Chapter 28: Hidden Settings

“How do we do this?”

Was he exhaling cigarette smoke or a sigh? The president of Monet had been reading the script for hours. More accurately, he was glaring at it.

“President!”

“My ears are going to fall off.”

He quietly put down the script. Objectively speaking, The Plague wasn’t a particularly eye-catching title.

But why was it, then?

Why did he pick this one to read first, out of the many scripts piled up on his desk? And why was he having such concerns about it?

“No matter how I think about it, this isn’t right. What’s the point of having a casting director? Other writers also write with actors in mind, but there has to be some compromise.”

The writer they found after much difficulty was a young man in his early thirties. He’d met all sorts of people in the film industry, but this man was the most unique he’d ever encountered.

“Using a pen name is okay.”

Aok—a pen name with a strange meaning. It was as if the writer wasn’t allowed to write, and he insisted on keeping his identity completely hidden.

“If the adaptation is something that will be revised together with you to fit the budget or other circumstances, then that’s partially okay.”

The employee counted on his fingers, recalling the previous meeting.

The president of Monet watched this without saying a word. Soon, as if he had made up his mind, he stubbed out his cigarette.

“But when it comes to casting actors, he’s stubborn as a bull. Just cut him off. It’s a good script, but there are others like it if you look.”

Even after filming ends, there’s no guarantee this will be a success. You won’t know until the film is released in theaters.

There was no reason for the company to bow down in this process, which was merely about script selection. Especially not to an unknown rookie writer!

“Scripts are a dime a dozen, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they’re a dime a dozen. But this one is the only one.”

“The others are unique too.”

“Yeah, this is why preferences are dangerous.”

At the president of Monet’s words, the employee gasped and took a deep breath. If he had to define in one word why he was obsessed with The Plague, it was exactly that.

“No way! Really!”

“No matter how I look at it, it’s good. It fits our company’s style so well. And what about Director Jin Gyeongmun?”

“Well…….”

Having a master director on board meant several things. It was likely to be popular with the public, and investors would like it.

“We’ve come this far, and I see it as an opportunity.”

Driven out by skyrocketing rent, he had retreated all the way to Chungmuro. Now was the time not to lose the company’s individuality or commerciality. The Plague felt like a godsend opportunity for him.

‘Go ahead and grab it. Whether it’s a rotten rope or a golden rope, you’ll only know once you climb it.’

“President, how are you going to adjust the lineup? Do you think you can persuade Director Jin Gyeongmun? I definitely can’t do it.”

The employee almost begged, waving his hands. When it came to casting movie actors, the director’s authority was almost absolute.

“Who knows? Maybe the director will understand once he sees it.”

“Goodness me. Really?”

“Set up a meeting first. It’s better if I speak to him directly. I’ll cook up something to say.”

The president smiled, making a small gap with his fingers. It would be better to say it was the president’s active recommendation of an actor, rather than the screenwriter’s stubbornness.

“But Aok, the writer. He’s quite something, isn’t he? I got goosebumps the moment I heard the actor’s name. His skill at breathing life into characters is exceptional.”

A small Post-it note stuck to his fingertips. It was a list of actors’ names he’d thought of while reading the script. Most of them had been repeated by Aok.

“I’m sure the director will agree.”

It felt like the actor himself had descended into the work. If the synergy between the actor and the character was this high, the completion of the work would also be promising.

“I’m going crazy. Really.”

“Let’s see. Who was it again?”

At the president’s words, the employee reluctantly recited the names.

“The protagonist, a child actor, is Yoo Yuna.”

She could be considered the most recognizable child actor. She was only nine years old, but thanks to her father, a TV producer, she was already in her third year as an actress.

“To be honest, there’s no other child actor who can do it besides Yuna, right?”

“……As far as I know, that’s right.”

She wasn’t just a one-time child actor with good connections. Her emotional expression and acting skills were beyond what a child could produce. Critics and the public alike hailed her as the next big star.

-It’s fortunate she was born as a PD’s daughter. Otherwise, we would have missed her childhood.

A child actor receiving such praise had no problems with acting skills. Besides, the content of the work was a bit…… violent.

“Even more so, it has to be Yuna. She has experience. Experience.”

“Are you talking about The Neighboring Uncle?”

“What agency is Yuna with? Is it GNM?”

The production company president scribbled the agency’s name next to the actor’s. Once things were sorted out, he’d have to schedule a meeting with them and send over the script.

“Jin is Mark. Louis is…….”

“Lee Hijun.”

“Lee Hijun. Right. The face is a perfect fit, hmm. Okay.”

It’s not unusual for celebrities to be different on the inside and out. The president swallowed his unnecessary words and twirled his pen.

“What agency is this one with again?”

“Sealing Actors.”

“Oh. Sealing. Okay.”

He wrote the word “Sealing” next to Lee Hijun’s name. And at that moment.

Zziiing. Zziiing.

“Why is it so noisy today?”

The president joked about the frantically ringing phone. But then he checked the screen—ah, of course!

Ding.

“Na Geumdong!”

-It’s Na Geumdong, okay?

“I knew it was you. Whenever you call, the phone gets noisy.”

Na Geumdong, the president of Big Win Entertainment.

Birds of a feather flock together, and the two had a lot in common. Their companies were struggling, they had easygoing personalities, and when it came to work, they were more stubborn than anyone.

“What’s up? I’m in a meeting right now.”

-You found the screenwriter for The Plague, right?

“Oh ho. Look at that. The rumors have already spread. Doesn’t that bode well?”

The president of Monet covered the receiver with his hand and muttered to the employee. The atmosphere in the industry often turned into the public’s mood.

“So?”

-Let’s grab a drink!

A drink? The president of Monet narrowed his eyes.

There were only two reasons Na Geumdong would offer a drink.

“There haven’t been any recent releases, so it’s not a consolation drink.”

When a produced film’s performance was poor. Or,

“Is it because of casting?”

-Let’s talk while drinking. Okay, brother?

“Sure. It seems like free drinks, so there’s no reason to refuse. Hang up for now. I need to finish the meeting.”

The president of Monet flipped his phone over and picked up his pen again. Then he circled “Lee Hijun, Sealing Actors” for the role of Louis.

Swoosh.

“Check the schedule on this side too.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Meanwhile, Muyoung sat at his dorm desk, flipping through The Plague script, even wearing a headband.

“What are you studying so hard for?”

“Aren’t the midterms over?”

Park Munseong and Choi Hwan, who had come in after dinner, were taken aback. They were planning to play a game since they were full, but it would be troublesome if Muyoung was doing this.

“The midterms are over.”

“So?”

“This is for my next project. I think there’ll be an audition, so I’m preparing in advance. Hm? Did you guys eat meat?”

“Huck!”

Muyoung turned around, saying that, with a black face mask stuck on his face. The two men froze, glued to the door. What was he doing now?

“The company gave it to me. They said this would make my skin really soft. Do you guys want to try it too?”

It was a special treatment for the skin, which had become dry due to the midterms.

“I’ll pass. You do it a lot.”

“Yeah. Drawing lines on a pumpkin won’t make it a watermelon.”

“There’s really a lot.”

There were packs piled up in his bag. Ko Gyeongmin had given them to him with an apologetic look, his hands full. Other places took people to dermatologists or shops…… but all he had to give was this.

“So, do we have to be quiet? We were going to play a game. Should we go outside? Is that okay?”

“No, play here. I’m going to practice my lines too.”

“Really? That’s a relief. Hey, log in quickly.”

“Okay, okay.”

While the two brothers booted up their laptops, Muyoung muttered, underlining each line. He wanted to play the role of Louis, but just in case, he planned to memorize all the other parts too.

‘Pollen doesn’t fall for no reason.’

It was an opportunity he was determined to seize.

In his previous web drama audition, he’d received the lines in fragments on the spot, but this time, the script was already in his hands.

‘I have to do everything I can.’

He highlighted Louis’s lines with a fluorescent pen. The dorm roommates, each in their own place, were absorbed in their own tasks.

A few minutes later.

“Yes! Supplies! Is there a pot? Oh! There is!”

“Give that to me. I’m level one.”

“Wait! Back off! That’s FG property!”

Squeak.

What Bonggun saw was astonishing.

Two men were engrossed in a game, while Muyoung was practicing his acting. Even if complaints came from the next room, there was nothing to say.

“What’s going on? Are you all crazy?”

The two with headsets on couldn’t hear, but Muyoung was so focused that he didn’t even notice Bonggun had come in.

“Area blockade? What do you mean? Does this mean we’re not in Korea anymore? The door will open someday, and when it does, you’ll all be executed.”

Muyoung muttered, looking at the blank wall. Bonggun sat in a chair and watched him quietly. He seemed to be going through several lines, as his tone and atmosphere changed with each word.

“Execution? Screw you. We’ll all be dead before that.”

“That’s just your opinion and your hope!”

“Shut up and hand that over quickly!”

Bonggun’s mouth gradually opened wider as he watched.

The pace was urgent, following the flow of the scene, yet there was not a single shake. Two people? No. Three people were speaking at the same time.

“Did you forget what the government said? They called it a plague. Instead of doing this, we should gather all the symptomatic people—”

“You idiot! Do you believe that?”

He didn’t need to look at the script to know the situation, the atmosphere, the emotions, the scene. Bonggun clicked his tongue and muttered.

‘He’s a genius. That guy.’

It was insane. He was expressing three characters using only his face and voice, without moving his body. And he was doing it with that black pack stuck on his face!

‘By the way…….’

“You said you’re with FG, right? Tell me the truth right now. What about that gas? What the hell is it—”

“Uh? Wait a minute. Wait, Muyoung.”

Bonggun, who had been quietly listening to the lines, was startled and grabbed his shoulder.

“Whoaaaaat!”

“Whoa!”

Muyoung was even more startled and flipped over.

Holding his pounding heart, he looked up at Bonggun, as if asking when he’d come in. Then he peeled off the dry pack and made a sad face.

“Brother, if you do that suddenly, I’ll get scared.”

“I was more scared because of you.”

“The pack? They said this is effective even though it looks like this.”

“No, you idiot. Not that!”

Bonggun looked at the script in Muyoung’s hand.

“Where did you get this?”

“This script? It’s the next project I mentioned before…….”

“I think I know this story.”

Someone he’d met in the Seoul United Theater Club had written something similar and shared it. Of course, it was a draft, and they’d lost contact since then.

“By the way, does the protagonist in this have a burn scar on his wrist?”

“Uh. Hm. Yes, there is a similar mention in the lines.”

“Wow, it’s a match. I thought it had been scrapped because it went quiet for a while, but they kept writing it. So, what about that brown-haired boy who hangs out with him? Does he appear?”

“Hangs out with him? Louis? Is Louis’s hair brown?”

“I think that’s how it was when they were setting up the character…….”

Bonggun snatched the script and started reading it while standing. Muyoung, watching him, tugged at Bonggun’s clothes.

“Brother, tell me about that. What is it? Do you know Aok, the writer?”