Time to Widen the Board (1)

"Great work, everyone! Thanks for all your effort!"

"Thank you for your hard work too, sir!"

The atmosphere, which had been as tense as if a bomb had gone off, flipped over in the space of a heartbeat. The relief of having safely wrapped the first shoot was making them this considerate, this warm.

But I alone could not melt into that soft, friendly air. Why had everything gone so well? This was not the outcome I had been angling for when I set all this in motion.

The whole world is out to sabotage me....

Before I knew it, my gaze, heavy with resentment, landed on one man. Do Jaehyun — the unknown actor who had just devoured the entire set with his insane performance. The man who had always stood alone was now surrounded by a crowd of actors and crew members, chatting easily with one after another.

Ugh.... What happens to my plan at this rate?

I had planted that bomb fully expecting a pretty face paired with god-awful acting — and then this plot twist had to happen. Why was he good? Why was an actor that talented scrabbling around as a nobody extra, dismissed as trash and talentless? It was genuinely confusing.

Just as I was trying to calm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my rattled mind, Do Jaehyun's darting eyes stopped on my face.

"Writer! So this is where you were!"

He planted himself in front of me and bowed deeply at the waist, his voice booming.

"I know I've said it before, but I felt I had to thank you one more time."

"...."

"Thank you so much. I really — I was about to quit acting, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠because of you, Writer.... Everything, all of this, is thanks to you. This opportunity is thanks to you."

That overwhelming gratitude was burning me up inside, but what could I do? Looked at plainly, this actor wasn't guilty of anything. He'd simply bet his life on the treasure of a lifetime that had finally appeared after seven years of waiting, and given it his absolute best.

I forced down my bitter feelings and patted Do Jaehyun on the shoulder.

"Oh, come on. You're the one who acted well, that's all."

"N-no, sir! It's because you believed in me and pushed me forward that I got this chance, and thanks to your advice I was able to act without a single mistake — ah, I'm sorry. My throat just — it suddenly closed up...."

Do Jaehyun's voice, thick ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with unshed tears, wavered and cracked as he spoke. Don't cry. The one who actually wants to cry is me.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, the surrounding crew members looked back and forth between the two of us with misty, wistful eyes. I'm going to lose my mind. I hurried to soothe the man who looked ready to burst into tears of gratitude at any moment, and swiftly changed the subject.

"So, Jaehyun — is your casting as Han Taeyoon completely finalized now?"

At my question, Do Jaehyun nodded his head with the fervor of a giant dog wagging its tail.

"Ah, yes! The director told me to come to the broadcast station annex later. He said we'll be signing the official contract!"

"Is that so?"

The contract. At that word, a stroke of brilliance flashed through my head. He hasn't stamped his seal yet, right? Then there's still a chance to stop this.

I pretended to ponder for a moment, humming thoughtfully, before broaching the question with studied weight.

"Hmm. What kind of per-episode fee did they offer you, roughly?"

"My fee?"

"Yes. Contracts demand caution, you know. You're an unknown with no agency — those station vultures might lowball you without blinking."

At my covert question, Do Jaehyun glanced around carefully and whispered his per-episode rate. The moment I heard the figure, I furrowed my brow in exaggerated shock and clicked my tongue.

"Huh? That little? Tsk, that's way too low. So that's all tvM is worth these days, huh."

"What? No, no! Compared to extra pay, it's an absurdly— an incredibly high—!"

"Pfft, Jaehyun, you're not an extra anymore. You're a lead. A lead. You deserve compensation to match."

I cut him off with a deliberately grave, resolute expression.

"Jaehyun, listen to me carefully. Exactly double that number you just said. If they won't pay you that much, you do not sign, no matter what."

"Wh-what? No — how could a nobody like me dare ask ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for that kind of money? I'd be grateful just to be allowed on set for free...."

"'A nobody like me'? Jaehyun, you've more than earned it. Have some confidence. Honestly, even asking for double is a bargain basement steal on their end."

I threw out every excuse I could think of, holding forth at length, all in a desperate bid to torpedo this contract.

"So when you go into that meeting — if they try to lowball you even a little, or pull any slick tricks, don't think twice. Get up and walk straight out the door."

"B-but if the casting falls through because of that...."

"Don't worry. I know plenty of production companies. If it really comes to it, I'll introduce you somewhere else. Got it? Don't act like the underdog — walk in like you own the place."

Please don't sign. Please blow this up.

It's better for your career too. Appearing in a drama that's doomed to flop anyway will only stain your filmography.

That was the earnest, self-serving advice I had poured my whole desperate soul into.

"Ooooh...."

Suddenly, a strange murmur of admiration rose from around us. I stole a glance sideways — the staff who had been packing up equipment were looking between me and Do Jaehyun, their eyes shining with awe.

"Wow.... Writer, who are you?"

"...? What do you mean?"

People began gathering, murmuring among themselves.

To go to bat that hard for a total stranger.

So there are still people like that in this cold, cruel age.

Jaehyun's so lucky. I'm jealous.

Misunderstandings like these were passing back and forth between their lips.

...Goddammit. This is maddening.

But the true festival of chaos was right in front of my eyes.

"W-Writer, sir...."

Fat teardrops had begun rolling down both of Do Jaehyun's cheeks.

"Uh — hey, what — what's wrong? Why are you crying all of a sudden?"

"Seven years I've crawled through this industry, and — sob! — this is the first time anyone's ever — I just...."

Do Jaehyun kept choking up, unable to finish a single sentence. This is seriously going to drive me insane. The one who wants to cry is me, so why are you the one crying?

"Back in the day, people treated me like something worse than a bug.... No matter how hard I tried, no matter how I struggled, not a single soul acknowledged me. I got cursed out for 'mugging for the camera' whenever I was on screen...."

"...."

"And every time something finally started going my way, I'd get blindsided and knocked right back down.... I honestly thought I was just cursed with the worst luck in the world. But...."

He fixed his bloodshot eyes on me and spoke with a voice full of emotion.

"I guess all those seven years of suffering were just paying off my misfortune.... It was all so I could meet a great benefactor like you, Writer. I think those trials were in my life for that reason...."

"...No, they weren't."

"Sniff.... Truly.... Thank you so, so much, Writer."

Do Jaehyun's eyes were already blazing with infinite loyalty and fierce devotion toward me.

"Thank you, Writer...! You valued me this highly, you cherished me this much — there's no way I can let you down! I swear, I'll throw myself into this with the resolve to bury my bones for you...!"

The surrounding staff, moved by his tearful life story, watched the two of us with warm, deeply gratified smiles. But I, standing at the center of that heartwarming tableau, was screaming inwardly as I wept tears of blood.

No, you idiot — if you want to do something for me, then just DON'T SIGN THE CONTRACT!

Please, I'm begging you.

I was still screaming my silent, desperate scream when—

"W-wait! Writer!"

"?"

The assistant director's frantic voice cracked through the peaceful corner of the set like a thunderbolt. A moment later he came sprinting over and thrust his phone in my face.

"We have a problem! Look at this, now!"

"What? What could possibly be so—?"

The instant the assistant director's phone screen came into view, my whole body froze.

A few hours later.

Unlike the cozy warmth of the filming set, the outside world had been turned completely upside down. The news of lead actor Baek Kangmin's departure — and the malicious articles pouring down like a waterfall over the unknown actor who had been thrust into his vacant spot without warning — had seen to that.

Sensational headlines dominated the portal sites' front pages and became instant fodder for netizens, and public opinion swelled to a roar in seconds. Once tvM's Drama Bureau grasped the gravity of the situation, they immediately summoned every responsible party for an emergency meeting.

And now — the main conference room of tvM headquarters, Drama Bureau. A suffocating silence had settled over the room, pressing down on the air itself.

"...."

On the laptop at the center of the table, the raw footage was playing. Granted, it was a rough on-set edit — no music, audio untouched — but the sheer, unhinged form of the actors on screen overwhelmed every one of those technical limitations.

At last the video reached its end and stopped. Yet not one person gathered around the conference table could open their mouth. The epicenter of that stifling silence was a single man — the one seated at the head of the table, silently staring at nothing but the laptop screen: Tae Sanhyuk, Bureau Chief of tvM's Drama Bureau and its true seat of power.

"...."

Woo Youngtaek, the PD in charge of main directing, felt as though his lifespan was being shaved off one second at a time.

Look, by my standards those were absolutely brilliant takes.

But Bureau Chief Tae Sanhyuk hadn't offered so much as a flicker of movement since earlier, let alone a single note. From the moment the video began until the moment it ended, he had simply stared at the screen with an utterly impassive expression.

I am so dead....

Just as Woo Youngtaek was struggling to suppress his nerves—

"Team Leader Park."

Tae Sanhyuk's low, dry voice split the silence of the conference room without warning. Park Byungho, the PR team leader who had been singled out, hastily turned his head and answered.

"Yes, sir."

"Where does the situation stand?"

"We've cut all ties with Baek Kangmin's side, for certain. We issued the official statement on his departure, and an hour ago we ran a follow-up article confirming that a replacement actor had entered filming. However...."

The PR team leader swallowed dryly and continued.

"The public's focus has shifted entirely from Baek Kangmin to the replacement actor. The reaction is the worst we feared — every wild speculation imaginable is pouring in, from sponsor payola rumors to parachute casting accusations, all because we seated a no-name rookie in a leading role. As of now, the top of the community real-time rankings and the upper reaches of SNS trends are completely flooded with our drama. It's wall-to-wall."

"So we've certainly detonated our traffic."

"Yes. Looking purely at the buzz index, the numbers are extraordinarily high even before the broadcast has aired. The problem is that all of that buzz is negative. If we let the noise sit, we'll build an anti-fandom before the show even launches. Damage to our image is unavoidable."

At those words, everyone's expressions grew complicated. Just as they had feared, the public, to whom the name Do Jaehyun meant nothing, simply could not take him at face value. In trying to bury the risk of Baek Kangmin's drunk driving, they had instead detonated an entirely new risk: parachute casting.

"Hmm...."

Tae Sanhyuk crossed his arms and spoke quietly.

"So. Team Leader Park. Your take — what should we do?"

"I believe we need to finalize an official position as quickly as possible, explain the casting process, and take additional measures to quell the controversy."

"...I see."

In the silence that followed, the only sound filling the still room was the sharp tap of a hard object striking wood.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tae Sanhyuk was drumming the armrest of his chair, an old habit. And by the time his finger had struck it five times—

"My thinking runs a little different."

"Sir?"

He turned his head slowly. His sharp gaze swept across the officials seated around the conference room.

"Now that the noise is mixed in — don't try to choke it down. Let it ride."

"I'm sorry?"

"No — better yet, let's make it bigger."

Everyone around the table wore the same bewildered expression at once. But Tae Sanhyuk paid their doubts no mind whatsoever as he cast a sideways glance at the laptop screen.

"Mm. I've decided — we ride this one all the way."

On the paused frame, the fierce, burning eyes of the unknown actor now at the center of every controversy stared out from the screen.