Street's Sunlight
Ha Moo-young faced Bae Cheol-min and silently turned his eyes back to the script. Street's Sunlight. He really liked that name.
"So, you're saying you'd like to cast me in this vampire role?"
Cheol-min nodded vigorously at his words.
"Yes! There aren't many actors who can pull off both a woman and a man at the same time. I watched your fan meeting video and thought, this is it."
Moo-young's aura had shifted dramatically just with changes in clothing and props. From a seductive, alluring woman to a rough guy from the back alleys. His skill at expressing polar-opposite vibes in a single tone was incredible. Or was it even a skill? It was innate talent, pure and simple.
"And your age is perfect."
"Yeah, it really is spot on."
"The only issue is, this is another adults-only film..."
There was a drama in between, but looking at his filmography, his previous work Plague had also been rated for adults. It could be a tough choice for actors who preferred a mainstream image. But Moo-young drew a firm line.
"That doesn't matter. What counts is the work and the character I'll play."
Cheol-min's face lit up at his words. His cheeks were red from the cold, but his eyes gleamed with hope. Then, cautiously, very slowly, he continued.
"And the pay too."
"The pay? Why?"
"We'd have to meet with your agency, but since it's a low-budget film, I'm not sure we can match your guarantee. Ah! Of course, the production company will do its best, but with your fees rising so fast these days..."
The film's main setting was a small seminar room for the insomnia club. The story unfolded through conversations and flashbacks, so no elaborate sets were needed.
"Sounds like a tight budget."
Cheol-min gave an awkward smile at Moo-young's remark. Not just because of the story, but as a debut for a director with no prior credits, who would shell out big money? Another script might not have even gotten made. Cheol-min was grateful that the story he wanted to film—Street's Sunlight—had come this far. Otherwise, no chance in hell.
"What about the other casting?"
"We're discussing it. Once we lock in the cast, we could start shooting right away."
"How long is the shooting schedule?"
"It won't take long. We'd have to sync with the actors' schedules, but max two months. Everyone except you will probably be free, haha."
As he spoke, Cheol-min glanced at Moo-young. His reaction seemed surprisingly positive. As if responding to that look, Moo-young nodded.
"Got it. I'll read it and get back to you soon. Can I have your number?"
"My number?"
"Should I contact your agency instead?"
"No! No! Give it to me directly!"
"Alright. I'll read it within three days and contact you. Thanks."
"Th-thanks?"
Moo-young stood from his chair with a smile. He shook the script pages lightly.
"Thanks for seeing my image right, and for bringing this over."
Vibrant. Flower pollen cascading down with every shake. Brighter and warmer than anything he'd seen so far—so much that the chill winter wind felt distant.
* * *
"Ugh! I am absolutely against it! Against!"
Na Geum-dong waved his hands, making big X signs as he shouted. In front of him, Moo-young sat picking at his ear. Go Kyung-min was in between, checking the script.
"Moo-young, you looked at the scripts that came in?"
"Yeah! I did. They were all good."
"Right! They are good! So why pick that one?"
He got not wanting to do dramas. Fine. But if movies, pick a good one. A director with a stacked career, a production company with deep pockets, a writer who crafts great stories, co-stars with high recognition—that kind!
"Director Kyung-cheon sent a love call? And that's not all? Great Escape from the Korean Peninsula has top stars Ji-ae and Hae-su rumored. At least audition! Dragon tail and snake head aren't the same level. Dragons are dragons! Snakes are snakes!"
His grand proclamations aside, his expression and gestures were just pitiful. This was a crucial time. One that most people never even get once in a lifetime.
"You gotta ride the momentum before it breaks. If it snaps now, it'll be really tough. Moo-young, this is all for you, so let's rethink. If you want artistic stuff, fine! This one's good too!"
"No thanks."
"Aaaah—why!"
But Moo-young shot it down flat. Did he even get how the boss felt? He just smiled brightly, unyielding.
"I want to do Street's Sunlight!"
"If you could just do whatever you want—"
"That'd be awesome, right?"
Urk! Na Geum-dong clutched his neck dramatically, gesturing SOS at Kyung-min. Look at this kid, let's convince him together.
"The script's really solid."
But Kyung-min, who'd been quietly reading, called GG too. Budget, cast, whatever—ultimately, the script was king. He smiled faintly in admiration, clearly hooked.
"If I were an actor, I'd wanna do this."
"Oh? Wanna try, hyung? Other roles aren't cast yet. You—thief fits perfect. Yeah! Spot on."
"I'm kidding, you punk. How could I?"
"You—guys! You really gonna do it?"
Na Geum-dong wailed. He didn't like the genre either! A drama? Ditching proven hits for some indie path? Cops and gangsters, big corp CG, melodrama, not even a single action scene—just static talk!
"Production company's Ro-ryeong? Total small fry. Like Mongnett at best. No, Mongnett has history and flair. That's a total newbie! They won't match your pay."
Moo-young paused at the boss's words. He had something in mind, but saying it might make the guy keel over.
"Money's fine. I'm doing tons of ads anyway."
"No—"
"It hit me the moment I read it. If not this, I won't do anything. Boss."
"Aaaah..."
He lost. Done. Holy crap. When an artist nails it down like that, no pulling it out.
Na Geum-dong pulled out a handkerchief and sniffled.
"No bottom line on pay when we negotiate?"
With the actor's will set, now the agency and production would hash out details.
"None, but I'd like a higher running guarantee percentage."
"Running guarantee?"
"Yeah. Less burden on the company."
"True, but..."
Slash upfront pay, boost the so-called 'bonus' tied to box office. Producers love it since success is the premise.
"As lead with your current value, we can push the percentage. Maybe 2-3% tops."
"Yeah. Prioritize percentage over immediate drop."
Moo-young shook the Street's Sunlight script from Big Win Enter. If he hadn't skipped the office, he'd have known it was sitting in the cabinet.
It'll do great for sure.
There was a reason for the flower pollen swirling. Moo-young bet on big future rewards over small now-gains.
Kyung-min nodded, jotting in his notebook.
"Any other conditions?"
"Nah, not really."
Lock the lead vampire first, then proceed. Moo-young read the script, smiled, and asked.
"But this host character."
"Host?"
"Tae-seok hyung would suit it perfect."
Kyung-min's eyes widened at Moo-young's words. Burly, well-built frame. Face nothing special, but he'd climbed to ace at the club on that alone. The image...
"Not bad?"
"Right? Show the script to Tae-seok hyung. Be great if he does it."
"Yeah. Tae-seok's pondering post-drama anyway. Perfect timing."
Same agency made scheduling easy. Not an offer like Moo-young's—he'd audition—but still.
"Got a lot of lines though?"
Na Geum-dong, sulking alone, piped up slyly. Fine. What could he do? If everyone's in, follow along.
Moo-young recited the front's simple character setup.
"Body's great, but opens his mouth and ruins it. No charm in talk. Starts quiet in the club. Lots of lines later—you'd prep that, hyung?"
Couldn't stick to silent roles forever.
"Gotta check Tae-seok's take then. For now, I'll contact them about yours today."
"Yes, sir."
Moo-young shook out his hands, thumbs-up. Past image casting—tweak running guarantee, sign the contract.
Moo-young smiled, feeling the stark change.
"Kinda weird. I used to run auditions for any gig. A year later, this!"
Na Geum-dong's words at first Big Win contract fit perfect. Get famous first to pick roles. Only then grab what you truly want.
"Think rookie debuting with Director Jin Kyung-moon for 4 million viewers, or leading first drama to 32% ratings is easy?"
So many don't even cross the threshold. Bitter, but proud of Moo-young.
"Thanks, boss."
"What, punk!"
"Everyone's working so hard. Really grateful."
"Then check this script too?"
"No!"
Two projects at once? Company hinted, but focus! Only way to fully embody a role.
"Aaaah—why only one body."
Na Geum-dong and Kyung-min, ex-actors themselves, got it and respected.
Then Moo-young's phone rang.
"Oh, he's here."
"Why crash their date?"
"Jun-ho said he'd buy food first!"
Jun-ho messaged he'd arrived downstairs. Moo-young grabbed his jacket, bowed.
"I'll head out!"
"Yeah, we'll call!"
Screech! Jun-ho's familiar car. Stepping out, Bora waved from shotgun.
"Moo-young!"
"Whoa, dressed up today?"
"Duh. Meat slicing time!"
"Ha Moo-young. What's that? Wear the outfit I picked."
Moo-young and Bora's drama finale plus Bontoori sales tripled celebration dinner. Jun-ho's card from cousin bro, but Music Thru commute outfit sellout kicked off ad spillover effects.
"It's fine."
"Yeah, tracksuit elastic's comfy. Let's pig out expensive stuff. Eat and dash!"
"Fight with your bro?"
"Dunno. Working, he seems unmarriable. Temper too foul."
Jun-ho grumbled work vent. Bora turned back.
Her drama overlapped a month with You Are a Star, I Am a Star. Weaker results, but real debut.
"What's that?"
"My next project."
"Picked already? I'm pondering. Can I see?"
"Sure. Here."
Bora took the script, flipped casually. But words dwindled, focus unshaken by car bumps. Till near restaurant.
"We're here. Out."
"Hey, Moo-young."
"Yeah?"
Clutching script, voice slightly trembling.
"This a public audition?"