with a smile toward Ha-gyun's reflection in the mirror.
"Ah, right. Good to see you too, Yeon-woo-ssi. I'm in the middle of makeup, so I can't move. We'll do a proper greeting in a bit."
"Of course, sunbaenim. Looking forward to working with you today."
Given that Pierre Choi and Park Kang-woo stood on opposite sides of the film's scenario and never crossed paths, this would be the first scene the two of them shot together.
Once Yeon-woo finished his own makeup, he and Jeong Ha-gyun headed out to the set together.
The doors of the party hall opened, and Park Kang-woo—boss of the Kang-woo faction—stepped inside.
"May I see your invitation, sir?"
A man in a black suit approached with polite formality.
The massive driver who had brought Park Kang-woo stepped forward and presented the invitation in his place.
"This gentleman is someone the chairman holds in high regard. Please take special care of him."
"Ah, yes. Understood."
The special treatment buoyed Park Kang-woo's confidence.
"Ahem."
He flicked the tails of his suit jacket back once and climbed the stairs with a swaggering stride. Behind him, the big driver sent a thin, knowing smile his way.
The driver was Kwak Ji-chul.
Park Kang-woo had never seen him in person—only low-level subordinates had ever come looking for Kwak—so he failed to recognize him at all.
Laughter rose from every corner of the party hall beyond. With no familiar faces in sight, Park Kang-woo wandered, glancing this way and that.
"Oh my. I thought you were a golf pro, but it seems I was mistaken?"
At the sound of a woman's voice he turned and found "Deer" Jennifer watching him.
"Wait—the lady from the driving range?"
Park Kang-woo's expression grew complicated. The beauty he had been quietly harassing at the neighboring tee was important enough to be invited here—connected to someone powerful. The realization put him on edge.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Yoo Chae-yeon. I usually hate these kinds of gatherings, but my father insisted so much… Thanks to the way you patiently coached me that day, my swing's gotten so much better. Funny running into you here."
"Ahaha. I'm no pro—just a hobbyist. I run a construction company."
"Oh, really? So you're a CEO in the same industry as my family?"
Jennifer, playing Yoo Chae-yeon, beamed and held out her hand. Relieved that she seemed to have genuinely taken it as a golf lesson, Park Kang-woo shook it.
From there Jennifer stayed in character as Yoo Chae-yeon, guiding Park Kang-woo around the hall and introducing him to the guests according to the carefully prepared script. The entire party was a fabrication of Pierre Choi's making. Every attendee was a professional con artist–actor who had been paid to gather from across the country.
Whose daughter is she? A Yoo in construction…? Don't tell me she's Chairman Yoo Gyeong-hwan's kid?
To Park Kang-woo's eyes, every person in the hall seemed to be watching Yoo Chae-yeon, eager for even a single word with her. Trailing after Jennifer as she played that role, his confidence swelled by the minute. One glass of champagne, then two—true to his boastful nature, his voice grew steadily louder.
"Okay, cut."
Director Park Chan-hong's call of approval sent the crew scrambling to reset the cameras, pre-positioning them for the next sequence's blocking.
The next scene was the first collision between Pierre Choi and Park Kang-woo inside the party hall.
"All right—if you're ready, let's roll."
Yeon-woo, who had been waiting, stepped forward. He gave a slight bow toward Jeong Ha-gyun, still in character as Park Kang-woo.
"Looking forward to working with you today, sunbaenim."
"You're the one doing the hard work, Yeon-woo-ssi."
"Yeon-woo, fighting!"
Beside them, Han So-hyun—Jennifer, playing Yoo Chae-yeon—cheered him on. Yeon-woo flashed her a grin and took a few steps back.
Director Park Chan-hong's voice carried from a distance.
"Ready—action!"
At the signal, Jeong Ha-gyun became Park Kang-woo again: a little drunk, laughing too loudly as he talked with Yoo Chae-yeon.
Then Pierre Choi appeared.
Sauntering with a champagne flute, he surveyed the hall without watching where he was going—and collided with Park Kang-woo. The collision was, of course, deliberate.
"Ah, shit… What the hell?!"
Park Kang-woo scowled at his now-damp suit. He nearly spat a full curse in his usual fashion, then caught himself, conscious of Yoo Chae-yeon at his side.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry. It's my first time somewhere like this—I got distracted looking around."
Pierre Choi's face crumpled into pure, abject servility. Those large, deer-like eyes shrank, unable to hold Park Kang-woo's gaze; they flicked anxiously left and right. The whole of his expression—hunched, terrified, desperately reading the other man's mood—was so vivid it seemed to press against the skin.
Watching Yeon-woo's face live on the monitors, the directing team murmured in admiration. That a face so sculpted, so handsome, could bare such naked, cringing baseness…
Director Park Chan-hong thought that, when it came to detailed facial acting alone, Ryu Yeon-woo—newcomer or not—could stand against anyone. The rest of the directing staff watching beside him felt the same.
Park Kang-woo, in a good mood, might have accepted the apology and let it go—until he noticed that he was not the only one whose clothes had been ruined. Yoo Chae-yeon was frowning down at her dress.
His mind spun.
This bastard said it's his first time somewhere like this, so he can't be anyone important.
He eyed the cringing Pierre Choi.
Pretty face, though—probably just a small fry they turned loose for the madams. Right now, scoring points with Yoo Chae-yeon—who seems well-connected and from a powerful family—matters more.
Decision made, Park Kang-woo seized Pierre Choi by the collar.
"Listen, kid. I don't care about myself, but you insulted the lady. That needs settling."
"Ah—I'm sorry. I'll pay for the dry cleaning."
The moment his collar was grabbed, Pierre Choi's face went faintly terrified; he fumbled abjectly for his back pocket.
"Ha. Like anyone here is short on cash. We'll settle this another way."
Still gripping Pierre Choi's collar, Park Kang-woo dragged him toward the restrooms.
"Oh my, Representative Park. You really don't have to do this on my account…"
Yoo Chae-yeon—no, Jennifer—let the words trail off, more fox than deer now. Park Kang-woo waved it off as nothing and continued toward the restrooms with Pierre Choi in tow.
As he was hauled away, Pierre Choi looked back at Yoo Chae-yeon. She had slipped fully into Jennifer again, licking her lips with interest and sending him a wink. Pierre Choi pulled a comically pouty face at her—as if to say what a piece of work—then, the instant his eyes met Park Kang-woo's, snapped back into cringing servility. The moment the other man looked away, his expression shifted again into that of an intrigued, mischievous brat.
In the span of a few seconds the man cycled through an astonishing range of faces, less Pierre than a full-blown pierrot.
"Okay. Cut. Nice."
Director Park Chan-hong was thoroughly satisfied with Yeon-woo's protean, flawless performance. A man who almost never voiced emotion clapped and called out "Nice."
"The director just said 'nice.' That means dinner's on him tonight, people!"
Assistant Director Kang In-chan's shout set the whole crew clapping and laughing. Riding the good energy on set, Director Park Chan-hong rolled straight into the next take.
Park Kang-woo dragged Pierre Choi by the collar toward the restrooms. The moment they rounded the corner, men in black suits closed in.
"Wh-what is this? Look, there's been a misunderstanding—I'm Chairman Noh's guest, and this guy over there—"
Thwack—
Ghk.
Kwak Ji-chul, hidden among the suited men, brought a club down on the back of Park Kang-woo's head. He went out cold on impact.
"Well? Feel better?"
Pierre Choi straightened his twisted necktie and asked Kwak Ji-chul.
"…Yes. That felt damn good."
"But you know—what a shame. This is only the beginning. Heh."
Pierre Choi tapped the fallen Park Kang-woo's backside with the toe of his shoe and smiled in a way that raised the hair on the back of the neck.
When Park Kang-woo's consciousness returned and his eyes opened, all he saw was darkness.
"Mmmph!"
He tried to shout, but the wad of cotton stuffed in his mouth reduced everything to muffled noise. Then a voice seemed to speak from beyond the wall.
—Looks like that package from earlier is awake. Pull him out.
Boom—!
Crrrack—
A thunderous crash, the sound of wood splintering, and light flooded in. Park Kang-woo's vision, adapted to the dark, recovered only gradually. From the wooden shards scattered around him, it was clear he had been bound and sealed inside a wooden crate.