An Unexpected Audition Proposal
Startled awake, I jumped to my feet as Jeong Ki-jun senior exchanged greetings with the people around us.
"Ki-jun senior! What brings you here?"
"I heard from Tae-ho."
"Ah, Tae-ho was your manager until last year, right?"
I didn't know Jeong Ki-jun senior personally, but the seniors who had debuted a few years before me were familiar faces.
This senior, now working as a lighting director, had been my classmate back in the day.
As Jeong Ki-jun caught up with everyone, he suddenly turned and approached me.
"Nice to meet you, Director Do Hyun-woo."
"Hello, senior. Feel free to speak casually."
"Hmm, should I? Mind if I sit?"
"Of course not."
He pulled up a chair and sat down, cutting straight to the chase.
"Truth is, I came to see you, junior director."
I'd had a feeling.
During his chats with the others, I'd caught his gaze drifting my way a few times.
"I've got a question—mind if I ask?"
"Go ahead."
"Why'd you want to cast me?"
The blunt question hit without warning, leaving me momentarily stumped. Jeong Ki-jun added,
"If there's no reason, just say so."
"There is a reason."
"Then why?"
I was choosing my words carefully. Probably because of the booze.
"How much have you had?"
"Over two bottles, I think."
Jeong Ki-jun chuckled, cracked open a bottle of soju from the table, and downed it in one go.
I'd heard the rumors.
That Jeong Ki-jun senior could really hold his liquor.
But even so, that much?
"Good now? Want another?"
"I'm good."
I had no idea why he was asking about a casting that had already fallen through, but I decided to be honest.
Something in his eyes—a mysterious hunger—made me think it might align with what I suspected.
"I really admired your acting, senior. But after you started churning out projects, it felt... different."
"Different how?"
"Like the audience you were trying to satisfy had changed. Not performing for your own fulfillment anymore, but for the viewers, the spectators?"
"……."
"No matter how hard I try, you guys don't get it? Fine, I'll give you what you want—that kind of vibe?"
"That's not necessarily bad, is it?"
"Of course not. If it weren't for that movie you did last year, I'd have chalked it up to just an evolution in your acting philosophy. And like you said, it's not a bad thing."
"And that movie from last year... how was it?"
"It felt like a throwback to the past. That's when I thought, Ah, so that's the acting he wants to do. Could we bring that to our project?"
"……That one flopped. First big failure in ages."
"Not your fault, right? And didn't you know it might tank when you signed on?"
Jeong Ki-jun went quiet for a long stretch before letting out a wry laugh.
"Sharp as a ghost. You could tell?"
"Everyone probably could."
"People who know me well got it. But you're the first to pick up on it just from the work."
"Maybe they were just holding back."
"Too much humility is just deception."
Jeong Ki-jun fiddled with his soju glass for a good while.
"That movie... well, whatever. No need to get all melodramatic."
There was a story there, for sure.
I'd looked into it—the directing style shifted midway, turns out the director changed.
Brother stepped aside for the younger sibling to take the megaphone, or something like that.
Then Jeong Ki-jun dropped a bombshell out of nowhere.
"Actually, this contract? It's like, fifty-fifty fault."
"Contract?"
"The Oxygen Alert gig."
"Ah."
But what did fault have to do with it?
"I never gave the okay, but my agency stamped it anyway. And hey, that's how we've rolled up till now."
I got it.
With all the prolific work, his agency booked schedules first and informed him later—a habit that had become routine over years without issues.
"Junior. What do you say?"
"Pardon?"
"If I pay the penalty and jump ship to your side—would you take me?"
The alcohol cleared from my system in an instant.
Pay the penalty?
Meaning, ditch Oxygen Alert and come to our project?
My booze-fogged brain spun into high gear.
I didn't know the exact figure, but I could ballpark Jeong Ki-jun's fee.
He'd have pocketed 10% as a down payment, and since filming hadn't started, penalty was straightforward—double that.
Maxing it out, around 100 million won.
Maybe less.
Not an amount a star like him couldn't handle, and split with the agency, the burden lightened even more.
Greed bloomed in my chest once the math was done.
I wanted to poach Jeong Ki-jun.
And see Joo Young-hoon's face twist in agony.
So...
"I don't think that'd work, senior."
My answer was a refusal.
"……Unexpected. Why?"
"It wouldn't be good for you."
"Me? You're worried about me?"
"Yeah. Goes against the natural order."
This wasn't about scrapping a contract due to script or casting issues.
Pure whim—pulling out of a done deal.
He might claim shared fault, but outsiders wouldn't see it that way.
Worst black mark for any casting director.
Plus, other actors might have committed to Oxygen Alert seeing Jeong Ki-jun attached...
"If you join our drama and shine solo, won't your peers resent you?"
I couldn't shove a talented actor into an obvious pit just to screw over Joo Young-hoon.
I didn't want to become the same kind of person.
The moment I finished, Jeong Ki-jun and the surrounding seniors burst into laughter.
"Ha, this guy's fun. Glad I came."
Kang Min-sik senior chimed in at Jeong Ki-jun's words.
"Taking it as a given that your drama will succeed, huh?"
No, do directors make projects doubting them?
"That's why Gongbeomche killed it, I bet. Shame—I wanted to work with you, junior."
"Opportunity might come."
"Yeah, probably. So, who's your pick for the new Korean Young? If I know 'em, maybe I can help."
My head was already splitting over it.
Not just Korean Young—Sa-mo-yeon and Pi-do-seon too.
Critical roles, after all.
But honestly...
This was pretty fun.
Up to now, I'd never cast purely on my own judgment.
To outsiders, I looked like a lone wolf shoving unknowns into leads, but it all stemmed from my superpower's recommendations.
Of course, I won't deny those picks were perfect 100% fits.
But does the ideal actor have to be one specific 100-pointer?
This world has countless Jokers and Batmans, each with their unique appeal.
In other words, this was my first time selecting actors on my own terms.
And...
The candidate for Korean Young in my mind was right in front of me.
Not Jeong Ki-jun senior.
"Min-sik senior."
"Yeah?"
"Want to audition? For Korean Young."
"What?"
I don't overhype my skills, but visualization? That's my exception.
It's my weapon, my specialty.
And when I wiped Jeong Ki-jun's face from Korean Young's image with that power...
Kang Min-sik senior popped up first.
Of course, his take would differ from Jeong Ki-jun's.
More hopeless, more carefree, more human.
But wasn't that appealing too?
If he couldn't replace Jeong's version, we'd craft a new Korean Young.
Not locked in yet.
It's been a while since he acted, so plenty to check.
Might need camera tests, and I could end up delivering bad news.
But if his acting held up, Kang Min-sik was my top choice.
I've seen more of his performances than anyone's.
"……You're offering me Ki-jun senior's role right now?"
"No, just an audition. Not confirmed."
"St-still, you must like me for it, right?"
"Yep? Haven't approached anyone else yet."
I'd planned a detailed pitch tomorrow, but circumstances led here.
"Why? Why, why me...?"
"Got a reason. Just fits perfectly."
I pulled the script from my bag and handed it to Kang Min-sik.
Amid the suddenly hushed stares of the seniors, he took it with trembling hands.
That was the moment.
Something utterly unimaginable happened.
The ground dropped away, the bar spun wildly, and...
"What the hell? Do Hyun-woo finalized the key cast?"
"Yes. Report went up to HQ."
"Meaning, he stamped it? Not just talks?"
"Yes."
Joo Young-hoon scowled at his subordinate's words.
He'd read the Sonkkeut-eul Geollyeoneun script too.
Jeong Ki-jun, Lee Min-seon, Choi Ha-il.
Not easy replacements.
He'd even felt jealous of Do Hyun-woo's picks.
If a drama starts with the script, it ends with casting.
Behind "dramas are script playgrounds" lies the prerequisite of actors who can truly play.
Casting is never simple.
Teams gather, debate countless actors, rehash endless scenes to find fits, review filmographies for sync rates.
Even then, no guarantees.
Just rank 1-2-3 candidates at best.
Often, meetings flop, and you circle back to square one.
Yet Do Hyun-woo, solo and rushed, nailed them in a flash.
Jeong Ki-jun made sense as a workhorse, but Lee Min-seon and Choi Ha-il? Applause-worthy.
And right after they bailed, he found subs?
Rushed before we could poach more?
Or...
Did he snag real gems?
Joo Young-hoon swallowed hard.
"Who's Korean Young?"
"No idea. Theater actor, total newbie."
"Fresh face? In his 40s?"
"Yes. No mainstream credits, just stage work. Latest indie was five years back. Name's... ah, Kang Min-sik."
Joo Young-hoon sighed in relief—then Gongbeomche flashed in his mind.
The eight nobodies he'd greenlit on a lark, report in hand, incredulous.
Recalling their success soured his gut.
"And Pi-do-seon?"
Sa-mo-yeon topped the roles, but this nagged more.
"DVX member. Stage name Ruan, real name Kim Si-woo."
"DVX? What... an idol?"
"Yes. Fourth-year active idol, hugely popular. Thick core fanbase."
Fits the profile, situationally.
In-story: 18-year-old pro gamer.
Idol sweet spot.
Issue: hefty screentime.
"Acting experience?"
"None. DVX does zero solo activities."
"Plan to train on set?"
"Presumably."
"Sa-mo-yeon?"
"Well..."
The subordinate hesitated; Joo Young-hoon snapped.
"What? Spit it out."
"It's... Jeon So-ra."
"What? Bullshit!"
"I double-checked multiple times—it sounds insane, but it's real..."
"What kind of nonsense...!"
Jeon So-ra.
Top actress before Seo Jae-yeon, the nation's goddess.
Over five years inactive, yet still flooded with offers from dramas and films.
No scandals, last project smashed 10 million viewers.
37 years old too.
Prime for lead roles, yet taking 4th or 5th billing?
"Don't feed me crap—get the facts straight!"
But Joo Young-hoon's rage was futile.
It was true.