Chapter 7 Part 6: Fear is Stronger Than Any Weapon

SU E&M.

During a break, Wooju visits the company for the first time in several days and drops straight into the sofa in CEO Park Jung-woo’s office, firing off a question without preamble.

“Did you hear from him?”

CEO Park Jung-woo lets out a dry chuckle as he looks at Wooju sitting across from him.

“Not yet.”

Wooju furrows his brow and checks the calendar on his phone.

“Hasn’t it been over a month already?”

“Mm, roughly.”

“Why hasn’t he replied?”

“For a rookie with Yejun’s level of experience, a signing bonus of thirty million won plus those additional conditions is a top-tier offer.”

CEO Park rises from his seat and comes over to sit on the sofa as well.

“I looked into it separately.”

“Seems Daehwa made him the same offer.”

“Daehwa?”

“That’s the company that kicked Yejun out.”

“True.”

“But if good conditions are on the table, it’s undeniably a better card than us.”

“From an actor’s perspective, our company probably looks like it exists for you.”

“Not a company that focuses solely on visual arts, but one that runs music and film industries in parallel.”

“…Yeah.”

“Even the name SU E&M stands for Space Universe.”

“So it’s understandable.”

After a moment of thought, Wooju asks,

“That drama’s already cranked in, right?”

“I think they finished filming episode one and moved on to episode two.”

“Then Yejun must’ve already started shooting.”

“Yeah.”

“When’s the broadcast scheduled?”

“I heard early November.”

Wooju bites his lip as he looks at the calendar again.

“At this pace, they’ll probably pre-produce about eight episodes before airing.”

“Is it Monday–Tuesday, Wednesday–Thursday, or a weekend drama?”

“Weekend.”

“Two episodes a week.”

Wooju pockets his phone, his expression turning serious.

“You said Yejun appears up to episode four.”

“Then he’ll show up right in the first week.”

“If an actor at his level appears, competitors will definitely move.”

“It’ll only be a matter of time before word spreads that he doesn’t have an agency.”

“…Mm.”

“I haven’t seen the script, so I don’t know how big his role really is.”

“But when I went to the table read, Director Kim Minsu and Writer Hong Jihyun both seemed really fond of him.”

“That means even if his part was small at first, it could get expanded.”

“Once the drama starts airing, it’ll be too late, sir.”

“I think the same.”

“But I was worried that pushing too hard might annoy him and backfire, so I’ve been waiting.”

“How long are you planning to wait?”

“…..”

Wooju pouts slightly.

“I really want to bring Yejun in.”

“For the company—and personally, too.”

CEO Park raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not saying—”

Wooju laughs and waves her hands.

“No, not like that.”

“Not as a man.”

“I just think if I work with him, my acting will improve a lot.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m serious.”

CEO Park nods, visibly relieved.

‘Considering how many handsome actors and singers have chased after Wooju, there’s no reason she’d suddenly fall for a rookie.’

After a brief moment of deliberation, CEO Park presses the intercom.

“Yes.”

“Please check the filming schedule for the drama Eternal Crime with the PR team.”

“If possible, find out today’s location and which actors are shooting.”

–Yes, sir.

CEO Park smiles at Wooju, who is swinging her feet while seated on the sofa.

“Let’s gather intel first and then move.”

“But don’t pressure him.”

“Just show our faces.”

“If he simply forgot about the contract offer, we’ll remind him—nothing more.”

“Hehe!

Got it!”

“Let’s grab something to eat.”

“It’ll take a few hours for the PR team to pull strings and make calls.”

“Let’s have galbitang!”

“Alright.”

“When lunch is late, you need something hearty.”

“There’s a good place nearby.”

“Let’s go.”

***

Yejun arrives at the filming location early and finishes his makeup ahead of schedule, sitting on the sidewalk blocks while watching the staff and lost in thought.

‘This is bad.’

He skipped his part-time job again today.

Of course, he found a substitute before doing so.

Luckily, Donghun hyung from Theater Group Hawk had time, so he and Jeonghwan hyung covered the clown gig together.

But this was already the third time this month he’d bailed, and the team leader’s expression hadn’t been good.

‘Do I really have to quit?’

Acting and part-time work are both important.

But if the moment comes where he has to choose one, acting comes first—no question.

‘I can’t keep causing trouble.’

Filming will continue for about another month.

Depending on the schedule, he might have to cancel shifts several more times.

At this point, it seems best to quit the job, focus on drama filming, then return if possible—or find something else.

‘Night shifts at a convenience store would be perfect.’

Organizing refrigerators during the quiet hours before dawn would be ideal for practicing lines.

There’s hardly a better job for that than a late-night convenience store shift.

‘I’ll talk to the team leader tomorrow.’

Actor call time today is 10 a.m.

Yejun, of course, arrived at 8 and finished makeup early.

By 9, preparations were complete.

He checked blocking on set, received guidance from action director Kang Inho, then returned to the sidewalk.

It was 9:40.

Supporting actors playing detectives had already arrived and were in makeup.

Jisoo showed up ten minutes before the call time.

“Oppa, you came early.”

“Jisoo, long time no see.”

“How’s filming going?”

Jisoo smiles bitterly, glancing at the staff.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Jihoon oppa’s bad, but I’m not much better.”

“I keep getting NGs.”

“NGs happen.”

“But Jihoon isn’t here yet?”

On set, call times differ by actor.

This applies mostly to major roles.

Supporting and minor actors often wait from dawn until late night for their turn.

If a busy lead actor arrives late, scenes scheduled for later may be filmed earlier to save time.

Jisoo’s expression darkens, her voice dropping.

“He drank last night and went home late.”

“He might be late today.”

So it’s not a different call time—he’s just late.

Yejun studies Jisoo’s slightly haggard face, worn down by the intense schedule.

“Are you going to be okay today?”

“It’s an action scene.”

“I practiced a lot.”

“I’ll trust the stunt performers for the rest.”

Today’s shoot is as follows.

After taking over the Joseonjok district near Guro-dong and turning its members into his subordinates, Zhang Wei kills over thirty people in the process.

Naturally, detectives catch wind of it and begin pursuing him.

Zhang Wei happens to catch Jisoo’s eye as she steps out during a company dinner to use the restroom.

He instantly realizes she’s a detective, flees, and the scene turns into a chase through residential alleys, vaulting over walls.

Later, during the pursuit across a sixteen-lane road, Corporal Choi Jina is struck by a car.

She is hospitalized afterward.

Cha Seunghyun, who witnessed the accident after running out from the dinner, is consumed by rage and personally chases Zhang Wei.

Today is the day they film the chase with Corporal Choi Jina.

There’s no direct combat.

But it’s a full day of nonstop running—exhaustion is inevitable.

Jisoo jokes lightly.

“So, Mr.

Chinese Mafia.”

“How many people have you killed so far?”

“…..”

How many was it?

After so many rehearsals… maybe over a thousand?

He must’ve killed the same people dozens of times each.

In the actual shoot, it was probably around thirty.

“About thirty?”

“Wow.”

“That’s legendary serial killer territory.”

“There aren’t many murderers in Korea who’ve killed over thirty people.”

“Well.”

“If you look at it that way, I guess so.”

As they chat, Assistant Director Jang Young-ho approaches, irritation written all over his face—clearly because Jihoon is late.

“Jisoo, Yejun.”

“I just spoke with Lee Jihoon’s manager.”

“He’ll be about an hour late.”

Jisoo jumps up and bows deeply.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“No.”

“That’s not something you need to apologize for.”

Poor Jisoo.

What did she do wrong?

Just being in the same agency is a crime, apparently.

Assistant Director Jang continues,

“So here’s what we’re thinking.”

“We’ll start with the scene where you come back from the outdoor restroom at the dinner spot, make eye contact with Zhang Wei walking across the street, and radio it in before chasing him.”

Jisoo nods quickly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then please get ready.”

“Yes!”

She turns to Yejun.

“I’m sorry, oppa.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“If I start my part first, I’ll finish earlier.”

“That’s better for me.”

“I’ll wait across the street.”

“Let’s not get hurt.”

“Yes!”

The main camera sets up in front of a pork belly restaurant across the sixteen-lane road.

Jisoo waits inside the restaurant.

Yejun crosses over and stands among Assistant Director Jang and the assistant camera directors, listening to the radio.

Director Kim Minsu’s instructions come through.

–We’ll start filming Zhang Wei walking from your side.

–Then we’ll separately shoot Jisoo coming out and seeing him.

–After that, we’ll do the face-to-face scene together.

After responding over the radio, Assistant Director Jang speaks to Yejun.

“You know the tone of this scene, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Zhang Wei has taken over Guro-dong and is scouting the neighborhood to expand his territory when he encounters Corporal Choi Jina.”

“Good.”

“Walk casually, like you’re out for a stroll.”

“Look around the neighborhood, then hesitate and look across the street.”

“Yes, sir.”

This scene doesn’t require Zhang Wei’s madness.

They won’t do a clown-style rehearsal for this one.

Once the chase starts, there’s a moment where Zhang Wei laughs like a lunatic while fleeing, so they’ll rehearse that beforehand.

The shoot begins.

Zhang Wei walks along a sparsely populated street, scanning entertainment venues as if casually surveying his domain.

At Assistant Director Jang’s hand signal, Yejun glances across once and pauses.

Then he looks again.

He’s spotted Corporal Choi Jina staring straight at him.

Following their prearranged signals, he lowers his gaze slightly, then slowly raises it.

He’s registering the detective’s sneakers—unusual with a suit.

Although, on the opposite set, Jisoo has just stepped out of the pork belly restaurant, Yejun acts as if Corporal Choi Jina is already locking eyes with him.

Their side wraps first.

All Yejun had to do was walk, hesitate, and stare across the street.

The opposite side requires far more—Jisoo must portray complex emotions as she recognizes Zhang Wei and recalls his photograph from the past.

After about fifteen minutes, the radio crackles again.

“Good.”

“Camera team, launch the drone.”

“Start with an ELS showing the cityscape, then slowly zoom in.”

“Launch point should be the rooftop of the Bogwang Foods building at a forty-five-degree angle from our location.”

“Both actors, remain facing each other.”

Wow.

He’s seen drones used for filming before, but being the subject of one is a first.

Machines buzzing like giant insects rise into the air, flying toward the director’s designated point.

Only the drone camera director can monitor the feed in real time.

After adjusting the position for a while, Director Kim Minsu shouts into the radio.

–I’ll slate this one.

–#2-24, sixty-two, take one!

–Ready—action!

The airborne camera hums as it approaches.

There’s not much to do.

Just stand still and look at Jisoo across the street.

‘It’s easy—for now.’

Soon, hell will begin.

The infamous chase sequence that leaves actors on the brink of collapse is waiting just ahead.