Hazy Vision
His vision was hazy. The past few days of mental pollution had left Lee Tae-gyu's eyes sunken. Layers of powerlessness and fatigue, like dust, pressed down on his eyelids.
·········I want to sleep.
Did you know? Surprisingly, it's hard to witness human depravity inside Gangwon Land Casino. The CCTV cameras plastered to the high ceiling summon security at the slightest disturbance to prevent cheating. Meaning the casino's shell hid the real core where 'true' negative emotions exploded.
Whoosh!
Inside the casino, amid the flood of dokkaebi fire, Tae-gyu had spotted someone with an especially thick concentration of emotion. It was so intense that not only did he copy it, but he unwittingly locked eyes with the man, naturally struck up a conversation, and ended up following him somewhere.
The destination was one of the motels advertised on the placards they'd passed on the way up to the casino.
Baccarat Research Society, Rose Motel Room 401
Inquiries: 010 - XXXX - XXXX
Don't ask what baccarat is. Just know it's the most popular game with the most tables in Gangwon Land Casino—no, casinos worldwide—and a gamble that ruins lives once you're hooked.
'Nice to meet you. We're the casual baccarat lifestyle group.'
And if you ever meet someone who introduces themselves as a "lifestyle baccarat" player—aka "live bacc"—in the future, I recommend handing over all your money, spitting in their face, and running.
In truth, Tae-gyu was clueless about this scene, but the motel district around Gangwon Land Casino was riddled with ant hells like this: desperate souls with no hope but one big win, gathering under placards claiming to uncover the "formula for gambling victory."
'Handsome uncle, huh? We'll get some good vibes from you. Come sit.'
The motel room was thick with cigarette smoke from the ajummas and ajusshis puffing away the moment he entered. Every conversation that emerged was utterly devoid of reason.
'Did you see our exit chart earlier? It drew a perfect V for once.'
'Of course, oppa's a dog zodiac from the year of the dog.'
'Before your luck changes, tomorrow let's have people with water in their names go first.'
They spouted incomprehensible nonsense, but the size of their dokkaebi fire was undeniable.
Whoosh!
And every single one had incredible intensity. Especially...
When someone downed soju at dawn after the casino closed.
'This fucking world's rigged! Why does it screw me over? Shit!'
The next day, when another guest in the room next door had their emergency cash stolen.
'Aaaargh! That bastard means I can't play today!'
When a fight broke out with another table at a restaurant.
'Back in the day, I turned 50,000 won into two million in one night, fuck!'
Emotions so dense they could engulf a person. A place where they'd cheer and bet on the winner even as a drunk smashed a bottle. It was the final stop for gambling addicts.
Staying longer would dull his everyday senses and shatter his common sense, beyond just acquiring emotions for the role.
After hanging out for days, Tae-gyu finally left, but the words of one grandma as he tried to go still rang in his ears.
'I'll be heading out now.'
'Young man leaving already?'
?
'Haven't shaken your kidneys yet? Down by the underpass, there are business cards scattered on the ground—sell one of those. That'll get you a week of play easy.'
'Ah.'
Tae-gyu belatedly grasped what "going" meant in that world, his mouth falling open.
He couldn't stay longer. Regardless of anything else, constant exposure to such talk would warp his judgment of everyday values. This was a perfectly rational conclusion, not emotional.
That place was definitely—
"...Hey! You okay!?"
"Ah."
"Whoa. Did you prep some method acting or... something?"
Kim Hwan faced Tae-gyu's clouded eyes. He hadn't even donned the dokkaebi fire yet, but his already expressionless face, deprived of proper sleep these past days, was utterly wrecked.
Flash.
Suddenly, the light in Tae-gyu's pupils was enough to halt Kim Hwan's words.
It said, ·········Finally.
Yes. It had been an exhausting trip, but beyond copying the emotion needed for the [Odaepak] role, Tae-gyu had gained a major breakthrough at Gangwon Land Casino this time.
'I figured it out.'
The experience with Do Kwang-seon. In other words, the secret behind that explosive emotional outburst when he first used the power.
Why emotions he'd used alone afterward lacked that impact, and why even the wedding—where he'd immersed more deeply—hadn't matched it.
"...Hoo."
He'd finally uncovered the reason!
"Heh heh."
And that reason tied directly to why he had to walk this path of acting.
Tae-gyu couldn't stop laughing.
"Heh heh heh heh."
"M-Mr. Manager! This guy's acting weird?"
Kim Hwan, slightly flustered, tapped the shoulder of the manager standing beside him. Already on edge, he flinched at the abyssal aura radiating from Tae-gyu.
Click!
The audition room door opened.
"Alright, we'll call numbers one by one from now on!"
The main auditions began.
Kwak In-ho's furrowed brow deepened.
Damn it.
Propping his chin on the hand clutching his pen, even as he watched auditionees come and go through the door, this stifling feeling wouldn't lift.
"Number 2, participant Jung In-gyu."
"Hello, I'm number 8, Kim Su-ho. Please take care of me."
"Number 12, Jung Il-su. Can I start right away?"
Appreciating the acting, jotting notes with his ballpoint, nodding, rubbing his eyes, recalling key points from the last performance—yet a lingering ember smoldered in his heart.
······That bastard wants to go all the way, huh.
He glanced over, glaring at Ji Cheol-geun PD, who adjusted his rimless glasses and scribbled on his paper.
'After all I've done for him...'
He'd thought himself inured to relational emptiness long ago, but witnessing betrayal from a close junior still soured his mood—and this wasn't his first time.
Take Ji Kyung-ho and Joo Min-hee, riding high as Hallyu stars now. Back when they were nobodies, he'd pulled every string to cast them as leads in his hit Disbelief Hell, and they'd acted like they'd give him their livers and gallbladders.
Once washed up, no calls. They wouldn't even pick up.
A week later: - You called. Been busy. - Writer-nim, long time! Let's meet later. That was it.
'Untouchable unless you're hot stuff.'
He felt pathetic for expecting humanity in this industry. And despite getting burned repeatedly, he couldn't help championing talent, even risking his neck like now. It was exasperating.
But he had no choice. Hadn't he debuted thanks to someone's meddling?
'Do Kwang-seon.'
Thinking of the benefactor who'd spotted his hidden spark when no one else did, he couldn't ignore others' glimmers.
Besides, seeing talent wasted drove him mad with frustration. Nurturing the skilled felt like sculpting new characters from blank pages—a creative itch.
Yet this audition room lacked any sparkle by his standards.
Greet, act, greet, exit~ Greet, act, greet, exit~ Greet, act, greet, exit~
Indeed, only that one.
'Lee Tae-gyu.'
Kwak In-ho had bet his neck on him. One performance, but he was convinced it would prove his "washed-up" eye for acting wasn't wrong.
'Kim Hwan's easy pickings.'
He knew who Kim Hwan was: an idol-turned-actor from a hit web drama. Decent for a rookie, up against Tae-gyu this time.
But with one cigarette, he could list over ten flaws before the butt hit the ground.
The "rookie" label magically lowered expectations, forgiving much.
"Good, next."
"That was the last applicant for the Kim Min role, PD-nim."
"Already?"
"Yes, next are applicants for the Odaepak role."
The audition room hushed. The judges, who'd been chatting lively, turned to Ji Cheol-geun PD and Kwak In-ho.
"Ji PD. One proposal."
"Yes."
"For Odaepak onward, how about I read lines with applicants too?"
"Of course."
The mood shifted. Until now, other judges besides the writer and PD had taken turns reading lines. Their chemistry was awkward, but the lines for today's roles were mouse-dropping short.
"And I'd like to read with that Kim Hwan kid. Okay?"
"Then I'll take Lee Tae-gyu?"
"Go ahead."
This wasn't easing judges' burdens—it was an open challenge to vet each other's picks.
·········No, let's do this outright.
Ji Cheol-geun PD casually removed his rimless glasses, wiped them, and proposed indifferently.
"Start Odaepak auditions from that Lee Tae-gyu applicant. How's that?"
"You sure?"
"Better than hearing you whine later about late order tiring everyone and that's why they flopped."
"Starting high might make it hard to watch your recommended actor."
"Just ad-lib appropriately."
He pointed at the camera across the room.
"Making film goes to investors and execs too, right? You know they'll all watch at the press con. Don't sabotage to drop him if you don't want embarrassment."
"You do the same, conscientiously."
"You're the one playing."
Casual banter flowed naturally between them.
Gulp.
The other judges, aware, shifted and swallowed. Fatigued minds sharpened.
Now it began.
"Then... Odaepak role auditions commence."
The battle for Odaepak, where PD or writer might hurl rice bowls.
A production staff knocked outside and opened the audition room door.
Clunk.
All eyes focused. Judges behind the long table—including PD, writer, casting manager—plus camera and making-film crew.
"Number 85, applicant Lee Tae-gyu."
"Hello, I'm Lee Tae-gyu."
Lee Tae-gyu.
·········Oh.
The moment they saw the source of conflict between Ji PD and Kwak writer, most nodded unconsciously.
'He's got it.'
The vibe was spot-on. Sunken face, cigarette stench wafting from his outerwear even here, shoulders slumped naturally.
Hmm— And the smile after greeting? A screw or two loose.
A face properly steeped in life.
Worlds apart from amateur makeup outside. He'd somehow embodied a gambling addict perfectly.
"Ha."
But Ji PD just smirked.
Acting's engine is emotion. Portraying a character means manifesting what emotion they feel in a situation and the actions stemming from it.
That contrived look would just clunk like a Benz shell on a bike wheel without solid emotion.
Then.
The guy idly swung his left hand, and odd words slipped out.
"Let... me start."
His cue was off? But Ji PD had seen plenty of geniuses playing concepts to cover weak skills.
'Clearly below Kim Hwan.'
Seeing pointless antics from the start eased his mind, and Ji PD spoke.
"Scene 33. Start on signal. I might throw ad-libs, so respond freely as inspiration hits."
The latter was for Kwak writer. Strong ad-libber? Own it.
"Yes."
"Then."
Ji Cheol-geun PD nodded toward the making-film camera.
Action— When he looked back at Lee Tae-gyu.
He doubted his eyes.
"·········?"
Gone.
The 'human' named Lee Tae-gyu who'd been there.
And the audition room filled.
"That money's originally mine, you fucking bastard—"
With the barbaric, double-fuck vibe of some Kim guy actually banned from Gangwon Land Casino—