Master Plan – Production Press Conference
The martial arts director had been feeding Yeon-woo jabs and straights in a practical, unflashy combination, switching stances as they went — then, without warning, he snuck a hook in with the mitt.
Coming off a straight, the sudden attack should have either landed clean or forced a head-slip from anyone with decent reflexes. That was what the director expected.
But Yeon-woo hadn't learned boxing. He had learned combat. And in real combat, you didn't gamble on a dodge. When a bayonet, a knife, or an axe came flying at the end of a rifle, missing the dodge meant dying. Movies could afford the flourish. Reality could not.
He raised his left hand, deflected the hook, and flicked a light jab back with the opposite fist. Off-balance, the martial arts director had no choice but to slip out of range.
The mitt came again. Yeon-woo stepped in on the same line as his jab, cracked the director's wrist with his elbow to knock the hook aside, and used the spin to drive a right straight through.
The sequence was so deeply burned into his body from endless drills that it came out like choreography — reflexive, fluid. At the last instant he checked the punch, his fist barely grazing the director's cheek.
Hoo. That almost went all the way through.
Yeon-woo pulled his hand back, relieved. The martial arts director's eyes were wide open, replaying the exchange in his head.
If this had been a real match, that exploratory hook would have been his first and last attack — answered by a cross-counter that would have put him on the floor for a KO.
"…Huh. Actor-nim. Sorry, what did you say your name was?"
"Ryu Yeon-woo. If I was out of line, I apologize."
Martial arts director Do Gwang-uk shook his head hard.
"No, that's not it. Out of line? I proposed the test."
He looked at Yeon-woo with bright, eager eyes.
"If it's not too much to ask — once filming wraps, would you mind dropping by for a light spar when you have time? Right now we can't risk anything happening to your face, so after the production's done."
"Mm. Sure. Understood."
Yeon-woo nodded as if it were no trouble at all, though the martial arts director's sparkling stare was a little much. Privately he figured even a spar right now wouldn't leave a mark on his face — but he saw no reason to say so out loud.
"Where did you train, by the way?"
In this industry, most people knew each other by face. The director was genuinely curious whose school Yeon-woo had come from.
Yeon-woo's mouth closed. He had no good answer.
Self-taught… yeah, that won't fly.
With nothing better, he went with whatever was at hand.
"At my acting academy. Figured I might shoot action scenes someday, so…"
"Oh, an acting academy…? Your instructor there must be seriously high-level."
The martial arts director tilted his head, skeptical — but the kid said so, so what was he going to do about it?
Somewhere in Daejeon, Jeong Cheol-min — who had just been promoted to martial arts master without his knowledge — was eating jjamppong with Teacher Lee when he scratched his ear.
"Aigoo, someone's talking about me."
After that, Yeon-woo and Yu-han took up foam practice swords and started running the action choreography.
Jin Yu-han, with his experience, locked in the blocking at impressive speed. Yeon-woo, who had never worked a pre-set hit-and-dodge sequence before, floundered more than expected at the start.
"Harder than I thought."
"For a first time, you're picking it up ridiculously fast. Two days of this and you'll have it cold."
Yu-han ran the newly learned sequence again as he said it, offering the encouragement without looking up. And just as he predicted, once Yeon-woo found the feel, the two of them started locking in.
Yeon-woo discovered he was enjoying the action work more than he'd expected.
"This is… actually pretty fun? Once the timing clicks."
Yu-han grinned and nodded.
"Right? It's like dancing. That same hit when a group number finally locks."
They spent the whole day clacking foam sticks together like blades, and by the end of it they felt a little closer.
Off in a corner of the gym, one man was watching the whole thing with a sour look.
Jin Yu-han, fine, I'll give him that. But where the hell did this other guy come from, suddenly landing a lead?
Park Gyeong-wan worked action for the special effects unit and had lately started booking slightly meatier supporting parts. Watching Ryu Yeon-woo laugh and run choreography next to Jin Yu-han twisted something in his gut.
I've been grinding it out from bit parts up, step by step — and this guy drops out of nowhere into a lead. Earlier, just because the director cut him some slack, he had the nerve to throw hands.
He didn't have the guts to pick a fight right there. But the way the special effects crew looked at Yeon-woo — like he was some major celebrity — grated just as badly.
I've got a real part too. Why doesn't anyone look at me like that?
No one had wronged him. Still, inferiority had its teeth in him, and Park Gyeong-wan ground his molars.
Action practice wrapped, and principal photography began in earnest.
"Alright, people — first air date's locked, so let's dig in and shoot!"
"Okay—!"
The assistant director's rallying cry put fire into the set. But Yeon-woo was elsewhere that day.
A thirty-second teaser had dropped online the day before. Today was the production press conference.
Word of Park Chan-hong's new film had been circulating for months, and not just among cinephiles — ordinary audiences were paying attention too. Park Chan-hong had never broken through at the overseas festivals, but domestically he was a director whose box office track record spoke for itself.
The moment the teaser hit, the internet lit up.
Yeon-woo skimmed the reactions on the way to a theater in Apgujeong. When he arrived, the place rang a bell.
"Ah, we're doing it here? This is where we came for Spring's Lover."
"It's a big venue, so a lot of these get held here."
A waiting staffer found his car almost immediately and led him up to the green room. He opened the door onto faces he hadn't seen in months.
"Oh, Yeon-woo's here."
"Yeon-woooo. Feels like forever."
Jeong Ha-gyun — who played syndicate boss Park Kang-woo — greeted him warmly. But Han So-hyun got there first, bolting across the room and grabbing his hands. She bounced in front of him like an overexcited beagle until he gently settled her down, then turned to greet Jeong Ha-gyun properly.
"Sunbae-nim, you worked so hard on this shoot. And now the release is finally close."
"Haha, hard work? That's just the villain's lot."
He wasn't wrong. Over the course of filming, Jeong Ha-gyun had been beaten, rolled, forced to his knees, and thrown around more times than he could count.
Once the greetings were done and Yeon-woo sat down along one wall, So-hyun's expression dimmed a little.
"You heard about Jun-ho."
"Yes, noona. I figured not contacting him right now would help more than anything, so I was going to reach out later."
"I kept writing and deleting messages asking if he was okay. Never sent them."
Of course, Yeon-woo knew Byeon Hak-gyu of Plus10 was tangled up in it — which meant it might not be a simple drug case. He had Han Hae-un running a separate investigation into the real situation. He was also getting regular reports on the prosecution's progress: so far, nothing beyond the non-custodial indictment and ongoing questioning. No special developments.
He and Han So-hyun were still talking when the door opened and Park Chan-hong walked in with Maseok Do.
"Director."
"Been a while."
That made five — everyone scheduled for today's press conference. The three already in the room stood to exchange greetings, and a staffer came in to announce they were about to start.
"We'll have you onstage now, everyone."
They filed out in order and stepped onto the stage to a wave of cheers.
Waaaaah!
Director and cast took in the house, offered natural bows, and settled into their seats. Yeon-woo had heard that beyond the press, a handful of general fans selected by lottery were also in the audience.
Announcer Kim Min-a traded eye contact with the cast, took her cue, and lifted the mic.
"Good afternoon. I'm Kim Min-a, hosting today's production press conference for Master Plan. Thank you to all the members of the press and the fans who joined us today."
She drew a breath and continued.
"A film that generated buzz from the earliest stages of production — here are the cast of Master Plan."
Cheers and applause rolled through the hall again as she introduced them.
"The energy in the room is incredible. Before we meet the director and cast, let's start with a look at the footage."
The house lights went down. On the screen behind them, a cut of the trailer — longer than yesterday's teaser — began to play.
The early sequence of Maseok Do's Kwak Ji-chul being humiliated flashed by, then Pierre Choi arriving at the airport, sliding off his sunglasses. When Yeon-woo's face filled the screen, a murmur of pure appreciation for his looks rippled through the seats.
A brief cut of Kwak Ji-chul and Pierre Choi's first meeting in a motel followed. Han So-hyun's Deer Jennifer led a parade of specialists filing in one after another. And then, last of all, Pierre Choi's line:
One corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked, magnetic smile — and the screen went black.
The house lights came back up.
"Even from the trailer alone, this is a film to get excited about. Director Park Chan-hong, would you care to tell us a little about Master Plan yourself?"
The announcer handed the floor to Park Chan-hong with practiced ease. He lifted the mic.
"A well-made crime entertainment film. The chemistry between Ryu Yeon-woo and Maseok Do shines. We made it fun. Come see it in theaters."
Short, blunt, and pure Park Chan-hong.
"Haha. A introduction that shows the director's confidence. Next…"
The questions moved to Maseok Do — stories of ad-libbing on set, of shooting in a lively, good-humored atmosphere — and then the mic came around to Ryu Yeon-woo.