Chapter 35: New Stage

Too many cooks spoil the broth, and with so much to say, we forgot our main goal.

“There’s a request for a special appearance in a movie,” CEO Min Ja-young said.

“With YoungYoung’s shooting schedule delayed, you have time. A movie cameo doesn’t seem bad.”

The YoungYoung schedule got pushed back, leaving me free.

“Which movie?”

“Well…”

She sighed, rummaging through a pile of scripts and screenplays.

“It’s called Monster Class. Where’d I put it?”

The words Monster Class stopped me cold.

“Monster Class?”

“Yeah. Its fresh premise suits you.”

“Why me?”

“Director Shin Yi-sang loved your intense acting in Prosecutor’s Saga, and writer Yoo Hye-jung liked you in Save Me.”

Years later, Monster War, a Netflix hit that created a legion of drama fans, would air. That drama was a prequel to this movie.

In my past life, Monster Class didn’t succeed commercially but was praised as a gem among movie buffs.

It flopped because the director tried to say too much. But Monster War, covering the movie’s backstory, gained traction through word-of-mouth.

‘Why me, though?’

I found the Monster Class screenplay on the floor.

“Got it.”

“That’s it.”

Fixing her messy hair, Min Ja-young summarized the plot.

Written by Kim In-hye over three years, it’s set 30 years after a zombie virus devastates the world. On a small island, a new hybrid species of zombies and humans emerges. The story follows their struggle for social acceptance, disrupted by an invasion from a human cult, “Hessler,” that despises them.

“For your cameo, you’d play the protagonist at the time the virus first hit, 30 years ago.”

Meaning…

“If you do Monster Class, they’re considering you for the prequel drama in development.”

The lead in Monster War. My head nearly exploded with joy.

A tightly crafted hit that had fans begging for a second season.

“But if it’s too much, you can decline.”

“…Decline?”

“Yeah, it’d be a shame. Too much! I’d go crazy. Even I think so.”

Eyes wide, Min Ja-young clutched her hair in mock agony.

“I see it. This project? It’ll blow up.”

“Why?”

“Zombies, a foreign staple, landing in Korea—that’s the draw.”

Does she have a knack for spotting hits? Korean dramas rarely tackled zombies due to weak CG. They couldn’t.

But the world moves fast. Writers loved zombies, even if the genre was avoided.

Monster War struggled to find CG talent, and networks shied away from its massive budget.

Yet Netflix saw the script and invested—based on the script alone.

‘There’s a catch.’

The original Monster War lead was male—Song Heo-jun, not a female.

Am I stealing his spot?

Then Seo-eun unnie spoke.

“They were eyeing a male lead before you. Song Heo-jun, from Save Me.”

“….”

“But he declined.”

“…He declined?”

‘Song Heo-jun declined?’

Monster War was a phenomenon, a Pied Piper in drama fandom. I’d read interviews and behind-the-scenes stuff.

Song Heo-jun always said he was glad he didn’t turn it down.

‘And yet…’

My presence changed the future again.

“Why? He had no reason to decline.”

“He’s shooting a genre piece now. A zombie one.”

I frantically searched “Song Heo-jun” on my phone.

[Song Heo-jun, not modern drama but genre? Showcasing acting in zombie flick.]
[Zombies finally hit Korea! Starring Song Heo-jun.]

He’s really doing a zombie project. This was a red carpet for me. No loss.

My conscience couldn’t justify declining when the future looked so bright.

Monster War hit Netflix’s global real-time top spot. Its actors were invited abroad.

“Bada-ya, declining the cameo?”

“No.”

Who has that kind of conscience? If everyone lived my past life, they’d toss conscience to the dogs. Why can’t I?

“I’ll do it.”

“When’s the Monster Class shoot?”

“It’s a small part, so it won’t take long.”

Small role, short time.

‘Even if regression bites me, I’m fine.’

No wonder novels and films obsess over regression. My reason for wanting Monster War?

‘I loved the character.’

The lead was a shaman. I was drawn to that role.

Opening the Monster Class screenplay, a sub-quest flashed.

[Sub-Quest Activated.]

[Sub-Quest: Make an impression on Jo Jang-hee in Monster Class]

[Reward: 1 Point]

‘…Why Jo Jang-hee?’

She’d be filming The Tormented Him and the Happy Her now, not a movie.

I searched her name. No confirmed articles about Monster Class, but…

[(Monster Class) Jo Jang-hee? In Monster Class?]
(MonsterClass_Shoot_Location_Photo.jpg)

‘Saw Jo Jang-hee at an abandoned factory near my house.’

A community post confirmed she was in it.

“…Haha.”

Climb one mountain, another appears.

★★★

Days later, at the Monster Class set.

Waiting in the car, I thought of Jo Jang-hee.

Jo Jang-hee. Her name alone sparks “acting genius” praise. A powerhouse performer.

Noir? Comedy? Historical? She nails them. Even shines in variety shows, known for her humor.

Her dramas hit #1 ratings. In films, “Jo Jang-hee means a million viewers” is a saying. She recently broke ten million with a historical movie.

But her personality? Dog-level awful. Not a good dog—a badly behaved one. The industry’s top temper.

If a co-star’s acting is weak, she’ll tear them apart, nitpicking every detail, plunging them into feedback hell.

This led to rookie actors refusing to work with her. Her co-star changed five times once.

‘She didn’t remember me.’

After being pushed out of The Tormented Him and the Happy Her, I met her in another project.

She didn’t recall me. Instead, she praised my extra work. Said I acted well. Hilarious.

I was just a passerby to her.

“Bada-ya, get ready. When you see Jo Jang-hee, just greet her—don’t get involved.”

“…I won’t get involved.”

“Got it? I’m scared. What if she targets you?”

“She wouldn’t, right?”

Before entering the set, Seo-eun unnie pleaded.

Don’t get tangled with Jo Jang-hee. Since I’m close to Tae Jin-hwa, she might pick on me.

“Don’t worry.”

“I’m worried.”

I pushed the car’s curtain aside, looking out. Staff bustled, but in a corner, Jo Jang-hee held a script, berating a woman.

“Hey! Hey!”

“…..”

“Can you act like that and call yourself an actor? Even an extra would do better.”

“…I’m sorry.”

I take back saying she was kind to me.

‘Even extras get this if they’re bad.’

My acting must’ve satisfied her then.

“If you can’t act, quit. How many NGs because of you?”

“…I’m sorry!”

The woman kept bowing, apologizing.

“Sorry to me? What about my wasted time? Who’ll compensate that?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Stop it. Are you a recorder? That’s all you say? You’re giving me a nervous breakdown!”

Despite the noise, nearby staff turned away, pretending not to see.

‘Not their first time.’

Jo Jang-hee sighed deeply, looking at the clear sky.

“I’m a busy woman, shooting a drama. No time for practice.”

“……”

“You, with all your free time, should act better than me! If you NG again, I won’t hold back.”

“……”

“Do better before I ask the director to replace you with another extra.”

Her words hit like tank shells, bringing tears to the woman’s eyes.

“Why’re you crying?”

“……”

“What’s so great about you? This is why kids raised spoiled cry over nothing. Tsk.”

Going out now would draw her attention, so I stayed in the car.

“Ha! Feels good!”

Jo Jang-hee looked refreshed, like she could fly.

“…Manager!”

Her manager rushed over.

“Yes, noona! What do you need?”

“That.”

“Right away!”

The manager dropped a bag, pulling out a paper cup and tumbler, pouring Americano.

“Here, noona.”

“You’re quick. I like that.”

“Thanks for the praise.”

I waited longer. Once Jo Jang-hee entered the set, I’d get out.

But…

“What’s that car?”

She noticed ours.

“Don’t know.”

“Don’t know? My least favorite phrase.”

“Looks like it just arrived. Not sure whose…”

“Really?”

Trouble. Holding her cup, she approached.

‘Not some curious kid.’

I set my strawberry latte on the front seat, wiping my mouth.

“Unnie, I look okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“I’ll head out?”

Erasing latte traces, I acted freshly awake and opened the door.

“Who’s this?”

Seeing her, I wasn’t scared. In my past life, her face was daunting—I was a guilty, bad actor.

Now?

‘Not scared.’

She scanned me up and down, smirking.

“Im Bada, right?”

I smiled back, matching her.

“Yes, sunbae-nim. Im Bada. Nice to meet you.”