Chapter 7 Part 5: Fear is Stronger Than Any Weapon

Thud!

Bang!

Craaaash!

Noises made by subordinates echo from outside.

As the sounds draw closer, the Joseonjok gang boss who controls this area—hiding inside a private room—feels his face drain of color.

A gang member crashes into the karaoke’s glass door and slowly slides down to the floor.

A trail of blood forms behind his body.

The boss swallows hard, staring at the door.

The door opens very slowly.

Through the narrow gap, a single eye appears.

That eye curves into a crescent moon shape.

It is smiling.

“Hik!!”

A chilling voice rings out from between the doorframe, with only the eye visible.

“晚上好.”
(Good evening.)

“Aaaah!!”

He tries to run, but there is nowhere to escape inside the sealed karaoke room.

Desperate to get away from Zhang Wei, the boss crawls over the sofa toward the corner.

But the axe Zhang Wei throws the moment he opens the door strikes the back of his head.

“Graah!”

The force of the flying axe sends the boss briefly airborne before he crashes to the floor.

Zhang Wei flings the door wide open.

He sweeps the room with sharp eyes, then moves to other rooms, violently opening doors one after another.

After confirming there are no more survivors, Zhang Wei walks back, grabs a roll of toilet paper from the table, and roughly wraps it around his hand.

He reaches back and yanks out the knife lodged in his back.

Blood erupts like a fountain.

Tearing the dead boss’s clothes to make a bandage, Zhang Wei presses the toilet paper over it to stop the bleeding.

He works in silence, but his gaze gradually changes.

The madness fades from his eyes.

His expression returns to one of bored indifference.

After finishing the bandage, Zhang Wei drops onto the table, places one foot on the dead boss’s head, lights a cigarette, and exhales a long stream of smoke.

At that very moment, the bathroom door behind him opens without a sound.

A gang member holding a sashimi knife emerges, crouched low.

Zhang Wei’s eyes look dull.

Then suddenly, they change.

The emotion that rises is pure exhilaration.

The look of someone realizing there is still a toy left to play with.

The gang member glances at the boss’s corpse.

An axe—Zhang Wei’s weapon—is embedded in the man’s head.

Realizing his opponent is unarmed, the gang member swings his knife from behind.

Zhang Wei reacts as if he has eyes on the back of his head.

He springs up, spins, pulls a fresh axe from his waistband, and splits the man’s skull open.

“Graah!”

Blood sprays once more.

The cigarette in Zhang Wei’s mouth is soaked with blood, but he doesn’t care.

He inhales deeply anyway, then slumps back down and murmurs quietly,

“理智的人始终会备好一颗子弹, 不管是为了自己, 还是为了他人.”
(A professional always keeps one bullet.

Whether for himself, or for someone else.)

A brief silence passes.

Then a bright voice breaks out.

“Cut!

That was excellent!”

Jang Young-ho rushes in and quickly escorts Yejun out of the room.

The assistant camera director, still studying the angle, asks Junsu,

“Uh, Director.”

“Hm?”

“Is this really okay?”

“Okay how?”

“Every scene with Actor Ma Yejun is getting O.K.’d in one take.

It feels… too fast.”

“Haha.

Don’t worry.

We still have to do makeup and reshoot angles of the Joseonjok guys getting smashed.

We’re nowhere near wrapping up.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.

Watching from the side, I can tell his acting is insane, but it all ending in one take makes me nervous.”

Junsu checks the monitor again, then glances at Director Kim Minsu, who is smiling like a maniac, and lets out a dry chuckle.

“You don’t know that guy, do you?”

“No, it’s my first time working with him.”

“If he doesn’t like something, he’ll shoot the same scene all night.

If he gives O.K. in one take, it means that’s exactly the image he wanted.”

“Really?”

“Come watch when we shoot Lee Jihoon sometime.

You weren’t around for the studio shoots, right?”

“No, today’s my first day.”

“Yeah.

One all-nighter per project is enough.

Sometimes it’s nice to finish early.

Especially since we’re shooting afternoons and time’s tight.”

“But that last scene was Yejun’s final shoot for today, right?”

“I know.”

“It’s only seven.

We’ve only been filming for two hours.

Is he already done?”

“Done?

Don’t be stupid.

We still need another three or four hours to reshoot from different angles.”

“That’s just for the dead gang members though.

So Actor Ma Yejun’s really done for today?”

“If the director doesn’t call him back, yeah.”

“Wow.

I’ve never seen an action scene wrap in two hours.”

“Heh.

He went through the same training course as Action School Class 23.

Of course it’s fast.”

“What?

He actually trained like a stuntman?”

“Yeah.

A real oddball.

But who cares?

The performance came out great.

Now hurry up and pack the gear.

The stunt guys should be done with corpse makeup.

We need at least five takes of them flying and collapsing, so stay sharp.”

“Yes, Director.”

Nearby, Kang In-ho stands beside a stunt actor being fitted with axe-in-the-chest makeup, listening with a deep frown as the man continues talking.

“The thing is… at first, I knew it was acting.

But the moment our eyes met, my head went completely blank.

I trained with Yejun back at Action School and talked with him plenty.

That wasn’t the look I knew.

It was the look of a genuinely insane bastard.

Damn… I think I actually pissed myself a little.”

Kang In-ho looks around at the other actors being made up.

“Anyone else feel that?”

“I didn’t notice anything.”

That actor had been kicked off the chair at the start and later hacked to death—he died early.

“I felt something similar.

I got chills all over.”

That speaker is the one with the severed wrist makeup.

Those who survived longer seem to share the same reaction.

Then the extra playing the gang boss, with an axe embedded in the back of his head, turns around.

“I think that’s right.

When our eyes met through the door and Yejun smiled…
I almost pissed myself for real.

Those weren’t human eyes.

Even demons don’t look like that.

Like he said—I think I pissed myself too.”

The extra is a seasoned actor in his forties.

If even he says that, this isn’t nothing.

Arms crossed, Kang In-ho grins.

Heh.

So he really does look like the real Zhang Wei.

An actor trained like Action School Class 23 delivering that kind of performance.

Once Yejun gains attention, the Action School will be mentioned too.

This is perfect publicity.

Rubbing his palms together, Kang In-ho mutters,

“Looks like next year’s Class 24 will have even more applicants.

Good.

Very good.”

The remaining shoots involve stuntmen with axe wounds flying back and slamming into walls.

Kang In-ho stays on set until the very end, directing each movement in detail.

Filming wraps just before midnight.

Everyone had braced for an all-nighter, only for things to end unexpectedly early.

The staff’s faces are bright.

They’ll be home before two in the morning.

For people who usually sleep only two hours a day once filming starts, this is cause for celebration.

As they excitedly pack equipment, praise for Yejun spreads among the staff.

“If we had actors like that all the time, life would be heaven.

I told my wife I’d be out all night.

Tomorrow’s an afternoon shoot, right?

Hell yeah, I can sleep in.”

“After losing sleep for days because of that asshole Lee Jihoon, today’s a blessing.

All thanks to Yejun.”

“Tomorrow’s shoot is #2-2, Take 1 through 8, right?”

“Yeah, Yejun again.”

“Ohhh!

Nice!

Think we’ll finish early again?”

“Probably even faster than today.

Minimal dialogue, just quick action.”

“Perfect.

Though the day after tomorrow it’s that damn Lee Jihoon again.”

“Can’t help it.

He’s the lead.”

“Ugh.

I wish Yejun were the lead.”

“A rookie lead?

In a TV drama?

No way.

OTT maybe, but TV dramas need star power.

Jihoon’s acting might be trash, but his fanbase is massive.”

“Being handsome really is a weapon.”

“Hey, where did Yejun go?

I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He was waiting in a room in case of reshoots, but I think Director Kim sent him home earlier.”

“Damn, I wanted a photo with him.”

“Forget it.

The vibe around him earlier was intense.”

“Why?”

“He was seriously like the real Zhang Wei.

I was afraid he’d split my skull if I spoke to him.”

“Wow… guess he was deeply immersed.”

One junior staff member pauses while cleaning and stares at a chair.

“But something was weird.”

“What?”

“This chair.”

“Huh?”

“Remember before filming, when Yejun helped us?”

“Yeah.

He was nice.”

“He carried this chair from the truck and set it down very carefully.

Like he really respected the props.”

“So?”

“But during standby, when it got in the way of blocking, he suddenly kicked it.”

“Yejun did?”

“Yeah.

I checked his face.

If that chair were a person, he’d have killed it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.

Maybe he gets hyper-sensitive once filming starts.”

“That’s why Director Jang keeps taking him somewhere else during standby?”

“Probably.

Let’s be careful too.

Don’t break his focus.”

“Got it.

Alright, hurry up and finish so we can grab drinks.”

The four junior staff members speed up, already salivating at the thought of beer.

After finishing cleanup, it’s 1 a.m.

They walk briskly into a nearby bar still open.

As one opens the door, he bumps into someone coming out—probably heading to the bathroom—and quickly apologizes.

“Ah, sorry—
…Huh?

Yejun?”

Yejun still hasn’t removed his makeup, making him look stark and severe.

Maybe because of what they’d just discussed, the four staff members swallow hard as they stare at his face.

Then Yejun’s face reddens.

He grabs them with a bright smile.

“Ah!

You’re our crew, right?”

“Uh?

Ah… yes.”

“The director’s inside.

Come join us.

We’re family.”

“What?”

“Come on, come on.

Everyone worked so hard today!”

Yejun pulls one of them inside.

The other three stand there blinking, watching him go.

“…So which one is the real him?”