Action (1)
Kang Tae-san momentarily blacked out at the staggering sum of 500 million won.
He somehow managed to pull himself together and finalize the exclusive acting contract with Kidari Entertainment.
Truthfully, he could barely remember how he had seen off CEO Choi Hyung-tak.
Tae-san felt as though he had won the lottery.
A week after stamping the contract, his bank account received 483.5 million won—after the 3.3 percent fee was deducted.
Kang Tae-san counted the zeros over and over, wondering if an extra digit had been added by mistake.
Had he ever imagined possessing this kind of money in his life?
Absolutely not.
For someone whose default state had always been poverty, a sum in the hundreds of millions felt as unreal as a unicorn.
Of course, he had once dreamed that if he worked hard and saved steadily, he might one day reach that amount.
He had even pictured buying a small house with a modest garden in the countryside for when his body could no longer handle manual labor—growing his own food, cooking, repairing the place, and quietly living out the rest of his days alone. That had been the plan… until now.
‘Five hundred million!’
Five hundred million might not be considered a fortune in today’s world, but to Tae-san it was money he had believed he would only see decades from now—if ever.
The sudden reality left him both thrilled and unsure what to do first.
Even if he simply parked it in a 2.5 percent bank deposit, the annual interest would exceed ten million won.
That meant roughly eight hundred thousand won in passive income every month!
Still, he had no intention of leaving the entire sum in the bank.
His current monthly rent was already close to six hundred thousand won, so securing a jeonse deposit and eliminating the rent payment came first.
Some might suggest investing the money to generate monthly returns, but Tae-san knew himself too well for that.
He had never been the type to gamble on things he didn’t understand, and his old-fashioned “earn what you work for” mindset made solving his housing situation the obvious priority.
He was finally free from the constant anxiety of “What if I can’t pay rent this month?” or “What if the landlord raises it?”
With that settled, Tae-san began visiting real estate offices, one after another.
To protect his hard-earned money, he insisted on properties with no loans and full deposit insurance, pounding the pavement in search of the right place.
After meticulously checking more than twenty listings, he finally chose an older villa in Yeongdeungpo—a transportation hub.
The building was somewhat dated, but it came with a veranda, air conditioner, refrigerator, and washing machine. Best of all, it was a three-room unit, spacious enough for So-yeon to move in if she ever left the agency dorm.
He arranged with the landlord to replace the wallpaper and flooring.
Since the unit was empty, he asked to be notified once the work was finished so he could give it a thorough cleaning before moving in.
He had used the Smile App for plenty of cleaning jobs, but this would be the first time he cleaned his own home with such care.
Knowing he would live here for at least two years, he wanted to make it spotless.
With no furniture yet, the job would be far easier than his usual assignments.
When the landlord called, Tae-san gathered his equipment and headed over.
Worried he might accidentally absorb memories after finishing, he casually asked about the previous tenants.
From what he heard, a diligent brother and sister had lived there while working hard in Seoul—people whose situation felt similar to his own.
Reassured, Tae-san decided to proceed without hesitation.
“All right, let’s get started.”
He rolled up his sleeves and opened the Smile App first, needing to buy refills for the Miracle Shower Head.
One use had cleaned a tiny two-pyeong bathroom like new and consumed a single refill.
This time he planned to use it on both the bathroom and the veranda, so he purchased two refills.
The villa was larger than his old place, and while some cracks and defects were inevitable in an older building, the space itself was perfectly livable. Having never rented a proper jeonse before, Tae-san already felt strangely attached to it.
He attached the shower head to the veranda faucet and turned on the water. Everywhere the stream touched, the surface gleamed like new.
Even the cracks and broken spots seemed to vanish, returning to their original state.
“Wow. The performance really is incredible.”
After thoroughly rinsing the long veranda, he opened the windows to let it dry in the sunlight.
The still-damp floor looked freshly renovated.
Tae-san cleaned the bathroom the same way, then swept and wiped the rest of the house.
As the landlord had said, the siblings had kept the place spotless, so there wasn’t much heavy cleaning required—except for the kitchen cabinets. Years of grease had baked into the old wood and refused to budge.
He couldn’t exactly replace someone else’s cabinets. After thinking it over, he opened the Smile App again and browsed the items.
A peel-and-stick contact paper would be perfect.
“Hmm… nothing like that here.”
He decided to pick some up at the Daiso near the station later. In the meantime, he noticed his supply of Oronamin-F was running low, so he checked his points from cleaning Yang Seon-il’s house.
He had already spent 20 points on the shower-head refills, leaving him with 460. He planned to buy two boxes of Oronamin-F…
The price had jumped from the previous 165 points on 45 percent sale to a full 300 points. Human psychology was funny that way.
It felt like he was paying twice as much for the same item.
Stocking up for the physical demands of filming would definitely be wise, but…
‘I can’t buy it!’
Tae-san simply couldn’t bring himself to spend the points.
He figured his usual stamina would carry him through somehow. Just as he was about to close the app, a flashy pop-up appeared in the corner.
◈ 800p → 120p
◈ All-in-one cream for every skin type
◈ Contains high amounts of Vitamin F
An 85 percent discount was something even Tae-san couldn’t resist.
A few days later, after successfully moving in, Tae-san waited on the first floor of his new villa in Yeongdeungpo.
“Hello, Actor-nim. I’m your manager, Gong Jin-soo.”
A lean man in his mid-twenties stepped out of the car and bowed.
Tae-san returned the greeting politely.
“Yes, this is Kang Tae-san. We spoke on the phone.”
“I could have come up. You didn’t have to wait outside.”
“We’re heading out anyway. Was it hard to find? The alley is a bit complicated.”
“It’s fine. I drive a lot. Shall we go?”
“Sure.”
Tae-san naturally reached for the passenger door, only to find a backpack and other items already there.
“Actor-nim, please sit in the back.”
“Ah. Right.”
Suddenly seated in the place of honor, Tae-san felt awkward and shifted in his seat.
Glancing at him through the rearview mirror, Gong Jin-soo spoke up.
“Actually, today’s one-act drama was contracted before you signed with us, so a manager wasn’t originally required. But the CEO insisted I accompany you. He seems very concerned about your well-being. I’ll take good care of you today. Please relax.”
“I see. Thank you.”
Relaxing wasn’t quite that simple, but compared to taking public transportation all the way to Suwon or Paju for previous shoots, this was undeniably convenient.
Choosing Yeongdeungpo for its transportation links had paid off sooner than expected.
He hadn’t realized that signing with an agency meant a manager would pick him up and drop him off.
At least the ride gave him extra time to review the script.
Tae-san spent the drive to the filming location—a high school in Gimpo—reading and rereading the script. His memory wasn’t exceptional, so he wanted to avoid any mistakes.
A single flubbed line would waste time and burden the entire crew. He refused to let that happen because of him.
After roughly an hour, the car arrived safely at the set.
It was just past six in the morning.
The crew had already set up lights and checked sound equipment, moving briskly in the pre-dawn darkness. Tae-san shivered slightly in the chilly air.
The specialized high school in Gimpo had agreed to lend its facilities for one Sunday. Out of eight total shooting days, four would take place here.
Today’s scenes were mostly action sequences. On one side, the martial arts team was warming up under the stunt coordinator’s direction.
After greeting Director Yoo In-kyu, Tae-san headed over.
“Hello! I’m Kang Tae-san, playing Do Hoon-jae.”
“Oh, Tae-san’s here? Everyone, say hello. Some of you met him at the action school last time.”
“Hello.”
“Nice to meet you.”
In the drama, protagonist Do Hoon-jae had no fighting scenes—he was only on the receiving end. Even taking hits required precise technique to look real without actually getting hurt.
Tae-san had received direct coaching from the stunt coordinator and practiced twice on how to angle his body for the cameras.
Just then, the other lead actors approached.
“Hello, I’m Byun Hong-jin, playing Yeon Seok-tae.”
“I’m Lee Yoon-gi, playing Go Young-seok.”
Yeon Seok-tae was the ruthless bully who tormented Tae-san’s character. Byun Hong-jin, cast in the role, was tall and handsome—the classic leading-man type.
Lee Yoon-gi, playing the fellow victim Go Young-seok, was smaller and slighter but had earned recognition for his acting in independent films.
All three were in their mid-twenties and had grown familiar after several script readings.
“Tae-san, want to run through the choreography?”
“Yes, sunbae-nim.”
Byun Hong-jin had most of the hitting action. A year older than Tae-san, he had originally dreamed of becoming a director, not an actor. While working as an assistant director, he had filled in for a missing extra and caught someone’s eye, launching his acting career.
Once styled and groomed, his striking looks made Tae-san wonder why he had ever considered anything else.
When Tae-san voiced that thought, Byun Hong-jin chuckled.
“You were popular growing up, right? You already look like an actor.”
“Me? Not at all. I wasn’t popular.”
“With your face, the girls must have been all over you.”
“No way. That’s more your type, sunbae-nim. You’re really handsome.”
Tae-san couldn’t help admiring Byun Hong-jin’s thick eyebrows, large eyes, and classic 1980s heartthrob features—the look of an Arabian prince.
Byun Hong-jin, sensing Tae-san’s genuine admiration, didn’t press further. He simply thought how objectively unaware Tae-san was of his own appearance.
They moved on to rehearse the most important scene of the day—the garbage-dump beating.
In it, after the protagonist has already been thoroughly beaten by Yeon Seok-tae’s gang, Seok-tae approaches and repeatedly slaps his face.
“How about I grab your chin from the start and hit you?”
“Let’s try it. The script says ‘Seok-tae grabs Hoon-jae’s face again after the slap and strikes once more.’”
Byun Hong-jin mimed grabbing Tae-san’s chin and striking. Tae-san snapped his head to the side exactly as the stunt coordinator had taught him.
Since the sound would be added in post-production, the movement looked convincingly real.
“Yoon-gi, how was that? Looked good, right?”
“Wow, that was completely realistic just now.”
“Okay, let’s tell the director.”
After a quick run-through, the three actors headed to the prepared garbage-dump set.
Director Yoo In-kyu and the stunt coordinator adjusted their movements. Once the group shots were done, the makeup team transformed Tae-san into a dust-covered, bruised victim of a brutal assault.
“All right, everyone stand by. Final take. High… cue!”
Byun Hong-jin, transformed into the school bully Yeon Seok-jin, strode toward Do Hoon-jae, the victim of school violence.
He moved like a predator closing in on a trapped, helpless animal.
The situation was a grotesque violation of natural order.
The predator’s very presence radiated violence.
“Hey. Bread.”
Yeon Seok-jin called Do Hoon-jae “bread”—a cruel reference to the errand-running “bread shuttle.” When Seok-jin formed a gun shape with his hand and pointed his index finger, the expected response was a flinch and “Ugh!” That was their twisted greeting.
“……”
But Do Hoon-jae, already beaten once by the gang, lacked even the strength to respond.
“Bread!”
“……”
“Look at this bastard.”
Seok-jin immediately grabbed Hoon-jae’s chin. The dust-smeared face showed no will to resist.
“Do you know why you’re getting hit?”
“……”
“Not curious?”
“I… am.”
“Kek. Now you answer? Bread.”
“……Ugh.”
“You little shit.”
Smack! Seok-jin struck Hoon-jae’s left cheek.
“If you knew, what would you do about it?”
“……”
“Bread.”
“……”
Crack—another slap to the left cheek.
“Bread. Bread. Bread.”
Smack. Smack. Crack—
The relentless sound of slaps echoed grotesquely through the space, mingling with Seok-jin’s mocking “bread” noises.
Thud—
Do Hoon-jae suddenly seized Seok-jin’s right arm just as it rose for another blow.
“Stop… it.”
“What?”
“Enough. Just… stop.”
It was the final desperate struggle of a fading life—the cornered rat’s last bark at the beast that had driven it here.
But, as usual, it was futile.
“What the hell did you just say, you crazy bastard?”
Enraged that this filthy creature dared touch him, Seok-jin violently shook off the hand and raised his arm high, pouring every ounce of strength into the next strike.
He hated the look in Hoon-jae’s eyes—that weak, broken gaze—and brought his hand down with full force.
Thud!!!
“……”
“……”
A sudden silence fell over the set.
The most shocked person was Byun Hong-jin, still in character as Yeon Seok-jin. He knew he had used far too much force—the sting in his own palm told him so.
The actor he had struck lay motionless on the ground.
‘Is… is he okay?’
Seeing Kang Tae-san completely still, Byun Hong-jin’s entire body froze. He wanted to ask if he was all right, to check on him, but he couldn’t move—because the director hadn’t called cut.
He was still acting as the bully Yeon Seok-jin.
“……Did he actually get hit for real? Cut. Tae-san! Tae-san, are you okay?”
Everyone on set knew the truth: that last blow hadn’t been choreographed acting. It had been real violence.
Director Yoo In-kyu tore off his headphones and rushed toward the fallen Tae-san, followed closely by the manager and assistant director.
“Tae-san. Kang Tae-san!”
“……”
Having taken the full-force hit, Tae-san gave no answer.