The Perfect Second Lead
The acting world is narrower than you might think, but that doesn't mean you can build connections with everyone.
Unless you starred in the same project or belonged to the same agency—or theater troupe—opportunities to even recognize faces were rare.
In that sense, I had no personal ties with actor So Jeong-hoon.
No, truthfully, we'd never exchanged a single word.
We had appeared in the same works before, but we were both bit players shuffling between roles with lines and extras.
Actors on day-hire contracts, not full shoots, only crossed paths if their shooting days overlapped.
Even so, I felt a strange sense of inner camaraderie with So Jeong-hoon.
We were around the same age with similar careers, so we bumped into each other frequently at auditions.
And yet...
"Come to think of it, this is the first time we've really talked properly."
Surprisingly, So Jeong-hoon felt exactly the same way about me.
"Hyun-woo, remember Director Han Jong-cheol's audition back in the day?"
"Oh, the Northern Spy role?"
"You remember? Right on cue."
"Of course. It was the first open audition of my life."
"Mine too."
Even "open auditions" aren't truly public spectacles.
They just mean they're casting on a large scale with widespread submissions.
But Director Han Jong-cheol's audition had been held in a wide-open auditorium like some survival show.
The official reason was to find performers with steel nerves under pressure, but...
"There was another reason? What?"
"Director Han Jong-cheol is a total survival audition program junkie."
"For real?"
"Yeah. I heard it straight from D.P's PR team leader, so it's gotta be true."
"Whoa, had no idea."
"That's why the project he's prepping now is about a cabaret singer with a terminal illness entering a survival show."
"Oh, I've heard of that. But I thought it got canned? The production company pulled the plug..."
"The storyline was honestly a bit... well, let's leave it there."
"Haha, are you watching your words now that you're at an OTT company?"
"Can't deny it plays a part."
I chatted nonstop with So Jeong-hoon.
At first, my goal was just to soften his resolve about retiring, but soon I was genuinely enjoying it.
Chae Seo-hee sat there like a fifth wheel, but whatever.
The vibe was good.
"Anyway, back then, you were right in front of me in line."
"Yeah, I remember."
"You shaved your head bald for the Northern Spy role and nailed it... Honestly, I thought you'd get it. You were amazing."
"Jeong-hoon, you know something?"
"What?"
"Spies don't shave their heads."
"Ah...!"
So Jeong-hoon burst into laughter at my lame joke, barely calming down before continuing.
"There were so many times like that. We never talked, but whenever we crossed paths at auditions, I'd think, Oh, Do Hyun-woo will snag this role for sure."
"Embarrassing, since we both bombed anyway."
"That's just how I felt."
So Jeong-hoon's expression grew a bit serious.
"How does it feel to retire after giving performances like that?"
It seemed casually tossed into our chat, but given his reality, it was anything but light.
So my answer was predetermined.
I'm incredibly disappointed.
I regret not seizing the chances I had.
But now the opportunity's yours.
Let's team up and shoot Gongbeomche.
That was my duty to seal the casting.
But...
"Weirdly, I don't regret it at all."
I wanted to be honest.
"Really?"
"Someone told me once: 'You didn't love acting—you loved the projects.' Sure, I liked acting too. But I always imagined the project shining, not me."
"..."
"That's why I love this CE job so much. And getting full control on my first project? Thrilling."
So Jeong-hoon seemed lost in deep thought as he absorbed my words.
But I didn't let him linger.
Sometimes an instant reply is the truest.
"What about you, Jeong-hoon? Did you love acting? Or the projects?"
"For me... it was acting."
"So acting got boring? Or being a nobody wore you down?"
"..."
"Designated driving gets old. Delivery gigs too. But a steady job? Auditions and shoots make it impossible."
What the hell is this?
What's my situation right now?
I vividly remembered getting fired from a part-time gig just to deliver two lines.
And that scene? Cut entirely in editing.
"People think actors have glamorous lives, but my most frequent performance was pretending everything was fine."
I hadn't said much, yet tears started streaming down So Jeong-hoon's face.
He'd stormed out of his agency declaring retirement and even packed his bags at the theater troupe.
Who knew what pressures had built up that I couldn't fathom.
Honestly, I was in the cushy top 1% of struggling actors.
A major agency where one more non-earner like me didn't raise eyebrows.
The CEO and team leader actually liked me.
Sure, there were plenty like Manager Jang who hated my guts, but Yoon the rep was the boss, and Ko the team leader was team leader.
How much pressure could I really have felt?
Even in the same broke-ass boat, the weights differ.
So I was glad to make this offer to So Jeong-hoon.
"There's a role named Jeong-hoon in the Gongbeomche project I'm handling. The name matched, so from the first read, you came to mind."
Not a lie.
It was the only casting my superpower suggested that matched my own instinct.
"I'm no genius, but I won't mistreat a project or its actors. So..."
So Jeong-hoon looked at me through tear-streaked eyes.
"Could you consider it positively?"
After wiping his tears, So Jeong-hoon read the Gongbeomche pitch right there.
He freaked out realizing "Jeong-hoon" was the second lead, staring at me like I was insane.
But my decision stood firm, and we got to watch his improv acting and a light script read-through.
The funny part? His first read of this fresh script outshone years of audition improvs.
"Ah..."
"What?"
"Hang on, just a sec. Something feels off reading these lines."
Then So Jeong-hoon forgot we were there, diving deep into the script and performing a few scenes.
Incredible presence. Perfect sync.
And massive anticipation.
Eum Sung-hyun and So Jeong-hoon.
No—Hyun-tae and Jeong-hoon. I couldn't wait to see what they'd create on camera.
I wasn't alone; the cafe staff watching us even brought complimentary sliced cake, asking about the actor and project.
Plus, So Jeong-hoon confirmed what I'd been unsure about with Eum Sung-hyun.
When tense or anxious, So Jeong-hoon scratches his thumbnail with his index fingernail.
And that habit matched the Jeong-hoon from the script perfectly.
Meaning the "Jeong-hoon" I saw wasn't fictional.
It was what real-life So Jeong-hoon would live if he stepped into the script's Jeong-hoon.
That's what my superpower showed.
Eum Sung-hyun had shown something similar, but since it was first-person possession into Hyun-tae, I hadn't been certain.
So...
"Let's sign the contract."
I'd planned a formal audition and camera test, but I changed my mind.
I already knew his skill, and this actor wouldn't crumble on set.
Plus, he embodied the exact "Jeong-hoon" I envisioned. Why hesitate?
"...This easily? For a Tvic original second lead?"
"Easy? Without the last ten years, would we be here today?"
"...No."
"You bombed, sure, but if you hadn't hustled those auditions, would I even know you?"
"...No..."
"All that time built today. So, let's make this project great together."
So Jeong-hoon burst into tears again, then dashed out saying he'd make a quick call.
Parents? Girlfriend? Friend? Whoever his first share was.
He returned in under five minutes, face washed and composed—probably hit the bathroom.
But now worry creased that composed face.
"Reality's sinking in... What if the lead hates me?"
"Why?"
"If the second lead's a total unknown, the star might feel slighted. First and second leads need to match in caliber..."
Chae Seo-hee, who'd been discreetly dabbing her eyes since he ran out, burst out laughing.
So Jeong-hoon tilted his head, baffled by the sudden mirth.
Once So Jeong-hoon left, Chae Seo-hee spoke up in the now-empty cafe.
"Hyun-woo, you're a casting god."
"Me?"
"Actors are stubborn as hell, success or not. Turning one around in minutes? You think that's easy?"
Hmm.
So Jeong-hoon was desperate for a shot; I just poked that desperation.
His retirement thoughts stemmed more from harsh reality than hating acting.
I didn't do much, did I?
"If that's the case, what does that make you, who couldn't even stop him from quitting the troupe?"
"Mm, the trusty second CE who'll snag us an art team?"
"Teasing me for ditching the art team hunt to tag along on casting?"
"As if."
"I already scouted the art director on my phone while you two chatted. I'll set a meeting tomorrow and update you."
I thought only Sung Tae-chang was useful, but her status window ain't bad.
Today's swift handling: +10.
"But that true?"
"What?"
"That you prefer CE over acting."
"Yeah, totally. Why?"
"Just... I want our project to crush it. And the next one. And the one after."
I couldn't help a slight smile.
Another person as moved as So Jeong-hoon sat right here.
"Tomorrow's casting—wanna hit it first thing in the morning?"
"Go solo. I'll grind pre-production to make our project shine."
"Gonna be busy for a while."
"Always is. Once full casting kicks off, it's a blur till the groundbreaking ceremony."
Chae Seo-hee was spot on.
By the time we locked in all seven leads and supports, the year had turned.
Early February, another calendar page flipped.
Finally, Chae Seo-hee and I wrapped every prep needed for shooting.
With Director Jung Hee-soo finishing his directing segment—delayed by the French film fest—pre-production ended.
Pre-prod doesn't close with a team dinner or report.
It's the script reading.