One Stroke, Two Halves
"...As expected, they say it's not possible."
Gazing at the message that had just arrived, Joo Youngman, the producer for Geomgeom Baek Dongsu, drummed his fingers on the table. Even though he could have found a replacement actor anytime, he'd delayed until the end because the agency for the child actor playing Jaun had stubbornly insisted it was doable right up to the last minute. Treating actors not as humans, but as machines that churn out money through their activities.
'And then they'll blame the actor in the articles.'
It rubbed him the wrong way, but whatever—it didn't matter anymore. He'd found a replacement right away.
"You're sure Kim Donghu said he'd do it?"
"Yes, Gwon Jaeho the writer contacted him directly and got a firm confirmation."
"Good... Kim Donghu's someone we can trust."
His acting skills were already proven. As Joo Youngman said this, he thought back to Hide Dream. That performance had been beyond words. On top of his ridiculously handsome looks, his acting was like something ripped straight from the script. It even sparked a vague desire to work with him someday.
'But I didn't expect it to happen this fast.'
As the saying went, pull out the iron horns while they're hot. Joo Youngman immediately laid out a plan.
"Then negotiate the pay with his side, and get Kim Donghu into martial arts training right away."
Child actors especially lacked experience in this area, so even with intensive training, it would take at least a month.
'Honestly, a month's cutting it short.'
For someone with two left feet, it could drag on for three. With time so tight, they'd have no choice but to teach on the fly, film while drilling, and give real-time feedback.
"Oh, by the way, BeRitas said something odd."
"Odd?"
"Yeah, they said he doesn't need martial arts training at all—he can jump straight into the set..."
"What?"
Joo Youngman furrowed his brow at Oh Jaedeok's words.
'Is this kid's bravado, or does he really mean it?'
A rookie's claim, with zero historical drama experience. Normally, he'd dismiss it as nonsense. But...
'That piano performance in Hide Dream—they greenlit it because he said he could do it on the spot.'
The rumors tickled his ears. If it was real, it'd be a jackpot. They'd save weeks of time and make up for all the delays in one go.
"You sent him the script starting from his debut scene, right?"
Oh Jaedeok instantly grasped what Joo Youngman intended.
"Shall we prep right away?"
"Yeah, a practice shoot to test his skills wouldn't hurt."
If it worked, it was pure profit.
A flood of entertainment articles poured in.
The hottest topic was the recent child actor injury issue. News that filming was disrupted by the injury had people lamenting while eagerly speculating on the next in line.
The name that surfaced fastest as a replacement child actor was none other than Kim Donghu. His powerful debut impression in Hide Dream, that unbelievable piano performance, and his Brilliant school uniform modeling gig probably helped.
Kim Donghu's teen fame was on another level—exaggeration aside, idol-tier. Naturally, he was the first name that came to mind for child actor roles.
"Whoa, I'm swamped."
Thanks to that, Choi Seokho was buried in work. What was called management was basically a one-man agency for Kim Donghu. Endless child actor offers pouring in—he could use two bodies and still fall short.
"Two dramas, one indie film, one commercial movie, one ad model..."
Far beyond what any single actor could handle, yet Kim Donghu tackled it all without a hint of fatigue. Perfectly.
'No more ads beyond the uniform—he said so, so nix those. Dramas are fine for now, politely decline the rest.'
Taxes handled flawlessly in the gaps, and finally...
'Donations—that's key.'
In Choi Seokho's mind, Kim Donghu was destined for the stars. A surefire global icon. Envy and jealousy always trailed such figures. The world was full of people who got pissed just seeing others succeed. One of his countermeasures? Charity.
'Donate in Donghu's name, but keep the donor anonymous for now.'
Truth was, his recent grind was all about vetting charities. Had to confirm funds were used right before committing. He'd found three solid ones: cancer research, cancer rehab, and orphanages. Names under Donghu, cash from his own pocket.
'It was my money to begin with.'
Living off what Donghu earned, skimping on this would be absurd.
Clink.
Finishing up, Choi Seokho grabbed his car keys.
"I'll head to set with Donghu then."
"Boss, you can't go alone—take me too."
"Oh right, Miju's here."
Can't go without a stylist. Jin Miju chuckled lightly, grabbed her stuff, and dashed to the van. Choi Seokho followed with an awkward grin.
Today was the first shoot for Geomgeom Baek Dongsu.
'Whoa, historical dramas really are on another scale.'
The historical drama set hit me like a truck. I'd been awed by Goji Jeon, carved from a whole mountain, but this was grander, more massive—reflecting an entire era. Extras everywhere; no clue how many people were here.
'All this because of one word from me.'
Saying I could skip martial arts training and shoot right away. That single line got the whole production moving again.
'Shoulders feel...'
fine, no weight. I shrugged and recalled mastering swordsmanship via [Sims - The Real Life]. No limits once I'd internalized it.
Rattle.
"Hello! I'm Kim Donghu, taking over as Jaun's child actor! I'm still rough around the edges, but I'll work hard! Please take care of me!"
First impressions ruled—start with a killer greeting.
'No downside to nailing the hello.'
Right out of the van, I boomed my intro to announce my presence, then bowed deeply to each staffer one by one.
"Kim Donghu, first time seeing you—you're so polite. Nice to meet you. I'm director Oh Jaedeok."
"Yes sir! Please take care of me!"
"We're the ones who should say that. Oh, this is our martial arts director, Gi Seongchan."
"Hello. Gi Seongchan."
Smack.
During the handshake, I felt Gi Seongchan's burning gaze. What? Just as the thought hit...
"Do you train at... Baek Sangha's gym by any chance?"
"Uh, y-yeah, how'd you know?"
"Sangha's my workout buddy. Whoa, small world!"
Gi Seongchan's tone shot up; Oh Jaedeok looked puzzled. Why's he so hyped? Then...
"Sangha bragged nonstop about having a disciple who could be UFC champ. Figured it might be the same guy, but Kim Donghu? No way."
Oh Jaedeok's face lit up at the flood of words.
"So you've been training seriously for years...?"
He looked thrilled, like the project was already a hit.
"Yes, exactly. This is wild—I’m shocked. I don’t say this lightly, but Kim Donghu, you're a genius. Sangha's a great coach, but his praise bar is sky-high..."
Golden shower time continued.
'Coach, how far did you hype me up?'
No immunity to this gilding.
All I could do: 'Stop the gold! Hurry up and shoot. Get me outta this.' Pray.
-Teach him one thing, he'll grasp ten—that's baseline. I think Donghu could mop the floor with even doped-up guys.
Gi Seongchan hadn't bought it when Baek Sangha first said that. Overhyping a disciple? Sure, but that was too much.
'But those training vids changed my mind.'
A middle schooler sparring Baek Sangha. Headgear or not, unreal. He'd dying to see it live.
'Here, of all places.'
Kim Donghu's debut scene: solo sword practice, steeling resolve before killing his father. Key was showing genius. How would he pull it off? All staff, including Gi Seongchan, wondered.
"Action!"
With the cue, Kim Donghu—no, Jaun—moved. Toward the crude straw dummy, one step, two, bold advance. The sword unsheathed.
A prop blade, yet it gleamed razor-sharp. Illusion?
Then—
Schwick!
No hesitation. Jaun's blade sliced the straw perfectly vertical.
One stroke, two halves.
The star of death, born to kill, armed with his blade.
'...Is that even possible?'
Director Oh Jaedeok got chills.