Are You Trying to Ruin the Drama? (2)

Seven years.

In all that long time, there was exactly one truth Do Jaehyun had learned about this industry: the world is never on the side of those who work hard.

He'd grasped that truth so painfully late. No — maybe he'd known it from the start, and had simply fought so hard to look away from it because accepting it was too much to bear.

Seven years a no-name actor, Do Jaehyun. His reason for starting to act had never been anything grand. Back in college, he'd wandered into a theater club by chance and somehow ended up with a supporting role. That unremarkable beginning ended up changing his entire life.

Acting was fun.

The miracle of another person's life — trapped in ink on a page — leaping into reality on the breath of his own. The moment, under the searing pin lights, when the role and he became perfectly one.

Hundreds of spectators holding their breath, eyes fixed only on him — and then the wave of applause that crashed down as if to swallow him whole. All of it was time more precious to Do Jaehyun than anything else in the world.

Naturally, he gave everything to acting. He went beyond simply working while others rested — he drove himself to the absolute limit, economizing even on the time it took to eat. And his obsessive, almost fanatical devotion to the craft was enough to make even the proudest veterans of Daehangno theater uneasy.

—I've never seen a crazy bastard like you. You're going to make it. That much is certain.

—Ha! Our Jaehyun. I bet I'll be watching you on the big screen soon. Hm?

—Hey, hey! Jaehyun! You remember I'm the one who lured you into that theater club, right? Don't you dare forget me when you make it big!

Everyone, with one voice, sang his praises — his talent, his effort. But the reality in front of a camera lens was brutally, mercilessly cold.

—Somebody tell that bastard to kill the look in his eyes! Who does he think he is, acting like he's the lead?!

—Unbelievable. Who brought this worthless rookie in?! Get him out of frame, now! He can stand in the background for a while, then haul him off!

—Jaehyun, I'm sorry. The investor's pushing some kid, and she suddenly caught his eye.... Yeah, I'm really sorry. Next time, for sure. We'll do it together.

The harder he tried, the more he got branded as the guy who didn't know his place — and the sincerity he poured into every role was dismissed as the "artistic delusions" of a clueless kid who didn't understand how sets worked. And so the young man who had once been called a genius of acting was quietly shuffled out of the industry's memory, filed away as nothing more than a stubborn, second-rate hack.

Even so, he couldn't give up. Because acting was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all he had. Because he had lived his whole life looking at nothing else, and because that moment when he became one with a character was the happiest moment in the world.

'So what if I don't get any lines? At least I'll be on screen.'

If he couldn't be a lead, he'd be a supporting actor. If not that, an extra. And if not even that, an extra with not a single line of dialogue. Soldier #6, a corpse, Fleeing Citizen #3, a customer eating in the corner of a restaurant. Shuttling between roles that didn't even have names, he still tore into every script like a madman, every single time.

Today's gig — "Café Customer #3" — was no different. The only thing that set it apart from everything before was the sheer scale of it.

A tentpole miniseries on tvM, with buzz rivaling a terrestrial broadcast. A drama featuring a director everyone knew by name, and a whole roster of A-list actors riding the wave of the moment.

To a man who'd been scraping by on bit parts in indie films and web dramas, simply breathing the air of that massive set felt like a miracle. So he threw himself into the script several times harder than usual.

True, he was a nameless extra with no lines — but he'd given himself a whole concrete backstory, "a college student nervous about a blind date," trying to make his performance feel that much more real. Yes, he had prepared so ferociously that his worn old notebook had gone soft at the edges from use.

"AD team! The entire café scene just got scrapped! Tell the background team lead to pull the extras and wrap it up!"

Baek Kangmin, the second male lead, had gotten drunk in broad daylight and committed a hit-and-run. The performance he'd stayed up all night preparing for evaporated in an instant, thanks to one absurd, headline-making disaster.

'Again...?'

Staff members scrambled around making frantic calls, while the lead actors grumbled their way back to their standby vans. And why? Watching the chaos from a distance, he realized he didn't even feel hollow anymore.

"Jaehyun. Let's go."

"...."

"Jaehyun? Hey — Do Jaehyun."

He'd only been standing there in a daze for a moment before Do Jaehyun gathered up the worn-out backpack he'd set on the ground and shouldered it. The weight of the bag pressing down on him felt heavier today than it ever had.

'...Right. Story of my life, isn't it.'

It had taken him a painfully long time to accept reality. Almost thirty, juggling back rent against convenience-store shifts — a shabby, grinding existence. He couldn't keep hanging his life on a hope with no substance, on a whispered "someday."

"Coming, hyung."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. You holding up?"

"...What's there to not hold up over? If anything, it's a good thing — at least now I see reality clearly."

It was time to admit it. That all the praise showered on him had only ever worked within the cramped stage of theater — the talent of a frog in a well. That bending his stubbornness and living in the real world was the smarter choice for him now.

"Excuse me! Do Jaehyun-ssi!"

The very moment he was turning to walk away from his dream, someone called his name. Do Jaehyun stopped in his tracks and looked back on reflex. A man was striding straight toward him — Ji Yeonwoo, the drama's main writer, whom he'd mistaken just moments ago for another background extra like himself.

'Ah.'

For an instant, Do Jaehyun's heart plunged. Hadn't the assistant director already glared at him like an insect and dressed him down earlier? And worse, he'd gone and committed the atrocity of practically hijacking the coffee bag belonging to a writer — someone as untouchable as the sky. Do Jaehyun bent into a frantic bow, the apology tumbling out of him.

"Wr-writer-nim, I'm so sorry about earlier. I'll pay you back for the coffee by tomorrow, without fail—"

But the writer waved the offer away like it was nothing. And then he said something utterly incomprehensible.

"No, forget the coffee. Instead, will you repay me a different way?"

"...?"

Pay him back a different way? What did that even mean? Far from clearing anything up, the writer's next words only made the question swell.

"Jaehyun-ssi. You said earlier your one wish was to deliver a single line of dialogue in front of a camera, didn't you?"

"...Sorry? Ah — yes. Yes, I did say that."

"Then that wish."

Ji Yeonwoo took one step closer, looked Do Jaehyun dead in the eye, and held out his hand.

"I'll make it come true. A hundred lines, a thousand — as many as you want."

At that moment, the heart of the set was in a state of absolute scorched-earth chaos.

"Are you kidding me?! There are more actors in this country than I can count in truckloads, and you're telling me we don't have a single one who can get in front of the camera right now?!"

Director Woo Youngtaek's roar thundered across the set. He was already famous on set for his iron-fisted temperament, but right now his face was flushed such a furious red that a burst blood vessel would not have surprised anyone.

"Goddamn it, seriously!"

If it were only Baek Kangmin careening toward his own ruin, he wouldn't have gone this insane. But Baek Kangmin was a main-tier cast member, sailing on the same ship as this drama. Like it or not, it was self-evident that his drunk driving was going to deal the show a massive blow. And right on schedule—

"Director, we have a problem! Baek Kangmin's agency just called — he's going in for police questioning. They say there's no denying it, no escaping it!"

"What?! Unbelievable! What's the department head say? Are the investors covered?!"

"They're on emergency footing too — phones are on fire over there! The main investor says if we don't replace the actor immediately and put out a damage-control statement by end of day, they're pulling every last won of their funding!"

We are so monumentally screwed.

Woo Youngtaek forced his trembling hands still and glared at his phone screen. The entertainment outlets ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— and now even the general news sections — were already plastering headlines like "Famous Actor B, Drunk Daytime Hit-and-Run Shocks Nation." It was only a matter of time before his real name dropped, and the netizen detective squads were already cross-referencing Baek Kangmin's car model and schedule, setting the comment sections ablaze.

Riiing—!

Amid the ice-thin tension, Woo Youngtaek's phone blared. The caller: Ha Doun, the broadcasting station's executive producer and department head. The moment he saw the name, Woo Youngtaek's brow twisted into something ugly.

"...Yes, Department Head-nim."

"I'm sorry — what?"

The demands came flying the instant he picked up. Woo Youngtaek tried valiantly to smother the boiling rage and manage the situation, but in the end he exploded.

"What kind of nonsense is that?! How exactly am I supposed to find an actor of that caliber on demand?!"

"You're only saying that because you're not here watching this set fall apart! Come stand here for one hour! Just cleaning up the fact that today's daytime scene evaporated is enough to make my skull split open!"

Woo Youngtaek lashed out, not caring one bit that the entire staff was watching.

"The leads are already whining about their standby time dragging on in the van, the staff are having meltdowns over how to rebuild tomorrow's schedule — it's a total five-car pileup over here! In THIS situation, where exactly am I finding the months it takes to run a casting process?! Where are the months it takes to make an offer?!"

But the CP's booming bellow cut straight through Woo Youngtaek's grievances and dismissed them out of hand.

"How many times do I have to say it's impossible right now?!"

"Agh, for God's sake.... You know what, fine! Fine! I don't have time to stand here dithering with you. I'm hanging up."

Click. He hung up unilaterally, mid-sentence. Woo Youngtaek huffed and puffed, looking one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠second away from hurling his phone at the floor.

"D-Director-nim, um — how should we handle the B-team shooting schedule...."

"Director-nim...! The lighting team is asking if they should strike their equipment — what do we do?!"

The second the call ended, the assistant director and staff came shuffling over in nervous clusters and began unloading every problem in existence onto him. His head felt like it would split open. He was one breath away from throwing it all down and just screaming like a madman.

"Hey, you punks! Do you think I haven't thought about it?! You people can coordinate that kind of thing among yourselves, can't you?! So why the hell do you keep coming to ME—!"

"Director-nim."

And then it happened. A voice — calm, yet absolutely solid — cut through the pandemonium. Every head snapped reflexively toward where it had come from. Standing there was the main writer himself, Ji Yeonwoo.

"Wr-writer-nim, you're here!"

"...? And who's that next to you?"

"Ah — yes! That's the worthless rookie from earli—!"

Beside Ji Yeonwoo stood a completely unfamiliar man, freshly emerged from the crowd of background extras, wearing a dazed, goofy expression. People shot puzzled looks at this bizarre pairing. And a few of them, catching on to who the man actually was, began to frown.

"Writer-nim...? Who is that beside you?"

"The actor I mentioned to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Director a moment ago. The one who'll be playing Han Taeyoon."

To Director Woo's blunt question, Writer Ji replied with perfect composure. And the instant the words left his mouth, the fidgeting man beside him — Do Jaehyun — snapped into a reflexive ninety-degree bow.

"Ah, it's an honor!! My name is Do Jaehyun!!"

"...?"

What the hell is this flustered little punk?

Woo Youngtaek looked the man in front of him up and down, utterly dumbfounded.

Well — whatever else was true, the man's looks were genuinely something. A face so striking it fit the description of Han Taeyoon — "a character whose very face was his plausibility" — to an almost uncomfortable degree. But pretty was all he was. From the stiff, overwrought movements of a man terrified out of his wits, to the flubbed introduction, everything about him screamed green rookie with zero set experience.

"I-I'll do my very best!! Please look kindly on me!"

"...."

Woo Youngtaek froze, his mouth hanging half open in sheer disbelief. How am I supposed to respond to that? Accept it? Refuse it?

It wasn't as if he had a single viable replacement on hand, and frankly, that face alone cleared the bar. He was studying Do Jaehyun's features intently, gears grinding, when—

"Um.... Director-nim?"

The assistant director, who'd been edging over ever so cautiously, leaned in close to Woo Youngtaek's ear.

"That man over there — you see—"

"What, you know him? What agency?"

"No, that's not it. He was one of our background extras at the outdoor set earlier. One of the extras we just pulled when the whole café scene got scrapped."

"...What?"

Woo Youngtaek's head whipped around. The assistant director, face drained white, nodded rapidly over and over.

'A... an extra?'

Woo Youngtaek's gaze locked onto Do Jaehyun all over again. The oversized, worn-out backpack. The shirt several seasons out of fashion. The shoulders locked rigid with nerves, and the anxious eyes that darted around as if searching for somewhere to belong. No matter how charitably he tried to look at it, the man was nothing more — and nothing less — than an extra with a severe case of camera fright.

'So you're telling me...'

He wants to drop an ex-extra into THIS critical second-male-lead slot?

Woo Youngtaek couldn't believe the situation in front of him, so he asked with his own two lips.

"Wr-writer-nim. Is this... serious?"

"Yes. Great face, isn't it? And he's physically solid, so pulling a few all-night shoots will be no problem."

"Th-thank you!! I'll give it everything I have!"

"...."

In that moment, the eyes of every single member of staff — Woo Youngtaek foremost among them — turned toward Writer Ji Yeonwoo. And every one of them was thinking exactly the same thought.

'This writer... he's actually decided to tank the drama, hasn't he?'

It was a bull's-eye.