Free Web Novel* * *
On the second floor of the <Do It and It Works> Action Academy, Kwak Cheolsik leaned against the railing and looked down.
“Your speed’s dropping! Again!”
Kang Hanseong’s voice thundered through the space. At that command, Yeoreum—breathing hard—immediately reset her stance.
“Look at that, seriously...”
Even from a distance, you could tell she was gritting her teeth. Her movements and speed—honestly, it was something the editing team could’ve smoothed over later.
It was her first time doing action, and with the revised script, no one would blame an actor for not pulling off a perfect 100%.
“Hey! You little punk!!!”
Kwak Cheolsik’s half-laughing shout dropped down to the first floor. Yeoreum looked up at the sound.
“You bastard! Stop wrecking your body!”
When she saw him, Yeoreum smiled and waved. Her sweat-soaked hair clung to her forehead.
How many hours had it been already? After focusing nonstop without rest, her entire face glistened with sweat.
“Senior, how’s my action?”
Kwak Cheolsik shouted back.
“Yeah! It’s usable, you punk! So don’t overdo it! What, does your body belong to <Unfair Trade>? Huh?!”
He remembered the first day Yeoreum came to the academy years ago.
Back then, she had come to loosen up her body before starting 〈Strange Tales〉. She had moved like her feet barely touched the ground, embodying Seoryeong perfectly.
“You think <Faster Than the Law> is a joke? You think you’ll just film that and call it a day?”
Now, the Yeoreum who had learned to control her body properly... wasn’t Seoryeong anymore.
She was Lee Seohae.
Kwak Cheolsik finally understood why, out of all people, she had chosen Kang Hanseong—and why she had asked him not to go easy on her at all.
“Our filming schedule’s out?”
“Yeah, punk. Time to run yourself into the ground—just the way you like it!”
An IQ 160 genius sociopath.
In desperate situations, even when facing a criminal alone, Lee Seohae never stopped thinking in the most efficient way possible.
“So if you get hurt while filming <Unfair Trade>, you’re dead! Got it? If you’re out, we have to redo the entire schedule!”
Lee Seohae aimed relentlessly for the opponent’s eyes.
If even one clean hit landed, their movements would collapse afterward.
It was the most critical weak point.
She threw punches toward places ordinary people would instinctively avoid.
“See you on set!”
At that moment, Kwak Cheolsik found himself thinking the same thing as Yun Hyeonjo.
Someday, Han Yeoreum would come to dominate the screen.
* * *
This place, with the Taegeuk emblem shining beside the organization’s name, was the Broadcasting Media Communications Commission.
An elite among elites, the SBC Director did not shrink even in front of that imposing symbol.
‘They’ll have to acknowledge the public interest and social exposure.’
He had been summoned here because of the 2002 World Cup issue in 〈Unfair Trade〉, but he wasn’t afraid.
They hadn’t explicitly named any institution, nor had they presented false information as fact. There was nothing that could be judged as seriously damaging the honor of a national body.
“Once you’re a director, you’ve got to take a hit at least once so your people can breathe easier! When you come back, you’ll understand the heart of a father who went to prison in place of his child.”
The KBC Director’s words echoed in his ears.
‘Prison...’
An elite who had never even stepped into a staff office in his life, the SBC Director took a deep breath and opened the door.
A solemn, cold atmosphere was waiting for him.
“You’re here. Please, have a seat.”
Three stern-looking middle-aged men nodded from across the table. The SBC Director bowed politely and sat down.
“As stated in the official notice we sent, the Football Association has quite a number of complaints about SBC’s 〈Unfair Trade〉.”
“I understa—”
He almost said something else.
“...I am aware.”
“They’re saying, ‘Take down that clip from Intube, the negative image is spreading uncontrollably and damaging the reputation of Korean football. If female attendance drops at stadiums because of this, how will you compensate for it?’”
“...Are they serious?”
“Excuse me? What did you just say?”
“I said, I understand.”
“...Did you?”
His composure, befitting an elite, was flawless. The committee members, completely fooled, continued.
“Ahem. The main broadcast has already aired, so that can’t be helped. But for reruns and third broadcasts, cut out every single mention of the World Cup—entirely.”
The SBC Director clenched his right hand.
That was the kind of thinking only people who didn’t understand broadcasting could have. If that context was removed, the entire work would fall apart.
So this was the moment to push back—
“...However.”
He suddenly stood up, only to freeze at the next words.
“Do you know where you are? This is the # Nоvеlight # Broadcasting Media Communications Commission.”
“Not the Football Media Communications Commission.”
“That’s why we called you here today—to issue a simple warning. A friendly one. So... why did you stand up?”
“My leg fell asleep for a moment.”
And then he saw it.
“I see. In any case, thank you for taking the time to come.”
“So regarding the clip removal and re-editing...?”
“You don’t need to do any of that. If you cut it, the narrative flow breaks, doesn’t it?”
On their wrists—
GLX watches.
‘And that tablet too?’
On the desk sat a GLX tablet PC.
In that instant, he felt the influence of Sansung.
The SBC Director walked out.
“Prison...”
That had been far too fast.
He stared blankly at the wall clock. It hadn’t even been five minutes.
Lee Seohae—no, Han Yeoreum—had won over even the Commission.
He pulled out his phone and made a call.
“Go ahead. Do whatever you want.”
To Director Park of 〈Unfair Trade〉.
* * *
“Aw, Yeoreum, how are you feeling today?”
“I’m fine... I was only in and out between takes. But Director, you didn’t go home yesterday either?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? Right... you don’t need to know...”
Did I just hear the word “Director” being whispered somewhere? Maybe I imagined it.
I greeted Shin Seojin, who had arrived earlier.
“Senior, you’re fully recovered, right? You didn’t hurt yourself again?”
“I’m completely fine.”
For the transition from Episode 9 to Episode 10—where Shin Seojin’s action was required—we filmed the same scene in two parts.
We pushed his action scenes as far back as possible, then inserted them into already edited footage.
In the drama, it was only a few seconds apart.
In reality, Shin Seojin filmed days later.
And when I saw his action—
‘Good thing it wasn’t in the same episode.’
If my action had come first and his appeared seconds later, all my effort would’ve been buried instantly.
‘At least I got the Episode 9 ending...’
Tomorrow was Monday—the day Episode 9 of 〈Unfair Trade〉 would air.
And I was about to finish my final shoot.
“Okay! Great work, everyone!”
Finally, Lee Seohae’s scenes were done.
Even after the “okay” sign, I couldn’t get up for a while.
Then, behind me—
“Congratulations on your final shoot—”
“Congrats on wrapping—”
I turned my head.
A white cake, candles lit on top.
“Happy final shoot, dear Seohae—”
Shin Seojin, now sitting beside me, clapped along as he sang. Our eyes met—his warm, smiling gaze.
“Congratulations.”
“You really worked so hard, Yeoreum!”
“Haven’t you lost too much weight?”
“You’re free now! Eat everything you want!”
“Aw... it’s sad to say goodbye to Lee Seohae like this, but we’re not done forever, so why is everyone acting like this already?”
“We still have the wrap party. And you know... the year-end awards.”
The year-end awards.
There was no way 〈Unfair Trade〉 wouldn’t win something.
At this rate, unless something unexpected happened in Q4, we might be the team standing closest to the stage.
“You’ve worked so hard. I’m really glad Lee Seohae was you.”
Director Park pulled me into a hug.
Behind us, someone shouted—
“The candles are melting! Blow them out already! Director, move!”
I blew out the nearly melted candles.
White smoke curled upward.
“Let’s take a picture and wrap this up nicely!”
“Yeah. Honestly, anyone would think Yeoreum’s the main character. Taking everything for herself? I’m hurt.”
Shin Seojin dabbed cream from the cake onto the tip of my nose.
For a moment, we spoke without words.
‘Senior...’ fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
‘Yeoreum...’
‘I’ll repay you at the wrap party...’
‘Thank you...’
As expected of the perfect gentleman, Shin Seojin.
He knew exactly which angle made things cutest in photos.
“...He’s forcing me into the ‘I had no choice but to take a picture like this’ situation.”
“Taking the shot! Ready!”
One, two, three—
Click.
“You know this is a spoiler, right? Don’t post it yet.”
“Of course, senior. Later... at the wrap party.”
“Ah... I didn’t even get a genuine reaction from you in the end.”
He sent me the photo, sounding a bit regretful.
On the screen—staff, Director Park, Shin Seojin, and me, smiling brightly while holding the cake.
“There’s always next time.”
“Yeah. Next time.”
He pressed the elevator button for me.
“Let’s meet again higher up. When we can take everything—even without Ji Haebeom.”
So he felt it too—the overwhelming power of Ji Haebeom’s name.
“Obviously.”
The elevator doors closed, cutting off his wave.
Higher up.
Gam Seonghwan’s final line echoed in my chest, stirring something inside Lee Seohae.
I left the set, carrying both relief and lingering emotion.
Now, 〈Unfair Trade〉 was entering a near real-time shooting schedule.
But I wasn’t worried.
Because of the way Shin Seojin had smiled—just like Gam Seonghwan.
“Yeoreum, are you that happy the shoot is over?”
“...That too.”
I answered Manager Choi as I opened the car window.
The heat of summer had faded, and the cool autumn wind brushed against my face.
“But more than that...”
I smiled.
“I’m really looking forward to the year-end, unnie.”
〈Youth Disqualified!〉 with Na Yuna at MBS.
〈Unfair Trade〉 with Lee Seohae at SBC.
And finally, the Baekryong Film Awards for 〈Faster Than the Law〉.
Just imagining the trophies engraved with my name made my heart start racing.
