Flawless Action and New Bonds
Stunts were standard in historical dramas or action shoots. It was only natural—they were dangerous. One wrong move on a horse could snap your back, and a single slip in swordplay could break bones. That's why they used professionally trained stunt performers as doubles. Sure, it meant no close-ups on faces during action, but aside from that, it kept things safe. If you can use them, you should—it's not like we're in the old days ignoring actor safety, right?
So Director Oh Jaedeok could hardly believe what was unfolding before his eyes. Was this a dream?
"Has Actor Kim Donghu ever trained in some special martial art or something?"
"Pardon?"
"I mean, come on. Everyone else is just doing school sports day stuff..."
Why was this kid filming at the Taereung Training Center? In a way, he was perfect for Jaun—ideal for planting that genius image from childhood. But there was a limit to how far that went. This wasn't just pretending to be a genius; it was like clapping at a whiff of his scent.
How the hell is he doing a 720-degree kick?!
Wasn't this overkill? Was the human body even supposed to move like that?
Oh Jaedeok scratched his head and glanced at the script. Jaun's childhood: entering Geomrim by acing every grueling trial. The "top scores" could be fudged with direction—basic competence was fine. Make the rest look impossible, and he'd shine naturally.
But...
The kid's so good, the scene's coming alive effortlessly.
No need to hold back to avoid outshining the lead. Why? Because no one could beat Kim Donghu at full throttle anyway. Among his peers, he was a wolf among sheep—a crane in a chicken coop. A peerless prodigy.
He'd already conquered the set with his looks, and now his unreal acrobatics were dominating the vibe. Oh Jaedeok swore Jaun had leaped off the page.
And that was why...
This is fun.
For the first time in ages directing a drama, he felt that spark. Beyond ratings or success—the pure joy of seeing his scripted character come alive and shine.
Whoosh!
Even as those thoughts raced, Kim Donghu—no, Jaun—kept delivering. A feast of dazzling kicks showcasing his physical prowess.
"The stunt actors are killing it—looks like they're really getting hit and flying back."
Director Oh Jaedeok praised the stunt team's performance.
"Y-yeah."
The head of the Korea Action Academy's youth stunt team barely managed a reply, sweat beading coldly. Having coached kids for years and seen countless stunts, he knew.
That's not acting.
They'd been told to hit full force beforehand, with padding for safety—they were ready for it.
But their faces say it's nothing like they expected.
The shock on the stunt actors' faces was genuine. Of course the "acting" looked real.
They're not acting—they're actually hurting!
How could it pierce the padding? Was that even possible? He didn't voice the obvious questions. It hurt because it happened.
As everyone marveled at Kim Donghu's action, one voice piped up.
"Um, could I maybe try without a stunt double later too?"
Director Oh Jaedeok was impressed by Park Jinhyeok, the only one burning with rivalry.
One Kim Donghu, and the whole set's fired up.
When a game-changer surges ahead, everyone around levels up weirdly fast—like a hyper-advanced civilization kickstarting the world.
Crushing that drive would be a director's sin.
But skipping safety checks was insane.
"You know I'll stop you if it looks risky, and you'll test with the martial arts director first. Cool?"
In short: prove your skills since it's dangerous. Kim Donghu got a pass; others needed vetting—words that could bruise egos. But Park Jinhyeok didn't care.
I want to be as good as Actor Kim Donghu.
His goal blinded him to everything else.
This moment...
I'll catch up, no matter what.
Park Jinhyeok's target was now Kim Donghu.
+++++
A shoot without NG cuts?
Smooth as hell.
Like cruising solo down an empty eight-lane highway. His acting was flawlessly clean—no extra directing needed. Just grab shots from every angle he craved, and done. Shooting wrapped faster, progress flying.
After Jaun earns recognition as Geomrim's assassin...
Guarding his father's grave for the funeral, he meets his old ally Jang Samo incognito and enters the shantytown. The shantytown's goal: revive the Jangyongwi royal guards. There, young Jaun and Baek Dongsu meet for the first time.
Baek Dongsu: high potential, but miles from peak.
Jaun: dazzling genius already shining.
Their friction? Inevitable.
"Let's settle who's top here, clean and quick!"
"Why should I?"
Opposites in personality too, their banter revealed it all.
"I've been here longer! Know more people! So obviously I'm top!"
"What kinda logic is that? I don't care about that stuff. You do you—top or whatever."
Jaun glanced around lightly. Kids encircling them, wooden swords facing off with Baek Dongsu.
This childish standoff just made him chuckle.
"You say you don't care, but you're dying to beat me?!"
"Beat you? Me?"
You're just weak, then.
"What?!"
Enraged, Park Jinhyeok—no, Baek Dongsu—charged Jaun.
I wanna act that cool too.
Choreographed: three wooden sword clashes. Park Jinhyeok showed off his drilled moves from the martial director, dozens of practices deep.
Clack!
Light overhead strike. Jaun flows it away smoothly.
Just like real Jaun and Baek Dongsu.
Park Jinhyeok marveled inwardly.
So cool.
As he geared for the next attack...
Crunch.
His foot slipped on half-thawed ground. The sword veered wildly off-script.
No!
Momentum made dropping or gripping impossible—now faster from the slip. Straight for the head.
Chaos at the unscripted strike.
Deflect it.
Only Kim Donghu stayed calm, tracking the blade. His Heavenly Martial Body and One Swing Annihilation Blood Flame Under the Mountains talents screamed to parry perfectly.
Tip meets tip, countering the surprise thrust. He rides the blade, surging into Baek Dongsu's guard.
Baek Dongsu's arm rises; Jaun dives in.
Whoosh!
Spins the blade, flicking the sword from Baek Dongsu's hand naturally.
"...Huh?"
The pinnacle of swordplay. True skill—Kim Donghu's, as Jaun—revealed in crisis.
"Cut! Cut! CUUUUUUT!!!"
Director Oh Jaedeok frantically signaled OK and bolted onsite.
"What the hell happened?! Was that planned? That was dangerous!"
Actors could've been hurt. He demanded explanations, voice sharp with worry.
I gotta admit my screw-up...
Park Jinhyeok trembled, steeling to confess.
But then.
"Sorry. I got overzealous with my sword confidence and pushed Actor Park Jinhyeok too hard."
Kim Donghu apologized calmly.
"No, Kim Donghu! Donghu! Even so, that's not okay—you gotta agree first! I was shocked! Lucky no one got hurt!"
Great footage isn't everything—safety first! Don't do it again!
Despite the scolding, Kim Donghu bowed silently. Good outcome, so it ends here, he repeated. Shaken, the set took a break.
As everyone calmed...
Park Jinhyeok approached Kim Donghu.
"Why'd you do that?"
"Hm?"
"Everyone saw it was my fault. Why cover for me?"
Kim Donghu met his eyes. Back when he was mocked for ugliness, misunderstood for it—no one covered his mistakes. No allies in those days. He'd vowed never to be that guy.
Shaking in fear of getting yelled at—how could I stand by?
Now he could help—and he would.
But not bluntly. He softened it.
"Wanna get close to you, hyung."
"Uh, yeah?"
"I'm new to acting—don't have many friends yet."
Wanna look good.
"..."
Better actor, handsomer guy wants to befriend me? Why?
Park Jinhyeok's mind blanked.
What to say?
"O-okay, got it. But no more covering—I'll handle my own mess."
"Yes, hyung."
"Uh... wanna swap numbers?"
Dunno, but numbers first.
+++++
Shooting for Swordsman Baek Dongsu progressed smoothly.
One place ramping up promo:
The Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival built buzz, and online rumors stirred.
Word of Kim Donghu shooting a short film spread like wildfire amid the excitement.
"No, no way! Donghu has to debut in my film! He should've debuted in mine!"
Only one bearded director like Guan Yu denied reality fiercely.
"Letting a short steal Donghu's screen debut?! Unforgivable!"