“I wrote it with the intention of having Bohyung ‘pretend’ to be pitiful.”
“Hmm... I think it might be better if he’s ‘genuinely’ pitiful. The nuance of pretending can be conveyed through close-ups of the costume or props. Wouldn’t the ‘pretense’ feel too obvious otherwise?”
Watching the writer advocate for ‘pretending’ while the director pushed for ‘genuine,’ Yoomyeong quietly chuckled.
That question had only been asked because the script they’d been given went up to episode two, and Bohyung’s character still hadn’t been fully revealed.
That was the superficial reason.
“Let’s go with ‘genuine’ for now. You came well-prepared.”
The other reason was that Yoomyeong had anticipated a response like that.
Politely asking about the director’s intentions during an audition left a positive impression.
Moreover, preparing both versions demonstrated dedication and passion.
“Let’s begin.”
Yoomyeong took a deep breath, then suddenly sat down and hugged his knees.
Like a pitiful stray cat curled up against a wall.
His clothes were ragged, as though he’d been thrown out somewhere, yet the expensive watch gleaming on the wrist wrapped around his knees created an ironic contrast.
“Hana.”
“Huh? Bohyung? Why are you dressed like that?”
The assistant director read Hana’s lines.
“Our family went bankrupt...”
“What?”
“I have no clothes to wear... and nowhere to sleep tonight...”
“Oh no! Are you okay? What about your parents?”
“They... they ran away and left me behind. They took the cat too... probably because it eats less than I do... huhuhu.”
Bohyung whimpered as he hugged his knees tighter.
“Do you have any newspapers at your place? I heard newspapers keep you warm. There’s a reason homeless old men sleep covered in newspapers. A cardboard box would be nice too... but that’d be too luxurious, right? I asked too much of you... I’m still young, so newspapers should be enough...”
The lines were supposed to be comical, yet somehow he seemed genuinely pitiful.
Writer Yook Mi-young had written this scene with the intention that ‘Hana should fall for it.’
Hana and Bohyung became friends after repeatedly running into each other while walking their cats. In reality, Bohyung was the son of a wealthy family, pretending to be poor so he could stay beside Hana, someone his family would never acknowledge, without getting caught.
That was the concept behind the costume: expensive accessories casually worn alongside clothes picked out of donation bins to create the image of someone trying to look pitiful.
Hana, who came from a modest background and knew nothing about luxury brands, completely fell for the act.
However...
This performance looked convincing enough to fool not just Hana, but the audience as well. If Bohyung could act pitiful this convincingly, maybe he really should consider entering the entertainment industry.
Watching an actor deliver lines intended to feign pity in such a genuinely pitiable way was unexpectedly captivating.
He was astonishingly pitiful, in a way.
“I live with my grandma... If you want, you can stay with us until you find a part-time job and save enough to rent a room.”
“Rea... really? Thank you, Hana. I’ll definitely repay this kindness someday. Thank you so much!”
His face lit up with innocent joy.
What should I do? I kind of like this guy...
Writer Yook glanced at the director’s expression.
“Is it true that he barely has any acting experience?”
“He’s quite clever. Bohyung’s charm really stands out, doesn’t it?”
“Well... he’s good, but he’s not exactly the kind of Bohyung I had in mind...”
The director subtly pushed back against the praise from both sides as he cast a sidelong glance elsewhere.
At the end of his gaze sat... Director Moon Yu-seok.
However, Yu-seok’s attention was focused entirely on Yoomyeong.
‘Hmm... With acting skills like that, he’d pass immediately even at an agency audition.’
‘As expected, not every shiny apricot is sweet.’
Yu-seok had developed a discerning eye.
“Shall we see the free acting you prepared?”
The casting director moved on to the next stage, and Yoomyeong replied, “Ah, yes...” before addressing the judges.
“By the way, you haven’t seen the news because the auditions have been going on nonstop, right?”
“Uh... yes. Why?”
“There’s chaos outside. There’s been a terrorist attack in downtown Seoul.”
“What? A terrorist attack?!”
The staff, who had been working continuously from shortly after lunch until evening without leaving the room once, were shocked.
A terrorist attack... Why hadn’t anyone told them? Were their families okay?
“Ah, it wasn’t large-scale, and there were no casualties. It happened at a small movie theater in Sillim...”
The assistant director, who lived in Sillim, looked horrified.
“It was showing a war movie, you see? They thought it would be interesting to see how people enthusiastically watching explosions and gunfire on screen would react if something really exploded...”
Yoomyeong’s tone became strangely slow.
“I heard someone threw a homemade bomb...”
His brows lifted slightly.
A thoughtful look briefly crossed his eyes before disappearing. The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment, then settled again.
“Did they catch the culprit? Did you hear the perpetrator’s interview? Is he insane?”
The assistant director’s voice rose with agitation.
The writer and casting director slowly began to realize what was happening, staring at him with their mouths slightly open.
“I’m not insane. I’m just curious how people who enjoy ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) watching other people’s misfortune react when it happens to them.”
“What?”
“That’s why I threw it.”
This time, the corners of his mouth lifted completely.
“What? What are you... wait... was this acting?”
After a brief pause,
“Yes. That was my free-acting segment. Thank you.”
The startled assistant director, who had jumped to his feet in shock, slowly sat back down.
“So... there wasn’t actually a terrorist attack in Sillim?”
“No, there wasn’t.”
“Damn, you really scared me.”
Relieved, the assistant director let out a curse without thinking.
Writer Yook Mi-young immediately bombarded Yoomyeong with questions.
“Was that improvised? Or did you prepare it beforehand?”
“It was a prepared free-acting performance.”
“Seriously, you completely caught me off guard. You’re telling me that was rehearsed? It felt so natural I thought it was real. Is there a reason you prepared something like that?”
“...Most free-acting performances focus on intense emotions like crying or anger, but since this was a drama audition, I wanted to show that I could act naturally. Even with minimal emotional variation, I wanted to leave a strong impression, even if it was misleading. I apologize.”
At his explanation, Mi-young clapped her hands.
“No, it was really entertaining. That’s actually why I usually prefer to skip free acting during auditions. Everyone tends to overact.”
The writer’s face brightened with delight, while the director’s expression darkened.
And Director Moon Yu-seok felt as though he had discovered a treasure.
It seemed he had found the second treasure he had been searching for right in front of him.
He had realized faster than anyone else in the room that the actor was performing. Specifically, from the second sentence: ‘There’s chaos outside.’
Part of it was his quick intuition, but it was also because he had spoken to him personally just moments earlier.
His tone was different. His entire atmosphere had changed, as though he had become another person.
To portray a completely different character to that extent without relying on intense emotional acting, this actor was undeniably the ‘genius’ he had been searching for.
And he possessed something the ‘first treasure’ lacked: passion for acting.
He had personally tracked down the casting director’s contact information and sent a casting request email, prepared and wore a costume suited to the character’s image, and even came with multiple interpretations of the performance prepared in advance.
He was smart, too.
The performance he prepared specifically targeted the situation of judges who had been stuck inside all day because of nonstop auditions. He had completely blindsided judges whose senses had dulled by the end of the session.
Acting ability, dedication, and resourcefulness.
Yu-seok, whose standards were so high that very few actors had ever truly caught his attention, found himself captivated by this freely swimming fish.
Would he catch the fish,
Or...
Yu-seok fidgeted with the business card in his pocket.
“Ah, there’s no second round?”
“Our headquarters is in chaos right now. We haven’t had a hit drama this year, but Company S scored a massive success. We hastily moved one of next year’s anticipated projects up to this year, so the production schedule is extremely tight. We simply don’t have the time. You’ll hear back within a few days.”
“Ah, okay.”
Yoomyeong had felt it last time too, but she spoke with surprising honesty. Was it really okay for her to say all that?
After Min-jung said goodbye, Yoomyeong left.
Inside the conference room, two people continued talking.
“Sir... Director Moon. Writer Yook is insisting on that person...”
“You promised one of our company’s actors the role and said the audition was just a formality.”
“That’s true... haaa... but who would’ve expected someone like that to suddenly appear? Min-jung knew the situation, so why didn’t she consider him for another role?”
The situation was complicated.
KBK’s dramas had been performing terribly this year. The reason was a months-long strike between the broadcasting station’s management and its producers. Many famous producers, especially from the drama department, had participated in the strike.
Meanwhile, Company S struck gold with , prompting management to hastily move a highly anticipated drama originally scheduled for next year to the end of this year.
They appointed PD Joo Ilho, who currently had no assigned project, as the production director. But the rushed schedule was unreasonable.
“Seunghyo still hasn’t signed the final contract yet, right?”
“Director Moon, please...”
Most in-demand actors already had packed schedules, leaving very few strong candidates available for an immediate production. The male lead role was especially problematic, since the drama described him as a ‘top-class actor.’ How ridiculous would it look if a character like that were portrayed poorly?
That was when Director Moon Yu-seok of Good Entertainment proposed Baek Seunghyo. Although Seunghyo already had another project lined up, Director Moon offered to cover the penalty fees for breaking the contract because he believed the script was worth it.
Making such a move could easily spark negative rumors, but the fact that there was no backlash proved just how shrewd Director Moon was.
The problem arose when he requested an ‘additional TO’ in exchange for bringing in Baek Seunghyo.
It wasn’t unusual to ask for extra roles while negotiating the casting of a popular actor. The real issue was Writer Yook’s stubbornness.
— Baek Seunghyo is good. He suits the image and he’s a competent actor. But isn’t he still lacking the status to demand specific roles as part of an additional TO?
— Under normal circumstances, yes. But considering how urgent our situation is... they also took a loss to accommodate us.
— I understand asking for a few minor roles, but Bohyung is non-negotiable. That character periodically elevates the drama’s atmosphere. If the role isn’t portrayed attractively, the drama will fail.
She wasn’t wrong.
More importantly, she was a writer whose last three dramas had all been consecutive hits, dramatically increasing her market value. Other broadcasting stations were already aggressively courting her, which made it difficult for KBK to take a dominant position.
On the other hand, he was a PD who had been dismissed as a ‘one-hit wonder.’ It had been years since he had been entrusted with directing a mini-series. He desperately wanted this project to succeed and restore his reputation.
Which meant PD Joo couldn’t afford to ignore the writer’s opinion.
The compromise they reached was to hold auditions for Bohyung’s role under the condition that the decision would favor Good Entertainment’s actor unless an exceptionally outstanding candidate appeared.
— Our actor is a rising talent I’m personally pushing. I believe you’ll be satisfied once you see the performance.
Yu-seok had spoken confidently back then, but the current situation was disastrous.
When the possibility of Baek Seunghyo’s contract falling through was mentioned, the cornered Director Joo weakly protested.
“Wait, Director Moon... you said you’d bring in a capable actor. But the person you recommended is only average...”
His voice trailed off when he saw Yu-seok’s expression.
The irritation on Director Moon’s face was unmistakable.
The actor Yu-seok had originally wanted to bring in was his ‘first treasure,’ someone who wouldn’t pale even when standing beside the ‘newly discovered treasure.’
That was why he had been confident they could win the role even without using Baek Seunghyo. But after deciding he absolutely had to give Bohyung’s role to ‘that guy,’ he chose the safer route instead.
But Yu-seok had never expected that guy to betray him like this...
While it was true he had no choice but to use an actor with an open schedule, Director Joo wasn’t really in a position to complain.
“Director, are you still involved in ‘that’? You should be focusing on filming the drama.”
“Huh? No... hahaha. It really does seem like Bohyung’s role suits your actor best. I’ll try to persuade Writer Yook.”
Yu-seok had leverage over him.
At the subtle reminder of that weakness, the director became visibly flustered and immediately backed down.
Just then,
Knock knock—
The sound of knocking echoed through the room, followed by the click of the doorknob turning open.
