Chandelier Classic Bar
A classic bar adorned with a chandelier. In this space owned by CEO Heo of Gold Media, who’s handling distribution, the group who’d just finished the private audition for this installment of Model Detective 3 erupted into a standing ovation. Clap clap clap clap—
Every single one of them. Smiles lingered on all their faces.
“Everyone, great work.”
“You all did amazing!”
“Man, the drinks are gonna go down easy tonight.”
Even as they settled back into their seats and raised their whiskey glasses, those smiles didn’t fade.
“I’ve started Gold Media and distributed over 300 films. But from the casting stage, I’ve only gotten this kind of vibe for fewer than ten that hit ten million viewers. I can confidently say this one’s gonna blow up.”
“Definitely a super-luxury cast, right?”
“That too, but… how should I put it.”
CEO Heo took a sip of his whiskey, choosing his words carefully, then opened his mouth with a smirk.
“...It’s a bit weird to say, but today didn’t feel like we were just picking good actors for the casting.”
“I think I get what you mean.”
“Like the owner of that diary you secretly peeked at just walked right up to you? Something like that.”
“Exactly. In Model Detective terms, it’s like a wanted criminal walking into the office on their own.”
“Hahaha.”
Someone’s apt joke sent laughter blooming through the group. They all related.
Today’s private audition had focused mainly on roles with the weight to drive the story’s core flow. From co-leads to the main villain and other hefty supporting roles boasting real gravitas.
“...Everyone was the roles themselves.”
Every single one had been perfect—beyond perfect. Less like actors and more like the actual characters deciding to playact as performers after the audition wrapped.
“Especially that Detective Seo Woong-tae guy. He was totally insane.”
“You mean Actor Lee Tae-gyu?”
“Aigoo, what’s wrong with my head. Yeah, he’s been all the buzz lately, so I was curious what the hype was about, but… damn, the rumors about him being DK Entertainment’s secret weapon are spot on.”
Actor Lee Tae-gyu especially. Everyone who’d seen his performance was buzzing with curiosity.
What they’d witnessed was just his chemistry with Kim Kwang-woo. Beyond that, pure intrigue was building about how he’d mesh with lead villain Han Joo-hyuk or the veteran actor—a former acting academy director who’d launched countless pros.
“Seriously. I legit thought he was a real detective, not a gambler today. Can’t wait to see what kind of picture he paints with Han Joo-hyuk. Totally different from Monster City, haha.”
It felt like being in the Colosseum. Like spectators finally getting to watch a tiger and lion—who’d never crossed paths due to different territories—clash. As they shared laughs,
Clink.
Kim Kwang-woo downed his drink to mask his expression. Honestly.
The tension crawling up his throat since earlier was already overwhelming.
...What the hell.
Kim Kwang-woo. Long before pinning down twenty million viewers, he’d ascended to the ranks of “actors you can trust your eyes on.” Not quite topping Korea in pure acting skill, but his overwhelming presence—fueled by above-average talent, his rugged features, and massive frame creating an irreplaceable aura of intimidation—had secured it.
Never once.
In any shoot, had his presence ever felt threatened. Not until today.
...Did they all level up or something?
Lee Tae-gyu and Han Joo-hyuk. Lee Tae-gyu becoming Seo Woong-tae incarnate was shocking enough, but Han Joo-hyuk showing up as a deranged gangster boss—miles from his Monster City performance—was even more so. That wasn’t the level Kwang-woo knew from him.
If I let my guard down…
As the thought hit that his own film might turn into their battleground, Kim Kwang-woo downed another shot.
Gulp.
Even as the burning liquor scorched down his throat, the tension wouldn’t subside.
The co-lead and main villain were shining too brightly. One misstep, and the lead—himself—could get overshadowed.
A typical lead actor might make excuses to bench those two and pick safer supporting players to prop himself up.
But.
For Kim Kwang-woo, that’d be…
...uncool as hell.
Across the table, Do Yoon-seop sipped his glass while watching Kim Kwang-woo and nodded.
He’s probably feeling the urge to bolt.
That was the Kim Kwang-woo he knew. A bit old-school in spots, sure, but the type who thrived pushing himself to the brink in tough spots, never compromising.
Exactly like now.
His pride alone would make him pour 200% into every ounce of power he had, shooting the film with everything he’s got.
Perfect.
The final puzzle piece clicked. Seeing Kim Kwang-woo’s eyes blaze hotter with every prod, Do Yoon-seop fully set aside any worries about the Model Detective 3 cast.
Clink.
Do Yoon-seop tilted his whiskey glass with ice.
“Gonna step out for a smoke.”
“Haha, go ahead.”
As he stood, he nodded at Jang Team Leader, who’d been quietly sipping in the corner.
Scrape.
Jang rose too, and as they headed out, Do Yoon-seop reviewed the situation involving Lee Tae-gyu up to now.
“Jang Team Leader.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Monster City wraps next weekend, right?”
“Yes. Episode 12 finale.”
“And it ends on Tae-gyu?”
“Correct.”
“Then the short film right after.”
“Yes. The Arena Short Film Festival screening for Sai-bi Church Maknae Son in about two weeks. We at DK Entertainment funded the whole production.”
“No word yet on the Hoshi-jeol director?”
“No, but I checked—earliest release looks like late summer at best.”
“Hm.”
Do Yoon-seop nodded, pulling out a cigarette.
The timeline’s a touch tight.
Tae-gyu’s contract expires in June. Extending it to ride Hoshi-jeol’s wave might be tricky.
April now. A bit of breathing room before Model Detective 3 filming kicks off.
Click.
Lighting his smoke, Do Yoon-seop pondered. He’d handled a ton for Tae-gyu in short order, but as with all human dealings, bragging about it chases luck away.
“Listen, Jang Team Leader.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That file I sent last night.”
“The re-contract details for Tae-gyu, right?”
“Yeah.”
Having fully stamped Tae-gyu as DK’s next superstar post-audition, Do Yoon-seop nodded slowly.
“...Push it all through.”
To lock in the re-contract.
During Model Detective 3, he’d somehow win the kid over.
Audition… rejected…
“Ughhh.”
Cheon Yoo-seong rolled on the bed, groaning weirdly, still unable to accept the result.
He’d gone in ready to cancel Model Detective 3 CFs and variety gigs.
And he flunked?
National Little Bro Cheon Yoo-seong?
A core member of the [HanjiCheon] trio with free passes to most film auditions?
“No way…”
Cheon Yoo-seong had jumped in via agency connections after hearing Lee Tae-gyu rumors.
Now he could only curse the Model Detective 3 crew for nitpicking his “acting chops.”
Busy supporting actors in similar genres often sync up in 3-4 projects a year, but leads rarely overlap that much.
Three films in a year. He’d banked on this one spreading “entertainment besties” rumors with Tae-gyu at his level. Now shattered.
Beep.
A text pinged. From hyung?
He’d told Tae-gyu he was auditioning too—reply? Grabbing his phone, but
Seeing the sender, sarcasm spilled from Cheon Yoo-seong’s mouth.
“What’s this guy on about.”
We’re not text buddies, are we?
Whatever. About to ignore and flip the phone,
“...!”
Salt rubbed in the wound. Cheon Yoo-seong deflated.
“Ughhhh.”
Too drained to even yell.
Just like that, sprawled furious, the opportunistic Cheon Yoo-seong tapped away furiously.
Tap tap tap…
Reuploading SNS glory days with “my hyung” from set, plotting comebacks—
Ding! Ding! Ding!
On the road to the CF meeting.
“Ha!”
Seol A-yoon’s sudden scoff at her phone drew every eye in the massive van.
“What’s up!”
“Unnie, why?”
“A-yoon! You okay?”
“Sue ‘em?”
She calmed the wildfire panic with a sigh, eyeing her phone again.
Cheon Yoo-seong’s SNS. Specifically, posts she’d missed amid heated Hoshi-jeol debates with Director Gu Jeong-hwan.
Not Hoshi-jeol set. An unfamiliar shoot. Dingy church. Photo of oddly dressed Lee Tae-gyu beside V-signing Cheon Yoo-seong. Faint Han Joo-hyuk in back.
What the…
She immersed fully in projects. All focus on dismantling Gu’s Yi Bang-won obsession had blinded her to this.
Betrayal and exclusion from Sai-bi Church Maknae Son sequel vibes.
...Why leave me out?
Cheon Yoo-seong not spilling? Fine. But Han Joo-hyuk—acting peer and classmate—skipping her on the short film? That stung.
No. Really, no obligation to tell.
Actors don’t broadcast every gig.
Just… regret gnawed.
I wanted more scenes with Tae-gyu.
Lee Tae-gyu. The monster rookie stirring rare jealousy.
Chance to act together, gone.
Didn’t know he jumped right in.
Seol A-yoon felt no rivals her age—bar Han Joo-hyuk maybe. Top star or not, her acting hunger had only grown since debut. Tae-gyu? A must-collab now.
But she was a superstar—timid inside, cool outside. Never shows it.
Utterly casual:
“...Hey.”
Heads snapped her way.
“That Actor Lee Tae-gyu we shot with.”
“Yeah, A-yoon?”
“Looks like he’s jumping straight into another project?”
“Probably? Why?”
“Nah, just. Saw a pic on Yoo-seong’s SNS from before.”
“He did another one?”
“...What?”
Her eyes widened at the instant reply—no “why ask?”
Why didn’t you tell me? Nearly blurted, but swallowed. She knew it sounded forced.
Instead, calm probe:
“Which project?”
“Model Detective 3, I bet.”
“Model Detective? That ten-million series?”
“Yeah. Private audition—”
“Audition?”
Her voice pitched up.
“But why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“A-yoon.”
“It’s a ten-miller—”
“Remember? Post-Hoshi-jeol, it’s locked with Director Yoon Chang-ho.”
“Oh.”
Team lead’s grin jogged her memory. Tae-gyu regret had fogged Yoon Chang-ho’s name.
Right.
Director Yoon Chang-ho.
Sigh.
Regrettable, but unavoidable. Worlds apart from Gu Jeong-hwan—a rare Korean titan with Cannes rom-com cred.
“Crank-in date’s not even set… but bailing for another flick? He’d flip.”
Not just prestige. Old-school film purist mindset. Stubborn. Massive industry sway. Cross him, films get tough—even for her.
Top star, yes. But not Do Kwang-seon-level legend spanning generations. Pre-Yoon project, no side gigs easy.
“You wanna do something with Tae-gyu?”
“Not exactly—”
“Be real with us. Anyway, no worries if that’s it. Might see him soonish.”
“Huh?”
Team lead snapped fingers. Someone back passed a file.
Flip.
Words hit her ears.
“Their marketing head pitched it first.”
En route to CF meeting. Beer ad renewal celebrating new bottle launch—youth star exclusive.
“They’re thinking double casting. Thoughts?”
“Double?”
“You’re main, obviously. Veto freely. Your call, Seol A-yoon.”
“...”
“Know you don’t love non-solos, but they begged, and seemed like you’d dig it.”
“...Huh?”
“See.”
Flip flip.
Team lead flipped the ad plan. Seeing her lips twitch up, warm laughs rippled.
Then—
[Lee Tae-gyu]
—the monster rookie’s name, whom she craved another collab with, popped up.
Flip, flip.
Delighted, she scanned the plan, but—
“Huh?”
A frown creased her brow.
“What’s with this gambler line.”
Win it… and deliver it to you? Whatever.
Lee Tae-gyu’s officetel. Scanning the still ascetic-simple space,
“The CF with Actress Seol A-yoon—we can probably snag it.”
Jang Team Leader held up fingers.
“Negotiated this amount. Not locked yet, but with your OK, Tae-gyu, we’ll push full throttle.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Ever flat Tae-gyu’s reply tensed Jang slightly.
...Not easy, as expected.
Among his peers, only this guy wouldn’t grin ear-to-ear at landing a megastar CF for that pay.
...Gotta have actor steel like this.
He’d always admired it. And more each day, Jang wanted to stake his remaining industry life on this man’s cool.
Smooth.
Adjusting posture, he slid over a paper.
Re-contract docs.
Tae-gyu glanced down, then up. Recalling his role from CEO Do Yoon-seop:
I’m the first bluff.
Basically: Bluff big on lucrative re-contract perks. Then make it real somehow.
If…
Even post-signing, bluff stays unreal?
One move left:
...I eat the blame.
Some call it ruthless CEO greed, others inhuman staff disposability. Jang loved it.
Doesn’t matter.
Do Yoon-seop never forced it; success meant solid rewards.
Bluff or not, I’ll make it real.
He trusted himself. With Lee Tae-gyu—this glittering gem—he’d polish him to industry peak.
Jang knew. The man eyeing him now clocked Seol A-yoon, peer-age top star.
“Tae-gyu.”
“Yes.”
“We’re not pushing immediate re-contract. Just proposing.”
Direction set, Jang pitched.
“You know Model Detective—your lead role, investment stake—we at DK hold max sway.”
“I do.”
“Meaning, during shoot, we can flex your schedule as fellow DK.”
“You mean.”
CEO-vetted pitch. Jang knew Tae-gyu’s biggest drive wasn’t cash or fame.
“Shoot our film, do others too. We’ll sync around your other schedules, hopping sets.”
“...”
“Two films at once. Possible.”
Tiny eyebrow twitch confirmed it.
“Re-contract now,”
Acting.
“And we’ll wedge you into Director Yoon Chang-ho’s next somehow. Deal?”
Everything but acting left Tae-gyu indifferent. For re-contract, Jang bet biggest:
“...Romance comedy with top star Seol A-yoon.”