The Set Ablaze
Eum Sung-hyun's acting had set the entire set ablaze.
Or had it?
It was dead silent, without a single sound.
But the heat writhing beneath that silence was unmistakable.
From director Jung Hee-soo to the camera director, sound director, art director, and everyone in between.
The artists, each masters of their own domains, had fire in their hearts.
And it wasn't just the directors.
Veteran staff wore nostalgic expressions, reminiscing about why they'd entered this industry in the first place. The younger ones gazed toward the future, dreaming of making dramas like this themselves.
But the ones burning hottest were the actors.
Eum Sung-hyun's performance had clearly ignited their competitive spirits.
And so...
"Cut! Okay! That was perfect!"
"Director, can we do that last line one more time?"
"Is that necessary? I don't think you can top that."
"I want to slur the line at the end. Not finish it properly, but mumble it. Wouldn't that fit the script better?"
"...Let's try it."
The set went mad.
Like they were betting on who could deliver the most flawless performance.
Like they'd die if they didn't sync perfectly with their characters.
They spurred each other on, elevating their acting levels by leaps and bounds.
The change was so obvious that Jung Hee-soo couldn't hold back any longer.
"Screw it! Reset for Act 1 scenes!"
They scrapped most of the interior scenes shot in Gangwon-do and started over.
The footage from location days 2 and 3 survived mostly intact, but day 1's was almost entirely scrapped.
The acting from just three days ago paled in comparison to today's.
Including shots not on the call sheet brought challenges, but they powered through like they were possessed.
And they didn't miss the must-shoot scenes for the day either.
The shoot, which started in the early dawn, stretched past afternoon into night when Jung Hee-soo snapped out of it.
His face suddenly rational again, he approached me hesitantly.
"Do CE. Is this okay? SSK's gonna hate it."
After we'd already done it? But the answer was set.
"I'm just site support, so I'll check with the lead CE."
"You'd do that?"
I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them.
"It's good. Keep going."
"...?"
"The lead in my head approved it happily."
"Ah...!"
He'd been so immersed, he'd forgotten I was both lead CE and assistant CE.
Laughing belatedly, Jung Hee-soo approached with newfound warmth.
"Asking now is funny enough, but what the hell did you do?"
"Eum Sung-hyun, right?"
"Obviously. I've never believed that crap about the lens devouring the subject... but it really happened."
"I didn't do anything special."
I'd just stripped away clumsy considerations and pushed them to the edge like pros.
Shocking everyone from the cliff's edge? That was all Eum Sung-hyun's talent.
At my answer, Jung Hee-soo eyed me strangely.
"Do CE. You know how supporters in this industry always brag about their own greatness?"
"Is that so?"
Managers claim stars rose thanks to their care. Music engineers tout perfect mixing and mastering.
Sound techs rant about sim-rec difficulties; trainers rave about their guidance.
Simple reason.
The spotlight seems to go entirely to the players on stage.
"It's funny. You're the only one saying the opposite, yet you shine brighter than any supporter."
What?
Director's character feels a bit different now.
"Anyway, today was incredible. Let's keep crushing it."
"Of course."
"Actors want extra takes when they're feeling it—head home, Do CE. No SOS tonight."
Assistant CEs don't have to stay glued to site.
I was enjoying watching, but usually, they clock out after reports.
As I thought that, Jung Hee-soo scanned the set and yelled at the assistant director over something unsatisfactory.
Soft as butter with me, but not with him.
The actors ignored the noise, eyes only on scripts.
The sole exception: Eum Sung-hyun.
He stared blankly, ignoring script and phone.
Even that felt perfectly in character.
Watching him recalled the opening scene.
I hadn't seen Eum Sung-hyun's acting via script possession.
Not ad-lib.
The sequence wasn't even in the script.
"So why does he get loop powers?"
"This is from what I saw firsthand—no, I mean, off the cuff."
"Yes."
"...So how about Hyun-tae getting this power?"
That scene was born from my impromptu response.
That's why I'd felt uneasy before shooting.
Superpower gave perfect results, but what if my change ruined it?
But seeing Eum Sung-hyun act, the anxiety vanished.
The sequence belonged there.
His immersion was proof.
If the setup clashed or emotions jarred, he couldn't have sunk in that deep.
Added setting fitting without superpower? Big win.
But...
"Cut! Okay! Moving to next scene!"
More joy: Eum Sung-hyun hatching from his shell.
Gongbeomche appeared on Tvic's official homepage.
Gongbeomche (Criminal Community)
Our drama was officially teased in the June lineup.
Internally, we had June 8th, Thursday, but the date wasn't public yet.
At the same time, Tvic's second contest for Korean creators kicked off.
First contest winners were being adapted or in production—no more delays.
We ignored external buzz, focusing solely on shooting.
Mon-Tue-Wed: Gangwon-do location.
Thu-Fri-Sat: Seoul set.
Sunday: Reshoots.
Variations per call sheet, but that was the broad stroke.
Gongbeomche's original schedule was brutally tight.
Even for 8 episodes in one location, shooting from February to June premiere was grueling.
But now, we had breathing room.
Simple reason: Actors barely NG'd.
Even then, two retakes max for okay.
No off-site schedules meant zero idle wait time.
All interconnected.
Full drama immersion kept character emotions crystal clear.
On set, you didn't see Eum Sung-hyun, So Jeong-hoon, Park Sung-won.
Just Hyun-tae, Jeong-hoon, Su-cheol, Young-soo...
All embodied their roles.
Eum Sung-hyun topped them.
Always Hyun-tae, even off-camera.
Jung Hee-soo once fretted and suggested I grab a meal with him.
Asked favorite food; he said Hyun-tae's mutton skewers.
Still wonder if Eum actually likes them.
Anyway, staff bloomed with joy.
"Man, working with actors like this? Dream come true."
"Right? A set this smooth actually exists?"
No power trips, no NG's, no surprises.
Perfectly meshed gears, all for the drama.
Once, a 16-hour call sheet melted in 7 hours—early wrap for all.
Rumors spread in SSK.
Clean set, sky-high staff satisfaction.
Didn't make Gongbeomche the year's hype overnight.
"Well, smooth shooting's a relief."
"No-names mean you watch your step."
"That cast? Site better run tight..."
By the halfway mark of the 10-week schedule...
"...Already almost done?"
"...Yeah?"
We'd blasted through over 80% of the call sheet.