Chapter 03
‘What’s wrong with the CP?’
The junior PD tilted his head as he glanced at Senior CP Kang Hyuk-kwon.
They were on a tight schedule and had to finish filming before dawn, yet the veteran wasn’t giving the signal and was hesitating.
‘Why is the CP acting like that?’
‘No idea. It’s making me nervous…’
Was there something he didn’t like?
The staff were on edge, worried that the CP might suddenly lash out.
Unaware that everyone was watching him anxiously, CP Kang Hyuk-kwon was staring intensely at the assassin—played by a background actor.
‘He even changed the blocking. I wondered why… but it’s bold and clear. Most extras stiffen up in front of the camera.’
The actor’s strides were confident, and his blade movements sharp.
Even his indifferent expression subtly revealed a lonely gaze.
The CP realized the blocking had probably been changed to highlight this actor’s performance in the absence of the action director.
He had a gut feeling that this extra could deliver a better scene.
‘Too bad there’s no time.’
They had to wrap up filming before sunrise.
They couldn’t afford to waste precious minutes on an extra.
If that actor messed up and caused a series of NGs, they’d have to reshoot the scene.
Reshoots meant money.
And it wasn’t like they could charge that cost to an extra—the production would have to eat it.
Checking the time on his phone, CP Kang Hyuk-kwon gave a bitter smile.
“Okay. Let’s change the framing and go.”
Suppressing his regret, he turned back to the monitor.
“Good job. This cut won’t be in the final shot, so don’t overexert yourselves—save your energy.”
Maybe it was his disappointment in the shot…
The voice of the action director suddenly rang unusually loud in the CP’s ears.
‘Director Lim is really fired up today. Then again, when an extra performs like a seasoned action actor, you’d want to give them a kiss out of gratitude.’
The CP knew the action director well—he took pride in his work.
He had probably half-given up on today’s action scenes, but then this actor appeared.
Feeling pleased, Kang Hyuk-kwon signaled the FD waiting for his cue.
“Slate it!”
As the FD clapped the slate, the camera lights turned red again.
‘The lens is pointed that way…’
The camera focused on the Left State Councillor offering a deep bow.
The assassin wasn’t in the frame, but his movements were no different from earlier.
From beneath the eaves to the well, then beneath a wagon.
Timed perfectly with the Councillor’s seventh and final bow, the assassin, Yeon-hwi, darted between shadows.
“Even the heavens are indifferent today. What shall we do with His Highness?”
As the Left State Councillor looked up to the sky and sighed—
Yeon-hwi, hiding in the wagon’s shadow, bolted forward and drew his sword.
“Wh–mph!”
Whoosh—
As the assassin swung his blade, the Councillor clutched his throat and collapsed.
Yeon-hwi turned away, blade pointing downward, as if refusing to look at the fallen man.
His light brown eyes, visible just above the mask, sank with quiet bitterness.
‘This is just acting. But still… it stings.’
He knew full well that the predetermined moment had passed—that now it was his time.
And yet, the emptiness that followed the end of a performance—or rather, a mission—was something even he couldn’t suppress.
Just like before, he could only wait for the feeling to pass.
‘What was that?’
The fierce glint in the assassin’s eyes as he approached the Councillor.
Then the emptiness in those light brown irises once the man had fallen.
Unaware he’d stood up, CP Kang Hyuk-kwon found himself staring at what felt like a real assassin from that era.
‘S-Senior…’
A junior AD cautiously tapped the CP’s shoulder.
Startled, Kang Hyuk-kwon looked around.
Everyone was staring at him.
“…Okay. Phew…”
With a deep sigh, he sat back down.
His gaze shifted to the action director, who was now enthusiastically advising Yeon-hwi.
The CP stroked his chin and turned to the AD beside him.
“Where did you find that extra?”
“The assassin? We recruited him through a café site.”
“A café? You hired him just from his profile?”
The CP’s eyes sharpened, and the AD flinched.
“W-We were short on time… and it was just a minor role…”
“Who picked him?”
“Uh… Producer Song did.”
Hearing that, Kang Hyuk-kwon rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘Producer Song? So that’s what this is.’
His junior, PD Song, had deep connections with several talent agencies.
There was no way someone this good had come out of nowhere.
It was likely someone had asked Song to plant the actor—using the café casting as a cover.
‘PD Song’s picks are usually duds… but this time, he landed a real catch.’
The corner of the CP’s lips curled up slightly.
An extra who could deliver such refined, melancholic eyes during a rough action scene?
He was no ordinary extra.
He had clearly been trained—and was worth building something around.
“Director Hong. Set up one more camera.”
The camera director’s eyes widened.
He had worked with Kang Hyuk-kwon for a long time, but this was the first time they were adding a camera just for an extra.
“CP, the sun’s rising. We’re running out of time.”
“We’ll just get a light medium shot—waist up. Won’t take long.”
The camera director blinked, then nodded.
Meanwhile, amid the bustle—
Yeon-hwi stood beneath the eaves, hidden in shadow.
“I thought I knew the CP well, but this is a first.”
Turning around, he saw the actor playing the Left State Councillor.
“Sorry I didn’t greet you earlier, sir.”
“Sir? I’m not even fifty. Don’t make me sound old.”
The veteran actor chuckled and continued.
“I was a bit worried since an extra was handling the action… but wow. I actually shivered.”
“It’s thanks to your generous praise, sir.”
“And you speak well, too. When you ran at me with the sword, I thought I was done for.”
The actor laughed and walked off, commenting on how different Yeon-hwi’s character had become.
Yeon-hwi checked the prop sword and straightened his costume.
Soon, a camera rolled in close to him.
“We’ll shoot the assassin’s sword swing and fade-out. Just a medium.”
He had thought the scene was done.
Startled by the sudden setup, he hesitated—but quickly got into position.
“Slate!”
Clap—!
As the red light blinked on, Yeon-hwi’s sword danced through the air.
The Councillor clutched his neck and collapsed.
The assassin turned his head away from the fallen man, sword lowered.
His light brown eyes, cold and mournful, wavered faintly.
‘Just like that, let it pass…’
CP Kang Hyuk-kwon, lips tightly pressed, jumped up from his seat as he watched Yeon-hwi on the monitor.
“Okay—! Move out!”
“Let’s move!” the AD echoed.
The field erupted in motion as staff hurried to pack up.
In the middle of it all, Yeon-hwi stood blankly.
‘It’s over…’
The sky that had been dark was now brightening, as if the night had been a lie.
Brushing aside his lingering attachment to the first shoot, Yeon-hwi handed the prop sword back to the action director.
“Thank you for your hard work, Director.”
“You pulled off a big one in the first scene. If we get another chance…”
The director was patting his shoulder when—
“Excuse me, what’s your name?”
Turning around, Yeon-hwi saw CP Kang Hyuk-kwon by the monitor.
“Thank you for your hard work. I’m Woo Yeon-hwi.”
“Woo Yeon-hwi… Yeon-hwi-ssi.”
As Yeon-hwi began to turn away, the CP called him back.
“Do you have any plans for today?”
“Plans? Nothing in particular…”
The CP’s eyes gleamed.
“Great. If you have time, can you stick around for more work?”
In the drama The King’s Honor, the assassin completed his role by eliminating the Left State Councillor.
The CP’s proposal was unexpected—but welcome.
“If you’re offering, I’d be grateful. But as far as I know, I have no more scenes.”
“Right. Just wait here a moment—I’ll make a quick call.”
Urging him not to go anywhere, CP Kang Hyuk-kwon turned away, phone in hand.
Meanwhile…
Screenwriter Shim Hye-jin typed furiously on her laptop, frowning.
Episodes 3 and 4 of The King’s Honor, which aired last week, pulled in a 9.7% viewership.
‘It should’ve crossed 10%.’
Sighing, she clutched her greasy hair.
A 9.7% was a decent number, but the show needed to break 10% to be considered a solid success.
Her past two dramas had both hit over 10% by episode 4.
So compared to her name recognition, these numbers were low.
‘Did I miss the mark? Or do I need a better hook…’
Narrowing her eyes, she returned her hands to the keyboard.
Then—
Buzz—buzz—
Her phone vibrated on the floor.
Annoyed at the interruption, her expression softened when she saw the caller.
“Good morning, CP-nim.”
It was CP Kang Hyuk-kwon, calling from the set.
“Sorry, Writer Shim. Did I interrupt?”
“Oh, it’s our sweet CP. Everything okay on your end?”
“All smooth. Working with the script you gave me.”
After a brief chat, the CP got to the point.
“I need a favor.”
“Anything—so long as it’s not a last-minute rewrite.”
“At this rate, you could set up shop in Gwanghwamun.”
“CP, I know you’re on set. Classic deflection.”
Laughing, the CP continued.
“It’s good for you too. We found something—or someone—interesting on set.”
“Really? Got a profile?”
“PD Park sent you an email. Check it.”
Still on the phone, Shim Hye-jin opened her laptop and checked her inbox.
An email with today’s shooting date contained a video clip.
Fresh footage from the scene.
“Hot off the press… It’s not for Seo Woong, so… this masked one—oh my.”
Switching to speakerphone, she focused on the masked man in the video.
The assassin who felled the official in a single strike slowly lowered his sword.
His eyes—tinged with sorrow and emptiness—caught her attention.
“Thinking of building a scene around him.”
As the CP’s voice echoed from her speaker, Shim Hye-jin replied calmly.
