At Studio Lion’s office, a heavy sigh escaped Junhyung’s lips as he set a thick portfolio file down on the desk, its pages worn from countless reviews.
“It feels like we’ve seen every rookie actor in the country by now,” he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
Beside him, Seoyeon rubbed her dry, strained eyes, irritated from hours of staring at papers.
“The agencies are losing it, complaining about how many auditions we’re holding for just one role.”
“Yesterday, Human Pictures showed up with a mountain of snacks, practically begging us to choose their guy. I felt so bad I almost caved,” she added with a wry smile.
Junhyung chuckled.
“They sent me a gift card, too. Guess it makes sense—Park Jaehoon’s comeback project is a big deal.”
The project they were pouring their hearts into, Blue Sky Spring, was Park Jaehoon’s first role after his military service.
In the industry, people said, “If Jaehoon’s in it, you’re guaranteed at least a ten percent rating.” Success was all but assured.
“This is my first time working with Jaehoon,” Seoyeon said, her voice softening.
“Now I get why everyone’s obsessed with him.”
She’d been charmed at their first meeting, utterly captivated by his effortless charisma.
“What’s not to love? The guy’s got manners, charm, killer acting skills, and he pulls ratings. No wonder it’s chaos out there.”
The role sparking this frenzy was Jaehoon’s younger brother.
It was a small part, only five or six scenes, but it included a heartfelt family moment and plenty of two-shots with Jaehoon—enough to leave a lasting impression on audiences.
“This one’s not bad, acting-wise,” Junhyung said, pointing to the photo at the top of the portfolio stack.
Seoyeon squinted at it.
“Wait… isn’t that the kid who reenacted Jaehoon’s debut role?”
Hundreds of rookies had auditioned for this minor part, but only a few stood out in their memories.
“Yeah, he was decent…”
Junhyung trailed off, his expression turning wistful.
“No, wait. There was that one kid who was perfect.”
The memory of that performance lingered vividly, growing sharper with time despite having seen it only once.
Seoyeon asked, her curiosity piqued by Junhyung’s sudden shift in tone.
“Who?”
“You weren’t there, were you? It was the last day of the second-round auditions.”
“Oh! You mean the guy who showed up at the wrong audition?”
She hadn’t been there, but she’d heard the story a dozen times.
It wasn’t every day someone crashed an audition, only for their agency rep to storm in and drag them out in a huff.
“Exactly,” Junhyung said.
“I know it’s a lot to say about a rookie, but his acting… it had this pull. It drew you in.”
Junhyung, seasoned as he was, could usually size up an actor’s potential with a glance.
But this kid was different.
His very first line had hit like a bolt from the blue.
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
Seoyeon asked.
“If he stayed to audition despite the mix-up, he must’ve been interested, right?”
“There wasn’t time. It was chaos. By the time I came to my senses, he was gone.”
They’d tried to track him down afterward, but their efforts had come up empty.
“And he was good-looking, too,” Junhyung added.
“Seriously?”
Seoyeon’s eyes lit up at that, more intrigued by the mention of looks than anything else.
“Not just trendy good looks—genuinely handsome.”
“I don’t even know who he is, but now I’m dying to see him in person,” she said, half-laughing.
If Junhyung, who’d seen countless celebrity faces, called him handsome, it was a safe bet the guy was striking.
Then Junhyung’s tone shifted, growing serious.
“You know, I think the director’s looking for someone with that exact vibe.”
“What?”
“I mean, this role isn’t that critical to drag out casting this long, right?”
Junhyung had started suspecting this during the third round of auditions.
Initially, they’d prioritized someone who looked good next to Jaehoon and could take direction well.
Since they were casting a rookie, acting ability wasn’t the main concern—just follow the director’s lead, and they’d be fine.
“But lately, the director’s been nitpicking—diction, height, all these little things. Doesn’t it feel off?”
Seoyeon’s eyes widened as a few moments clicked into place.
“Wait… was he the puppy-faced one?”
“Huh?”
“You know, the director was grumbling the other day about how the brothers shouldn’t look too dissimilar and mentioned wanting a puppy-like face.”
Seoyeon had silently groaned at the time, wondering how they’d ever find someone who checked every box, including resembling Jaehoon.
“No wonder no one else measures up. It’s like the director’s already got someone in mind,” Junhyung said.
“With so little time left before shooting starts, we need to decide soon, or I’m gonna lose it.”
But that kid was a fish that got away, and they had to find someone new—fast.
“We’ll probably just pick from this batch…”
Seoyeon started, then paused, turning to Junhyung.
“Senior, just out of curiosity, what about a puppy face like that?”
“What? Who?”
Junhyung was about to rifle through the profiles on the desk when Seoyeon, as if drawn by some unseen force, walked to the window and lifted the half-drawn blinds.
“There. Him.”
She pointed at a digital billboard across the street, on the first floor of a cosmetics shop.
“Who’re you talking about?”
Junhyung, struggling to see, got up and joined her at the window.
“Where?”
“Right there, in front!”
“Oh, I see him. What is he, a robot? That’s way too much plastic surgery and filters.”
Junhyung grimaced at the face on the billboard.
It looked like it had been through a construction site of cosmetic procedures, slathered with heavy digital touch-ups.
“You need to get your eyes checked. If you’re not blind, you should quit,” Seoyeon shot back.
“No, not that guy. Wait a sec.”
They stood at the window, staring at the billboard, waiting for the next ad to cycle through.
“Come on, why isn’t it changing?”
Seoyeon muttered.
“If it’s some influencer or YouTuber, you’re done for. Those types are all over these ads these days—”
“There!”
“Whoa!”
The face of a popular female idol vanished, replaced by a man holding a moisturizing cream against a backdrop of white wildflowers.
Both of them gasped in unison.
“What do you think?”
Seoyeon asked.
“That’s him!”
Junhyung pressed his face to the glass, voice rising.
“It’s really him! What’s he doing up there?”
He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, but there was no mistake—the face on the billboard was unmistakably that kid from the audition.
“Wait, that’s the guy who showed up at the wrong audition?”
Seoyeon asked, incredulous.
“Hold on, what’s the name of that cosmetic brand?”
Junhyung scrambled back to his desk, fumbling for his phone to search for the brand.
“Yup, that’s him. No way that face was just sitting out there unnoticed.”
Unbeknownst to them, the ad had already taken online communities by storm.
Comments:
– No wonder the views are insane. I get it now, lol.
– This guy deserves a 10-episode drama, honestly.
– Any chance you’ll release photocards or something?
– Found my husband! Thanks for the heads-up.
“No wonder no one else is cutting it,” Seoyeon said, Junhyung’s earlier words clicking into place.
“There’s a 45-second version of the ad, too,” she added, finding two longer clips alongside the 15-second spot.
They watched both in turn, riveted.
“Hey,” Junhyung said after the videos ended, his voice urgent.
“What?”
“What are you standing there for? Move!”
With only two weeks until shooting began, speed was everything.
***
I found myself back at this place, a few months after my last visit.
“Hello, I’m Jung Hyunjae,” I said, my voice steady despite the nerves.
I’d been playing with a dog at the hospital when I got a sudden call from someone wanting to meet me.
“Good to see you! It’s been a while,” came the warm reply.
The call was from a drama production company I’d met by chance while tagging along with Eunha to a broadcasting station.
“Sorry about last time,” I said.
“I was so flustered, I couldn’t even talk properly.”
“No worries, it wasn’t a big deal.”
Three people sat before me: an assistant director, a writer, and the director himself—the same man who’d asked if I’d mind a non-lead role.
Back then, he’d seemed like a tiger, fierce and intimidating.
But here, he felt more like a kindly neighborhood uncle.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” the director said.
“Your image stuck with us from that day, so we wanted to meet.”
“Me?”
I asked, caught off guard.
I’d been handed a script out of nowhere, and performing in front of strangers for the first time had been awkward, to say the least.
“Yes. I heard you’re preparing to act, right?”
“Uh, yes, that’s true, but…”
They’d clearly done their homework on me.
“The role we’re casting for is Park Jaehoon’s younger brother,” the assistant director explained, diving into the details.
“Beom Woo is the protagonist’s only family. He lost his parents young, so he’s mature for his age but still has a teenage boyishness.”
“Sounds like a great character,” I said.
A mature kid with a backstory like that?
The role was practically built to steal hearts.
“The other roles are already cast. This is the only one still open,” the assistant director continued.
“Want to read the script?” the writer asked, sliding a copy of Blue Sky Spring across the table.
“Page 21, fifth line down. Junhyung will read Jaehoon’s lines with you.”
“Got it,” I said, nodding.
The assistant director flipped open the script, ready to match my lines.
“Sorry, but could I have a little more context? Can I take a quick look first?”
All I’d gotten was a brief description of the role, and I needed more to understand the drama’s vibe.
“Sure, take your time,” the director said, granting my request without hesitation.
“Thank you. I’ll be quick.”
I dove into the script, scanning from the start.
Whoa, the tone’s not as heavy as I expected.
I’d heard it was a crime thriller and braced for something grim, but it had surprising humor and a playful dynamic between the brothers.
“Finished,” I announced.
“Ready to read?”
“Yup.”
I swallowed hard and launched into the first line.
“Hyung! It’s this late, and you’re still lounging around?”
The assistant director responded, his delivery stiff.
“Ugh, quit yelling.”
“You’re not getting ready for work? Gonna let your high school senior brother starve? Dreaming of being a bum?”
The lines were short but snappy, the writer’s skill evident in how naturally they flowed.
“You’re getting naggier with age. Just get to school already.”
“You know we’ve got parent-teacher conferences today, right? Don’t forget and embarrass me. Be there on time.”
That was it for my lines in the scene.
“Hmm…”
The three across from me sat silently, nodding without a hint of reaction.
Was that bad?
I thought I nailed the everyday vibe.
I’d done light, conversational acting in promo videos and ads before, so I’d been confident in this.
“Hold on a sec,” the writer said, standing to dig through a bag and pull out another script.
“Could you try this one instead?”
“Huh?”
“It’s from later in the script. Start here,” she said, pointing to a specific section.
“It’s an emotional scene, so take a moment to get into it. Let us know when you’re ready.”
I glanced at the page and instantly understood why they’d given me extra time.
Of all the scenes… why this one?