Chapter 14 : Breaking the Script

Incheol’s mother had roped him into helping his cousin with some business venture. 

Reluctantly, dragged by their insistence, he showed up at the shoot, planning to half-ass it and call it a day. 

“Could we brighten it up a bit?” 

“How about turning your body to show your face better when you stand?” 

But this rookie model kept talking to him, breaking his focus. 

Incheol had seen two types of newbies in his time. 

The first were like wooden logs, nodding along and doing only what they were told before leaving. 

The second were clueless idiots who thought they nailed it just by skating through. 

This guy?

He didn’t fit either mold. 

“What’s with this kid?” 

He wasn’t following any predictable script. 

“Director?” 

By now, everyone on set could tell Incheol wasn’t exactly brimming with enthusiasm. 

Yet this kid, oblivious to the vibe, kept at it. 

“Maybe try turning a bit to the left when you stand?” 

“Got it!” 

The kid kept asking questions, trying hard to get it right, and Incheol couldn’t just brush him off. 

He wasn’t some heartless jerk who’d spit in the face of a smiling effort, even if his own motivation was running on fumes. 

“Director, what if I give a slight smile before opening my eyes?” 

“Hm, that could work.” 

Most models preferred silent direction, but this one was different. 

He kept poking, prodding, stirring something deep inside Incheol—his dormant director’s instinct, twitching awake despite his best efforts to keep it buried. 

“Hmm, maybe undo one more button for a better look.” 

Betrayed by the production company and his junior, Incheol had sworn off directing for good. 

“Let’s try it again.” 

But how can I stay still when he’s looking at me with those eyes? 

He’d always despised directors who just shouted “Cut!” or “Okay!” without substance, calling them the most incompetent. 

Yet here he was, slipping into that very role. 

Despite his intentions, he was getting sucked in. 

“Hold on, what’s with this lighting? Move it midway so it hits brighter when he stands.” 

“Huh? Oh, got it!” 

“And you—this is an ad. It’s gotta pop at first glance. Less natural, more bold.” 

Before he knew it, Incheol was directing with a fire he hadn’t felt in ages. 

The shots were coming out far better than the first takes, the quality undeniable. 

“Okay! That’s good. Let’s move to a long take.” 

“Yes, sir! We’re on it!” 

The short 15-second version was done, and they shifted to a set adorned with wildflowers scattered across the floor. 

First time shooting an ad, but I’ve got a reputation to uphold.

Half-ass it, and I’ll look like a fool if word gets out. 

He’d already justified it to himself: this wasn’t about passion; it was about not embarrassing himself. 

“Before we start, run through your lines.” 

“What’s this? What’s all over me?” 

“No, no, that’s not it.” 

As expected.

The kid wasn’t terrible, but his acting was about what you’d get from a typical idol in a commercial—passable, nothing more. 

“You keep this up, and it’s straight to blooper reel infamy. You want that kind of legacy?” 

The kid—Hyunjae—shook his head. 

“Your lines are cheesy, so keep the delivery clean and simple.” 

“Clean?” 

“Yeah, clean delivery, but your eyes—you know, that melodrama gaze.” 

“Melodrama gaze…” 

Hyunjae muttered the phrase to himself, stepping in front of the camera as the crew held their breath. 

The first-person POV concept wasn’t new, but its inherent cringe factor made it a high hurdle for rookies. 

Just don’t mess it up.

Stick to the basics. 

That was Incheol’s only hope—no overacting, just clear lines. 

“What’s this? What’s all over me?” 

But the Hyunjae in the camera was a different person from the one who’d rehearsed moments ago. 

What the hell? 

A little direction, and he transformed this much? 

“You’re so pretty, too pretty. You don’t even need to look.” 

The line was pure cheese, but Hyunjae’s eyes, his smile, his tone—they didn’t scream cringe. 

They radiated charm, a flutter of excitement. 

“Here, it’s for you. To make you shine even brighter.” 

His radiant smile lit up the set like it was meant to. 

Where have I seen that smile before? 

It felt oddly familiar, tugging at Incheol’s memory. 

“Let’s be dazzling together.” 

Hyunjae held out the moisturizer to the camera, throwing in a wink. 

“Did he just wink?” 

“Ugh, I wish I had a little brother like that!” 

“He’s twenty, and I’m swooning—I’m shameless, but he’s adorable…” 

The female staff started whispering, buzzing over Hyunjae’s wink. 

I told him to keep it clean, and he’s out here oozing charm. 

It was blatant, but honestly?

Not bad at all. 

“Cut!” 

“Wow, that was amazing!” 

“Hyunjae, you’re killing it! Even I got butterflies!” 

The moment the cut was called, praise flooded in. 

“Ugh, that was so embarrassing! Wasn’t it too much?” 

Hyunjae, who’d just been winking with all that swagger, now hid his face in his hands, shy. 

The sight sparked an idea in Incheol’s mind. 

“Let’s do two versions.” 

“Huh?” 

Who even watches ads like this anymore? 

Sure, he’d okayed it out of obligation, but first-person POV was trendy five years ago. 

“One version: soft, clean, like a lover. The other: over-the-top, comical, dripping with cheese.” 

With a face like that, playing shameless could be a hilarious talking point, maybe even go viral. 

“These days, you need a gag to rack up views. A pretty face only goes so far.” 

“Out of nowhere?” 

“Yeah…” 

The crew looked thrown by the sudden pivot. 

They’re probably wondering why this guy’s acting like he cares all of a sudden. 

“You in or out?” 

“I’m in. Sounds fun.” 

“Nice.” 

Some rookies would balk at risking their image, but Hyunjae’s instant buy-in impressed him. 

“Let’s start with the clean version. Shy, boyish vibe. No winking.” 

“Got it!” 

“Let’s do this!” 

It hit Incheol right away: this kid was sharp. 

Hyunjae was nailing his directions perfectly. 

“What’s this? What’s all over me?” 

He exuded the vibe of a first love from a high school drama—pure, natural, blending seamlessly with the wildflowers strewn across the set. 

“Let’s be dazzling together.” 

“Perfect! Next scene.” 

It was flawless, nothing more to add. 

If the newbies Incheol used to chew out could see this, they’d lose their minds. 

Is this easy?

Unheard of. 

“Here, you can go all out. Exaggerate, do whatever you want.” 

“Got it.” 

“Like that wink earlier, but make your expression extra slick.” 

Hyunjae nodded, listening intently, then stepped into the frame. 

“What’s this? What’s all over me?” 

His tone flipped 180 degrees. 

Gone was the gentle warmth, replaced by a high-pitched, playful mischief. 

“You’re so pretty, too pretty. You don’t even need to look.” 

“Pfft!” 

Laughter erupted as Hyunjae unleashed a 90s-drama-level charismatic gaze. 

His slick vibe was so far from the boyish charm it was almost unbelievable. 

“Let’s be dazzling together.” 

He capped it with a wink and a slow swipe of his thumb across his lips. 

The cut call came with roars of laughter. 

“Hahaha!” 

“This is too good!” 

“You nailed it, Hyunjae!” 

Incheol had known it from the first line—this kid was something else. 

The rookie model was gone; a real actor stood in his place. 

But where have I seen him before? 

That familiar feeling hit again, stronger this time. 

“Director, how was it? Should I go even cheesier?” 

“Oh, Jaehyun.” 

It clicked. 

That’s why he felt familiar. 

For a moment, Hyunjae’s approach reminded him of Jung Jaehyun. 

“Huh?” 

They didn’t look alike, not exactly, but there was an aura, a presence, that echoed Jaehyun’s. 

“No, it’s nothing. That was good. One more take.” 

Incheol had worked with Jaehyun once, back when he was assistant director on Team B. 

That’s when he realized what a true actor was—someone with a magnetic pull, flawless attitude, the real deal. 

This kid wasn’t at Jaehyun’s level, not yet, but he had something. 

The shoot stretched into the late night, wrapping only when exhaustion set in. 

“Good work, everyone!” 

“Director, thank you so much! I think it came out amazing.” 

Incheol had given it his all, despite himself. 

It wasn’t a film, but the thrill of directing—something he hadn’t felt in ages—had crept back in. 

“You all did great.” 

Hyunjae came over to thank him. 

“Got any shoots lined up? Who’s directing?” 

“Huh? What shoots?” 

“Like a drama or a movie. You’ve got something booked, right? Nothing?” 

No way.

They’re sleeping on this kid? 

“Nothing yet. I’m still auditioning.” 

Even mediocre actors with his looks were landing web dramas left and right. 

“What, you holding out for a lead role or only big agencies? Audition jitters?” 

It didn’t add up—his skill, his visuals, and still striking out at auditions? 

“No, I just want to start with a solid role.” 

“Picky for a rookie. Your agency must have a headache.” 

“Ha…” 

“Don’t sweat it. If you want to last in this business, you should be picky. Keep at it.” 

This kid was going places, Incheol was sure of it. 

Man, doing real work for once is exhausting. 

Despite his grumbling, Incheol’s face looked refreshed, almost content. 

***

Bon Entertainment

“Haha, the cosmetics ad shoot started today!” 

Hyungcheol bragged about the ad over the phone. 

“Any projects lined up for him?” 

“Well, we’re working through auditions…” 

“So, no confirmed projects yet?” 

Ugh, always the same question. 

Every time an ad deal came up, they asked about booked projects. 

“Yeah, we’re being careful about picking the right roles.” 

“I see. For a rookie, it’s a bit risky for us to take a chance without any projects lined up.” 

Rejection after rejection. 

They probably wanted a steady stream of buzz, backed by actual work. 

“We’ll discuss internally and get back to you.” 

“No, he’s got auditions going well, and we’ll have something soon—” 

“We’ll reach out after our meeting.” 

The call cut off abruptly. 

“They’re not calling back. How many deals have we missed?” 

Hyungcheol was fuming, the lost opportunities stinging. 

“Why’s this kid bombing every audition? Is his acting that bad?” 

Other actors, even with subpar skills, were landing roles with half his looks. 

“Relying on auditions was a dumb move.” 

He hadn’t expected it to pan out, but he’d hoped. 

“Ugh, long time no talk! How’ve you been?” 

Hyungcheol dialed another number, his voice shifting to a hopeful tone.