Monster City Audition Shock
The door marked [Monster City - Audition] flew open with a brutal bang.
A man bolted out into the audition hall corridor.
"Fuck this shit!"
"PD!"
Voices called after him from behind, but Ji Cheol-geun, the PD huffing and puffing as he sprinted away, couldn't have cared less.
He'd lost.
Kim Hwan? There was no way he could push for that guy now, not after everyone had just witnessed that. It'd be like pointing at a thunderbolt-riddled sky and claiming the weather was perfect.
It was over.
He cursed himself for betting his retirement on this project—swearing he'd quit after it wrapped.
Damn it, what the hell was he supposed to say to DK Entertainment's CEO now? For the moment, all he wanted was to run.
Run from that godforsaken audition room where Lee Tae-gyu had unleashed ad-libs far more vivid than his prepared script performance, where Kim Hwan had choked up in terror, tears and snot streaming down his face, and where everyone had stared at him with those pitying eyes.
Tat-tat-tat—racing down the hallway, through the lobby, bounding up the stairs, and still, no solutions came to mind.
······That monster of a guy.
Even now, as he ran, the goosebumps on his arms refused to fade.
That instantaneous illusion sparked by the guy's improv acting. The moment Lee Tae-gyu started his ad-lib, Ji Cheol-geun could've sworn the audition room floor turned into a musty carpet. Chips had seemed to jingle in his pocket, and by the end, he'd even caught a whiff of booze.
For Lee Tae-gyu, it was just dipping into the emotions of a character with a full backstory, spitting out the most natural lines imaginable—a simple task. But Ji Cheol-geun had no way of knowing that.
He'd simply realized it.
Ad-libs bordering on divine skill.
The guy's improv had hit points even Ji Cheol-geun himself hadn't considered, surpassing the script that had already made Monster City a massive hit.
······A genius.
It burned, but he had to admit it. How many actors in Korea could pull off emotional acting like that in a free-roll with no script?
Bang.
After wandering the building for a while, he ducked into a separate wing's bathroom, his face twisting in rage.
"What the hell."
"Why so jumpy?"
The culprit behind this mess grinned oddly in front of the bathroom mirror.
Kwak In-ho, the writer.
The bastard who'd dragged in that monster, screwed him over on their rice-bowl bet— just seeing him made Ji Cheol-geun's fists clench.
"From my AD days, I've known you come here and curse up a storm whenever shit hits the fan, right?"
"Urgh—"
He had to watch his words.
His remaining loan balance flashed in his mind, along with the smooth transfer to DK Entertainment, his now-meager PD salary, the shabby jacket reflected in the mirror, the SUV payments for a car that hadn't even hit 30,000 km...
"Hey."
"What."
"We can play this off like you just bolted for the bathroom, so apologize sincerely right now."
"Huh?"
"Hands together nice and polite, say 'My bad. My eye for acting is nowhere near yours, hyungnim,' admit it, and out of the goodness of my heart, I'll let the bet slide in front of everyone—"
"You fucking asshole!"
Ji Cheol-geun's pride shattered at Kwak In-ho's smug, victory-drunk chuckle. Fury boiled over at that infuriating grin, and in a flash, he spun his brain for another way out.
"Whoa, you really retiring after this? Huh?"
"That's none of your business, hyung."
The bet itself mattered less now than Do Yoon-seop's mood. Shattering the rice bowl was fine if he could jump to DK, but pissing off the CEO by dropping Kim Hwan? That'd ruin everything.
He'd look like dead weight who hadn't earned his keep, marked as an enemy by the CEO... big trouble.
······Wait a sec.
That's when it hit him—a way to turn this around.
"Anyway, who's that guy?"
Ji Cheol-geun opened casually, feigning nonchalance.
"No way he's a real gambling addict. Dude can act."
"Ha! See? You're admitting it now."
"So what? Film school? Theater troupe?"
"Nah."
"Then what."
"Does that matter? He's a raw gem, a raw gem! The first one I spotted—"
"So he's a total rookie, huh."
He'd remembered it.
A conversation that could make DK Entertainment forget all about ditching Kim Hwan—one that'd bring even bigger gains.
"That Lee Tae-gyu kid."
Exactly.
DK's CEO had lamented dropping hundreds of millions on rookies lately, asking to be introduced to any promising new actors.
······No agency yet, right?
***
That evening, at DK Entertainment.
In the CEO's office, centered under an ornate traditional Eastern painting hanging behind the sofa.
······What?
Do Yoon-seop set down his lit cigar, scowling.
"Manager Jang. You stand by what you just said?"
He could hardly believe the words from the phone.
Even after he'd wined and dined the guy, cleared his night schedule to beg— and it all went down the drain.
"Hwan got cut... That Ji PD, is he fucking insane..."
True to Scorpio stereotypes, Do Yoon-seop held epic grudges.
"Get Park Reporter and Yoo Reporter on the line. Say I have some hot scoops."
He loaded bullets to fire at Ji Cheol-geun.
A few entertainment reporters and some leverage in SBC's drama department could make a fool out of even a CP-blocked PD.
But it left a bitter taste.
Press invites for script reading, fan cafe firepower schedules—everything was primed for Hwan.
"Anyway, good work, Manager Jang. Grab a bite with Hwan somewhere nice and head straight here... Rest? What rest! Tell that Kim Hwan punk to quit whining and come get acting feedback."
Do Yoon-seop hung up with a sigh.
"What, Hwan got cut?"
From the sofa, a man's weighty voice rumbled as he puffed his cigar.
"Thought it was locked in."
"Hoo."
"Heard Hwan's whining again? That punk's too soft. Gotta toughen up. You see it in how they train—shows their true colors."
The man bit down on his cigar with thick fingers, face like a violent crimes detective, arms bulging with muscle—intimidating as hell, but he was an actor.
DK's one and only who could share a cigar with Do Yoon-seop in this office.
Kim Kwang-woo.
The company's first actor and ace, the sole one on brotherly terms with the CEO. DK's initials came from Do Yoon-seop and Kim Kwang-woo themselves.
Not a wide range, but unrivaled in Korea for adding gravitas to roles— the first to see the power of leveraging the CEO's image.
"So, who got it?"
Right then.
~♬~♪~♬
The phone rang at perfect timing. Do Yoon-seop raised a finger to shush Kim Kwang-woo and answered.
"Ji Cheol-geun."
Low, seething with rage, his voice carried through the phone.
"You lost your mind? Think I'm a fucking pushover?"
Do Yoon-seop leaned in to crush him.
But at the frantic words spilling from the other end, his eyebrow twitched up.
"······Rookie actor? For us?"
An audition passer—a rookie actor. An offer he couldn't ignore.
"Send it over. We'll talk after I see."
Do Yoon-seop hung up.
Kim Kwang-woo exhaled cigar smoke, curious.
"Ji PD's lost it. What'd he say?"
"Some rookie who beat Hwan. Sending video."
"Rookie beat Hwan?"
"Watch."
Do Yoon-seop fired up the curved monitor on his desk, clicked the email.
Ji PD had sent the video—perks of being main PD, even raw footage from the on-site making team came quick, pre-master.
Playing the audition vid, a man appeared.
"Hello, number 85, Lee Tae-gyu..."
Do Yoon-seop and Kim Kwang-woo watched the intro.
Promising vibe.
The moment that thought hit—
"Action!"
His acting pulled them right in.
"······."
"······."
Short prepared script ended; before they could bask—
Kim Hwan's ad-lib showdown followed.
"······!"
"······!"
They locked eyes, no words needed.
"Hyung."
Kim Kwang-woo spoke first. He knew exactly what Do Yoon-seop was thinking.
"Kid's got it."
"For sure."
Do Yoon-seop flipped through his schedule.
Script reading in under a week. Even filler slot, weekend terrestrial drama couldn't be ignored.
Press and industry folks would pack the reading.
So.
Squeeze.
Calculations done, he called Ji PD.
"Hey, Ji PD! Loved the video, haha. I got heated earlier. Nah, it's all good..."
No mirth in his eyes despite the words. He was certain.
Lee Tae-gyu?
"Give me the kid's contact."
This guy's price? Lowest it'd ever be in his life. Right now.