Chapter 79
Chapter 79
Shall I Start Probing?
What caught Yu Yeon-seo’s attention was the reputation and rumors section.
Rumored to have been extremely envious when Lee Hui-seo got married. In reality, she was said to have constantly talked about wanting to marry into a rich family and live a life of leisure.
Many people interested in Ryu Hye-gyeong contacted her, but she would test the waters before turning them down. It seemed she still harbored aspirations for a chaebol family.
Not just any conglomerate, but Juseong. Her fellow group member married into a company that represents South Korea, so she might want to join a chaebol family of similar standing.
‘Her standards might have gotten higher… but shouldn’t she be considering her age now?’
It was likely Im Seung-hyeon’s personal opinion, but it was his report, so it was credible. Yu Yeon-seo tilted his head, thinking of Ryu Hye-gyeong who had approached him so warmly after the script reading.
Known for being relentless in the entertainment industry. High turnover rate for managers and stylists. The fact that no gossip leaked out suggests she was meticulous about managing her image.
Highly skilled at handling the media. Particularly uninhibited when using her personal social media. Her public reputation is good.
‘She won’t be easy to handle.’
Lying back down on the bed, Yu Yeon-seo stared blankly at the ceiling.
‘Did I show my hand too early?’
Should he have kept his intentions hidden until after receiving Im Seung-hyeon’s report? He felt a slight pang of regret.
‘No.’
But that thought didn’t last long.
Ryu Hye-gyeong was the one who should be swayed. There was no need for him to grovel to get what he wanted.
‘Why should I?’
Yu Yeon-seo had nothing to lose.
Besides, there were plenty of people other than Ryu Hye-gyeong who could talk about Lee Hui-seo. The CEO of Twinkle’s agency, or her manager at the time. If Ryu Hye-gyeong dragged her feet, he could drop her at any moment.
And the real reason the original Yu Yeon-seo had suspected Lee Hui-seo’s death had yet to surface.
‘Beta.’
<Yes, Master. Commencing random memory synchronization.>
Beta, who now knew what he wanted just by hearing his name, replied in a level tone.
After spending the morning like that, Yu Yeon-seo crossed his arms as he saw Lee Tae-gyeom, who had arrived earlier than usual.
“What’s this? We still have a while before we need to go to the set.”
“Take a look at these.”
Lee Tae-gyeom hadn’t given up and had brought more scripts. While he used to carry so many he needed both hands, now they were few enough to fit in one.
Did he put some thought into his choices? Yu Yeon-seo casually flipped through the scripts he set down and spoke.
“What’s your reason for picking these?”
Lee Tae-gyeom cleared his throat with a couple of coughs.
Oh, he looks confident. Usually, he was intimidated, wondering what kind of rejection Yu Yeon-seo would deliver, but today was different.
“North Korea is a cheat code.”
“What?”
It was a rather anticlimactic answer, but Yu Yeon-seo decided to lean back in his chair and listen to what Lee Tae-gyeom had to say.
“Here, look.”
Lee Tae-gyeom dramatically pulled out a tablet and handed it to Yu Yeon-seo. The screen was hardly a PowerPoint presentation; it was just a memo pad with large text.
“The movie ‘Goblin’ featuring a North Korean operative, the drama ‘Sting Operation’ with a North Korean defector as one of the leads, this one is about the Kaesong Industrial Complex… Anyway, what do all these projects have in common?”
“What is it?”
Yu Yeon-seo was well aware of the movie and drama Lee Tae-gyeom mentioned. He had rewatched them several times in the future. As if he had learned presentation skills from Manager Park, Lee Tae-gyeom paused for a beat, piquing one’s curiosity.
“The movie at least broke even and was a moderate hit, and the drama’s ratings surpassed 20%. That’s what.”
“Oh.”
This was a new approach… He must have put a lot of thought into it. As Yu Yeon-seo opened his mouth, Lee Tae-gyeom spoke with a triumphant expression.
“Even ‘White Tiger,’ the movie you filmed, had North Korea as the reason for the ship’s disappearance in the beginning.”
North Korea was only mentioned briefly in ‘White Tiger.’ But in the early parts of the film, it served to confuse the audience by making them suspect that North Korea was behind the ship’s disappearance and the appearance of the monster.
Of course, ‘White Tiger’ was different from the scripts Lee Tae-gyeom had brought. In ‘White Tiger,’ North Korea was just a plot device, whereas in these, the main story was closely intertwined with the country.
“So you chose these?”
“Yeah, what do you think?”
Yu Yeon-seo looked at the scripts. Though he seemed to be flipping through them casually, Lee Tae-gyeom knew his eyes were moving rapidly, reading every word. Perhaps his brother’s genius was genetic, because Yu Yeon-seo was naturally smart.
“Well, they’re not bad… but do you think other directors and writers wouldn’t know that North Korea is a cheat code if even you figured it out?”
“Huh?”
While Lee Tae-gyeom stood there with his mouth agape, Yu Yeon-seo operated the tablet. A list of North Korea-themed movies and dramas appeared on the screen.
“There are this many dramas and movies with North Korea as a theme right here. Have you considered that only a fraction of them were successful?”
“Uh…”
“And isn’t the perception of North Korea worse than it used to be? Just look at the recently aired ‘Sting Operation.’ It was controversial for supposedly glorifying North Korea. You should focus on how entertaining it is, not just the subject matter.”
There was even talk of casting handsome actors to reduce animosity toward North Korea. That itself was a considerable controversy.
Of course, Yu Yeon-seo wasn’t one to be swayed by such controversies, but given the sensitive subject, the work itself had to be exceptionally well-made. Who knew what kind of incident could erupt while the movie was in theaters or the drama was airing?
Caught off guard by the sharp question, Lee Tae-gyeom scratched the back of his head.
“Is, is that so?”
“Anyway, it’s a new approach. I’ll take my time and read them when I have a chance.”
Yu Yeon-seo placed the scripts on the table. But Lee Tae-gyeom’s expression was strange. He narrowed his eyes and looked at him.
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yeah.”
Lee Tae-gyeom quickly replied and put down another script. He really came prepared… Yu Yeon-seo leaned back and crossed his arms.
“I take it this one isn’t about North Korea?”
“A synopsis and script from Director Ham Seong-su, Director Im Jin-u, and writer Jeon Na-ri.”
“Why those three?”
Yu Yeon-seo didn’t know every writer and director. He operated the tablet and scanned the filmographies of the three people Lee Tae-gyeom mentioned.
“Their success seesaws.”
“What?”
“You know, that thing. If their previous work fails, the next one does well, and the one after that fails again.”
“Ah…”
Yu Yeon-seo nodded. There were people like that. People who only got their act together after being criticized. Looking at the three’s recent works, most of the comments were things like, ‘The director needs to find a different writer,’ ‘The directing sucks,’ and ‘The writer should quit.’
After hearing such criticism, they might suddenly awaken and write their next project well.
“I looked into it, and all three of their recent works were total flops. So, what does that mean? Their next projects could be huge hits.”
“Ha…”
He stared at the confidently speaking Lee Tae-gyeom in disbelief. He’d told him to develop an eye for good projects, and instead, his other analytical skills had improved.
‘Should I praise him for this or not…?’
In any case, his effort was commendable. Ultimately, the final decision on projects was still up to Yu Yeon-seo, and his new perspective was praiseworthy.
Yu Yeon-seo quickly skimmed the additional synopsis Lee Tae-gyeom had brought.
‘Oh, this is fresh.’
An exorcism drama… and the role is a priest? That’s different. After a soldier, an AI, and a madman, a priest… He had just been wondering about trying other professions. It seemed his chosen projects were specialized in genre films, but there was nothing like genre films for experiencing different lives.
“Alright, I’ll look at this later and decide.”
“You’re not deciding now?”
“I have to get to the set.”
“Ah. Your secretary said he’s arrived.”
“What’s with him?”
Entering the film set, Yu Yeon-seo gestured with his head toward someone.
It was the lead actor, An Hyeon-seong. He was standing at attention, all tense. His relaxed attitude from the script reading was gone.
“It seems Mr. Go Hyo-jun gave him a talking-to.”
“Hyo-jun?”
“Yes, I saw him being called away after the reading.”
Did he see that in the brief moment they were waiting for the elevator? Yu Yeon-seo let out a small laugh. With Go Hyo-jun stepping in, An Hyeon-seong wouldn’t be a nuisance for now.
“Hello.”
“Oh, you’re here. The others are…”
“It’s just the three of us.”
A staff member glanced behind Yu Yeon-seo. There was only Lee Tae-gyeom, who looked like a manager, and Im Seung-hyeon, who looked more like a bodyguard than a manager.
Initially, a stylist and a hair and makeup artist had followed him, but they quit due to his personality, and since Yu Yeon-seo didn’t feel a particular need for them, he hadn’t hired replacements.
“Let’s start with your makeup.”
Yu Yeon-seo headed to the powder room set up in a corner of the studio. He was dressed exactly like Lee Tae-o from the webtoon: a shabby white shirt, jeans, and barefoot. His hair was messily tied up, with stray strands sticking out here and there.
When Yu Yeon-seo emerged from makeup, the director let out a small sound of admiration.
“Oh, that looks good.”
His appearance, which they worried might look too rich, had changed dramatically.
Of course, they had shot character posters before filming, but those could be edited on a computer. Seeing it in person was different.
They had been concerned that his natural aura would be impossible to hide, but as Yu Yeon-seo stared intently at the script, his atmosphere began to change.
“Let’s do a quick rehearsal and then get started.”
The script hadn’t changed much from the reading, aside from some ad-libs being added. The reading was about fitting together each actor’s interpretation of their character, and the director had been impressed by Yu Yeon-seo’s performance then. His character analysis was so perfect that even the writer had nodded in approval.
“Ready, go!”
After the rehearsal, Yu Yeon-seo stepped in front of the monitor. At the director’s signal, his expression changed. They were filming Lee Tae-o’s first appearance.
“You see… I’m missing something, you know?”
“Y-Yes?”
Clang! Clang! The steel pipe in his hand struck the metal railing, making a loud noise. Then he suddenly slumped to the ground.
“I feel sleepy. So sleepy!”
His hands trembled like he was going through withdrawal, and he shook his head violently. Seeing his clearly unhinged state, the other actor swallowed hard.
Lee Tae-o abruptly leaned toward his silent counterpart and narrowed his eyes.
“What, aren’t you curious?”
“B-But?”
“But I can’t sleep.”
“What?”
Lee Tae-o suddenly kicked a pile of wastepaper beside him.
“I said, I can’t, sleep!”
It was an action not written in the stage directions. He kicked it so hard that the sound of wind was followed by a thud as the papers scattered.
“Uh…”
Caught off guard by Yu Yeon-seo’s ad-lib, the other actor froze and missed his cue for the next line.
“Cut! Hold on. Yeon-seo.”
Director Son Jang-hun beckoned him over.
“I get what you’re trying to do, Yeon-seo, but let’s get a heads-up next time. That actor doesn’t have much experience yet.”
“Is it really an ad-lib if I give a warning beforehand? He knows now, so he should be able to do it, right?”
Yu Yeon-seo’s interpretation of Lee Tae-o was that of a ticking time bomb, completely unpredictable. Since the character was prone to sudden actions, he thought it would be good to use a lot of ad-libs.
He sometimes shows violent tendencies from lack of sleep. There were times he would suddenly explode mid-sentence. He needed some way to vent, but he couldn’t actually hit the other actor.
“Anyway, let’s go again.”
The director was well aware of the rumors about Yu Yeon-seo. Still, he was being cooperative enough. Besides, the ad-lib wasn’t completely out of place, so he could be lenient.
After filming, Yu Yeon-seo approached Ryu Hye-gyeong, who was standing a short distance from the monitor.
“Hello, Auntie.”
“Oh, hey there, nephew. You’re a good actor.”
“Don’t you have a shoot today, Auntie?”
“Huh? Oh… I just came to check out the atmosphere. I’m always like this.”
Ryu Hye-gyeong’s manager, who was listening, widened his eyes. This was a woman who wouldn’t even sleep in the direction of a film set unless it was her own shoot.
The stylist jabbed him in the ribs, and the manager forced himself to control his expression.
Although he knew it was all a lie from Im Seung-hyeon’s report, Yu Yeon-seo feigned surprise.
“Really? That’s amazing.”
“It’s nothing amazing, it’s basic.”
Ryu Hye-gyeong shrugged.
‘Time for a little nudge?’
Yu Yeon-seo spoke, pretending to be cautious.
“By the way, do you remember what I said at the reading?”
“Oh, that? It was so long ago, I don’t really remember either.”
Ryu Hye-gyeong waved her hand dismissively. She added, as if doing him a great favor:
“I’ll let you know if I remember anything later.”
“Really? Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Excuse me, the director is calling for me.”
But contrary to her expectations, Yu Yeon-seo turned away as if he wasn’t disappointed at all.
“Did Yu Yeon-seo just call you Auntie?”
“Well, technically it’s true, isn’t it?”
Since she was in the same group as Lee Hui-seo, it wasn’t a completely unfitting term… Ryu Hye-gyeong’s stylist shook her head at her unusually friendly demeanor.
‘This woman still hasn’t given up on her ambitions.’
Having been with Ryu Hye-gyeong for years, the stylist knew her intentions all too well. And as for Ryu Hye-gyeong…
‘This isn’t how it’s supposed to go…’
What Yu Yeon-seo wanted was information about Lee Hui-seo, and Ryu Hye-gyeong had planned to use that to her advantage. But Yu Yeon-seo seemed to have no lingering attachment to the matter. Flustered, Ryu Hye-gyeong could only stare at his retreating back.