An Air of Mystery

Let's go with an air of mystery.

The Garden of Evil was a six-part drama funded by the global OTT platform Nflix and produced by Astra, Lee Seo-won's newly founded company.

Unlike a broadcast drama, every episode would be released on a single set date, which meant the entire production was pre-filmed. Perhaps because Astra's roots ran deep in the film world, most of the staff came from that side — and so did the director.

Yoon Jay? A rookie?

When it came to casting, the real power didn't lie with the director but with the production company and the investors. A year earlier, riding the wave of a Korean drama's worldwide success, Nflix had gladly poured in an enormous sum, and Astra had handled the casting. The production company settled the internal hierarchy in advance, and since a top star like Moon Changmin headed the bill, the rest of the cast naturally filled out one notch below him.

I figured they'd slot in Kwon Min-jae. He's friendly with Lee Seo-won.

What genuinely surprised the director was that a complete unknown had been cast as Baek Jin-ri. He'd assumed they would bring in a recognizable name for a special appearance, given that the character was the twist detonated in the final act.

Hm. Then again, maybe that's better?

A completely fresh face would maximize the impact. Even better if the man could actually act.

Not that I know yet whether he has the chops.

Still, Lee Seo-won wasn't a man who cast anyone carelessly. The director took a sip of coffee and let his eyes drift over Yoon Jay. The man's posture was upright and straight — deferential without ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠groveling, confident without a trace of arrogance.

Baek Jin-ri, the cult leader of the pseudo-religion in The Garden of Evil, first appears onscreen as a strikingly handsome preacher using his face and his silver tongue to gather a fervent flock of believers. And for now, the image fit like a glove. He was handsome in a way that didn't echo any other celebrity out there, and the aura he carried was excellent.

"The reason I asked to meet you separately, Mr. Jay, is really just to chat lightly about the script — so there's no need to be nervous."

The director's manner was courteous despite Jay's rookie status; the industry was a small world, and one never knew where paths might cross again. Besides, Jay's agency was Astra — the very production company behind The Garden of Evil — and the director had also heard the rumor that Cho Youkyung had marked this man for debut long before it happened.

"Since the Baek Jin-ri role is such a crucial pivot in the latter half, I thought..."

"I'm the one who should be thanking you for having me."

Yoon Jay dipped his head in a shallow bow, and Park Hyun-seung, the director of The Garden of Evil, leaned forward in his chair, closing the distance between them.

Well, the first impression seems fine.

It was unmistakable body language — liking, goodwill, interest. The corner of Jay's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

"How did you find the script?"

"I enjoyed it. The protagonist's story of climbing step by step out of the gutter, and the back half, where every piece of foreshadowing comes apart and comes crashing down at once."

"The back half being, of course, the part where Baek Jin-ri appears?"

"That's part of it, yes."

"I like that you're honest."

The Garden of Evil began with its protagonist, Kim Yeon-seok — a man handed a terminal diagnosis — receiving a suspicious proposal. Become a figurehead chairman, the offer went, and a fortune would be his. A man already dying would do anything for the family he was leaving behind, so he accepted — only to discover he'd been sold off to a syndicate of con artists. Imprisoned for crimes he never committed, Kim Yeon-seok waited out each day for the day he would die.

Except the terminal diagnosis was a lie, too.

The doctor, it turned out, had been bought by the fraud ring as well. Once he learned the whole truth, he swore that the moment he walked free again, he would make every one of them pay for what they'd made of him. He built connections inside the prison walls — and then the secret came out that Kim Yeon-seok had once been an agent, promising ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a cold, satisfying revenge. That was the shape of the early arc.

Baek Jin-ri, the role Jay would play, was the head of Jeonchonggyo, the syndicate of swindlers that Kim Yeon-seok slowly clawed his way up through — a rising religion swelling its ranks in public, while behind the curtain, an entrepreneur with a finger in every filthy business there was.

"This is your debut work. What's your plan for it?"

It wasn't the first time Jay had been asked, but he nodded and laid out his thinking anyway. He had no other schedules for the duration of the shoot, he said — so even when it wasn't his call time, he intended to show up on set every single day and absorb the atmosphere of a working production.

"You're serious? You intend to watch all of the filming?"

"Wouldn't that be the right thing to do?"

"You'd come in even on days when none of your scenes are being shot?"

Yoon Jay blinked. Had he said something wrong?

The director studied him, taken aback. It was an intense, scene-stealing role — and yet one that totaled less than thirty minutes of screen time. A handful of veteran actors liked to lecture younger colleagues about watching the whole production rather than merely appearing for their own takes, but...

His drive is impressive. Kids these days think about nothing but money and fame.

Was this Lee Seo-won's influence, or the actor's own creed? Either way, the director found himself liking the seriousness of a man who wasn't simply strutting on the strength of his backers. Except — that wasn't actually what the director wanted from him.

"Ah... since we're on the subject, Mr. Jay — how would you feel about going the route of mystery?"

"Sorry?"

"Oh, no — I don't mean shutting you out. It's for the sake of the work."

This, in fact, was the entire reason he'd asked to meet. The director went on to explain: the fact that Baek Jin-ri was the final-act twist was known only to the production company, the director, and Yoon Jay himself. Even Moon Changmin, the lead, had no idea.

"If a seasoned actor had taken the role, Changmin would probably have caught on. But you're a completely new face, you see? I thought we might put that to use."

They would deceive even the leading actor about the late-story twist. Fortunately, Moon Changmin was good-natured — even if it came out, he wouldn't rage about it. And because he took acting deathly seriously, if concealing it meant drawing a better performance out of him, he would likely count it a blessing.

"You'd gain a great deal from watching the other actors work, I know. But just this once, I have to ask it of you. CEO Lee tells me you act remarkably well."

"Mm. Yes. Understood."

Could he really refuse a request a director was making for the good of the piece? There was only one wrinkle — there was something Jay himself needed to find out by attending the set, every single day, without fail.

This is going to be rough.

True to the director's request, Yoon Jay — who had shown himself at neither the table read nor the set — did not appear on the Garden of Evil set until his own call time finally arrived.

"Jay, today's your first shoot. Aren't you nervous?"

Han Jin-woo, Jay's manager at Astra, tipped his head back to look up at him.

Wow. Honestly.

The day has actually come when I'm marveling at another man's face.

Jin-woo had braced himself for a face that beautiful to come with a difficult personality — but the man wasn't demanding at all, and if anything went out of his way to look after his own manager.

"...I feel like I'm going to die."

"You really don't look it."

Whatever training he'd been through in the past, perhaps, his face remained perfectly serene even as the words left him. Jay swallowed hard and turned his gaze toward the set. Today's shoot was a short one — a scene of him delivering a sermon before his followers — but for the first time, there would be a camera running.

Can I actually do this?

Because of the director's request, he hadn't even been given the chance to test his fear of the camera. He'd assumed he would manage, buoyed by the memory that he hadn't been utterly terrified back when Cho Youkyung had pressed him — but standing here now, his heart was slamming against his ribs.

"Hello, Director."

"Ah, Mr. Jay's here."

Jay's movements had gone stiff, far more than usual — though to everyone watching, it registered as nothing more than a slightly sluggish bearing.

"Let's start with rehearsal."

Before long, following a staff member's guidance, he checked his blocking and the rehearsal began.

Is he feeling unwell?

The staff member closest to him kept catching it — Jay's hand clenching and unclenching, the small, repeated swallows.

They said he was a rookie... please don't tell me this is the type who can't wrap on time.

The staffer sighed quietly, but Jay had no margin left to notice. From every direction, eyes — so many eyes — were hunting him.

The voices of the children who had tormented him — and a laughter so vile it crawled over his skin like insects, tickling at his ears. Yoon Jay wrenched his head to the side. His breathing was growing ragged.

"Excuse me — are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

The staffer couldn't quite pull their suspicious gaze away. Honestly, why would the production company cast such a green rookie and make everyone stay late... Must have connections, I guess.

Through the monitor, the camera caught a glimpse of Yoon Jay descending into visible confusion. Several members of the staff sensed that something was off.

"Let's ease into the take, shall we? And... ready—"

It was at the exact moment everyone on set was thinking the same thought — welp, today's atmosphere just died. Director Park hates actors who can't deliver. Please don't let this mean a delayed schedule—

I can't go on like this forever.

Yoon Jay took hold of the microphone and slowly raised the head he'd been keeping lowered. If he could not overcome the fear — then he would use the fear.

"Action!"

"...We were all conceived of the same mother, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠born into this world as one."

Emotion brought to a boil by terror — a voice so swollen it overwhelmed even the man speaking it. To the crowd, it sounded like nothing so much as a preacher trembling with fervor before his faithful.

Oh-ho?

Wait — so that was just nerves throwing him off earlier?

I like this. Nail it like this and we're done in one take.

Childhood trauma lasts ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠far longer than anyone expects. Even a man who had dragged his comrades out of hostile fire, who had pulled hostages out of terrorist dens and walked out alone — even he still feared those eyes. But the moment he let his guard slip, just slightly, and turned to face the dread and the terror head-on, something new emerged. The eyes, the nose, the mouth, the fine lines of the face — every expression sat subtly, uncannily at odds with itself, and his gaze...

His eyes... have genuinely, completely gone mad.

He looked like a real cult leader. The staffer who had walked Jay through his blocking swallowed hard. Director Park Hyun-seung was no different.

You know, this could work.

The sermon scene had originally been written as an ordinary speech. The original intent was for Baek Jin-ri to slide, degree by degree, into psychopathy as Kim Yeon-seok closed in on each of his revenge targets. But — everyone watching already knew Baek Jin-ri was a fraud of a preacher, and the role was small anyway. Why not simply let him devour the screen from his very first frame? It was the kind of acting that quietly reached out and bent the direction of the production itself.

But Yoon Jay was not satisfied. He had pushed through by sheer willpower, and by the time he surfaced, the take was somehow already over. That hadn't been acting. He had simply... simply done it, as it was.

The moment Lee Seo-won received that cryptic message, he dialed the director of The Garden of Evil without a second's delay.

"Hello? Director Park Hyun-seung?"

"And to what do I owe the honor of CEO Lee gracing my humble little number with a call?"

Asking when you already know perfectly well. Lee only let out a laugh, and Park laughed along with him.

"You called because you're dying to know how Baek Jin-ri turned out, didn't you?"

"Well. Yes, obviously."

"He was good, let me tell you. Is he actually a rookie? Honestly, your eye for talent deserves an award all its own. I'm telling you — his performance was so striking I went and changed the whole direction of the staging."

"Hm. Is that so?"

Park's praise rolled on and on, but somewhere in it, Lee Seo-won felt a faint sting of disappointment.

So he just delivered a solid par, then?

Hanging up, Lee narrowed his eyes. Hm, well. Good was good, to be sure, but...

Then, a few days later, a reaction came back that blew clean past his expectations.

Apparently texting had grown too slow for him — Park Hyun-seung called on the spot.

"CEO Lee... you have to lock that boy down long-term. Go renegotiate the contract right now, while you still can."

"What on earth happened over there?"

"He slaughtered the entire set today. That kid. Every last one of us."

"Seriously? How?"

Lee asked again, but Park, too worked up to answer coherently, simply kept muttering to himself in open awe.

"God... I've still got goosebumps."