Under the Officetel Building
Things had gone smoothly with the job. As Jang Team Leader walked toward the car parked by the roadside and pulled out his phone to call CEO Do Yoon-seop, heavy footsteps approached.
Thud, thud, thud...
"Should I report it just as it happened, sir?"
Jang Team Leader stopped and turned around. The manager's eyes were bloodshot as he opened the door of the car with the parking ticket still attached.
"What are you talking about?"
"Something about suddenly heading to the airport, acting all weird, that kind of thing. But it all worked out fine. Doesn't seem like the actor was trying to cause trouble for the company."
"Why not?"
"......If word gets out that he's some psycho, it won't do us any favors later. Not for re-signing with the company, or anything else, as far as the actor's concerned."
Suddenly, Jang Team Leader lowered the hand holding his phone and stared at the manager. He didn't bother pointing out that Lee Tae-gyu was already a special case getting preferential treatment from the company.
Instead, he decided to address the attitude that was absolutely unacceptable in the entertainment industry, where they peddled celebrities like products.
Jang Team Leader lit a cigarette, jerking his chin toward the officetel above as he inhaled.
"You. You're not feeling sorry for that guy right now, are you?"
"......"
"This is rich. The guy's got a camera test next week for a supporting role in a ten-million-view director's film. If he blows up and shoots a CF, he'll make in a week what we earn in a year. Worry about your own life."
"It's not about the money."
"Then what?"
"You saw it too, sir. Just now."
"Hoo."
Jang Team Leader exhaled smoke and opened his mouth. Naturally, he knew exactly what the manager meant.
Lee Tae-gyu's empty apartment they'd just left behind. Empty didn't even begin to cover it—possessionless was more like it.
Can someone that age really have nothing?
He wasn't asking for fancy interiors, but surely there should be mementos from memories, glasses for when friends dropped by, or at least a basic rotation of clothes and shoes if there were no hobbies.
They'd heard he'd lived in a goshiwon until DK Entertainment set him up here, but no one expected this level of bare-bones existence. Everything fitting into a single travel suitcase? That was extreme.
The only things that could be called "possessions" were the stacks of scripts by the bed and the dog-eared acting manuals (gifts from Kwak In-ho) that were already falling apart.
Even in this industry, guys like that are rare.
Unlike CEO Do, the manager and Jang Team Leader were starting to fall into the same misconception as Kwak In-ho.
How the hell has he been living...
They took it one step further.
......And make that face in that moment?
He'd seen it clearly. When he'd shared the link to the 24-hour wild tiger cam site, something had flickered across Lee Tae-gyu's face for an instant.
That bizarre, ridiculous expression—popping out of nowhere amid the serious atmosphere, impossible to hold back. It had given Jang Team Leader genuine chills.
He'd been around the industry long enough to know most actors had seen a shrink at least once, but this was something else he couldn't quite parse.
Like laughing while crying, or subtly pissing off anyone who saw it.
No sane person would troll us like that in that situation.
Was something broken? Dire poverty, a face sealed shut by blankness from having nothing, acting as the one path to change his lot... and...
Snip.
Jang Team Leader cut off the imaginings of Lee Tae-gyu's past sprouting wildly in his mind. Right there.
People were weak to pity, after all. And in this industry, managers couldn't afford to go soft on actors if they wanted to grow.
That's... for him to deal with.
Reaffirming what he already knew, Jang Team Leader turned to the manager.
"If you're here to work, then work. Don't get cocky feeling sorry for people."
"Sir."
"What's this? Judging people by class on your own? How's that any different from that punk Kim Hwan?"
The manager's face hardened at the mention of his former charge, Kim Hwan. Jang Team Leader pressed on.
"That cheap pity of yours could be what crumbles him."
He finished with the last puff of smoke. This was his conviction.
In this industry, building any real human connection with an actor as a manager never led to anything good.
If frontline managers pitied their actors, distractions crept into reports, leaks formed in the manager-company chain, and that muddied DK Entertainment's proper analysis of Lee Tae-gyu.
Proper prescriptions followed proper diagnoses.
Flick.
Jang Team Leader tossed the cigarette butt onto the asphalt and gave the manager one last warning.
"I'll report today's incident. Don't pull that again."
"......Yes, sir."
Sighing, Jang Team Leader pulled out his phone and dialed CEO Do.
Lee Tae-gyu.
To wrap up today's report on the oddball actor who would make his mark at DK Entertainment one way or another.
A laptop. Right in front of the one the manager had generously loaned him until the day before the camera test, with personal info wiped.
One ridiculous expression—lights from the notebook screen flickering colors across his face, yet it remained as immobile as a rock carved with no emotion.
Lee Tae-gyu. Right now, observing the raw lives of wild tigers up close through the screen, he was pouring his all into understanding their world, absorbing their blazing emotions into his heart.
Blink.
Minimal eyelid movement. Ah... Occasionally, a small exclamation with lips parting.
Wrinkle.
And, except when forced to relax to prevent muscle spasms, the expression he maintained to scrutinize the tigers' dokkaebi fire.
Pure immersion.
It had started fueled by curiosity, now continuing with a strange glint in his eyes.
Like a seeker on the verge of enlightenment sizing up the wall before him.
"......"
These moments of immersion stretched into a full day.
No big changes. Just instant ramen now and then to recharge.
One day became several, with minimal sleep added for rest.
And so it went. One day... two... three... four...
Finally, the morning of the Hoshi-jeol camera test dawned.
"......Hoo."
Lee Tae-gyu let out a deep sigh and closed the laptop.
How much sleep had he gotten? How much had he eaten? He looked a bit gaunt, a bit hollow-eyed—exhausted at first glance.
But strangely, his eyes sparkled with an odd intensity.
And that wasn't all.
Blaze! Blaze! Blaze! Blaze! Blaze!
For some reason, down from 6 to 5.
Staring at his emotion pocket with one missing, Tae-gyu felt no worry.
He'd already figured it out through days of observation and testing.
The secret of this dokkaebi fire ability—one emotion pocket fewer had revealed another layer.
♪♬♪
Right on cue, his phone rang with the manager's call. Tae-gyu rose slowly.
"Alright... time to go."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. It carried the subtle thrill of a master drawing a honed blade upon reaching a new realm.
A two-story villa with a garden in Gangwon Province. Privately Gu Jeong-hwan's retreat, officially the site of the Hoshi-jeol camera test.
"It'll be at peak rage for the next hour, so stay sharp no matter what."
The dog expert hired by Gu Jeong-hwan peered into the special enclosure in the garden and reiterated the warning.
Gu Jeong-hwan nodded vaguely, grinning ear to ear.
"Oh, perfect."
Drip... drip... Tosas dripping saliva onto the ground with white breath fogging the air.
With trainers and experts nearby, they couldn't rebel now, but one look in their eyes screamed feral.
"If anything goes wrong, it's all over, Director. You know that, right?"
Seol A-yoon raised her voice, arms crossed.
"Don't worry. This is Gu Jeong-hwan."
Medical staff and safety experts stood by for accidents, but... that wasn't what bugged her.
"You're really going overboard with this test."
"Gotta do this much for the guy you recommended, right?"
"Did you have to amp up the intensity?"
"I'm curious. They say Han Joo-hyuk's a monster you can't even see coming. Gotta give special treatment."
Like the mad director had caught a fever, he'd decided to worsen the test environment for today's actor.
"Directing is a skill, Director. Not about intimidation."
"Why today, after staying chill all this time?"
"Didn't expect more dogs!"
"You still don't get me."
"Director."
"Why keep calling? You like me?"
"Ugh, seriously, what's his deal!"
The Hoshi-jeol staff felt the same irritation. From camera to lighting and art teams.
They watched him scamper around installing gear on the villa's first and second floors, lacking Seol A-yoon's guts to call out the ten-million director outright.
God, really.
Finding another scapegoat for their frustration was easy. Anger always sought the weak.
......Still not here.
......Rookie, huh? Cutting it close on purpose?
......Should've been here an hour ago.
Instead of arriving 2-3 hours early to wrap quick and free them, this arrogant rookie had the nerve to catch Seol A-yoon's eye and prompt extra tosa dogs.
Lee Tae-gyu.
Bluntly, his odds of passing today's test were slim to none.
Seol A-yoon vouched for him, but the staff who knew Gu Jeong-hwan's ways for years knew better.
Zero times. Not once since his feature debut had the ten-million actor-director cast a rookie in a meaty role.
Just show up sloppy, fail quick, and go!
So what was all this? A power play.
Between ten-million director Gu Jeong-hwan and double-that actress Seol A-yoon.
Even if the director ran the set, subtle mind games between a hot director and hotter star were inevitable—from coffee runs to every exchange, since shooting began.
Just as they pegged rookie Lee Tae-gyu as collateral in their feud...
"......He's here."
Far off. Vroom—the black van carrying the sacrifice kicked up dust on the unpaved road, approaching.