Chapter 31: Lee Tae-gyu Emerges from the Black Van's Door
Dr-r-rk. Thud.
The manager and stylist touched down on the ground almost simultaneously, lifting their heads to gaze into the distance. Far off on the hilltop lay the spot they'd been told was today's camera test location—a two-story house with a cluster of people gathered around it.
Thud, thud, thud...
As they trudged toward the sprawling villa—its open yard stretching out fence-free like the seaside pension's—they couldn't shake the vibe.
"The atmosphere's a bit..."
"Right?"
The stylist and manager exchanged glances, tilting their heads. Something was off about the mood.
By the time they drew close enough to faintly make out the faces of the Hoshi-jeol crew, the manager—drawing on years of on-set experience—sensed it instinctively: the stares aimed at Tae-gyu held no real goodwill.
Whispers among themselves, blatant evaluative glares—it all carried a subtle pressure.
"......What is this? Kinda boring, huh?"
A gruff voice cut through. It belonged to a middle-aged man lounging in a fishing chair off to one side of the grassy yard, his face screaming I'm the director~.
The manager recalled the rumors about him.
Director Gu Jeong-hwan.
Famous for wringing tears from rookies with his blunt, no-holds-barred talk. Among the eccentric directors notorious for working actors to the bone—earning "safety oblivious" labels—he stood out as the most commercially successful, a ten-million-view director.
"Man, has the agency culture changed since our day? Rookies these days can't even go out alone? Gotta drive 'em, bodyguard 'em... You think anyone's gonna test properly scared like that? Right?"
"Ah, Director! That's childish, seriously."
"Childish? We all start under the same conditions. If I give special treatment just 'cause you recommend him... Oh, that kid's not expecting it, is he?"
It was said loud enough for all to hear.
The director—with his prickly, far-from-amiable vibe—grinned slyly at the superstar actress Seol A-yoon beside him.
Rustle.
Just then, as the manager caught an ominous rustling from behind the long screen set up to one side...
Thud, thud, thud...
"Why's he coming flanked like that anyway? Test'll be over quick."
Tae-gyu halted abruptly at the director's snide remark.
Before the tense stylist and manager—who looked ready to enter a den of villains— he turned, opening his mouth.
"You can all head back to the car."
"Actor—"
"Like last time, rest in the car. I'll come straight to you when it's done."
"Still—"
"No, I need to focus on the acting. Really, it's fine."
It was uncanny.
An expression they'd never seen began settling over his perpetually blank face.
"......Don't worry. It'll all go well."
That oddly passionate look—even the stylist and manager felt reassured, solidly so.
Ten-million director Gu Jeong-hwan was different from PD Ji.
Tae-gyu watched him light a cigarette from his fishing chair, tossing out a few questions.
"Lee Tae-gyu-ssi?"
"Yes."
"You prepared anything?"
"Yes. Analyzed the script and references thoroughly."
"Hm... Missing the point..."
This industry really was all about results, he thought.
In his short time here, amid all the eccentrics, Tae-gyu had met plenty of types. But no one dripped arrogance from their lofty status quite like Gu Jeong-hwan—raw and unfiltered in every word.
"This is a camera test, not an audition. Don't think it's about reciting memorized lines for evaluation."
"I know."
"What do you know?"
"Today, it's about whether I can properly capture the character of Jeong Jong that I'll be—"
"No, no. Not 'that I'll be.' It's testing if you can be. A-yoon-ah, this really the guy?"
At ten-million-director level, apparently you earned the right to evaluate someone right to their face, chatting with the person next to you.
"I said yes, why keep at it? Quit the weird stuff and just watch the acting already, Director."
"Fine. Let's check if Seol A-yoon's eyes are okay."
Gu Jeong-hwan spoke from beside the irritated Seol A-yoon, his face weary.
"Tae-gyu-ssi, stand up front. When I say shoot, look at that camera over there and deliver one line. That's the test done."
"One line?"
"Don't make me say it twice."
"Ah, sorry."
He jerked his head somewhere. Lights flicked on from the villa's second floor, aimed their way, followed by the whir of the shooting camera starting up opposite.
Maybe it was his prickly demeanor, but the crew seemed well-synced regardless.
As they sprang into motion...
"......You memorized the script, right?"
"Yes."
"Scene 65. Jeong Jong barking at Yi Bang-won as he tries to pour liquor. Remember the line?"
"'Bang-won, you bastard—!'"
"Tch, from that alone, hard to tell..."
Instead of answering Tae-gyu's question, Gu Jeong-hwan muttered complaints toward Seol A-yoon, then turned back.
"......Anyway, yes. Express the vibe between Jeong Jong and Yi Bang-won as you interpret it—in that one line. Ready?"
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
"......Yes."
"Okay. Positions."
Gu snapped his fingers, pointing with his index at a spot in the yard marked by a board on the grass.
As Tae-gyu approached, a strange rasping noise—like heavy breathing—started filtering from behind the screen.
"See the camera by the wall? When I signal, look there and act. Stay still till then, okay?"
"Got it."
The cargo-pants-clad handlers by the screen nodded.
That is—
Just before a dozen Dosa dogs burst from their hidden steel cages.
Thump!
Seol A-yoon's heart raced.
Oh ho.
She was curious.
The pressure. In a situation like this, with Director Gu mentally cornering him, and suddenly facing Dosa dogs head-on—could he deliver the same caliber of acting as before?
For an actress of her stature, the reason she hadn't actively stopped Director Gu was simple: curiosity.
Pure wonder about just how far this man's 'acting talent'—which even she didn't fully grasp—extended...
A few staffers felt differently.
......Oh, looking confident.
Bet he'll chicken out anyway.
Won't cry again, right?
This'll be fun.
Teasing outsiders with the grueling on-set life—playfully dubbed "3D"—was an old industry tradition.
Like office drones getting a twisted thrill from watching a stack of papers fly at Park from next door over Kim the manager's head—relieving their dull, harsh routines.
Expecting the extraordinary was the same here.
On a brutal shoot, amid their frustrations, seeing someone humiliated under a 'justifiable' pretext gave certain folks a cathartic buzz. Not so strange.
A handful of mischievously sadistic staffers gathered on the villa's first-floor terrace for a prime view of the rookie's face.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
The cargo-clad pro handlers lifted the screen as "High-action!" rang out.
The fierce dogs emerged at once.
Grrr! Woof! Woof woof woof! Yap yap—! Growl... woof! Yap! Yap yap yap!
Drool dripping, fangs bared in savage barks—the vicious pack. The sadistic staffers, closest and staring at Lee Tae-gyu, brimmed with anticipation.
But...
......Huh?
Their jaws dropped.
This was new.
Safety measures or not, even they felt threatened by the beasts. Yet the actor on test grinned leisurely, like they were adorable.
And then—
Screech... whine...
Suddenly, the dozen dogs whipped their heads toward him, shoving into their cages one after another—
Director Gu Jeong-hwan shot up from his seat.
......What the.
The pro handlers and trainers peered into the cages in bewilderment as the dogs jammed their heads in, tails tucked, pissing themselves.
"......?!"
"......?!"
"......?!"
All watching sensed something had happened.
Sudden silence—
The barking that had echoed through the villa vanished like erased with an eraser.
The eerie mood spread contagiously among the onlookers.
"What?"
"What's up?"
"Why?"
Staff and actors killing time inside or behind the villa—uninterested in the test—poured out.
From second-floor railings, first-floor terraces, garden edges, they saw: dogs cowering, tails clamped, shivering—and the rookie actor gazing steadily at them.
Suddenly, that rookie turned, sweeping his eyes over the crowd.
"......!"
No one—including Director Gu—called out the deviation from instructions.
No. Couldn't move was more accurate.
Everyone who'd met his gaze from that casual glance felt a chilling dread.
Lee Tae-gyu, the rookie—commanding all attention with just a look.
Crack.
Reclaiming focus, he turned back to the camera, slowly clasping hands behind his back.
Gulp.
The crowd swallowed unwittingly.
That brief motion—stepping forward, hands behind—radiated the leisure of an apex predator baring its vulnerabilities to prey.
As if nothing could threaten him. No line spoken, yet all minds flashed one word.
Tiger-like majesty—
His lips curled slowly upward.
Script called for barking at Yi Bang-won, but all 34 present deemed it perfectly fitting.
Ha ha ha.
Chin raised, hands behind, laughing—as if their petty schemes were laughably trivial. Perfect for Jeong Jong.
Then—
Eh?!
Just now.
What was that.
Flash!
Director, actors, staff—everyone.
For a split second, something had shone on the rookie's face.
·······Bang-won, you bastaaard━━━━━━!
All 34 collapsed, legs giving way.