Episode 33: At the Threshold of the Black Van
“Twenty minutes ago? What the hell are you talking about? If you're gonna bring it up, at least see it through!”
As Gu Jeong-hwan grabbed his shoulder by the jawline, Tae-gyu pulled his foot back from the car and turned around with a sigh. But this was all part of the strategy. Tae-gyu, burning with Do Yoon-seop's fiery ambition, was calculating every action that could benefit him in this situation.
“......Do you really not know why I'm doing this?”
Tae-gyu stared at Gu Jeong-hwan impassively. The director's face twisted in disbelief, and when Tae-gyu pointed past the staff trailing behind him toward the villa...
“What? The dogs that were over there?”
“That?”
Gu Jeong-hwan laughed it off casually. But in that instant, his pupils wavered. Tae-gyu caught the faint twitch of his cheek, hidden by the hand scratching his nose bridge.
“Shit happens on set. If you thought camera tests would be like interviewing in a suit in some big corp boardroom, think again.”
Sometimes, he showed quite a bit of emotion. Like how someone gripped by the terror of death hyper-focuses on survival-critical info. Whoosh! This boiling desire to charge toward his goal by any means surged, turning info he'd normally gloss over into a driving force that had been stacking it up bit by bit.
“This ain't some city hall office for bureaucrats. Wait—aren't you with DK Entertainment too? Someone who knows how this industry ticks, why the hell are you making a fuss?”
Tae-gyu watched Gu Jeong-hwan mutter, then suddenly raise his voice. The director already knew his actions weren't above board. Yet he was lashing out—this panic stemmed from his “ten-million-director” shield failing to protect his usual eccentric bullshit.
Tae-gyu listened to the director's follow-up.
“The chick's gotta hatch sometime! If you can't handle a little shock for the sake of great art, I'd be disappointed.”
“Director.”
Time to counterattack.
“I'm a fan of yours. For a nobody like me to work with you? I'd take any shock head-on. I came here ready to shatter.”
“But.”
“But that!”
He paused dramatically before dropping it.
“Doesn't mean risking death.”
“What're you saying? You think I can't control a set? We've got safety crews and pro handlers on standby—”
“I got bit by a dog as a kid.”
“What—”
A slight stir rippled through the staff as Tae-gyu continued calmly.
“......I still remember it. About my size. On the way home from elementary school, it lunged from an alley by the corner store. Sank into my leg. Wouldn't let go till the end. Those eyes, that hot breath—still vivid. Thought I was a goner on the way to the ER.”
“......”
“Till middle school, any dog-like animal from afar would make my head spin, vision go black. Thought I was over it as an adult, but back there? Nearly passed out.”
“......”
“You don't believe me, huh? Then—”
“Hey hey! What the hell's this guy doing? Cut it out!”
As Tae-gyu shrugged off his jacket and grabbed his shirt hem to lift it, Gu Jeong-hwan—glancing nervously at the muttering staff—stopped him with a world-weary grimace.
Of course. There was no dog bite scar to show. The whole story was bullshit anyway.
But so what? The moral high ground was Tae-gyu's now.
“......You should've warned me ahead.”
Tae-gyu sighed, picking up tempo.
“Dozens of dogs bursting out mid-take? Where's that a thing?”
“Not dozens, but—”
“I was shocked.”
Words flowed smoothly. His pent-up thoughts raced to escape, energy honing them without waste.
“I heard the culture of 'waking potential' by dropping acrophobics from heights, drowning non-swimmers, or scaring actors shitless ended twenty years ago.”
“No, we wouldn't go that far—”
“Mocking rookies, jeering loud enough for all to hear, turning 'em into spectacle—I could've handled that. I really wanted this role.”
Now some staff who'd treated it like a show bowed their heads, sharing that bystander awkwardness.
The truth.
Tae-gyu had tallied his gains long ago.
......Got everything I needed.
Not just the wild tiger's dokkaebi fire, but the skill to merge two flames and switch freely. And that backstory-packed script enabling double emotion output? Meh, not huge for this project. [Jeongjong Yi Bang-gwa] drew from historical records, tweaks or not. He wasn't the only one knowing extra lore.
......Do it or don't.
That was the vibe. Sure, wielding the tiger emotion on film would rock, but this wasn't his only gig.
Now in the industry for thrills, his key value in these crowded dealings? Freedom—no long ties or restrictions curbing his stimulus hunts.
No need, but if doing it, maximize my freedom.
DK was hustling roles his way anyway. In negotiations, the one who can walk has leverage for wild asks.
Wrapped in Do Yoon-seop's ambitious blaze, Tae-gyu—crystal on his goals—cast the final bait.
“I'm a real fan. Wasn't lying earlier.”
“......”
“Before Seol A-yoon's rec, I eyed a Hoshi-jeol bit part offer from the agency. But.”
Eyeing the conflicted director, Tae-gyu wrapped calmly.
“You treated me too roughly.”
“Come on.”
Tae-gyu bowed deeply, politely.
“Think I can't be your fan anymore.”
“Wait. No, that's not—”
“Heading in first.”
With final-greeting words, Tae-gyu boarded the black van amid silence, shut the door. Slide, click!
Manager and stylist gawked at each other, but Tae-gyu settled comfy, leaning back.
Miraculous.
Roar! Do Yoon-seop's ambition. This emotion sped things plane-fast, spotting what he'd miss normally.
In other words.
Gazing at Gu Jeong-hwan through tinted glass, aflame with Do Yoon-seop's dokkaebi fire, Tae-gyu was certain.
At least 70% chance.
The director would come crawling back.
That night, he thought:
......Fucking clown. Fan or not, what do I care?
Ten-million director Gu Jeong-hwan. Used to deferential nods from staff, actors, producers, distributors, investors—some rookie's role ditch? Forget it after whiskey and sleep.
His loss for blowing the shot, dumbass.
Snickered, downed his glass, crashed.
Next morning. Still fine.
Reeking of booze, he eyed his phone's actor list, smirking.
Plenty more'll come running for Gu Jeong-hwan.
But lunch.
......Not bad......
......Usable.
......Hmm.
During other actors' [Jeongjong Yi Bang-gwa] tests, he noticed qualifiers missing from his assessments.
That night.
......
Despite pricier whiskey straight from the bottle, nothing clicked. Realized it was worse than thought.
Lee Tae-gyu.
Truth: the guy's acting wouldn't fade. Still vivid. That thrill. Like gut-zing and chills on a death-trap ride.
How'd that bastard pull it off?
Close eyes, it replayed.
What if.
That electric fear hit audiences on screen? Not him, but them?
Spray that unseen “it” nationwide? Blast it at critics' preview?
Thump! Something surged deep.
Honestly, didn't need that guy.
No.
A ten-million director bowing to a rookie reject? Laughable.
Gu Jeong-hwan could snag another solid supporting actor easy.
But.
Just “solid”...
He'd glimpsed beyond perfection.
Seen the dragon—why settle for serpent?
Yes. From that fall, staring down at him, he'd cast Lee Tae-gyu as [Jeongjong Yi Bang-gwa].
Yi Bang-gwa = Lee Tae-gyu. Dot the dragon's eye—done deal.
“Nah, this ain't it.”
Muttered after shots. Professionally, he could smash without the kid. Real talk: better grab semi-famous stable talent to prop Seol A-yoon and Cheon Yoo-seong.
Plus.
That rejection spiel? Cocky as hell.
Treated me too roughly—straight from noir punk's mouth.
Who'd he think he was? Star material?
......Damn, he is.
Acting-wise, he grumbled, sighing, head back.
Director's curse struck. That thrill of pulling the unseen from fantasy!
Shouldn't. A ten-million guy bending pride for a rookie? No.
Drinking, pissing, smoking, airing out, splashing face—acting sharpened clearer.
Lee Tae-gyu...
Hand over phone with the contact from his AD, thumb hovering “call.”
Not weird.
This itch? Exact from his ten-million hit.
In that crime caper smash Jewel Primer, vet star Do Kwang-seon as fence Park gave the same vibe—possessed-level supporting.
Nah, not quite.
Shook head, chuckled. Do Kwang-seon wasn't a total newbie then.
Blamed booze, rationalized. Gulped more.
Day two dawned.
“Ha, haha.”
Gu Jeong-hwan was baffled. No more [Jeongjong Yi Bang-gwa] tests possible now.
Rationalized: Maybe the dogs sparked his peak.
Avoiding contact lest curiosity win, skipped rewatch. Satisfied with conclusion.
Hold up.
But.
Curiosity spread.
No dogs... would it be even better?
Director's itch: what made even a ten-million vet call a reject rookie.
Movie directors are oddballs, sure.
Five days post-test. Bang-won, you newbie—thud.
Pale collapse, yet relieved grin—like curiosity sated, gut unclenched.
Ah, bliss. Trembling knees steadied, he rose, sat. Invited the man before him to sit.
In other words.
The guy whose acting dragged Gu Jeong-hwan to re-negotiate for a “live” look: Lee Tae-gyu.
“Ahem, impressive as ever. And again, that day I was... out of line.”
Easing into apology fluff toward meat.
Then, his ear caught unexpected, welcome words.
“I can shoot starting tomorrow.”
“......!”
“One condition.”
“S-spit it! I'll match whatever!”
Gu lit up at Tae-gyu's words. Recalled the hellish days post-acting awe: pride swallowed, first contact, reschedule agony.
Tomorrow? Score!
Grin split ear-to-ear.
But he didn't know.
Tae-gyu, ablaze with Do Yoon-seop's ambition, wielded “[No Need Anyway]” like a magic spear.
“Two weeks.”
“......Pardon?”
Nor that in those five days, Tae-gyu packed auditions for films/dramas beyond Hoshi-jeol.
“No later than two weeks, wrap my scenes. Then till release, hands off my schedule.”
“Two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“Finish your parts first?”
“Yes.”
“Bounce after your bits, carefree?”
“Yes.”
“You know Seol A-yoon and Cheon Yoo-seong star too?”
“Yes.”
Heavy silence sank the table.
“......”
“......”
Gu cracked an awkward laugh.
“Haha, Tae-gyu. Movies ain't dramas.”
Fusion historical romance, even. Romance-heavy or not, makeup/lighting/tone took eons vs. modern.
“Commercial flick, still film. True total art, depth differs. Even sunset fades need time tweaks, right? Plus other actors—your stuff solo in two weeks—”
“Thanks for your time.”
“—I can make it work!”
Scrape. Gu shot up with Tae-gyu, yelling.
“......I-I can adjust. Two weeks, doable. I can, probably.”
Speared by “[No Need]”, he parroted like a bird.