Who Is This Handsome Guy?
Riiiing, riiiing, riiiing. The longer the ringtone dragged on, the more Park's leg bounced. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Why isn't he picking up? He knows I got his number.
'No way he's ghosting me before we even start, right?' Kim Donghu! Do you have any idea how big this movie is or who's in it?! Just as he wanted to scream that out—
Click.
—Hello?
Kim Donghu finally answered. But his voice was surprisingly deep and mature. It didn't sound like a fourteen-year-old at all.
"Hello. This is Park Geumgang, CEO of Studio Geumgang. Is this child actor Kim Donghu's phone?"
—Yes, it is. What's this about?
"I'm calling about a movie casting. I'd love to meet you in person—how does that sound?"
—Sure, that works. Oh, by the way, this isn't Kim Donghu—I'm his manager, Choi Seokho.
The belated clarification made Park think, Of course. No wonder the voice sounded so grown-up.
'Choi Seokho? Wait, that Choi Seokho?' It wasn't the time to dwell, so Park kept his cool.
"Got it. Should I come to your agency then?"
—That'd be perfect. I'll text you the address right now. You can reach me at this number?
"Yes, thank you. See you there."
—Yep!
The booming reply drew a small chuckle from Park as he hung up. 'Finally, time to meet Kim Donghu.' He hurried to his car. In the passenger seat, the script for Kim Donghu lay waiting.
To be honest, I was curious. Why did Sims - The Real Life pick Seokho hyung? Big companies have their infrastructure, and smaller ones have their own strengths. Sure, I knew how killer his contract terms were—9:1 split and an insanely short term. But that kind of deal could come later once you're famous.
'So what makes it worth it?'
That question didn't last long. I quickly learned just how capable Seokho hyung was.
"Yes, hello. This is Choi Seokho. Forgot me already? Haha, anyway, about this time..."
The empty office—devoid of any sign of life—suddenly buzzed with energy the moment I signed. With the main piece, me the actor, in place, Seokho hyung turned into a one-man factory.
"Donghu, just tell me what projects you wanna do. We're small-time now, but with your looks, we can go for anything."
"Oh, and Park CEO from Studio Geumgang's coming by soon? Just a quick meet—cool with you?"
After rattling off questions, Seokho hyung turned serious and looked me in the eye.
"Donghu, what kind of actor do you wanna be?"
"Huh?"
"I'll tailor everything to that."
The guy who'd been laughing and chatting on calls vanished, replaced by this intense gaze. I was caught off guard.
'Never really thought about it.'
Running without a goal is dangerous. But something held me back from blurting out an answer.
"Not sure yet."
"Fair enough. Take your time—I'll back you all the way."
The mood shifted to some youth drama scene when—
Knock knock.
"Is this BeRitas Agency?"
Studio Geumgang's CEO, Park Geumgang, stepped in. Tall, slicked-back hair—a picture-perfect successful businessman.
"Yes, yes it is."
"Nice to meet you. Park Geumgang, Studio Geumgang."
"Choi Seokho, BeRitas CEO. Looking forward to working with you."
Seokho hyung swiftly guided him to a chair.
"This office has a real lived-in vibe—love it."
"Haha, thanks."
"And... you're Kim Donghu, right? Way more handsome in person. Honestly, I'm shocked."
Park flashed a broad, gentlemanly smile and extended his hand. Polished and personable, but with an undercurrent of urgency. Glancing down, I saw his shoe tapping.
'He's impatient.'
Why? What's the rush?
Anyway.
"Yes, Kim Donghu here. Thanks for the kind words."
After a light greeting, Park dove straight in once seated—no preamble, like time was gold.
"Straight to the point: We want to cast you, Kim Donghu."
A script hit the table.
Endless Frontline. I'd heard of it—a gritty film about brutal hill battles. Captured the late Korean War vividly, did well. In my past life, I'd enjoyed it.
"Mind if I read it first?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, of course."
Caught off guard by the rookie's boldness? Park smiled awkwardly. Seokho hyung jumped in to smooth things.
"Wouldn't a quick acting demo make more sense before casting?"
"True... but we're short on time."
Short on time means be extra picky, no? The thought crossed my mind, but I held it.
Not the moment.
'My script.'
Student Soldier role. No name, but a full script? Why?
To find out—
Immersion.
"I'd love to eat rice with beanpaste soup just once before I die."
My sister died without her dream fulfilled. A world filled with incomprehensible talk of ideology. Orphans like us couldn't last long.
"Live for my share too."
Her dying words clung to me like a curse. In an era where even brass bowls were seized for bullets—how do you survive?
A world where if you don't take, you're taken. Only one choice.
Like everyone else—like those who killed my sister—I decided to covet others' things. So I joined the army. Or rather, was drafted.
"To ignite the flames of revolution! You bastards, move quick!"
What even is revolution? Is writhing to avoid starvation revolution?
I think I questioned it once. But now? Forgotten. As long as I'm not hungry. I vowed to live for her share too.
Once, holding a gun was a struggle. Now, dragging corpses is routine.
"You son of a bitch! You ate my rice ball?"
"Don't accuse the innocent—what're you on about?"
Days of fighting who-knows-what. Supplies worsening, I had to survive. Even rice mixed with sand, or salt water—whatever. I wanted to live.
Kill, kill, kill again. Under the red flag. Chewing meaningless revolution slogans, pushing forward.
"Halt! Halt! You must reclaim this revolutionary hill!"
How far had we gone? At the red armband guy's order, I finally looked up. The blue sky, clear and serene—oblivious to the hell below.
Maybe my sister was happy up there.
"Reclaim this hill at all costs! Stake your lives!"
I smirked bitterly. Stake your lives while he flips the bird behind? Pathetic.
"Perfect reclamation means our great leader promises paradise on earth!"
"I'll record your feats for the party central committee!"
The clown's speech fired everyone up. Paradise on earth—does it exist?
I eyed the hill. A small mound held by South Korean bastards. How many lives for that?
Could I survive to paradise?
'If I'd known rice and beanpaste soup was this hard, I wouldn't have made that promise.'
Sister, you left too heavy a burden.
"Honestly, it's not a huge role. Not that acting doesn't matter, but the screen time's light."
Park added why the rush. If director Kang were here, he'd flip—but he's not.
'They're desperate, so looks are enough. Acting's a bonus.'
Park glanced at me. Insanely handsome, yeah. Half that face acting? Gold. Not skipping screen test entirely, but Choi Seokho as manager? Huge plus.
'Definitely that Choi Seokho.'
The one Cybers QA tried to block. Why? Simple: scary. Young exec-track talent. Pulled max potential from actors, nailed scripts. An actor under his management? Solid baseline.
Thud.
I set the script down. Seemed quick—was it thorough? Park wondered, but I spoke.
"I'm in."
"Haha, love the decisiveness. Next week: script read-through, light screen test, then contract?"
"Sounds good."
Deal sealed, Park bolted. Casting done—now crank the movie to 120%.
Time flew to the following Monday.
Kim Donghu's face started quietly spreading across the internet.