God of Ad-libs

A gigantic set somewhere in Gyeonggi Province.

Amid the bustling activity of crew members setting up Jimmy Jibs and cameras, others hurriedly carried various boxes back and forth. A team unrolled a freshly delivered 20-meter green screen, occasionally stealing curious glances in a particular direction.

“Lee Taegyu. Let’s just watch him act for now.”

“If you start dragging in just anyone, what’s the point of holding a closed audition? I looked him up—couldn’t even find a single credit to his name.”

“His acting’s incredible. He’s great at ad-libbing, too.”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

Tensions had been brewing all morning between the main PD and the writer.

“The list is already finalized, and now you want to change it? This is overstepping your boundaries. Ignoring the casting director like this—what even is this?”

Of course, casting actors suited to roles is typically the casting director’s job, especially in a closed audition like this one.

“Is it really so hard to just give him a number and let him audition? If he’s not a fit after you watch him, then fine, don’t cast him.”

“No.”

“For god’s sake, I’m the writer of this!”

“Then go write. You still have the latter episodes to finish, don’t you, writer-nim?”

Frankly, in a typical writer-producer relationship, there was no reason for such a hard no. It wasn’t uncommon for writers to recommend actors during auditions, even in a closed setting.

However.

The crew wasn’t particularly fazed by this scene for two reasons.

“Still—”

First, Gwak Inho had earned a reputation as a washed-up writer after a string of flops in recent years. Second, his relationship with PD Ji Cheolgeun wasn’t the usual writer-producer dynamic.

“Hyung, cut it out! You promised not to meddle with casting in this project!”

They were personally close.

That’s right.

Gwak Inho’s hit drama Hell of Distrust had been directed by none other than PD Ji, who had briefly elevated his standing in the industry because of it. The two had grown close afterward, forming a big-brother-little-brother bond.

“You even promised the department director! Why are you doing this now?”

“Can’t you do me this one little favor?”

“This is a closed audition! The production report will need the name of whoever recommended the actor—what do you expect me to do?”

“Can’t you just fake that part?”

“The audition process is being filmed, hyung. Everything will be on the making-of footage! Why would I risk getting caught?”

“Let’s be real—if the ratings come out strong, even the director won’t care—”

“If you want good ratings, get me the scripts for the final episodes already!”

PD Ji Cheolgeun’s voice grew increasingly sharp.

Though there wasn’t really a need to raise his voice, he couldn’t help but think of the “gift” he’d received from DK Entertainment’s Do Yunseop in connection with the Oh Daebak role.

‘I can’t afford to get tangled up in more complications.’

Gwak Inho.

The eccentric whose bizarre antics at casting sessions had long since become industry legend.

Foot in the door.

If you gave him an inch, he’d push and push until he’d taken a mile. PD Ji knew that about him all too well.

“We haven’t worked on a drama together in forever, so can’t you—”

“Goddammit, hyung! This is why everyone keeps calling you an oblivious has-been!”

“…!”

The atmosphere froze instantly.

Shit.

He hadn’t meant to take it that far, but his irritation had boiled over.

Well, it didn’t matter.

PD Ji had already abandoned his dreams of retiring as a CP (Chief Producer) at SBC Drama Department a long time ago. Besides, he was practically guaranteed to move to DK Entertainment next year.

He was leaving after this project, anyway.

“Do I look like an easy target? Do you still see me as that Ji Cheolgeun who used to mooch soju off you?”

“Hey—”

“Get a grip! Do you even realize where you stand right now? You think this script is actually good because people are humoring you? No! The moment your back is turned, they’re all mocking you! Don’t you get that?!”

Honestly, even if the final episodes weren’t yet complete, Ji Cheolgeun knew the script so far was solid.

But still.

There’s a reason people say guilt makes you defensive.

“Wait. Hyung, you didn’t… take something, did you?”

“What?”

“You’ve been saying times are tough lately. Don’t tell me you…!”

“Son of a bitch!”

Before Ji could finish, Gwak Inho’s fist slammed into his face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

In an instant, the two were tangled on the floor, rolling around and covered in dust, while staff members swarmed in like bees to break them apart.

“Writer Gwak! This isn’t right!”

“Hey, grab Writer Gwak! Hurry!”

“And someone grab the PD too! What are you all doing?!”

As the crew struggled to hold them back, Gwak Inho and Ji Cheolgeun, both red-faced, shouted at each other like madmen.

“Flapping your mouth without knowing shit, huh?”

“Oh, now you’re hitting me?!”

“After everything I’ve done for you—”

“There it is! There it is! Still stuck in the past, huh? When are you going to move on? You’re over forty years old and still living in the glory days!”

Ji’s temper, already boiling, exploded after being struck. His words, sharper than any fist, cut into Gwak Inho like a blade.

“And when was the last time you had a hit, hyung? Everything’s flopped since! If you love tanking so much, why don’t you open a soup stall, damn it? And don’t even get me started on the leads in all those projects—weren’t they all people you pushed in?!”

“They were all good actors!”

“And, of course, nothing is ever your fault, is it?!”

“What the hell was I supposed to do when those kids got replaced midway for drunk driving or school bullying scandals?!”

“Fine, fine! Then what about this Lee Taegyu guy? How much did you take?”

“You tell me first—why can’t he even attend the audition? Is it because of Kim Hwan? Are you scared the guy I picked might outshine him?”

Even so, their fury hadn’t subsided.

That rage, aimed at sealing off every possible opening, ultimately created a tiny crack in the audition process for the role of Oh Daebak.

“…Fine!”

And just like that—

“Fine! Bring him in! Bring Lee Taegyu, or anyone else you want! Call all your little pet actors here, and I’ll show everyone that you’ve lost your touch!”

“You ready for the humiliation, kid?”

“Oh, cut the crap. Let’s make a bet while we’re at it! If I’m letting this slide, you better have the guts to put something on the line!”

“Fine, let’s bet! What do you want? Name it!”

“Then—”

The stage was set for a head-to-head acting showdown between the mysterious Lee Taegyu and the idol-turned-actor, rookie Kim Hwan.

***

Vroooom━

A large van sped down the highway.

“Yes, understood. Ad-lib focused, got it, yes.”

The road manager, who had just finished a phone call in the driver’s seat, was met with a question from Kim Hwan, seated in the back.

“Who was that?”

“Ah, it was PD Cheolgeun from Monster City.”

“What did he want?”

“He said you might be asked to ad-lib during the audition, so he told you to get a better grasp of the role and practice harder.”

“What? I thought I was already a lock for the role.”

“They’re probably just going through the motions for the audition. Just do what you usually do—show them what you’ve got.”

“Ugh, my usual vibe is totally different from Oh Daebak.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a perfect fit for Oh Daebak.”

“Oh, please. I’m such a model citizen. Isn’t that right, noona?”

In a playful tone, Kim Hwan addressed the stylist sitting in the passenger seat, who turned her head to smile at him.

“From what I see, Hwan, you’re totally Oh Daebak.”

“Pfft. Come on, noona. You’re breaking the heart of this righteous man.”

“Hehe.”

“I said, you’re hurting my feelings.”

“Huh?”

“Noona.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I said, you’re hurting my feelings.”

Suddenly, the mood inside the van grew cold.

The stylist’s pupils trembled as she looked at Kim Hwan, still wearing his sunglasses but now staring directly at her. She stammered, trying to apologize with a flustered expression.

“S-sorry, Hwan. I was just joking—”

“What, you think a dressing me up in a few rags puts us on the same level?”

“Hwan, stop.”

“It’s fun, huh? Riding around with a successful celebrity, hanging out here and there. Freeloading off someone else’s life while cracking jokes like we’re equals.”

“Watch your mouth.”

The road manager, still driving, warned him, but Kim Hwan only flashed a mischievous grin in response.

“Hyung, don’t you feel sorry for her? Some people value joking around with a celebrity over actual opportunities to improve their sad little lives.”

“Hey.”

“That noona was snapping selfies like crazy at the rest stop earlier. Guess showing off that she works with a celebrity is the most important thing in her life. That’s why she’ll never escape her ordinary existence.”

“Cut it out, you little punk!”

As tears began to stream down the stylist’s face, sniffles could be heard from the passenger seat.

“How was that? Pretty fitting, huh?”

“Sniff… huh?”

“Relax, relax! Noona, it’s just a joke! Ad-lib practice, you know?”

Kim Hwan laughed, reaching out to wipe the mascara smudged under her eyes.

“Ah, why are you crying? You know I love you. It’s not real, right? I even said I wanted to try a crazy role like this. You know, the kind of role that makes those weird fangirls who only care about looks run away.”

“Apologize.”

“Hyung, why so serious? Didn’t you just tell me to practice ad-libs?”

“Hey.”

“Okay, okay, noona, I’m sorry! Really, it was totally my bad. Let’s grab something delicious at the next rest stop, alright?”

“Haa…”

Letting out a deep sigh, the road manager thought to himself.

He wished this arrogant little bastard would completely bomb the upcoming audition.

But he also knew that wasn’t likely.

In this industry, talent trumps all.

“Should I keep acting like Oh Daebak until we get to the rest stop? I just came up with a few ad-libs about gambling addiction!”

Unfortunately, this kid had undeniable acting talent.

***

Step, step━

Lee Taegyu stepped out of a shabby motel in Kangwon Province.

It was already past noon.

Dammit. He had spent the entire train ride up to midnight suffering from stomach cramps and had collapsed into a motel near the station as soon as he arrived.

‘I should probably lay off LA galbi for a while…’

He staggered forward, his steps unsteady.

Step, step.

He’d come here to track down the Dokkaebi Flames for his role, but with the LA galbi’s ambush being so fierce, this was the first time he was able to actually take in the scenery around him.

Step, step.

To get there, he’d heard it was fastest to catch a taxi from somewhere around here. Squatting on the sidewalk leading up the hill, Lee Taegyu glanced over to the other side.

There, across the way, stood the station he had exited the previous night.

The station’s name was written boldly on its sign—a name that anyone dabbling in the ‘legal’ card-playing scene in Korea would recognize instantly.

[Sabuk Station]

That’s right.

Lee Taegyu had arrived in the early hours of the morning.

“Phew.”

The traditional mecca of gambling addicts—

Kangwon Land.