This One Works
This one works: actor Jang Geonho. He'd racked up hit after hit, ascending to the ranks of veteran actors and earning the respect of his juniors. So how did someone like him end up joining Star and Moon Story? What made him hop in a taxi at the crack of dawn to prepare for an audition?
The reason was incredibly simple.
This is really something special.
The moment he read the script, he could already see how massive this play could become.
"Jinu, this is the one with you and actor Han Taekon?"
"Yeah, and Donghu too."
"Donghu as well?"
"Yep, Donghu's the lead. You in too, sunbae?"
"But the pilot role's mine."
Watching actors whose names alone could headline any production gather for a play for no particular reason, Jang Geonho burst into laughter.
"Guess I gotta do it too."
"For real?"
"Yeah, I do. I'd regret it forever if I passed this up."
There was a time when he had so many roles he burned to play. But reality and the passage of time had narrowed his options bit by bit. What even was that original passion? Why had he wanted to become an actor in the first place?
Was it when I imitated Dad in front of Mom?
Suddenly, a long-forgotten memory surfaced: his mom beaming, saying he'd be great in theater, showering him with praise and laughter. Back then, money didn't matter—he just loved seeing her smile.
Maybe this show could bring that back.
Amid the cutthroat name value of the actors auditioning, not a word was breathed about pay. It was utterly unrealistic. And at the same time, something only possible right now. Veterans unbound by agency demands, coming together purely for the love of acting? That was why Jang Geonho signed on.
So what about Seo Jinu? Because Kim Donghu was the lead? Because Han Taekon sparked his interest? Nope, none of that.
The most primal reason.
I've always wanted to play a pilot.
As a kid, he'd watched Top Gun and dreamed of flying planes. Circumstances forced him to shelve that dream and become an actor instead. But that childhood spark still smoldered inside him. His home was littered with airplane scale models as proof.
In a setup this perfect, with the role being a pilot to boot?
No way I can pass.
Sorry, Han Taekon—the pilot role's mine.
Jang Geonho and Seo Jinu. Both had rock-solid reasons to join.
Maybe that's why.
"...Actor Jang Geonho, you're really auditioning?"
"I'm here for the audition, so of course. Director, call me out if my acting's off."
Actor Jang Geonho strode straight onstage and dove into prep. He even admitted he was nervous since it had been ages since his last audition, showing dead-serious commitment to the work.
Even this much had Bong Jinu on the verge of breakdown from the pressure.
And then, on top of that.
Rustle, rustle.
Actor Seo Jinu had silently changed into a pilot uniform.
Coming this prepared for an audition? For a play written by a high school sophomore?
Bong Jinu blinked in disbelief. Was this really happening?
So he widened his eyes and blurted out what absolutely had to be said.
"The troupe's name is Flame!"
The flame ignites.
The auditions wrapped up lightning-fast. No surprise—there was no one to cut in the first place. Normally, crowds show up and you pick the best. Here, anyone who showed just auditioned and passed. Except for one role.
"...Donghu sunbae, what do we do now?"
"I'm pretty thrown off too..."
The pilot.
What the hell made this role so hot that two legends—who only did leads in major dramas—were fighting over it?
Didn't see this coming.
Bong Jinu sunbae shot me a desperate look, but there was nothing I could do. This was the director's call.
The wildcard? A brand-new high school sophomore director facing actors with absurd resumes. But that was on him to handle too.
With top-tier ingredients assembled, he'd better cook something great.
And Bong Jinu sunbae seemed to get that, scribbling notes furiously, scoring performances.
Different styles, so it's down to taste.
Han Taekon was the research-heavy type. What lines worked best? What showed off the charm most? Model student vibes.
Seo Jinu, on the flip: instinctual. He'd scan the script and nail the peak intuitively. No wonder they called his instincts beast-like.
Two polar opposites. But I had a hunch who'd win.
"I-I think... actor Seo Jinu is right for the pilot..."
"Yes! I'm the pilot!"
As expected. Pilot goes to Seo Jinu.
Style mismatch.
Han Taekon's approach made him shine—tailoring roles to himself. Seo Jinu molded himself to the role.
In Star and Moon Story, vivid characters were key. Seo Jinu had the edge.
But is he this thrilled?
How bad did he want it? As I wondered,
"So what role should I take? Tell me, and I'll research it right away."
Han Taekon calmly accepted defeat and turned to Bong Jinu.
"Y-Yes?"
Bong Jinu looked blindsided. Han Taekon sunbae smiled faintly.
"You dropping me 'cause I lost pilot means I go home, Director?"
"N-No! No no no! I-I was just shocked! So...!"
Flip flip flip.
Bong Jinu frantically paged through the script. Who'd turn down a national treasure for another role?
"Haha, take your time. Just kidding."
How about we make a group chat? Gotta sync schedules.
Everyone nodded at Han Taekon's suggestion.
Wonder what this chat's worth.
The group chat popped up out of nowhere in seconds: Jang Geonho, Kim Yuryeon, Han Taekon, Seo Jinu, Kim Donghu, Kim Sujin, Jin Myeongtae, Bong Jinu.
Flame Troupe's founding members blazed with insane momentum from day one—way beyond expectations of a slow burn.
Choi Seokho, the sole investor in Star and Moon Story, caught up late to the chaos.
"...How the hell do I handle this?"
He'd suddenly gripped the helm of a battleship, head spinning. Like someone had whacked him upside the head.
What the fuck is going on.
Only Jin Myeongtae needed pay. The rest poured their budgets back into the troupe.
Invite orphanage kids for free shows...
The cause was noble to a fault. Could spark a social movement, even.
But big dreams needed big bucks. Beyond university road shows—to the Arts Center at least—required more.
And that meant...
"You said use the actors however."
Aggressive marketing.
How? Fan cafes.
Start light. A gentle breeze.
Choi Seokho grabbed his phone.
Fan cafe tweaks always needed one guy's input.
Ring ring ring.
"H-Hello?"
"Hey, good time? Not busy?"
Fan cafe admin, nickname FallenPowerActorKimDonghu. Officially hired genius dev, and my official investment partner.
Na Gangshik.
"No biggie, just need Gangshik to tweak the homepage."
"R-Renewal?"
"Nah, so here's the deal..."
I explained to Na Gangshik—basically my business partner now.
"Got it."
Steady voice, total compliance. Problem solved.
Choi Seokho dove into PPT prep. With this lineup giving hope to kids via theater, who'd resist sponsoring? Begging to advertise, probably.
This PPT was groundwork.
Kim Donghu's fan cafe had been dead quiet for the past year. Blame his hiatus—no helping it. Reporters popped in briefly, found zilch, bounced.
"Nada today, huh..."
Entertainment journos figured same old. Cig dangling, they logged in.
And that instant.
"Huh?!"
They shot up. Front-page notice glaring.
Kim Donghu doing theater? Suddenly?
Click without a second thought. See the members.
"E-Editor! Editor! No—hey! Hey! Where are you? Get over here!"
Forget hierarchy—yelling ensued.
This hit every entertainment reporter simultaneously.
One thought dominated their minds.
This one works.