"How are we supposed to do this?"
Was it cigarette smoke or a sigh escaping his mouth?The president of Monnette had been staring at the script for hours—no, glaring at it would be more accurate.
"President!"
"My ears are going to fall off."
He quietly set the script down.Objectively speaking, Plague wasn't exactly a flashy title.
But why, then?
Why had he picked this one first out of the mountain of scripts piled on his desk?Why was he agonizing over it like this?
"No matter how I think about it, this doesn't make sense. What's the point of having a casting director, then? Sure, other writers write with certain actors in mind, but there has to be some flexibility."
After much trouble, they'd finally found the writer—a man in his early thirties.He'd met all kinds of people in the film industry,but never someone quite this… peculiar.
"He said it's fine to use a pen name."
Aok.A strange pseudonym that meant "unknown."He insisted his identity remain completely hidden,as if there were a reason he couldn't publicly write at all.
"And if the adaptation and script adjustments are done togetherto match budget or production conditions, he's okay with that—within reason."
The employee ticked off the points on his fingers, recalling the previous meeting.
The president of Monnette simply watched in silence,then crushed his cigarette in the ashtray as if making up his mind.
"But when it comes to casting, he's stubborn as a mule. Just drop him. Sure, it's a good script, but there'll be others like it."
Even after crank-up (filming completion), success was never guaranteed.You wouldn't know until the film actually hit theaters.
There was no reason for the company to bow downduring script selection, of all stages—especially to some unknown rookie writer.
"There's no shortage of scripts, you know?"
"True, there's plenty. But this one's one of a kind."
"Every writer says that."
"See? That's why taste is such a dangerous thing."
The employee gasped.That single word explained perfectly why the president was obsessed with Plague.
"This isn't going to work! Seriously!"
"But it's good, no matter how I look at it.It fits our company's style too well.And what about Director Jin Kyung-moon?"
"Well…"
Having a renowned director attached meant several things:greater public appeal and happier investors.
"We've come this far. I say it's a chance."
They'd been pushed out of their old offices by skyrocketing rent,barely surviving in Chungmuro.Now was not the time to lose either individuality or commercial viability.To him, Plague felt like a godsend.
"Let's grab this rope and climb. Whether it's rotten or golden, we'll only know when we're up there."
"President, how are you going to handle the lineup?Can you really persuade Director Jin?I absolutely can't."
The employee waved both hands frantically.In casting decisions, a director's word was almost absolute.
"Who knows? Maybe the director will understand once he sees it."
"Oh, for heaven's sake…"
"Just set up a meeting. I'll talk to him myself.With a bit of, you know, spin."
The president smiled, forming a small circle with his fingers.He could simply frame it as an active casting suggestion from the producer,not stubbornness from the screenwriter.
"But that writer, Aok—he's something else, isn't he?I got chills when he said the actor's name.He's got an incredible sense for breathing life into characters."
He picked up a small Post-it,covered with names of actors he'd thought of while reading.Nearly all of them had been exactly who Aok had envisioned.
"I'm sure the director will agree."
It felt as if the actors had descended into their characters.With that level of synchronicity,the film's quality could only be exceptional.
"This is driving me crazy."
"Let's see… who was who again?"
With tears of resignation, the employee began listing the names.
"The child lead is Yoo Yuna."
Probably the most recognizable child actress in the industry.Only nine years old,but with a TV-producer father, she was already in her third year of acting.
"To be honest, there's no one else among child actors who could do it but Yuna."
"Yeah… I suppose not."
She wasn't just some one-off child actor with connections.She possessed an emotional depth and expressiveness no ordinary kid could manage.Critics and audiences alike praised her as a next-generation talent.
It's fortunate she was born the daughter of a producer—otherwise, we might've missed witnessing her childhood.
With that level of acting, there was no problem there.Besides, the story itself was rather… violent.
"All the more reason it has to be Yuna.She's got the experience."
"You mean The Man Next Door, right?"
"Which agency is Yuna with again? G&M?"
The producer scribbled the agency name beside her name.Once the lineup was finalized,they'd have to arrange a meeting with the agency and send the script.
"Jin is Mark. Louis is…"
"Lee Hee-jun, sir."
"Right, Lee Hee-jun. Perfect face for the role, but… hmm. Never mind."
Actors being different on and off camera wasn't exactly rare.The president swallowed his comment and twirled his pen.
"Which agency was he with again?"
"Ceiling Actors."
"Ah, Ceiling. Got it."
He wrote Ceiling next to Lee Hee-jun's name.And just then—
Bzzz. Bzzz.
"Why's my phone going off like crazy today?"
He joked as his phone vibrated wildly—then checked the caller ID and smirked.
Beep.
"Geum-dong!"
"I told you, it's Na Geum-dong!"
"I knew it was you. Every time you call, my phone screams."
Na Geum-dong, president of BigWin Entertainment.
They were birds of a feather—both running struggling companies,both mild-mannered in personality,and both ruthlessly decisive when it came to work.
"What's up? I'm in a meeting."
"I heard you found the Plague screenwriter?"
"Oh-ho, word's out already?That's a good sign, isn't it?"
Covering the receiver with his hand,the Monnette president muttered to his employee.In this industry, buzz often foreshadowed public reaction.
"So?"
"Let's grab a drink!"
A drink?The president narrowed his eyes.
When Na Geum-dong suggested drinking, there were only two reasons:
"Can't be a consolation drink—you haven't released anything lately."
That meant either poor box-office numbers, or—
"It's about casting, isn't it?"
"Let's talk it over drinks, yeah? Brother."
"Fine. I won't say no to free alcohol.Hang up for now, I've got to wrap up this meeting."
He flipped the phone face-down and picked up his pen again,drawing a neat circle around Lee Hee-jun – Ceiling Actors beside the role of Louis.
Swish.
"Check their schedule too."
"Yes, sir."
Meanwhile, Mu-yeong sat at his dorm desk,wearing a headband and flipping through the Plague script.
"What's got you studying so hard?"
"Aren't midterms over?"
Park Moon-sung and Choi Hwan, who'd just come back from dinner, froze.Their stomachs were full, and they'd planned to play a round of games—but that would be hard with Mu-yeong acting like this.
"Midterms are over."
"But what?"
"This is for my next project. I think there's going to be an audition, so I'm getting ready in advance. Huh? You guys just had barbecue, didn't you?"
"Wha—!"
Mu-yeong turned around as he spoke—his face covered in a pitch-black facial mask.
The two seniors froze against the door.
What on earth was he doing?
"The company gave it to me. They said this makes your skin super soft. You guys want to try it too?"
A special skincare session to recover from the damage midterms had done to his skin.
"I'm good, thanks. You go right ahead."
"Yeah. Just because you draw stripes on a pumpkin doesn't make it a watermelon."
"There's a lot, though."
His bag was stuffed full of masks.
Go Kyung-min had felt bad and shoved them into his hands, apologizing.
Others took their trainees to dermatologists or beauty salons—
this was all she could offer him instead.
"So, uh… do we have to be quiet, then?
We were going to play a match. Should we head out? Is that okay?"
"No, it's fine. You can play here. I'll be practicing lines anyway."
"Oh, good. Then perfect. Hey, hurry up and log in."
"Okay, okay."
While the two seniors opened their laptops,
Mu-yeong went through the script line by line, underlining every word as he murmured it aloud.
He wanted to audition for the role of Louis,
but just in case, he was memorizing every character's dialogue.
"Pollen doesn't fall for no reason."
It was an opportunity he had to seize.
In the past, he'd only gotten a few cut lines on-site for web drama auditions—
but this time, he already had the entire script in his hands.
"I've got to do everything I can."
Every line of Louis's dialogue glowed under fluorescent highlighter.
Each roommate immersed himself in his own task within the dorm room.
A few minutes later—
"Yeah! Supplies drop! Any helmets? Oh, nice! Got one!"
"Hand that over. I've only got level-one."
"Wait! Back off! That's FG property!"
Creak.
Bong-gun opened the door to a scene of pure chaos.
Two guys screaming into their headsets mid-battle,
and Mu-yeong rehearsing his lines.
If the neighbors complained, they'd have no defense.
"What the hell—have you all lost it?"
The two gamers didn't even hear him,
and Mu-yeong was so absorbed that he didn't notice Bong-gun's arrival.
"Lock down the zone? So what? Does that make this any less Korea?
The door will open eventually—and when it does, all of you will be executed!"
He muttered to the empty wall, eyes locked in concentration.
Bong-gun sat down quietly, watching him.
With each line, Mu-yeong's tone, rhythm, and expression changed completely—
as if flipping channels between different people.
"Executed? Bullshit. We'll all be dead before that."
"That's what you think! That's your hope!"
"Shut up and hand it over!"
Bong-gun's mouth slowly fell open.
He was speaking fast, matching the script's rhythm perfectly—
yet his delivery never faltered.
Two? No, three distinct voices, switching flawlessly in real time.
"Have you forgotten what the government said?
It's a plague! We shouldn't be fighting each other—we need to gather the infected and—"
"You idiot! You actually believe that!?"
Even without the script in hand, the context was clear—
the tension, the mood, the emotional flow, the scene itself.
Bong-gun clicked his tongue in disbelief.
"He's a genius. That crazy bastard."
It was insane—
he was portraying three characters using only his face and voice,
not even moving his body—
and all while wearing that ridiculous black facial mask.
Still…
"You said you're with FG, right? Tell me the truth, now. That gas—what the hell is it—"
"Whoa, wait. Hold on, Mu-yeong."
Bong-gun, startled by the line he just heard, grabbed the boy's shoulder.
"Uwaaaah!"
"Whoa!"
Both of them screamed, falling backward.
Mu-yeong clutched his racing heart and looked up at Bong-gun,
as if he'd appeared out of thin air.
Then he peeled off the now-dried mask, pouting.
"Hyung, don't sneak up on me like that. You scared me."
"You scared me, more like."
"The mask? It looks weird, but they said it's really effective."
"Not that, you idiot!"
Bong-gun pointed at the script in his hands.
"Where did you get that?"
"This script? It's the one for that new project I mentioned…"
"I think I've heard of this before."
He remembered someone from the Seoul University Theater Club sharing something similar.
It had been a draft, and they'd lost contact afterward.
"The main character—he's got a burn scar on his wrist, right?"
"Uh… yeah. There's a line that sort of mentions that."
"Damn, it's the same one. I thought he'd dropped it after going quiet,
but I guess he kept writing. Then what about that brown-haired guy he hangs out with—does he show up?"
"The guy he hangs out with? Louis? Louis has brown hair?"
"I think that's how we set it up back when we made the characters…"
Bong-gun yanked the script out of his hands and started reading.
Mu-yeong tugged at his sleeve, eyes wide.
"Hyung. Tell me about this. What is it?
Do you… know the writer Aok?"