Bloodshot Eyes
Ryu Chang-min's eyes, bloodshot red, remained fixed unblinkingly on the monitor. His gaze devoured it with ferocious intensity. Anyone witnessing the scene firsthand would shrink back in awe. Inside the camera frame, the actors' presence was overwhelming; outside, the director's aura dominated just as powerfully. Not even the assistant director dared speak easily, nor did the cinematographer—the second-oldest staff member on set. It wasn't fear or oppression that silenced them. It stemmed from a positive weight, born of tremendous energy and passion. Every onlooker's heart raced uncontrollably. The set grew hotter by the minute, and Ryu Chang-min's "Cut!" carried a raw, surging force.
"That's a cut!" the assistant director echoed.
As they reviewed the footage, the makeup and costume teams sprang into swift action. Close-ups and full shots from various angles followed in quick succession.
"Cut!"
"Cut!"
Reshoots happened only for unexpected noise overlaps; neither Woojin nor Seong-cheol called NG due to their acting. The pace was unbelievably fast.
Everyone knew their ensemble in Wanted had been flawless on set, but this level? Damn, it's insanely good. And what a shame. Ryu savored the spine-chilling performances with a mix of bliss and bitterness he couldn't shake. Joy in their on-set fireworks, sorrow that such days were numbered. With retirement looming, grief overshadowed delight. Was that why he'd chosen Prince Yeonsangun for his swan song? Projecting his own search for happiness amid sorrow onto a monarch grasping at it desperately? Sentimental thoughts piled up endlessly, drawing a faint smile from the veteran.
"Assistant Director."
Ryu's voice was low.
"Yes, Director."
"Scene 1 is good. Move to 2."
"Got it."
At the assistant's signal, staff buzzed back to life, focusing on equipment while leaving the still-emotional actors alone. When cameras were off, actors and crew felt worlds apart. This was due to—
All staff: Until the end of the third take, please refrain from private contact with actors unless absolutely necessary.
This notice applies only during active filming.
—Ryu's discreet order to all staff right before cranking in. Even he minimized non-directing talk with the two actors. Simple reason: the first three takes were purely Woojin and Seong-cheol's stage. No main or supporting players—just extras. He craved their raw, self-built characters undisturbed. Is it okay to be this greedy for my final film? The set intuitively honored his subtle wish.
"Actors, moving to Jiphyeonjeon."
At the assistant's call, Woojin and Seong-cheol rose.
"Great acting, Woojin."
"You were the best, Sunbae."
Brief praise exchanged, their expressions and energy unchanged.
"Feels like walking a tightrope over thin ice."
Jang Jun-ho (Kwon Dal-su), on set for the crank-in event despite no scenes today, clicked his tongue in admiration.
"Agreed. Classic Seong-cheol Sunbae."
Ha Hyun-cheol (Park Won-jong) nodded.
"Seong-cheol Sunbae makes sense, but that kid? The real deal."
Hong Man-sik (Yuja-gwang) chimed in.
"Seems even better than readings. How?"
"Maybe he held back then."
Other supporting actors watched Woojin head to the next set, echoing the sentiment. Amid them, a rookie's eyes sparkled brightest—fist clenched, burning with He's so cool! I want that too...
* * *
Traitors harbor malice yet feign true loyalty,
Despising the King of Time, toying him in their grasp.
The court laments the ills but fears rebuke,
Vying to save their wicked ways.
Scene 2 opened with Yeonsangun's royal verse. Scholars prostrated in Jiphyeonjeon trembled. Amid them stood Yeonsangun alone, gripping a razor-sharp prop sword, eyes unfocused in rage at the void.
"Rooooaaarrrgh!!!"
Everyone knew it was a prop, mere acting fiction—yet an extra closest to Woojin shuddered genuinely. Woojin's nuanced voice and expression sent chills through all.
Ryu could barely contain his thrill.
"Cut! Perfect immersion—love it! Rolling again."
Directors often say "bury the emotion" or "it's buried deep." Common shorthand: focus solely on the situation for flawless delivery. Sounds simple, but brutally hard for actors. Requires pre-shot emotional priming to the director's exact specs. Cameras don't lie; shallow acting is obvious red bean-less buns.
But Baek Woojin... what a mad genius. Ryu marveled inwardly. His performance was perfectly immersed. That voice, those gestures—no amount of repetition alone births them. Only Woojin fully embodying Yeonsangun could yield this. Nothing else explained it.
"Cut!"
No NG. Yet each take exceeded expectations. Emotion unwavering despite repeats for coverage.
Acting genius. In 40 years, he'd seen prodigious rookies—but a 25-year-old this astonishing? First time the word "genius" truly fit.
"Cut!"
Ryu's upbeat OKs rang out relentlessly.
"Jaepil."
Eyes still on the monitor, he called the assistant.
"Yes, Director."
"Move set to Scene 3."
"Got it."
"And..."
Ryu added, "Text everyone: dinner party's canceled today."
"Pardon?"
The assistant's eyes widened. Planned post-shoot for all, with supports lingering after crank-in.
"Director, uh..."
At his puzzled look, Ryu continued. "I know. But look."
His pointing finger framed Woojin and Seong-cheol, emotions rock-solid.
"Laser-focused since morning. You saw."
"Absolutely."
"Even watching exhausts me. Imagine them?"
The assistant nodded silently.
"Not just stamina or grit. They're the characters."
"..."
"Bad call on dinner. They'll be drained post-shoot. No overworking them."
"Agreed."
"Reschedule later. Their emotional line trumps bonding. Thoughts?"
"Sending the text now, Director."
He apologized for the abrupt change. Some grumbled, most acquiesced—likely sharing Ryu's view.
"Moving setup. Quick Gangnyeongjeon forecourt."
Sharp winter wind howled before Gangnyeongjeon, the king's chambers. Chilling even the gusts. Woojin reentered post-setup, joined by two bit players as Eom and Jeong Gu-in.
"Hello."
"Please take care of us."
Brief greetings, then rehearsal.
"I'll grab Eom Gu-in's throat here."
"Yes, hard as needed."
"And here, I'll spin first grabbing hair. Gives Jeong an extra close-up."
"Really? Thank you!"
Woojin maximized their screen time in blocking.
Rehearsal done, shooting began.
—Thud thud thud!
Before Gangnyeongjeon. Yeonsangun clutched two women's hair, one per hand.
"Your Highness!"
"Mercy, please!"
They dangled pitifully, clad in late king's robes. But to him,
"Did Father's favor tempt you so?"
They were hatred incarnate.
—Crunch.
His arm veins bulged grabbing Eom's throat; fingers merciless on Jeong's hair. He shook them like a child wrecking puppets. To him, they weren't human. Their fate sealed.
—Scraaaape.
Iron mace dragged, piercing ears. Trembling prostration their only option. His eyes long lost reason, ears deaf to pleas.
—Dong! Dong! Dong!
Sound team pounded janggu and drums off-camera, egging the mood. Beat them dead.
"You wenches..."
Yeonsangun raised the mace overhead.
"Even in death, no ground shall hold your feet."
It whistled past his eerie grin.
"Die!"
—Splat.
Gangnyeongjeon's forecourt ran red with blood.