Chapter 41: The Frustrations of a Director and a Nightmare’s Grip

“Did you find anything that might be a problem?”

“No. What could possibly be a problem? Even if there was, it was just test footage, so we can discard it.”

Go Woo-seung PD spoke dismissively, yet he didn’t replace the video file. His hands moved busily, rolling the controller with his chin propped in his palm.

Moments later, a magnified image of Cha Moon-gyu staring chillingly down at Jang Hee-jun appeared on the monitor. Go Woo-seung rapidly pressed buttons, fast-forwarding the video, stopping it, and then zooming in on Cha Moon-gyu once more.

“If we just adjust the color and brightness, it would be perfect for an ending cut.”

Go Woo-seung PD spoke with a hint of regret.

“An ending is fine, but I think it would be even better for a trailer.”

Kim Jin-woo offered a different opinion from Go Woo-seung PD, yet they both agreed on the scene’s undeniable impact. Cha Moon-gyu hadn’t over-acted; only his gaze had shifted slightly, but it perfectly conveyed the characteristic brutality and depravity of a gangster.

It was a seasoned performance that delivered not only the character’s emotions but also their entire essence in a single shot. If one felt nothing after witnessing such acting, they had no business being in directing.

“The angle is a shame. I’d like to see Moon-gyu’s vibe from a different angle, but this is just the master shot, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Since it wasn’t officially filmed, there are no coverage shots. However, it might have been caught on a making-of camera, so I’ll ask Writer Jung to check the footage.”

Though it was footage that wouldn’t even make it into the final edit, Kim Jin-woo didn’t grumble, agreeing to search for what his superior wanted. He, too, was curious to see Yeon-ho from another angle.

Go Woo-seung PD unfolded the script, as if he would finally stop dawdling and get to work. However, less than five minutes after looking at the script, he asked with lingering reluctance,

“About that footage of young Moon-gyu, if I send it to Baek Hwi-kyung as a reference for his acting, wouldn’t it hurt his pride?”

“Oh, absolutely, it would.”

Kim Jin-woo replied with a look that warned against such a disastrous idea.

“Do you know how sensitive young actors are these days? They absolutely won’t tolerate being put down. I’d bet the hangover soup we’re having later that he’d post something targeting you on social media.”

“Hmm, couldn’t it be seen as part of acting guidance, rather than nitpicking?”

“No way. Even if he didn’t throw a fit, Writer Sung Shi-hyuk wouldn’t stand for it. It would be like attacking his protégé.”

While Director Go Woo-seung and Kim Jin-woo disliked Baek Hwi-kyung’s over-the-top acting, Writer Sung Shi-hyuk was thoroughly pleased with it. It wasn’t merely because he had championed the actor for the drama; he genuinely seemed to believe Baek Hwi-kyung perfectly embodied the character of Cha Moon-gyu.

“Protégé, my foot. Young Moon-gyu seems to understand Cha Moon-gyu better than Baek Hwi-kyung does.”

Go Woo-seung PD leaned back in his chair, almost tipping it over.

“Well, he certainly felt more like Cha Moon-gyu than the one described in the script.”

Kim Jin-woo nodded, agreeing with Go Woo-seung PD’s critique.

“But what can we do? We can’t change the role now.”

“I know. That’s why it’s so frustrating. It would be perfect if Baek Hwi-kyung voluntarily stepped down.”

“Are you still drunk? Why would he voluntarily step down, unless he’s lost his mind? The writer is pushing him as a hidden protagonist.”

“Hey, I wasn’t being serious.”

“Your expression certainly was.”

Perhaps embarrassed to deny it, Go Woo-seung PD bristled and changed the subject.

“You, you hear me? You have no right to criticize me. You said you know young Moon-gyu, right? If you have such a promising rookie around, you should’ve given them a heads-up to audition. Why didn’t you tell them to come for an audition?”

“Director, we didn’t hold auditions for the role of Moon-gyu.”

“…Oh, we didn’t?”

“No.”

Kim Jin-woo nodded to Go Woo-seung PD, then wrinkled his nose.

‘Sniff, sniff.’

He hadn’t been able to shower, and his hair reeked of oil.

‘Once editing is done, I need to go to a jjimjilbang.’

Desperate for a bath, Kim Jin-woo spurred his superior to start working quickly.

“Director, even if the sky falls, Baek Hwi-kyung isn’t stepping down. Maybe in another multiverse, such a thing could happen, but absolutely not on this Earth.”

‘So stop chasing after pipe dreams and get to work! If you like Seo Yeon-ho, just remember him and cast him in your next project!’

Kim Jin-woo lectured Go Woo-seung PD, completely oblivious to the future that was about to unfold.

****

Yeon-ho was plagued by a nightmare, relentlessly pursued by a colossal tentacled monster. This creature, which had suddenly materialized in his subconscious, writhed its long, thick tentacles with mesmerizing agility, expertly coiling around Yeon-ho’s body until he was completely ensnared.

“Ugh…”

Even though it was just a dream, not a 4DX experience, his body felt suffocated as if he were truly caught by the tentacle monster.

‘Could this be sleep paralysis, the kind I’ve only heard about?’

Yeon-ho had never experienced sleep paralysis in his life, but during his trainee days at Cherry Picker, he had woken up other trainees who were suffering from it several times.

According to one of those trainees, dreams don’t involve pain, but with sleep paralysis, the sensations felt in the dream also manifest in reality.

Given the crushing pressure he felt, it seemed to be sleep paralysis, but usually, people saw ghosts or beasts, didn’t they? He was unsure if being tormented by a tentacle monster counted as sleep paralysis.

As he pondered, the tentacle monster binding his limbs felt strangely familiar.

‘Where had I seen it? It definitely wasn’t my first time. Was it on TV? Or in a movie?’

‘Ah, Ping Pong Star!’

Yeon-ho recalled a particular episode from the children’s drama he had starred in. The reason the tentacle monster felt familiar was because it had appeared in a specific episode of Ping Pong Star.

This tentacle monster was an alien creature that Cha Tae-ho, the main villain of Ping Pong Star, had subjugated through brainwashing. However, the protagonist broke the brainwashing spell on the monster, leading Cha Tae-ho to be attacked by the very creature he had controlled.

While Cha Tae-ho was tied down by the tentacles, the protagonist destroyed the portal Cha Tae-ho had set up, saving the world from crisis. It was a childish and flimsy, yet fitting, ending for a children’s drama.

‘That episode was surprisingly popular.’

Curiously, this particular episode had high viewership despite the protagonist’s actions not being particularly outstanding. Had the live broadcast ratings been below average, only for the rerun viewership to surge? Perhaps due to the high rerun ratings, this episode was aired as frequently as the one where Cha Tae-ho himself was kidnapped.

Typically, kidnapping events happen to characters surrounding the protagonist, not the villain. The villain is usually the one doing the kidnapping, so who would kidnap the villain? If the protagonist kidnapped the villain, it would be considered capture or defeat, not kidnapping.

Nevertheless, Cha Tae-ho’s kidnapping episode was featured due to a secret of his. He was a half-breed, born to a human father and an alien princess mother, and he attended the same school as the protagonist while hiding this fact. Cha Tae-ho’s identity was top-secret; even the alien invasion forces, with the exception of high-ranking officers, were unaware that he was a half-alien and of royal blood. His kidnapping incident was an accident caused by his own allies, who were ignorant of his true identity.

‘How did Cha Tae-ho escape the tentacle monster again?’

It had been so long since he filmed it that the details were hazy. Instead of wasting time trying to recall a forgotten method of defeat, Yeon-ho decided to try a classic approach. He bit down hard on the tentacle wrapped around his shoulder.

“Ugh…!”

His biting attack seemed to work, as the tentacle monster groaned. Yet, for a monster’s groan, it sounded remarkably human.

Don’t monsters usually make sounds like ‘screech’ or ‘shriek’ when they’re in pain? It was ridiculous to demand accuracy when a tentacle monster didn’t even exist, but still.

Yeon-ho decided this was no time for idle thoughts and rolled onto his side. He had to escape the tentacles’ grasp while their hold was loose; otherwise, he might not get another chance to be free.

Instead of a hard floor, the soft touch of a blanket met his back. Having safely escaped the monster’s clutches, Yeon-ho felt a wave of liberation spread through his entire body. Lying on his back on the blanket felt like an extraordinary blessing.

‘But what time is it?’

Yeon-ho didn’t enjoy the freedom of lying on the floor for long before his eyes snapped open. He immediately checked the clock on the wall. He had a strange feeling he had slept too deeply, and sure enough, his work start time had long passed.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Yeon-ho sprang up and searched for his phone.

‘Why didn’t the alarm go off?’

He vaguely remembered when he had fallen asleep. But he had intended to catch an hour or two of sleep, not to sleep so soundly and oblivious to the world.

After digging through his blanket, the laundry basket, and even Tae-young’s bedside, he finally found his phone. Only when he saw the unresponsive screen did Yeon-ho realize why his alarm hadn’t rung: the battery had died overnight.

“Haah, am I an idiot?”

Blaming his own foolishness for not charging the battery, Yeon-ho quickly plugged in the cable. Yet, instead of displaying 0%, the battery showed over 20% remaining.

‘It didn’t turn off because of a low battery, then?’

As Yeon-ho wondered, a pillow came flying and smacked him in the back. The culprit who threw it was scowling, unable to open their eyes properly due to the sunlight.

“Damn it, let me sleep. Why are you making so much noise?”

The question was posed, but they didn’t seem to care for Yeon-ho’s answer. Tae-young flopped back down, pulling the blanket over their face. Yeon-ho momentarily recalled a scene from a famous lingerie brand’s provocative photoshoot, then hastily banished the image from his mind.