SDM 14

Wow, his stamina really isn’t improving. Seong-woon panted heavily for a while as he nearly rolled off the treadmill. Whether it was because he couldn’t do high-intensity workouts or because Ryu Chae-yoon’s body was trash, his stamina just wasn’t increasing.

He couldn’t expect a six-pack in two weeks, but given his past record of developing abs in just two weeks, Seong-woon felt a bit frustrated at his lack of progress.

“Young master, you’ve really improved a lot!”

But the trainer, seemingly oblivious, showered him with praise. What improvement? Going from walking 20 minutes to 25 minutes, is that what you call improvement?

“Now we can increase the incline.”

“…I’ll die.”

Seong-woon whined, but the trainer cheerfully urged him onto the stairway to heaven.

“We’ll just do cardio today, and start strength training from tomorrow!”

“…Strength?”

“Yes. Let’s start with bodyweight exercises. Things like squats or lunges…”

Seong-woon, too exhausted to respond, began climbing the stairway to heaven with a pale face. Maybe strength training would be better, since his heart was weak, the muscles might be different… He moved his legs reflexively while thinking hazily with his oxygen-deprived brain.

After finishing today’s workout and sitting on the floor panting for a while, Seong-woon finally got up when he saw manager Hyeong-seok waiting silently.

“I have an audition today, right?”

“Yes. That’s why I brought a makeup artist as well.”

“Ah, okay.”

He could just apply some himself if needed. Seong-woon usually left makeup to the on-site makeup artists, or if they were too busy, he’d do basic skin makeup himself.

“Here, have some tea.”

Having learned that Seong-woon disliked sweet drinks over the past few weeks, Hyeong-seok had started bringing caffeine-free herbal teas. But there weren’t many non-caffeinated, unsweetened drinks, so the pattern had become quite simple.

Ah, I want to drink an Americano. Although dreaming of coffee that quenches thirst instantly was impossible until he got a clean bill of health.

“Is the outfit prepared too?”

“Yes, you said you wanted to wear a suit, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll hang it outside the shower room.”

A young gangster should wear a suit. Seong-woon quickly showered and put on the suit that was too luxurious for a young gangster.

The navy fabric with a subtle sheen draped smoothly over his legs. He put on a white shirt and neatly tied a tie. Looking in the mirror for a moment, he lowered his slightly upturned, cat-like eyes and took a deep breath.

Seong-woon instantly made a terrifying expression and then returned to normal. He tugged slightly at the neatly tied tie knot. It would feel suffocating if his cover was about to be blown, so he’d have no choice but to pull at the tie knot.

“Young master?”

Hyeong-seok called out in an anxious voice, probably thinking he was taking too long. Understanding his concern, Seong-woon flung the door open and came out.

“I’m fine.”

Seong-woon answered before Hyeong-seok could ask what had happened and took the lead in walking.

Phoenix Studio wasn’t far from the hospital. Getting out of the car, Seong-woon insisted that only Hyeong-seok should come up with him. Not many actors would have their managers come along, let alone bodyguards. It would create an uncomfortable atmosphere.

“Young master, but…”

“You know too, right? What kind of atmosphere it is.”

Hyeong-seok looked at Seong-woon for a moment with eyes that seemed to say ‘How do you know what that atmosphere is like?’, then sighed.

“Understood.”

Hyeong-seok dismissed the bodyguards first, and only after confirming that the black cars had left did Seong-woon enter the building. He climbed the stairs familiarly, as if he knew where to go.

Ginkgo Actors, where Seong-woon had worked, was on the upper floor of Phoenix Studio. Since the two CEOs knew each other, actors from Ginkgo Actors always appeared in films produced by Phoenix, so this building was more familiar to Seong-woon than anywhere else.

Phoenix Studio didn’t have a separate audition room, so they always borrowed Ginkgo Actors’ practice room. Seong-woon, who went there without getting lost once, sighed softly at the crowded hallway. Somehow, he felt like he had really switched bodies only now.

“Young master.”

“Yes, um… stay here. I’ll be back.”

It’s too awkward to have a manager in this environment. Seong-woon left Hyeong-seok, with his worried face in the lobby with the elevators and entered the hallway. It felt like going into battle alone.

The supporting actors were all pretty much the same. They greeted each other as if they knew one another, and some were trembling nervously.

Seong-woon sat down in an empty chair, calmly ignoring the glances that swept over his face. The 20 minutes on the stairway to heaven had made his legs tremble like a newborn calf’s.

Since Ryu Chae-yoon didn’t know anyone, there was no one to greet. But among the whispers of those who saw his face, the word “Cherry” was occasionally heard. Sigh… Ryu Chae-yoon, why on earth did he choose such a nickname…

Seong-woon pinned the nametag given by the facilitator to his chest and slightly closed his eyes. He was tired. Just as he was thinking that instead of gaining stamina from exercise, it seemed to be draining more severely and that he might need to consider other methods, his name was called.

“Number 105, Ryu Chae-yoon.”

“Yes.”

Seong-woon stood up with a neat attitude and entered through the open door. Familiar casting director, director, producer, two other people, and… Seeing a person wearing a white t-shirt and pressing down a black cap, Seong-woon’s eyes widened slightly.

Baek Sang-hyun was there.

* * *

But the surprise was only momentary. Seong-woon pretended not to recognize Baek Sang-hyun at all, keeping his gaze straight ahead as he greeted politely.

“Hello. I’m Ryu Chae-yoon.”

“Yes, hello.”

The casting director pushed up his glasses and looked at the documents Seong-woon had submitted. Of course, they were little more than blank pieces of paper.

“Hmm…”

After a brief moment of silence, the casting director nodded. The fact that such an inexperienced person had made it through the document screening meant that the agency had pushed for it. In any case, it meant this was someone uncomfortable to cut right away.

The casting director glanced at Seong-woon’s face and suddenly widened his eyes. Then he looked back and forth between the small photo on the document and Seong-woon several times. The director sitting next to him was already unable to take his eyes off Seong-woon.

“Um… did you say Ryu Chae-yoon?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

If it’s Ryu Chae-yoon… isn’t this that third-generation chaebol that brat, the junior who was bragging about doing a Flex original, said he had accidentally filmed? And apparently, he’s quite good at acting too. …No, acting isn’t necessary. Acting can be created through directing!

A spark flashed in Director Lee Jun-ho’s eyes, and just as he was about to open his mouth, the casting director barely managed to stop him.

“Well then, let’s see what you’ve prepared.”

“Yes.”

Perhaps because of the cold-colored suit, Seong-woon’s complexion was so pale he looked like he might collapse at any moment. Or was that cold sweat actually forming?

Seong-woon looked around as if he didn’t know where to look, and crushed the floor with his shoe. Even though he was standing straight, that anxiety was clearly conveyed.

The scene Seong-woon was acting out was the moment when he, as an undercover cop, is discovered by the gang boss. The lines of the boss and his action team leader were blacked out in the scripts given to the audition participants, but those watching Seong-woon’s performance knew all the lines, so the dialogue played like an auditory hallucination in their heads.

‘Who the hell is this cop bastard!’

The action leader shouted loudly, creating an atmosphere of terror. The police officer Seong-woon is playing entered this organization with a false history of having killed someone in high school and gone to juvenile detention. It means he has a youthful appearance that looks like he just graduated high school, despite being a detective. Ryu Chae-yoon’s appearance fits this perfectly.

‘Shut up.’

‘I-I’m sorry.’

‘How do you expect to get it out of him if you scare him like that? Here, your hand.’

The boss puts out his cigarette on the action leader’s palm. As he flutters and shakes his body, retreating, the boss stands in front of the lined-up gang members and slowly walks from left to right, examining each face. Then he stops in front of the undercover cop.

‘Baby, which group do you belong to?’

“…I-I’m from the 2nd Action Unit of the Venus faction…”

In fact, Seong-woon had laughed wryly when he received this audition script. All he got was a synopsis, a brief scene description, and just one line of dialogue. What exactly did they expect to see from just that one line, “I’m from the 2nd Action Unit of the Venus faction…”? It was probably the stubbornness of the slightly ‘eccentric’ Director Lee Jun-ho.

“Lying won’t do you any good.”

The man sitting at the very end stood up and actually delivered the line. Despite knowing it was Baek Sang-hyun, Seong-woon was so surprised he almost bit his tongue.

Approaching with heavy steps, he grabbed not Seong-woon’s collar but under his chin, lifting it as he asked again.

“Baby, which group did you say you belong to?”

“Ugh, gah…”

“You’re from the Regional Investigation Unit of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, aren’t you?”

Baek Sang-hyun asked in a gentle tone. The problem was that Seong-woon had no idea about the following lines or content. But Seong-woon wasn’t flustered at all. It wasn’t his first time dealing with sudden ad-libs.

Seong-woon completely composed his fearful gaze and looked down at Sang-hyun with contempt. Being an undercover cop isn’t something just anyone can do. Until discovered, they might fear death, but once exposed, their life is already forfeit, so why fear mere gangsters?

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it, you son of a…”

…He wanted to finish with ‘b1tch,’ but his breath was too choked. Baek Sang-hyun, seemingly a bit surprised by his line, widened his eyes and loosened his grip.

Seong-woon, sliding down to the floor, coughed violently for a while, struggling to catch his breath. His neck felt scorching hot, almost as if a fever was setting in.

“Wow, that just now! Can I use that?”

“…Pardon?”

The director jumped up from his seat and shouted. Seong-woon, who had gotten up with someone’s support, quickly turned his head. It was Baek Sang-hyun, with his face almost completely hidden by a cap and mask.

“How did you act out that last part?”

“I just improvised appropriately…”

“Didn’t you say you had no acting experience at all?”

“I did it once recently.”

“‘Human Justice’?”

Seong-woon slightly raised his eyebrows, wondering how they knew, but then remembered the relationship between the two directors and understood. They were known to be friends who started as university seniors and juniors and continued their friendship in the film industry.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Ah, how remarkable…”

After pushing Sang-hyun away, saying there was no need for further support, Seong-woon stood properly in place again. Several gazes swept over the nape of his neck. Even without looking, he could tell there were probably bright red hand marks.

Nevertheless, it’s also the nature of this industry not to apologize in such situations. They’re probably thinking that they should be grateful if the lead actor intervened to steer the audition in a better direction. It’s the fate of unpopular actors to just accept sudden physical acting that wasn’t agreed upon beforehand.

What would happen if he pulled out the chaebol card here? The voice that briefly crossed his mind was quite tempting, but Seong-woon just dismissed it.

“We’ve seen your acting. We’ll let you know the results later.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Ah, how am I going to cover up this bruise? It feels alarmingly hot even just touching it. Seong-woon carefully opened the audition room door and came out, glanced briefly at the elevator hall across the corridor, then moved in the opposite direction.

It would be obvious to the manager right away, but to make it less noticeable to others, he thought about looking for a scarf or something in the prop room.

Seong-woon rummaged through the production studio, which was more familiar to him than his own home. He climbed up an empty staircase and carefully opened the door to “Props Room-4”.

This was where Seong-woon used to spend time when he was in “Jin Seong-woon’s” body, whenever he struggled during practice. It was a storage area for leftover movie props, rarely visited except after film shoots.

The inside was full of dust. He coughed a few times and peeked into an old box. It was filled with stacks of clothing. Since the props here were usually thrown out after a few years anyway, no one cared if someone took them.

In the next box, Seong-woon found a very tacky thin scarf with a paisley pattern on a red background. Without hesitation, he removed his tie, put it in his pocket, and tied on the scarf. Just as he finished tying the knot, the props room door suddenly swung open.