Gentle Outside, Strong Within
Today was the day for the audition observation that Director Ra Ho-chan and he had promised earlier.
Around lunchtime, Woojin entered the film company in Mapo-gu. He remembered that there had been no company name on the office during his first visit, but now a sign reading Gentle Outside, Strong Within hung at the entrance.
“Director, hello.”
“You’re here, Woojin?”
Ra welcomed Woojin with a bright smile. Though it had been a while since they’d last met, his nerdy image remained unchanged. If anything, he seemed much more cheerful now—a joyful kind of nerd?
“What do you think of the name? Pretty good, right?”
As Woojin glanced at the entrance and stepped inside, Ra pointed at the sign as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
“Uh… Gentle Outside, Strong Within?”
“Ooh, you know your hanja!”
He gave a thumbs-up. In truth, Woojin had guessed it from just the first ‘outer’ and third ‘inner’ characters. He’d keep that little secret to himself.
“I wanted a name related to the film if possible. My debut feature, and our first project together with actor Woojin! Of course it deserves something special~”
Ra added an explanation about the company name with a pleased expression.
“I thought about what four-character idiom would suit firefighters without being too obscure.”
He continued in a low voice.
“Someone who appears soft and kind on the outside but has a firm, strong spirit and will within. Doesn’t it fit firefighters perfectly? So I went for it.”
It was a surprisingly straightforward reason, but hearing it from Ra made it feel profoundly cool.
“It suits perfectly. Rolls off the tongue nicely too.”
“Haha, now I’m embarrassed. It’s not some grand story.”
Ra scratched his head with an awkward smile, then exclaimed, “Oh, right!” He pulled a wallet from his back pocket, extracted a business card, and handed it to Woojin.
“Fresh off the press from yesterday.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Looking at the card right away, Woojin saw ‘Wai Rou Nei Gang Co., Ltd.’ at the top, along with a unique logo. It vaguely resembled a shield, or perhaps a firefighter’s helmet…. Below it read ‘CEO Ra Ho-chan.’
This tiny outfit called Gentle Outside, Strong Within would grow into Korea’s top film company in less than a decade, just as in his original timeline—becoming the most familiar and renowned name to the public. To witness its birth firsthand was a wondrous, deeply moving moment.
“Woojin, have you eaten lunch?”
“Not yet.”
“We’ve got about two hours until the auditions, so how about we eat and chat slowly?”
“Sure, sounds good. Let’s go.”
Ra suggested a meal, expressing concern for the health of an actor who’d been swamped with Red Petal schedules over the past two months. He led Woojin to a high-end Korean restaurant nearby. Woojin insisted a simple bite would be fine, but with Ra declaring, “I’ll cover it now!” he couldn’t refuse.
After arriving at the restaurant and placing their orders, the real work talk began. Ra handed Woojin a binder. Inside were profiles of today’s auditionees—roughly 60 to 70 of them?
“We got over 7,000 profiles. I reviewed every single one meticulously and narrowed it down to those whose images seemed to fit. Take a look.”
The number was jaw-dropping, eyes widening in shock. 7,000 profiles for an indie film? That was commercial blockbuster level.
“That many?”
“I’ve been an assistant director for years, and even adding up all the profiles from back then, it doesn’t come close.”
“That’s insane.”
“Expectations for our film skyrocketed after the casting news dropped. All thanks to you, Woojin. Haha.”
Ra laughed heartily, a smile brimming with joy. Woojin felt his mood lift too, though a subtle unease lingered. It was that familiar feeling from his acting beginnings—the competition was unmatched in any field. Well, even student shorts that used to be easy grabs now had ratios of “hundreds to one.” Indies must be even worse.
He couldn’t help pitying the thousands of profiles beyond these 60 or 70 in his hands—those eliminated at the paperwork stage, never even getting a chance to perform.
He wanted to offer them some comfort. He knew that pain better than anyone.
“……”
As Woojin fell silent, eyes on the profiles, Ra seemed to sense his thoughts and added, “I messaged the rest personally. Said I’d love to work with them someday. It might seem formal, but I meant every word.”
“Ah, sorry. You shouldn’t have to worry about me, Director. I just zoned out for a second…”
“Haha, no. It’s that human, warm side that makes me like you even more, Woojin.”
Grateful words. The weight on his heart eased a bit. Perfect timing—the food arrived, and they continued chatting over the meal.
“We’re casting two.”
Most minor roles were already filled. Today was for the supporting ones—selecting two of those.
“Newcomers.”
“Got it.”
Burnt and Hidden Marks was fundamentally a film where the entire plot focused solely on protagonist Lee Geon-woo. Not a single scene lacked Woojin—true solo lead status. Thus, supporting roles here had significantly less weight than in typical films. Even with Baek Woojin’s star power, casting big names for supports was tough.
Of course, some agencies had pitched after seeing his name—pushing established-but-fresh actors. But most were just “include our newbie too,” the kkwi-pa-ri-gi Woojin despised.
And even if not, with Woojin waiving his base pay for the indie vibe, he didn’t expect them to offer “just running guarantee.” Ra saw them as empty gestures from the start and planned to fill all roles with rookies anyway. Transparent open auditions to discover real talent. Common sense, right? No forced placements.
“Today’s roles are Won Jong-su and Moon Hee-yeon.”
“Yep. Second biggest after Lee Geon-woo.”
Their virtual world appearances were still vivid. Excitement for the auditions bubbled up.
“Observe with a sharp eye. We’re scouting Lee Geon-woo’s colleagues, after all.”
Ra reminded him once more. Woojin nodded. As discussed at their first meeting, he wouldn’t overstep the director’s authority. But with Won Jong-su and Moon Hee-yeon’s images fresh in his mind, he hoped—like Ra—to find actors matching not just looks, but everyday personalities too.
Just like the company name: truly gentle outside, strong within. His ambitions grew. Ever since shaking off his long-held resentment toward his father, this film’s meaning had swelled uncontrollably. More special than his breakout Wanted or the legendary retirement piece Red Petal. He doubted he’d encounter another like it in his lifetime.
“I’ll do my best.”
A vow to pour everything into this project. Woojin replied with unprecedented resolve.
* * *
After lunch, they returned to the office. With no proper waiting area, they borrowed the first-floor cafe. Soon, the makeshift lounge filled with auditionees clutching printed scripts, immersed in last-minute practice. Young actors captivating the eye.
Some would pass, some fail. But he hoped they’d all leave without regrets.
“Auditions starting!”
At exactly 2 p.m., a staffer’s call kicked things off. One man, one woman to cast, so applicants were split evenly. Pairs of one man and one woman auditioned as teams.
The first group entered the room.
“Hello. Actor Kim Ye-eun…”
“Actor Kim Min-hyeok… Whoa!?”
They couldn’t hide their shock. Directors and key staff were expected, but Baek Woojin? No way they’d dreamed of that.
“Oh my… Sunbae, I’m a fan.”
“Thanks. Relax and just do your thing.”
“Yes, got it!”
“We’ll give it our all!”
Visibly flustered at first, they soon gazed with admiration, shyly speaking up. Woojin smiled kindly in response. Was his mere presence stressing the rookies? To ease any risk of ruining their shots, he exchanged brief words to loosen them up.
“Let’s start with the assigned scenes. Min-hyeok first? Ye-eun, read the partner lines. Then switch.”
“Yes!”
In the now-relaxed atmosphere, their acting began. Assigned duo scenes, free performances, short Q&A followed.
Woojin’s gaze was deadly serious throughout, never leaving the auditionees.
“Great job.”
“Thank you!”
Afterward, “Director, if it’s not too much, may I say a word to the actors?”
“Oh, sure. Go ahead.”
“Thank you.”
Politely getting Ra’s permission first, Woojin turned to them.
“Good work. Thanks for the great performance. I enjoyed it.”
Encouragement to start.
“Ye-eun’s expressions and tone were spot-on. Min-hyeok’s focus was outstanding. I learned a lot watching you both.”
Then feedback. He consistently called them “actor-nim,” a small but vital respect. In an industry rife with power imbalances, shouldn’t there be at least one audition treating peers as equals?
After 500 auditions without such courtesy himself, being able to offer it to juniors felt like a blessing.
“Both of you had slightly flat endings to lines, giving a monotonous feel. Fix that, and it’d be clean, flawless acting.”
The first group left beaming. Win or lose, may this moment remain a cherished memory.
Ra, clearly pleased with Woojin’s approach, grinned and called out.
“Next group, get ready!”
The auditions continued.