Crossing the Line
“Actor Min Jae-yul really nailed the key points right from the start. Even the tough scenes flowed easily once he got the cue going.”
“Ah, yeah. His acting professor always praises him for exactly that.”
“To be honest, I don’t think there’s any actor who could pull off Lee Young-han better than Min Jae-yul.”
The team manager for Min Jae-yul broke into a huge grin at my words.
Over that genuine delight, I caught a fleeting glimpse of Manager Ko’s face from the past.
She always made that exact expression whenever one of her actors got praised.
We spent quite a while after that showering Min Jae-yul’s acting with compliments.
It wasn’t fake.
Even without the superpower’s recommendation, he’d been my top 1 or 2 pick.
That’s when the Surfer Ent team manager cautiously broached the subject.
“By the way, any progress on the lead casting? I’ve heard some talk about Actor Kim Ra-un.”
“We’ve sent the script to Actor Kim Ra-un and are waiting for a positive response.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. He’s an outstanding actor. And his IP pull is solid.”
They seemed thrown off by my firm stance on the probing question, but this was the right play now.
Beating around the bush would just mean more haggling later.
Besides, today wasn’t about stamping deals.
The budget wasn’t even set yet, and the director spot was still vacant.
Call it a waiting ticket?
Even if the meeting ended on a high note, the second I left, their internal staff would huddle up and crunch the numbers.
And I had names that would tip those numbers into the plus column.
“That said, Manager. While reviewing, I noticed an actress from Surfer Ent who’d be perfect for PR Team Leader Yoo Ah-yeon.”
“Yoo Ah-yeon? The one with the romance line with Lee Young-han?”
“Yes.”
Yoo Ah-yeon, PR team leader at Seonghwa Empire.
A proactive character who struggles tirelessly to save her struggling, deficit-plagued team.
She also relentlessly prods Lee Young-han, who’s never truly pondered ‘team’ or ‘duty,’ with her genuine love for Seonghwa Empire.
“She doesn’t stand out much in the first four acts we sent, but she becomes crucial later on.”
I flipped the casting book open to Yoo Ah-yeon’s section.
“Her screentime spikes dramatically from Act 6. And it’s not just romance—she has plenty of arcs where she actively seizes her goals.”
The manager nodded as she skimmed the casting book.
In our drama, with the main female lead still open, this was a pretty substantial role.
The raw script lines were modest, but if the drama hit big, she’d reap the rewards.
Sensing the appeal, the Surfer Ent manager swallowed hard and spoke up.
“Who did you have in mind...?”
“Oh Ha-eun. Is her schedule open?”
“Pardon? Ha-eun? You mean our Ha-eun?”
“Is there another actress at Surfer Ent using the stage name Ha-eun?”
“No, there isn’t. But...”
The manager stared at me like I’d lost my mind.
“She’s one of ours, sure, but her name value is kinda low, isn’t it?”
True enough.
Oh Ha-eun had mostly played ‘female lead’s bestie’ or the ‘guy’s unrequited crush who pops up briefly in Act 1’ in her projects.
When I ran into her during the Prince’s Guard possession, I hadn’t even recognized her face.
Honestly, after digging into her filmography, I’d briefly considered rejecting the superpower’s casting rec for the first time.
But her three recent webdramas changed my mind.
She’d seemed stuck in cookie-cutter roles in commercial stuff, but give her a character with real ambition, and she bloomed.
“Were you thinking of bundling guarantees in one go? Jae-yul and Ha-eun have different management teams, so a heads-up would help.”
I shook my head at the roundabout bundle-deal question.
“Handle them separately. I desperately want Min Jae-yul, but I want Oh Ha-eun too.”
After staring at me for a long beat, the manager burst into honest laughter.
“I get it now. I see how those Criminal Community actors felt.”
It felt surreal.
If I’d only gone after Min Jae-yul, Surfer Ent would’ve crunched numbers hard.
But tossing Oh Ha-eun in tilted things favorably.
Actresses have a tougher climb than male actors these days.
In that sense, Oh Ha-eun was a practically helpful rec.
Does the superpower only recommend castings that are guaranteed to pan out?
Eum Sung-hyun came to mind too.
Meeting him had been pure chance.
I’d spotted him out of nowhere at that café during the writers’ meeting.
But later, I learned his visit that day was a fluke of coincidences.
Which made me think... maybe the superpower nudged our paths together?
The hunch grew stronger with every agency visit.
Not one had scheduling conflicts—they were all on break, no upcoming projects lined up.
Ambition stirred.
Could I fill all the key roles with recs?
It was a stretch, no doubt.
Criminal Community was a weird case—public contest winner left to languish with its budget intact.
SSK approval was all I needed to cast as I pleased.
But At Your Fingertips was different.
Minimum 10 billion won.
Maximum 20 billion.
Somewhere in between, with a hefty chunk from Tvic.
No way they’d stay hands-off on casting.
Not to mention SSK execs, the incoming director, writer Yeom Jae-moon, leads, even Chae Seo-hee working alongside me.
Lots of voices to consider—and I had to.
Couldn’t play lone wolf clutching everything.
These weren’t projects I could seize solo anyway.
Still, the greed persisted because the superpower’s picks felt like slam-dunk castings.
But...
“What?”
“Actor Jeong Ki-jun stamped another project.”
Number 3 role in the script, Korean Young—snatched away.
Jeong Ki-jun.
Starred as leads in his 20s and 30s, but cursed with ratings bad luck.
Every drama tanked; his two-lead films bombed too.
Then in his 40s, he went prolific—and hit paydirt.
‘Another Ki-jun’ became a thing; he was everywhere, and everything succeeded.
Chungmuro folks started benchmarking roles against him.
‘Just use Jeong Ki-jun if it’s pricier than him.’
True to his name, he became the standard.
But I regretted it a bit.
I’m a huge fan of Senior Jeong Ki-jun’s acting.
Never met him, but he was a senior from my old troupe, Exclamation.
During script possession, when Korean Young wore his face, I’d cheered inwardly.
And now he’d stamped elsewhere?
“You sure? Actual contract signed?”
Chae Seo-hee nodded.
“Yes. Confirmed.”
“Where’d you hear?”
“Everyone in the company knows.”
A flash of insight hit.
“No way...”
“Yep. Oxygen Alert. Senior Joo Young-hoon swooped in.”
No wonder Jeong Ki-jun’s agency ghosted after that friendly chat.
Usually, they’d loop you in early.
No contract yet, but prior vibes.
I got ignored.
Interim lead or not, I was just a CE—not senior.
Plus, weeks ago, Joo Young-hoon’s assistant CE.
Figured SSK gig meant Joo’d sort it.
“Hyun-woo. Don’t do anything rash. Casting flips happen all the time.”
“I know. But...”
This pissed me off bad.
CL teams had unwritten rules to uphold.
I’d endured the ethics committee.
Suspicions, no proof—didn’t want to slap labels prematurely.
But now it felt malicious.
And it wasn’t a misunderstanding.
“Do CE-nim. Honestly, our internal opinions are split.”
“Go ahead.”
“The actor wants At Your Fingertips? Says the script’s amazing. But from our side, Oxygen Alert is more appealing. Writer’s name value, confirmed slot.”
“Understood.”
“Tweak the guarantee a bit, and I can push upstairs...”
Next day, calls from 4 and 5 role agencies.
Joo Young-hoon had reached out.
I hung up, pondered, then stood.
Time to face Joo Young-hoon.
The moment Do Hyun-woo appeared on the 5th floor.
CL 2 and 3 team went dead silent, like mice before a cat.
Everyone knew what went down the last two days.
Joo Young-hoon broke CL’s unwritten rule.
Teams did similar work, so lines were drawn—and he bulldozed them.
Issue: 4 Team had no senior to back them.
Some thought Gong Seok-jun would step up soon, but it was messy.
If Joo claimed ‘we contacted first,’ no comeback.
Usually, seniors hashed it out quietly to avoid fatigue.
But Gong couldn’t babysit 4 Team forever.
Meanwhile, Jeong Ki-jun went to Joo.
Do Hyun-woo acting was expected.
But showing up personally? No one saw that.
Figured he’d cry to the bosses.
As everyone held their breath, Do Hyun-woo spoke before Joo Young-hoon.
“Team 3 Leader. From what I learned, there are lines we’re supposed to respect.”
“Lines?”
“You saw we contacted first. Shouldn’t you have gotten our okay?”
“You should’ve gotten mine. We reached out first. Ignorance is on you.”
Joo Young-hoon was shameless.
“What? Think you’re the only one with an eye for talent? Those actors were our top picks too. I talked to their managers before you. Toss a script and claim dibs? We all pass on first drafts. Right?”
“Would that fly if the roles were reversed?”
“Sure. Why? Think I’m bluffing?”
Joo smirked, pointing to the script on his desk.
“Our project? Director Ko Hak-soo’s on it. You know him?”
“Yeah, vaguely.”
“Director Ko wants Kim Ra-un as lead. Already squared with Jang exec.”
“What’s your point?”
“Since you’re here, let’s sort traffic. Wouldn’t want you chasing if we ink Kim Ra-un.”
Do Hyun-woo, listening, finally spoke.
“Sounds like no contract yet.”
“Time issue. Kim Ra-un’s waffling? Ko’ll pull him—director who best captured his charm.”
That’s when it happened.
Before Joo finished, Do Hyun-woo unleashed a booming laugh.
No pretense—pure, genuine amusement.