Chapter 7 Part 12: Fear Is Stronger Than Any Weapon

Even a few minutes late for call time was the norm for Lee Jihoon, so when he showed up a full hour early, the staff began murmuring among themselves.

“What the hell, why is Lee Jihoon here already?”

“Did the sun rise in the east properly today or something?

What’s with him being early?”

“Is he scared of Director Kang?

There’s an action scene today, so he has to come early to block it out.”

“Scared?

Him?

Didn’t you see him glaring at Director Kim last time?”

Though he could hear the whispers, Jihoon, his face set hard, strode straight toward Kang In-ho, the action director, who was checking the blocking inside the factory set where today’s shoot would take place.

“Director.”

“Hm?

What is it?”

Director Kang glanced at the time, then asked,

“You’re early?”

“I’d like you to guide me through today’s scene.”

“Hoh?”

Kang In-ho slapped Jihoon on the back and laughed.

“You little punk, you finally got your head straight.

Good.

Let’s drill it properly before the shoot.”

Leading Jihoon with him, Kang In-ho stopped in front of the massive iron factory doors and explained,

“First, we finish filming the infiltration from outside.

When you enter the factory, open the door slowly.

This thing screeches like crazy, you know?

You’re sneaking in, so suppress the sound as much as possible.”

“I know that.

I just need help matching the beats.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Kang In-ho moved again and sat down on the chair beside the drum-can fire where Jiang Wei would be sitting.

“Alright, I’ll play Jiang Wei.

You know the general flow, so come on in.”

“Yes, Director.”

Not long after, Director Kim Minsu arrived on set.

He watched Jihoon sweating as he practiced with Director Kang for a moment, then grabbed Jang Young-ho, who was running around the site.

“Young-ho.”

“Yes, Director.

You’re here?”

“Yeah.

What time did Lee Jihoon get here?”

“Uh, about thirty minutes ago.”

“Really?

That’s a full hour before call time, then?”

“Yes.

Since it’s an action scene, maybe Director Kang called him in early?”

“Hmm.

I see.

What about Yejun?”

“Mr. Yejun arrived two hours ago.

He’s already checked the blocking and is waiting in his car.”

“Car?

That kid bought a car?”

“Haha, no.

He signed with SU E&M.

His manager was going around greeting people earlier.

The guy looked less like a person and more like a bear.

Huge build.

He wouldn’t even need a separate bodyguard.”

At the mention of Yejun signing a contract, Director Kim’s face brightened.

“Ho ho.

So that means we won’t see him squatting miserably on the sidewalk anymore, right?”

“Haha, that bothered you too, Director?

Seeing Yejun like that always made me feel bad as well.”

Director Kim smiled softly.

Yejun now had a company, and Jihoon—normally a headache—had shown up an hour early to rehearse.

Everything seemed to be running smoothly, and his mood lifted.

“Alright.

Where’s Junsu?”

“He went to manage the camera team’s blocking.

Today’s pretty complicated—pan, tilt, boom, everything.

High angle, overhead shots, depth of field.

He’s been out since dawn checking camera paths.”

“Where is he?”

“Over there.”

“Got it.

I’ll handle the camera side too, so you check on the sound team.

And bring Yejun over in time for call.”

“Director, come on.

When has Yejun ever needed to be summoned?

If it’s time, he’ll already be standing there.”

“Heh, fair enough.

Alright!

Let’s try starting a shoot on time for once.”

***

No one could say how many times they had rehearsed it.

With Director Kang standing in as Jiang Wei, dodging, striking, taking hits, rolling across the ground.

In today’s scene, Jihoon would be pushed to the brink.

It was the moment where he nearly dies at Jiang Wei’s hands, only barely surviving thanks to his teammates’ intervention.

After perfecting the blocking, they took a break twenty minutes before filming.

Jihoon sat in a camping chair with his name on it in a corner as the makeup team rushed over, wiping his sweat and touching up his face.

‘I’ll charge in like my life depends on it.

That’s the only way to wash away last time’s humiliation.’

A few NGs were fine.

Action scenes always had plenty of them.

But he would never back down and would fight to the end.

Even if the result was his defeat, this time he would face him head-on without averting his eyes.

Jihoon looked down at his legs.

They were already trembling faintly.

That day.

After experiencing even a brief moment of extreme fear, his body was reacting on its own.

Clenching his fist, Jihoon slammed it into his thigh and grit his teeth.

‘Don’t get scared already, Lee Jihoon.

That was just a mistake.

That pathetic bastard made me afraid?

Bullshit.’

Cursing himself internally, he struck his leg several more times.

Gradually, sensation returned, and his fighting spirit rose.

‘So he went through Action School Class 23 training?

Fine, I’ll admit his stamina.

But stamina doesn’t mean you can fight.

A guy like him goes down in one hit.’

He planned to land a solid blow while pretending it was an accident.

He didn’t even want to apologize,
but with staff watching, he’d have to say sorry at least.

‘The scene starts with me rushing Jiang Wei while he’s sitting by the fire, feeding logs into the drum and smoking.

I land a kick.

Jiang Wei dodges and grabs a burning log from the drum.

One swing high, one mid, one low.

I dodge all of them and kick the log, snapping it in half.’

Muttering, Jihoon recited the blocking to himself.

Where should he pretend to slip and strike?

Where would it look the most natural?

If he could even draw a nosebleed, that’d be perfect.

‘If his nose starts bleeding from my hit, the staff will think my behavior back then had some other reason.’

The staff had long since lost interest, and no rumors about that incident were circulating anymore, but Jihoon’s inferiority complex fueled endless imaginings.

Assistant director Jang Young-ho rushed in and shouted,

“Lee Jihoon!

We’re starting with the infiltration shot outside!

Come out now!

Props team!

Light the fire in the drum and stand by!”

Grinning to himself as he imagined beating Yejun, Jihoon stood up and headed outside.

***

Meanwhile, near Yejun’s vehicle.

Following prior instructions, Doyun waited outside the car, checked the time, and glanced toward it.

‘Six minutes have passed.

That should be enough, right?’

He hesitated, about to open the rear door, then stepped back.

‘No.

I’ll wait until hyung comes out himself.’

After waiting about another minute, the automatic door slid open smoothly.

“Hyung, shall we go now?”

“…..”

Doyun flinched.

As Yejun emerged and lifted his eyes, Doyun startled at the look in them.

‘What kind of look is that for a human?’

It had been a long time since Doyun felt chills from facing someone.

‘How should I put it?

Not just that I’d lose if we fought—more like, if you mess with this guy, you’re screwed.

Doesn’t he look downright insane?’

Glossy eyes.

Madness floating in his pupils.

Yejun had completely become Jiang Wei.

‘Hyung, you’re incredible.

So this is what it takes to be an actor.’

Discharged this year and assigned his first actor after six months of training, Doyun, inexperienced as an actor’s manager, seemed to think all actors were like this.

“Hyung, it’s call time.”

“…..Let’s go.”

Doyun flinched again.

‘That voice is thunderous.’

Hearing it from right beside him made his ears ring.

Doyun watched as Yejun stepped out of the car and slowly headed toward the factory.

‘Now that I think about it, even the way he walks is different.’

Normally, Yejun walked upright, back straight, posture perfect—a result of long-term training at Daehwa Entertainment.

But now, Yejun leaned his head slightly forward, shoulders slumped, both hands positioned as if ready to grab the axe at his waist, walking with an outward-toed, predatory gait.

‘So this is what the CEO warned me about.’

CEO Park Jung-woo had instructed him to minimize Yejun’s contact with staff once he entered deep focus.

Doyun had wondered why.

Now he understood.

‘He’s completely become Jiang Wei.’

As Yejun appeared on set, the staff at the factory yard spoke up.

“Mr.

Yejun, please sit here.

Just keep tossing these logs into the drum.

Light the cigarette after the shoot signal.”

Doyun quickly answered in his stead.

“Yes, understood.”

“Alright, we’ll do a camera test.

Please sit down!”

Once the actor sat, they conducted a headroom test to see how he framed within the camera angle.

Using the center of the frame as reference, a small rectangle was imagined, and the actor’s face had to fit within its four corners so viewers could focus properly on the performance.

Before stepping away, Doyun said to Yejun,

“Hyung, if you feel like beating someone up, just call me instead.

I can take a hit.

I’ve got a good chin.”

“…..”

“Alright, I’ll step out!”

***

An old abandoned factory site in Gwangmyeong City.

Hiding behind a rusted truck that looked like it would never start again,
Cha Seunghyun stared at the large panel-built factory.

‘Guro-dong, Gasan-dong, Doksan-dong.

He’s taken over all territories with Joseonjok organizations, but his residence is unknown.

Other than showing up once a week to collect money, we couldn’t get a tail on him.’

No—there had been exactly one exception.

Officer Choi Jina had run into him by chance during a team dinner and chased him.

But he was unbelievably fast.

After all, this was a man who had evaded Chinese public security, passed through Macau, and smuggled himself into Korea.

Choi Jina had been the first to pursue him, with Cha Seunghyun and other detectives joining in, but they ultimately lost him.

In the process, Choi Jina had been hit by a car and hospitalized.

‘No threat to her life, but a fractured leg—four months recovery.

All because of this bastard.’

Leaning against the truck, Cha Seunghyun spread out a map.

‘His first murder in Korea was at a room salon in Guro-dong.

He raided a hideout belonging to a boss controlling over fifty men, killed ten people including the boss, and absorbed the terrified survivors into his own ranks.

Second was Gasan-dong—a Yanbian organization with forty members.

Killed five including the boss and took over.

Next was Doksan-dong, then Cheolsan.

He’s moving steadily from north to south.’

Jiang Wei was not Korean.

Unfamiliar with the geography, he would have started far from his hideout, then grown bolder, expanding closer and closer.

‘If it were me, I’d hide here.’

This area had once been full of factories subcontracted to a major steel plant nearby.

Most were now abandoned.

A perfect place for criminals to hide.

Glancing at the factory once more, Cha Seunghyun crouched low and sprinted to the wall, pressing his back against it before peering into a narrow alley beside the building.

‘There.’

Jiang Wei’s black sedan, caught on CCTV.

The license plate matched.

After snapping photos, Cha Seunghyun sent the GPS data and images via text and requested backup.

He checked his gun, took a deep breath, and cracked the factory door open—it made a sound.

He froze, glanced up at the door, then squeezed his body through the narrow opening.

Just as he rushed inside to hide behind factory equipment, Cha Seunghyun halted.

The factory was completely empty.

The only thing inside was Jiang Wei—sitting crookedly by a drum-can fire, cigarette in his mouth.

Having watched someone enter from the very start, Jiang Wei exhaled white smoke and smiled faintly.

“一个人吗?”
(“You came alone?”)

Before him stood a devil who had killed over a hundred people—including those murdered in Korea.