Chapter 24
“Hello, sunbae.”
Bowing politely at the waist, Yeon-hwi drew a soft curve from Yoon Ji-woo’s eyes.
The corner of Yoon Ji-woo’s mouth twisted into a faint smirk.
“I figured as much from the way you’re strutting around in a suit like you own the place. So it is you.”
“Please teach me well. I’ll do my best to follow your lead.”
There was something in Yoon Ji-woo’s tone—subtle, yet poking at the other person like a needle.
Yeon-hwi’s eyes gleamed faintly as he faced him.
I’d been a little disappointed I didn’t get a chance to talk to him earlier. This is good.
Watching him from afar was nice, but actually exchanging words was even better.
He had wanted to have at least a short conversation with Yoon Ji-woo before, but…
With the filming schedule running nonstop since dawn, Yeon-hwi hadn’t pushed it.
Getting intel on his target was important, but not enough to disrupt filming.
He had planned to leave and save it for another time—until the other man approached him first.
Unaware of Yeon-hwi’s thoughts, Yoon Ji-woo narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Keep up. The field isn’t a place you can survive on effort alone.”
“Yes, sunbae. I look forward to working with you.”
The more he spoke with the other actor, the more Yoon Ji-woo couldn’t shake a strange sense of incongruity.
The “field” was a conservative place.
Supporting actors usually shrank in the presence of leads.
But this one—while polite—showed no sign of being intimidated or overwhelmed.
Interesting. He must be counting on Writer Ham Eun-young.
Finding his explanation, Yoon Ji-woo’s eyes curved again.
“All right. Since you dropped in out of nowhere, you’d better make it worth it.”
At that remark, the air around them froze instantly.
The lead’s throwing another tantrum. Poor guy—he seems like a hard worker.
Well, it’s possible he doesn’t like it. He kept complaining about the guard scenes…
Let’s keep our heads down so we don’t get caught in the crossfire.
No one missed the meaning—“dropped in” clearly meant parachute casting.
But the staff pretended not to notice, quietly turning their heads away.
No one wanted that spark landing on them.
Whether he realized it or not, Yeon-hwi’s face remained impassive.
“Thank you. I’ll see you later then.”
He bowed to Yoon Ji-woo and turned away, his face calm—as if he hadn’t heard the remark at all.
Smart guy. Knows to avoid stepping in it. Ji-woo’s just provoking him because he’s not happy with the scene.
Glad he’s sensible. I was worried he’d try to push back because he’s got the writer behind him.
Like the writer would cast just anyone. Especially someone that picky…
The staff watched Yeon-hwi walk off with faintly worried eyes.
Even Yoon Ji-woo’s manager looked startled, his eyes wide.
“Hyung, you promised me. Everyone’s already on edge today…”
“What? I didn’t do anything. Just had a little chat with a fellow cast member.”
Yoon Ji-woo shrugged, but the manager leaned in with a wary whisper.
“Even if you don’t say it outright, everyone knows. Why you keep poking at the guard in that scene…”
“What the hell are you talking about? Who says that? Who?! Whose manager are you, huh?”
When Yoon Ji-woo glared, the manager shut his mouth and lowered his head, clearly holding back a lot.
Strong to the weak, weak to the strong—a spoiled young master. So that’s the target’s character, huh.
After observing him both on and off camera, and even exchanging words, Yeon-hwi headed to the set satisfied.
**
Third-ranked talent agency Haneul Star’s scout chief, Mr. Kim, sighed as he looked at his team.
“…You couldn’t even get him on the phone? The production didn’t give you his number? We agreed to that already.”
Kim’s face twisted.
They’d promised to give the actor’s contact info…
One nervous staff member finally spoke up.
“Uh… the number was invalid.”
“So they gave us a fake number—no, wait. Must be one he only uses for this project. What about DMs?”
“We couldn’t find a single trace of him on social media.”
Mr. Kim rubbed his face.
A bit-part actor using a separate number and having zero social media presence?
So, he planned it from the start.
He remembered a few days ago.
He had gone to the King’s Dignity set at dawn, braving the cold just to catch a glimpse of the extra…
Only to learn the man had left in Jo Sun-yeol’s car.
Why would an extra, who’d arrived on the staff bus, leave in a veteran actor’s car?
Now it was clear—it was all part of the extra’s plan.
“From now on, focus all efforts on this guy.”
A sharp gleam flashed in Mr. Kim’s eyes.
This actor wasn’t just trying to guard his privacy.
He already knew how to draw boundaries and manage himself like a pro.
At around the same time…
“…I’m sure of it. He’s deliberately hiding himself—it’s a strategy.”
Ms. Gong, head of scouting at the industry’s second-ranked Haneul Star Entertainment, had the same thought when she heard he had no reachable number.
One of her scouts asked, “Should we contact the production again—?”
“No. Waste of time. More importantly, no word yet about any offers from elsewhere?”
“None so far.”
“Good. For now, all eyes on him. He’s clearly not ordinary.”
As they were about to leave, something occurred to her.
“Oh, and what about that place? Heard anything?”
“That… place?”
When the scout asked cautiously, she twitched her eye in mild exasperation.
“OnlyOne. If he’s this good, they might move too. Keep watch.”
Without Yeon-hwi knowing, the entire talent industry was buzzing.
And none of them realized—
Yeon-hwi was simply… hiding himself as well as he used to in the shadows.
Yeon-hwi entered the lobby of the KDC Broadcasting Building.
Today, they were filming the Escape Scene from Kanghada Yoo Taerin here.
They said the office is on the 18th floor.
After getting his access pass, he rode the elevator and entered the office.
He’d arranged this in advance when he first got the script, so entry wasn’t an issue.
Convincing production had been the hard part.
Only one exit. I guess from here to the emergency stairs…
He walked in and out of the office, checking the routes.
The real blocking would come when the stunt coordinator arrived, but knowing the layout helped.
While he was still mapping it out—
“Eh? Said it was empty, but… oh, you must be the actor Director Lim was raving about.”
The stunt coordinator came in and greeted him, mentioning Director Lim, the one Yeon-hwi had worked with on King’s Dignity.
“The hallway’s narrower than I thought. And with the glass, we might get reflections…”
As he and the stunt coordinator worked through the movements, it was suddenly 4 p.m.
The scheduled filming time came, but no one arrived.
With delays piling up and rush hour looming, the action scene was pushed back.
By the time everyone was there, it was 7 p.m.
“We’re gonna be stuck using dissolves again at this rate.”
“Let’s finish before midnight for once, please. Chop-chop!”
Maybe it was their collective wish, but even the setup and rehearsals went quickly.
Still…
“I knew it… I look way too helpless here. I just hold hands and run away?”
Watching the action sketch on the monitor, lead actor Yoon Ji-woo sounded dissatisfied.
Director Kim Hyung-tae tried to placate him.
“There’s no hand-holding. This is just to show how tense the escape is—”
“I get it. But this is early in the show. If the lead looks pathetic just running away, I’m worried it’ll make me look bad. Audiences don’t like that…”
“….”
When the director’s eyes twitched, Ji-woo’s brightened.
“So maybe just one bit where Kanghada takes someone down herself—”
That was when the stunt coordinator cut in.
“Kanghada’s supposed to have poor athletic ability.”
“Come on, Director. Doesn’t have to be punching—could be with a prop, or using her head.”
The stunt coordinator narrowed his eyes, but Kim Hyung-tae shook his head.
“Good idea, but in this scene the important thing is showing she escapes well.”
“….”
“Please, just focus on that.”
Ji-woo’s eyes twitched again, but he knew there was no pushing past the director when he was like this.
So he smiled and nodded.
“Yes, PD-nim. I’ll get ready.”
“Thanks for understanding. Let’s rehearse.”
Following the stunt coordinator’s direction, the actors began their run-through.
Kanghada gets a call to come to the office—
It’s a trap to eliminate her.
Armed men flood into the office.
The guard fights them off to clear a path for Kanghada to escape.
Terrified, she follows close behind him.
“…Rolling.”
“Slate!”
After rehearsal, the camera’s red light came on.
Thud-thud-thud!
At the sound of the pounding door, Yeon-hwi—the guard—pulled Kanghada (Ji-woo) back toward the window.
“Stay close behind me.”
“Uh… okay…”
Swallowing nervously, Ji-woo kept his frightened expression.
With her behind him, the guard stood at the door and said calmly—
“I’ll break through in one go.”
“….”
BANG!
He kicked the door hard and charged forward.
“There they are!”
“Kill them!”
Charging into the incoming enemies—
“Cut. Change the angle.”
With the camera reset, they continued filming.
Yeon-hwi’s calm face contrasted with fierce action as he opened the path.
Ji-woo’s Kanghada clung behind, panicked.
“Good, Ji-woo. Keep that expression—just like that…”
“PD-nim, don’t I look too pathetic?”
“No, it looks great—your fear comes across as real.”
“Right? I just feel like I look so weak…”
Even with the praise, Ji-woo kept asking for retakes, saying the expression was too cowardly, worrying about his image.
The director indulged most of the requests, cutting into the schedule.
Yeon-hwi simply did his part without complaint.
“…Cut. Next.”
Checking the time, the director raised his hand.
Despite delays from Ji-woo’s demands, things were going smoothly.
While the crew moved equipment, Yeon-hwi coordinated moves with the stunt actors—
Dodging a strike, grabbing one by the neck to take him down, sidestepping a kick and driving an elbow into another’s gut, then spinning into a kick for the last.
Three down, the follow-up sequence continued.
“You okay with the spacing? Looks great on camera, but it seems a little close.”
“I’m fine.”
“All right, just be careful—great shots aren’t worth injuries.”
Yeon-hwi nodded, and the director turned to give Ji-woo his directions.
“Action!”
Once again, Yeon-hwi’s guard took down three attackers in quick succession.
Their strikes skimmed dangerously close, but he didn’t even flinch.
His control is incredible.
The stunt coordinator twitched an eye—how much practice did it take to pull off such flawless action, especially with people he’d never worked with before?
“…Okay. Next.”
The shoot rolled on smoothly.
But not everyone liked what they saw.
Why’s he showing off? Doesn’t even seem that impressive.
Ji-woo’s eyes on the guard were far from warm.
Flashy moves, enemies going down in all sorts of ways—
While the guard used minimal movement, dodging and striking with precision.
Which also meant the stunt team’s skill was top-notch.
…Maybe I should try something.
The idea flickered through Ji-woo’s mind during the repeated “okay” and “cut” calls.
He shook it off—unscripted action could lead to accidents.
Then again, the PD and CP will use anything if it looks good on camera.
Might get scolded.
Might be worse than that.
But if it made for a great shot…
If an “accident” made headlines, the press might even spin it for publicity.
…Watching the guard and stunt team mesh so easily, his mind was made up.
I’ll show them who the real star is.
As Yeon-hwi finished taking down three attackers and moved toward another—
Ji-woo’s Kanghada charged in ahead of him.
“Uh—hey—!”
The stuntman hesitated at the unexpected move, but his already-thrown punch couldn’t be stopped.
He’d pulled his force, but Ji-woo was still running straight into it.
Ji-woo as well had intended to attack—
But what came at his face was the enemy’s fist.
Shit!
An actor’s face was everything.
Realizing his overconfidence, he shut his eyes tight.
And then—
Smack.
Cautiously opening them, he saw—
A hand gripping the fist that had been about to hit him.
“You… what the hell—”
“I’m your guard. My job is to protect you.”
The voice was calm, deadpan, and completely unscripted.
It was Yeon-hwi.
