Meanwhile, While Tae-gyu Shadows for Interviews
In some building in Yongsan.
"Bang-won, you bastard—!"
The fierce intensity bursting through the screen made the man staring at the large editing monitor swallow hard once again. Gulp. Those eyes still sent chills down his spine. His fingertips trembled faintly. Even after principal photography wrapped, this actor's masterful performance, preserved in data, never failed to deliver that electric thrill. Every time he watched it, a massive grin spread across the man's face.
"············· This is it."
Gu Jeong-hwan, the ten-million-view director. As the director of Hoshi-jeol, now down to just final editing and distribution, he felt a sense of mission.
"People need to see this."
Yi Bang-gwa—no, Lee Tae-gyu. This mad actor's portrayal of rage was something every Korean who knew the historical figure Jeongjong had to witness. No, perhaps it was the kind of performance the whole world should see. After all, that 'explosion of emotion' transcended any language.
Heh heh heh— As he chuckled with a mesmerized expression, his pocket buzzed.
Vrrr—!
He pulled out his phone and checked the message. Gu Jeong-hwan's brow furrowed.
Gu Jeong-hwan shook his head firmly and flipped his phone over. He knew exactly what she was worried about.
In the romance historical film Hoshi-jeol, the role of Jeongjong Yi Bang-gwa was originally just a supporting spice to flavor the relationship between King Taejong Yi Bang-won and Queen Won-gyeong Min. It wasn't supposed to have this many scenes.
But.
Lee Tae-gyu's insane acting had perfectly embodied—no, exceeded—the 'tiger-like ferocity' Gu Jeong-hwan envisioned, gradually claiming more screen time until it reached this point.
Should I add a bit here? A little more? Just this much?
Anyone on the Hoshi-jeol set would remember Gu Jeong-hwan's habitual lines—they were all aimed at Lee Tae-gyu.
"Whew."
He let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness this was Korea, where directors handled everything from production to final cut. Thank goodness he was a ten-million director who'd invested in Hoshi-jeol himself.
If even one of those weren't true, he'd be buckling under pressure from the distributor or production company over the increased footage for Yi Bang-gwa.
"It's right, it is... but still."
Honestly, even now after shooting wrapped, he sometimes wondered if this was okay.
"But... this has to be seen by audiences, no question."
Gu Jeong-hwan was convinced. That entranced feeling from the actor's performance—it was strikingly similar to what he'd felt directing the movie that earned him the 'ten-million director' title.
Jewel Encyclopedia. The fence dealer Park, played by now-top actor Do Kwang-seon. Even as a supporting role, every scene he appeared in acted as lubricant turning the whole film, sparking a multi-viewing frenzy among audiences with its addictive pull.
"This is over 100% of that."
This time, it hit harder.
"How does a human unleash that kind of beastly ferocity...?"
It'd probably feel like this if a real tiger roared right in front of him.
Click. Click. Click.
Like a mad scientist who keeps experimenting even after warnings, ignoring his own doubts, Gu Jeong-hwan obsessively edited cuts centering on Lee Tae-gyu.
'Generously, within two years.'
He was certain.
'········ He'll blow up for sure.'
Lee Tae-gyu would become a star so huge that his current Monster City popularity would seem like obscurity.
'Gotta lock him down now.'
So he resolved: Once Hoshi-jeol's final cut was done, he'd carve out time between distributor meetings to build rapport with the guy.
Late summer into early fall. As Gu Jeong-hwan plotted to push Hoshi-jeol's release as fast as possible, his phone buzzed again.
Vrrr—!
Grumbling that he should just turn it off, he grabbed the phone—and saw a new message.
It was notices about the upcoming Arena Short Film Festival.
[5.1 ~ 5.5]
Early May. In other words, right after Monster City wrapped.
"·········· So that's why."
Cinematographer Choi Seong-cheol was persuading passionately, even spitting as he spoke.
"You have to meet Lee Tae-gyu at least once. Before the Arena Short Film Festival starts."
In the center of a study packed with books stood a 50-something man, upright like a scholar, exuding dignity.
"After the festival, it'll be too late. Directors from Hong Kong, Japan, China, Taiwan—they'll all be watching. You might even need a number ticket."
"Me... get a number ticket?"
"Ah."
Director Yoon Chang-ho. At his retort, Choi Seong-cheol, who'd brought it up, startled and nodded vigorously.
"Ah, no, sorry. I mean—"
"Haha, it's fine. Means the kid impressed you that much, right, Seong-cheol?"
"Yes, Director. And what I just said was—"
"I said it's fine."
Choi Seong-cheol squirmed. He had no choice. Even if cinematographers held massive sway after directors on set, and top ones commanded mercenary-level pay equal to directors—
Master Director Yoon Chang-ho.
Unlike Gu Jeong-hwan, dismissed by some as vulgar, Yoon Chang-ho was acclaimed domestically and abroad, by audiences and critics alike. Mentioning 'number tickets' in front of a globally renowned director was a blatant faux pas.
"Seong-cheol."
True to his 'industry scholar' reputation, Yoon Chang-ho brushed it off.
"So, the guy's name is Lee Tae-gyu?"
"...Yes."
"You met him during that drama shoot?"
"Yes."
"Hm."
But at the mention of drama, Yoon Chang-ho's expression shifted subtly.
"Hey, Seong-cheol. Why'd you even shoot that this time?"
"Which...?"
"That, Monster Whatever."
From that question, Choi Seong-cheol realized Yoon Chang-ho's attitude hadn't changed.
"Ah, SBC requested it, so..."
"You been struggling lately?"
"No, not that. The script was solid, the cast was good—I wanted to try it."
"Mm. I see."
This director, acting like he'd never heard of 'Lee Tae-gyu' before, still didn't consider drama art.
'········ He hasn't watched Monster City.'
The film industry's disdain for TV dramas was longstanding. The saying 'actors who taste film never go back to drama' held until just five years ago. Even if attitudes were shifting, directors like Yoon Chang-ho still quietly looked down on it.
"But didn't you love selling mise-en-scène, Seong-cheol?"
"I paid attention to it in this one too."
"Ahh."
Yoon Chang-ho paused mid-sentence. A pure, non-condescending reaction, as if unsure how to respond to 'dramas have mise-en-scène too.'
"···· Well, yeah. Good actors shine in dramas too, right?"
Choi Seong-cheol was sure: This director probably ignored all the media hype around Monster City.
He might've seen them but they didn't stick. Thinks 'real' artists end up in film.
"Yes. That's why I'm telling you—this actor Lee Tae-gyu. He'll deliver big time later."
"Hmm."
Still, Yoon Chang-ho was one of the rare directors who could create the mise-en-scène Choi Seong-cheol craved. That's why he wanted to pitch Lee Tae-gyu to him over other candidates.
"Once you see his acting, you'll feel it right away."
"Well, I don't have time to watch every drama lately. No film work? Even supporting or bit parts?"
"Then."
Choi Seong-cheol opened his mouth with a bitter expression.
"The one I mentioned earlier might be his film debut."
He has to see this, even if he skipped Monster City.
"The short at this festival?"
"Yes. Keep it in mind if you can. Ah, of course, no pressure."
"Sure."
Yoon Chang-ho was one of the judges for this Arena Short Film Festival.
"······ Lee Tae-gyu? I'll remember that name."
Tomorrow was the private audition.
Kim Kwang-woo, key judge for Model Detective 3, flipped through profiles of applicants vying for the Seo Woong-tae role.
Flip.
Even with DK Entertainment investing and securing the director, that didn't mean turning the film into their playground. CEO Do had insisted roles would be merit-based. Obvious, really. Unlike shoving DK actors via lobbying into others' projects, Model Detective 3 was one DK funded directly.
Flip.
Reviewing applicants with that mindset, Kim Kwang-woo's hand paused.
'Lee Tae-gyu.'
The photo of the guy most likely for Seo Woong-tae. Insane grit in workouts, passion for acting. Among all applicants, only he requested a role interview.
'······ Wonder if he's still at it?'
Come to think of it, no recent contact. He'd replied promptly to texts until suddenly going silent. Around then, Seo Woong-tae hyung had texted not to bother him since he was busy.
'No way he skips tomorrow.'
As Kim Kwang-woo stroked his jaw with thick fingers—
Vrrr—!
His phone buzzed.
[Phone rings]
Kim Kwang-woo answered the timely call with delight.
"Yes, hyung."
His face lit up—but then.
"Been busy? Our actor hasn't been a bother... ····Yes?"
At the voice from the other end.
Suddenly.
Kim Kwang-woo's face hardened.
"That'd be tricky. We still have contract time left. No, to begin with."
Lee Tae-gyu.
"···· Why the hell is the violent crimes unit after our actor?"
What the fuck did he do there.