Birth
Go Kyung-min seemed the most shocked of all.
"Investment? How much?"
And who could blame him? They'd made this decision without a single hint or warning. Investing in a movie was... well, it was insane.
Better to just buy land with that money.
Unless you were a massive corporation, he'd never seen a single case where an individual investor succeeded. Well, okay, there was one exception—a director who also held equity in their production company.
"The more the better, but unfortunately, I can't swing that much. Maybe enough for a supporting actor's fee and one beat-up old truck..."
Moo-young glanced curiously at the production company president and the director, as if asking them to ballpark the figure.
"Hard to say exactly without crunching the numbers. The truck crash scene should go in one take if nothing goes wrong, but just in case..."
"We might have to wreck two."
They'd have to map out the movements on set, but since there were shots that needed to connect seamlessly, if the angles didn't line up, they'd have to smash two trucks.
Moo-young nodded.
"Sounds good. I'll put in 200 million won."
"Moo-young, for real?"
"Yeah. Nice and clean—round it up to the next billion or whatever! 200 million it is. If there's any left over, use it for a staff dinner. Win-win."
200 million. It was a staggering sum, no matter how you sliced it.
But Moo-young brushed it off like pocket change.
"Just dump all the cash I've made from ads so far."
"Whoa, hold up. President, Director—give me a sec to talk to Moo-young..."
Go Kyung-min freaked out and clamped a hand over his mouth. He couldn't see the flower pollen, so of course his reaction was pure panic. Even with two legendary masters in supporting roles, this was still just a side gig. A rookie director and a mid-tier production company? Recipe for a total flop.
"We can sign the contract before shooting starts, right? Send the investment agreement to the agency too."
Moo-young ignored him and pressed on.
Go Kyung-min dragged him into the hallway and shook his shoulders in horror.
"You nuts?!"
"I don't want the script changing because of money issues. And I love that saying."
"What saying?"
"A person must know how to burn money like fallen leaves for something meaningful."
It was a line from Han Chang-gi, the teacher who'd launched Deep Rooted Tree.
Moo-young grabbed Go Kyung-min's hand reassuringly.
"We're not taking piles of cash to the grave anyway."
"Still..."
"Honestly, I regretted it during You Are a Star, I Am a Star too. I didn't have the money back then."
He'd wanted to hook up the leads with maker parkas like the others, but with settlements pending, gloves were the best he could do. As a lead, he wanted to contribute more than just acting.
"But this script? The director wrote it, but I'm the one who completes it. So it's my project. Money doesn't matter for that."
Go Kyung-min's face screamed, I get it, but I don't get it.
Moo-young flashed a bright smile.
"I can always earn more!"
"Freelancers gotta clutch their cash, kid. You've got taxes due in May."
"Ad revenue's all from this year—plenty of time to prep next year. Last year I barely cracked ten million. This time, I'll get a refund."
A few hundred from Plague, a few dozen from SNS modeling. Without Jun-ho and the landlord, he'd have been sunk.
Go Kyung-min sighed in defeat, muttering.
"Stubborn punk. Won't listen."
"Haha, hyung, it's me—Moo-young."
Living solo meant handling your own stuff. Go Kyung-min ruffled his hair.
Fine. His money, his call.
"Director scored big time."
"Right? Where else do you find an actor like this?"
No fee, just pouring in investment cash. An actor who loved the script as much as they did.
"So, hyung—make it happen."
"Got it. If Na Geum-dong hears—"
"Me? What about me?"
Speak of the devil. Na Geum-dong emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands, eyes sparkling. What's up? What's up?
Moo-young just smiled silently and headed back to the reading room. Go Kyung-min slunk away guiltily.
"What's the big secret?"
"Nothing. I'll fill you in at the office."
"Hey! You punks!"
Na Geum-dong trailed after them, dying of curiosity.
Break over, the director and president returned.
"Shall we pick up?"
"Let's. Where were we?"
"Scene 85, sir."
Subtle glances flew between the four. Mostly aimed at Moo-young.
You're really going through with the investment?
"Yep. Perfect!"
Moo-young drummed the table affirmatively.
Na Geum-dong just rolled his eyes amid the stares.
Later, back at the office, he clutched his neck at the investment contract.
"Whaaat? 200 million?!"
Moo-young snuck up and steadied him.
"Wanna chip in, President?"
"You're insane! Crazy?!"
"High risk, high return. You know~"
"You little shit! Aigoo..."
But what could he do? Moo-young was set on it.
Even as everyone tried to talk him out of it, his resolve didn't waver.
Scrutinizing the contract, Moo-young marveled.
"Whoa. No wonder companies love movies—they make bank."
Usually, distributors took 10% off ticket sales. Steady cash flow, without fronting the full production budget.
"Distributors break even at breakeven and profit. Best cash generator out there, I heard."
For a 5 billion film, breakeven was 1.5 to 2 million viewers. Sure, box office hits were booming lately, but pulling 2 million on a 5 billion budget wasn't easy.
The world only remembered winners.
"Even buzz doesn't always mean money."
"Right. Some hyped films tanked at the box office."
Everyone knew one or two.
Moo-young pored over the contract.
"Our film's at..."
Investment plan attached. Total raised so far: 4.7 billion. His 200 million would round out the basics.
"What if this hits ten million viewers? Hehe."
Moo-young covered his excited grin.
Na Geum-dong, munching snacks in near-despair, turned away.
Couldn't watch.
"Must be how my wife looks at me."
"What look's that?"
Innocent Moo-young had no clue.
Go Kyung-min whispered.
"Back in the day, when the boss was young and into stocks. 'It's going up, it's going up!'—bouncing around like an idiot. Now he passes it to his son like fine china."
Ah, a tale of heartbreak.
Contract signed. No need for film pitches—the actors knew it as well as the director.
Moo-young rummaged for his seal.
"I'll stamp?"
"Stamp it! Do it!"
"Yes!"
Solid stamp. Payment wired without a hitch. Soon, the groundbreaking ceremony loomed.
Tiny scale—no big ritual.
"Please make our Moo-young's film a smash hit. The kid dumped 200 million in without a clue how scary the world is."
Days before first shoot, Na Geum-dong prayed with water ready. Moo-young, oblivious, just reread the script excitedly.
* * *
A studio in Suwon. Sun dipping low, but the place buzzed.
A massive makeshift pool filled the vast space. Staff hustled with shoot prep.
"Hello!"
Moo-young arrived on time. Director and AD waved him over.
A giant vinyl tub nearby brimmed with black liquid.
"Welcome."
"Whoa, that's it?"
"Vampire amniotic fluid."
Director joked.
First scene: vampire's birth flashback. Moo-young's most anticipated.
"Not ink, right?"
"Special solution—safe for skin, even ingestible. Slippery though, hard to wash off. Brought clothes?"
"Yep. Packed three pairs of undies just in case."
Black ink-lookalike, but not ink? Moo-young crouched, poking it curiously.
Stylist called.
"Moo-young, makeup time."
"Sure. But do we need it? Gonna get slathered anyway."
"Shows at the start. Skin's so pale—lips and brows, fangs separate."
Pale face, red lips. Moo-young twisted his ear-hiding hair, peering in the mirror.
Makeup made him look... different.
"Pretty."
Go Kyung-min quipped from the side.
A being straddling male and female, ethereal.
"Moo-young, ready?"
Director's cue. Moo-young smiled slyly, shedding his shirt.
"Kinda hot for a first shoot greeting."
Just skimpy tights like a thong. Bashful.
Director laughed, draping a towel.
"Sorry. Studio rental and other actors' schedules clashed."
"Nah, not that—just embarrassed. Haha. Starting with birth? Symbolic, perfect."
Director pointed out cameras.
"In the pool, we'll fill with ink. Face only at first. Black ink, white skin, red lips—emphasize."
"Gotta keep it off my face."
"Eyes closed. Camera descends slow to close-up. Slate clack—snap eyes open. Lock with lens. Pan left-right for time passing. Got it?"
Panning: lens swings side-to-side, no camera move. Perfect for vampire's decades-trapped boredom.
"Crystal."
"Let's roll?"
"Yep!"
Moo-young lay flat in the vast pool. Deep breath, feeling ink rise over him.
"More! Pour it!"
"Hold!"
Ink to his chin. Body buoyant.
"In position, Moo-young?"
"Yes! Let's go!"
Eyes shut, he replied. Lights dimmed, ceiling spotlight soft. Camera descended on wires.
Frame: black water, floating pale face.
Whirr—close-up swelled.
Full face. Slate clacked.
Clack—snap!
Moo-young's eyes flew wide. Brown irises sparked with life. Birth's raw energy.
"Okay! Cut!"
"Straight to full body, Moo-young!"
"Special solution on wrists! Quick!"
"Got it!"
Now whole body. Ink trailed gorgeous torso curves. Moo-young paddled slow.
Pan!
Camera right—black water only. Back left: eyes dulled, life faded.
Eons compressed.
Who am I?
How long this boredom?
Awake, existing. Maker? Purpose? Frustration boiled. Hands to face.
"Nngh..."
Slime coated him. Crow with broken wing—twisting in solitude, rage, irritation.
Body convulsed unbearably.
"Raaagh!"
Splash! Ink sprayed. Veins bulged on neck, hands.
Madness. Void space.
Vampire glared at hand.
Escape.
Tear free.
He rose, mouth parting. Black droplets fell.
Then gnawed his wrist, sucking blood.
Gulp—throat bobbed, ink gleamed under lights.
Staff held breath, witnessing birth.
"Haa..."
First blood's taste. Red smeared lips turned blackish with ink.
Whites rolled back like a drug high.
Vampire slurped wrist madly, lost to frenzy.
Splash—body sank deep.
Surface stilled in silence.
Director held breath, eyes glued to monitor.
"Okay! Cut!"
"Pffft!"
Moo-young surfaced, gasping. Soaked black mess.
"How'd it look?"
Vampire's primal womb memory. Blackout birth.
He wiped eyes with towel.
Director clasped hands prayerfully.
"Exactly as I envisioned. Perfect. Moo-young... thank you."