Red Sunset in the Junkyard
Worn military boots splashed through oil puddles gouged into the dirt floor. Splat! Iridescent oil bubbles scattered, but that was utterly irrelevant. Vreeee—! A crane swung sideways, dropping a crumpled car that let out a grotesque screech. The shattering of glass, the acrid tire smoke starting from somewhere, the pervasive oil stench echoing through the entire junkyard—it was all pretty damn unpleasant.
"Hm."
But none of that mattered either. Late afternoon in the junkyard, where cars were stacked like crushed cakes on either side. A faint smell of blood wafting from that deep, paint-peeled container. Yeah. The spreading scent of blood. That was pretty damn important.
The investigation was at a standstill. Teaming up with a detective who had no authority, against his will.
"Should I just kill 'em?"
"—? ——— ——, — ——— ————?"
"————, ————!"
"—. ——— You said you're a cop, right?"
The bastard smirking and chuckling since earlier. Him being the prime suspect? Also pretty damn important.
And.
"—."
At his call, crowds emerged from all around the junkyard, armed with bats and wooden planks. Their cocky glares? Important in their own way too.
So.
"——, kill all these kids."
Right now, the most important thing for Tae-gyu, who'd shown up at this scene, was dragging off these scumbags who committed crimes without a shred of remorse.
Thump!
Whoosh!
"——! ———! ———!"
"————?"
"——, ———!"
He started charging. Seo Woong-tae's emotions upon encountering the criminal.
Lightning-hot thrill surged from toes to scalp, electrifying his entire body.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud! His heart pounded at full throttle from the anvil-hot core of his body. Adrenaline exploded, flooding his limbs with oxygen-rich, emotion-charged blood.
Wrath.
Fueled by rage at the bastard spewing nonsense right in front of him, sweat beaded in his clenched fists, his chest heaving and contracting with scream-like breaths.
"——! —! —!"
"————, ———!"
"————!"
The tension of impending war descended. Like a predator facing prey.
Knees and legs slightly loosened, joints and muscles taut—then, the moment he imagined the pleasure of throttling that fucker, his body snapped into perfect tension-relaxation balance.
Thump!
This was it. This rush.
His sharpened mind, issuing takeoff orders to every muscle, anticipated the coming ecstasy. Hot, tingling something spread through him.
Tae-gyu, burning with the fierce urge to beat down criminals, finally couldn't hold back.
"Kuhahaha———!"
The moment he burst into manic laughter with a roar, everything around Tae-gyu slowed.
"————, —, —! ————!"
Now, words meant nothing. Ambient noise had faded long ago. His ears now filtered only for sounds that could trigger his frenzy.
"——Anyway, —bugs—— bastards!"
"—————!"
Narrowed vision. Focus at its peak. Everything peripheral vanished.
"——Just kill 'em and be done———!"
His eyes flashed as Tae-gyu unleashed every emotion he could vomit up—through words, gestures, glares, everything.
"It's fine, scum like you weren't gonna make it to the station anyway———!"
——Explosion.
"If you don't kill me here, you're dead, you fucking bugs———!"
——Explosion.
"Kuhahaha!"
——Explosion.
Curses, brawling, intimidation, attitude—emotions detonated in chain reactions.
Wrapped in blazing-hot Seo Woong-tae's dokkaebi fire, Lee Tae-gyu finally went berserk.
This is it!
Fun. Unlike the gray, immersion-proof daily grind, a electric grin spread naturally.
Kya, this is fucking fun!
Riding the emotional whirlwind ravaging his body, Tae-gyu moved with utter naturalness amid the criminals.
Again and again.
Again and again.
By the time pro stuntmen—meant to take him down—pummeled his back mercilessly with filming props.
Again and again.
Again and again.
By the time Tae-gyu rose, snarling and trading blows.
Just like that. As his dokkaebi fire naturally burned off.
—Cut! Cut!
The director's call rang out.
Silence fell over the set. The stuntmen's sweat stench reached even here, as they lay gasping alongside the three actors.
—Great work, hold on a sec!
Hong Woo-sik the director lowered his megaphone and glanced at Yang Yong-chan seated beside him. Naturally, he craved the world-renowned master's verdict.
"·········"
But Yang Yong-chan was drenched. Soaked by the storm that had just ravaged the set.
···Han Joo-hyuk's improved a ton?
He was honestly shocked. Compared to last time, the acting's stability and explosive power felt entirely different.
···
But.
Yang Yong-chan's gaze lingered briefly on Han Joo-hyuk before being sucked toward someone else. Between Kim Kwang-woo's heavy presence and Han Joo-hyuk's newfound maturity stood an actor who didn't yield an inch—no, who at peak emotional moments even led the flow.
In other words.
The actor who'd immersed so deeply in the detective role that he'd grabbed his collar earlier.
Another method actor like Han Joo-hyuk, huh.
Yang Yong-chan murmured the name of the actor now slumped contentedly on set.
Lee Tae-gyu, Lee Tae-gyu, Lee Tae···gyu···
Hold on.
Oh.
He remembered. The lead actor in that short film fest grand prize winner—starring his daughter Yang Se-hee—was Lee Tae-gyu.
Hm, shoulda watched it ahead of time.
A twinge of regret hit. He'd planned to watch Sai-bi Church Maknae Son with his wife tonight in the garden, teasing his daughter together.
Lee Tae-gyu.
He could guess why DK Entertainment jumped through hoops to introduce him.
But.
Of all times, now.
Today ended here. A spark of interest, sure—but his priority in Korea was time with Yang Se-hee.
I'll keep him in mind, at least.
No mental bandwidth beyond that. He was deep into a blockbuster with over a year of shooting left. Hollywood capital and stars meant no room, no matter how good this guy was.
Hm.
Not just schedule. Info on global A-listers flooded him constantly; no spare attention for new faces.
Still···might check him out a bit.
Lee Tae-gyu. To set up an info pipeline, Yang Yong-chan pulled out his phone and messaged somewhere.
Tap-tap···
Yang's founding member group chat.
In other words.
The Stranger Tastes group chat—famous Korean directors' private circle—jolted at Yang Yong-chan's rare message.
Most flinched for one reason: nearly everyone was racing to cast the actor this heavyweight just named, scripting furiously for their next projects.
'Sorry, Actor Lee Tae-gyu can't commit without a finished script··· Yes yes, no next project set yet.'
No time for arrogance. They'd buckled down on sincere scenarios, not rough drafts, per DK's reply.
On-set directors were filming; others obsessed over scripts, anxious about Why's he interested?—no replies.
Perfunctory filler flooded the chat like drizzle.
Jeon Yong-il tilted his head back, venting frustration.
"···Fuck, damn it!"
The noir master's study floor was littered with crumpled papers.
···Not enough.
Jeon Yong-il still felt something missing. To draw out 200% of that mad actor's potential still burned in his eyes, he craved a never-before role.
Just one hair short.
Gambler, cult elder··· time for beyond.
Having seen Lee Tae-gyu redefine noir staples, he'd grown greedier. Beyond cops, thugs, fighters, robbers—something more for this blindingly radiant actor. Used right, it'd explode something.
A twist might yield···
New recipe lust. Like weird food combos: peanut butter apples, pineapple pizza, cola rice, mint choco ice cream, cream jjajangmyeon, cucumber toast. Master chefs shy away, but succeed and—
Whoa, you nailed it—?! Insane!
Pure instinct. Famous directors climb impossible ladders, craving untasted fruit.
But.
This no, that no, hm, that···
Rifling roles, Jeon Yong-il scowled, breakthrough eluding.
Yoon Chang-ho beat him to it.
"···Got it!"
In Yoon's study, hollow-eyed, he slammed Enter.
Clack!
Printer across the room spat pages. Yoon snatched, collated, stapled, flipped through.
Scripts feel different on screen vs. paper—but not this time. Breath matched perfectly. Masterpiece.
A grin crept on Yoon's face.
Done.
Like Jeon, his fresh recipe born of similar greed.
Flip.
The swift 'official' script. Speed beyond improv habit or sincerity alone.
Genre perk: Delicate emotional lines from 'relationship' intimacy, exploiting gap to protagonist's 'public' status.
"Whew."
Yoon smirked at the rom-com bound for DK, mindful of Lee Tae-gyu's Sai-bi Church Maknae Son tastes.
"Eh, change the title later···"
Second working title set. Male lead complete.
"···Let's humor his tastes."
Hot-blooded pure virgin singleton.
But.
108 Months Full Installment
···A used-car dealer gone mad for sales···