This guy’s got a death wish.
Hyungkyu glared at me like he wanted to kill me for volunteering to take the male lead role in a project everyone was avoiding.
Sorry, but what can I do when I really want to try it?
It was an open spot for the male lead, and I was tempted.
I genuinely believed I could pull it off.
“…I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’ll work.”
But the director rejected me coldly.
“Why not?”
Surprisingly, it was Hyungkyu who immediately questioned the rejection.
“Well… Hyunjae’s acting is great, really great. But the overseas investors who haven’t pulled out want a male actor with mass appeal.”
“I heard most of those high-profile actors already turned it down.”
“Well, yeah, but…”
They’d sent the script to every notable actor, but it got rejected across the board.
“Mass appeal is important, but shouldn’t finding an actor who fits the project come first?”
Hyungkyu, who’d been against me taking the lead just moments ago, was now arguing with the director.
“That’s true, but you know we can’t ignore the investors.”
“You’re a capable director, aren’t you~?”
“It’s a tough situation right now. But I promise I’ll give Hyunjae extra attention and guarantee his screen time!”
“I was going to stop him because the lead role’s such a burden, but what can I do when he fits the role so perfectly?”
A slight back-and-forth ensued between the director and Hyungkyu, and I seized the moment to speak up.
“Director, you’re stressed about finding a new writer and a male lead, right?”
“Uh… yeah?”
The director looked at me, wondering what I was getting at.
“I have a way to solve both problems at once. Want to hear it?”
“At once?”
The director’s interest was piqued at the idea of solving these impossible issues in one go.
“What is it?”
“And it’s a way to satisfy the investors’ demand for mass appeal too.”
If this worked as I said, it’d be a perfect win.
“What’s that?”
I started explaining, and the director was floored by an idea he’d never considered.
“Hey! How could you just blurt out you’ll take the male lead?!”
The moment we parted ways with the director, Hyungkyu scolded me, despite having backed me up earlier.
“You said I was perfect for the role.”
“What was I supposed to say in front of the director? ‘No! My kid’s not doing it! We can’t put him in a project like this!’?”
“CEO, are you really okay settling for the supporting male lead? We need to climb fast when we can.”
“Ugh, you talk a good game. But if you do this, are you confident? The male lead isn’t just any role.”
It came with immense pressure and countless responsibilities, but it was a position I’d have to reach eventually, and the sooner, the better.
“If the drama flops, you’ll take the blame. Leading the entire show is a whole different beast from popping in for a scene.”
“I know. Don’t worry.”
I was 100%—no, 200%—confident.
No one understood Lee Kangha better than I did.
“Is this real confidence or just youthful bravado…?”
“You’ve seen me so far. I’m not some reckless fool.”
“That’s exactly why I’m worried. It’s not even a surefire project, and there’s no writer, yet you’re so eager to jump in.”
“It’s an opportunity. You’ve got to seize opportunities.”
The original webtoon was a massive hit, not just in Korea but overseas too.
That’s why the overseas investors hadn’t pulled out despite the chaos.
If it’s that popular… it’ll definitely get attention overseas.
With K-dramas and K-movies gaining global traction, if it caught on abroad, it’d be impossible to ignore in Korea.
How could I let this chance slip?
This might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
“We’ll see what the director does.”
“He’ll definitely go with my plan. There’s no other way.”
This was probably the only way to resolve the crisis in one shot.
“Even so, is there a writer who could adapt it that quickly?”
“No need to look far. There’s someone who knows this project better than anyone.”
Hyungkyu caught on to what I meant.
“Will that person do it?”
“Of course. They just need a little push, and they’ll nail it.”
They lacked confidence and had been overshadowed, but they had a clear vision for the story and a perfect grasp of its structure.
“Then who’s going to give them that push?”
***
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
Hyerim awkwardly greeted me.
Why does he want to meet me?
With the head writer dropping the project, there was no connection left, so why was he reaching out?
“What would you like to drink?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“How about an Americano?”
“Sure.”
I handed her the drink and sat across from her.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks. But how did you get my contact info?”
Since we’d only met once, she skipped the small talk and went straight to the point.
“I asked a writer we worked with before.”
“Oh~”
The drama writing world was small—most things could be sorted out within three degrees.
“That writer said you’re incredibly diligent, hardworking, and talented.”
“Oh… no, I’m not talented…”
If she was talented, she’d have debuted by now. She was tired of empty flattery.
“I heard you left your teacher’s team.”
Hyerim quickly clarified, in case I was about to bring up work.
“I heard. I thought you were just dropping Love Some, but you quit entirely.”
“It just happened.”
“Don’t you feel reluctant about Love Some?”
Of course she did. How could she not?
It was her work.
But there was nothing she could do about it.
“It can’t be helped.”
The project was out of her hands, and her name wasn’t even on it to begin with.
“I know. You wrote all of Love Some.”
“How… did you know?”
No one had noticed her behind the head writer, yet he saw through it.
“Anyone could tell after talking about the project a bit.”
Even during our brief meeting, her detailed questions about the project stood out.
She was different.
He’s an actor who sees things.
But that was it.
“Thanks for recognizing that.”
It didn’t change anything just because a rookie actor noticed.
“It’s time for you to debut as a writer.”
“Huh? Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“How am I supposed to debut?”
Years of effort hadn’t gotten her there—how could it happen now?
Still, a faint spark stirred deep inside.
“I’ll help you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I joined this project because of your script. So you’ve got to take responsibility.”
His words didn’t sound like a joke or empty bravado, so she grew curious.
***
“How?”
“You’ve got the talent.”
“Me?”
“You can do it.”
How could she have talent or do it when she hadn’t debuted in years?
What is he talking about…
As Hyerim struggled to understand, a message from the junior assistant writer popped up.
[Unnie! Did you hear about Love Some? Huge news!]
[Love Some without Ji Seojin to hold open auditions for male lead!]
[Finding Jung Hayoon’s first love! Male lead open audition planned]
[Searching for the adaptation writer for hit webtoon Love Some!]
Articles announced open auditions for the male lead and a public contest for the writer.
Huh? Open auditions? Out of nowhere?
└ Heard casting was done except for Seojin’s spot—what’s this?
└ Wow! Sounds fun!
└ The back half of Love Some goes off the rails with no substance—why are they dramatizing it?
└ └ Don’t diss my favorite webtoon!
└ └ └ I’m watching it, so shut up.
└ What’s an open audition like?
└ └ They pick finalists, post a 5-minute acting clip on YouTube, and choose based on likes and views.
└ └ └ Won’t that get low views? Doesn’t that just favor whoever promotes better?
└ └ └ └ Exactly. It’s probably rigged anyway.
└ └ └ └ └ Remember that historical drama? They did an open audition but swapped it out when they didn’t like the result.
Half the reactions were excited about the open audition, while the other half thought it was pointless since no one would care.
“Burn brighter.”
Whether positive or negative, the buzz was a win, and the articles about Seojin and Hayoon’s scandal were quickly overshadowed by audition news.
“Hyunjae, I booked the studio as you said. You should head there by 3.”
“Thanks.”
“You really look like you stepped out of the webtoon…”
“Really? It’s okay?”
To fit Kangha’s role, I dyed my hair brown and wore a neat shirt and slacks to match his vibe.
“Yeah, it suits you.”
“Good.”
“So you’re all set?”
“Of course~”
I’d already planned the scene to perform and how to shoot the video.
“Everything’s ready. Oh! One thing’s missing.”
“What?”
“A cameraman! Brother, film me.”
“Me? I can’t do that…”
Hayoon waved his hands, refusing.
“You take great photos. You can do it.”
“What if I mess it up…”
“It’s fine. Just hold the camera. No technical skills needed.”
“Still…”
“Come on, let’s go!”
I dragged Hayoon to the reserved studio, which had just a white backdrop and a desk.
“Isn’t the background too plain? Other teams will shoot in prettier places…”
“It’s fine. This is enough.”
“Really?”
The background didn’t matter—plain was better to keep the focus on me.
“Ahem, brother, I’m starting.”
“Alright, rolling~ One, two, three.”
At Hayoon’s signal, my one-man show began in front of the camera.