Lee Sangman flashed a vicious smile and blew a long stream of cigarette smoke straight toward the close-up camera.
It was so close it almost felt within reach.
The thick smoke swallowed the lens, then quickly thinned.
His face changed.
The eerie smile vanished, replaced by a blank, emotionless expression.
Director Kim Dohui stared at the monitor, now filled entirely with Lee Sangman's face.
Even with soot smeared across him, the splash of Professor Kim's blood made him look grotesquely alive.
She held her breath.
'That's it.'
'His acting is insane.'
'The way he twists his face like the Joker and flips emotions instantly… it gives me chills every time.'
'He's seriously the best.'
Compared to when he first appeared, Lee Sangman now looked completely deranged.
The drugs had devoured his reason.
Yet in the middle of that madness, fragments of his former self still surfaced.
Only for a moment.
Even if he could never escape that swamp of addiction.
The instinct for freedom and the will to survive clashed and exploded in that brief instant.
Even as the director of the piece, Kim Dohui felt a chill crawl up her spine.
'How can someone express two completely opposing emotions so perfectly?'
'There's malice in his eyes… but loneliness too.'
'And the way they blend so naturally makes it even more disturbing.'
None of that had been written in the script.
That was entirely Kang Woojin's performance.
Still, there was more despair than hope in those eyes.
Everyone on set could feel it.
Lee Sangman's end was approaching.
His gaze alone hinted that death was already closing in.
Anyone watching would feel the same.
Then—
Swoosh.
After taking another long drag, Lee Sangman threw back a shot of soju in one go.
…
Director Kim Dohui leaned closer to the monitor.
"Cut! Okay, okay! That was amazing! Perfect!"
Her face lit with satisfaction as she rushed onto the set.
"Woojin! The tension was incredible. Let's go one more time just like that, but shift your focus slightly forward."
"Yes, Director."
The makeup team immediately rushed in.
Woojin had already shed Lee Sangman's presence.
They quickly touched up his makeup.
Inside—
'Wow, that was close.'
'That brick was way lighter than I expected.'
'I almost threw it too hard.'
The brick that killed Professor Kim had been a styrofoam prop.
'I need to grip it tighter.'
'If it flies too far, that's definitely an NG.'
At that moment, Park Panseo approached.
"Woojin."
"Yes, sunbae-nim."
"When you slam my head into the ground, after the third hit… what if you grab my hair and lift my face?"
Woojin looked at him.
"To check if you're alive or dead?"
"Yeah."
Park Panseo nodded, then turned to the director.
"If Lee Sangman looks at my face right before I die, I think it'll hit harder emotionally. Would that be okay?"
"That's good. I like it. Let's do it that way."
"And Woojin, when you come in from behind…"
The two actors began discussing the scene.
It didn't feel like one teaching the other.
It felt like equals refining the moment together.
Watching them, Director Kim Dohui smiled faintly.
'Woojin always had hunger for acting… but sunbae-nim looks fired up too.'
'And he's no longer treating Woojin like a rookie.'
'He's treating him as an equal actor.'
In fact, Park Panseo had said it before.
"When your emotions swing that wildly, how do you enter and exit that state so quickly?"
"…I don't have a fixed method."
"Then how?"
Woojin answered simply.
"I picture it, then let it flow through my body."
"…It's that simple?"
"Yes."
"I'm learning a lot from you. Let's do it again."
It felt good.
Very good.
Woojin soaked in the recognition.
Praise for acting—
It was different.
'This sense of achievement is insane.'
It was an addiction unlike anything else.
And filming resumed.
──────────
The scenes grew harsher.
More violent.
More real.
Yet the quality never dropped.
Park Panseo's refinements combined with Woojin's deepening performance pushed everything higher.
"You might end up boiled alive. You're going to die either way."
Take after take.
Action after action.
Lee Sangman's madness deepened.
The staff could only stare.
And then—
Director Kyotaro slowly rose to his feet.
'Yes… this is it.'
'I'm glad I came in person.'
Watching on a screen and seeing it live were completely different.
No—
He had felt it from the very first moment.
Even with part of his face hidden, Woojin's eyes shone unmistakably.
'He's a rookie actor.'
'Just a cameo role.'
'And yet… he's silencing an entire set of veterans.'
'It's powerful enough to pin everyone in place.'
Kyotaro swept his gaze across the set, then fixed it on Director Kim Dohui.
'I want to capture that performance right now.'
To him, this rookie looked capable of shaking the entire Japanese acting world.
Kyotaro glanced beside him.
Writer Akari sat still.
But—
She was anything but calm.
Her pupils had widened.
"…My God…"
She whispered.
'This isn't about experience or passion.'
'There's no deficiency in him at all.'
'If anything… he overflows with it.'
'How can someone think that deeply?'
As a writer, she saw it clearly.
He was the exact kind of character she had always wanted to create.
Then—
"Writer."
Kyotaro spoke quietly.
"After seeing Kang Woojin… what do you think?"
Without looking away, she answered.
"…Later."
She didn't want to break the moment.
──────────
Hours passed.
The sun began to set.
But the heat on set only intensified.
"Water truck! Increase the rain!"
"Yes!"
The location was the same warehouse where Professor Kim had died.
But the atmosphere had changed.
The sky darkened.
The rain grew heavier.
"Extras, get ready!"
More people filled the scene.
Lee Sangman's subordinates.
Black suits.
Around ten of them.
Each holding a sashimi knife.
This was the final scene.
Lee Sangman's end.
After killing Professor Kim, Jung Sunghoon could no longer watch.
Lee Sangman had lost all control.
He was no longer a man.
Just a beast.
Worse—
A drug-addled one.
Jung Sunghoon decided.
Lee Sangman had to die.
He did not act directly.
Instead, he targeted the right-hand man.
He whispered.
Tempted him.
Promised power.
The man accepted.
The trap was set.
──────────
Inside the car.
Heavy rain.
Sticky air.
Lee Sangman sat in the back seat.
His face hollow.
His eyes empty.
Like a broken doll.
"Action!"
He slowly reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a cigarette.
Hoo…
The smoke wrapped around him.
Then—
Bang.
The door opened.
Rain poured in.
"Boss. Jung Sunghoon is here."
Lee Sangman turned his head.
Slowly.
…
He said nothing.
He couldn't.
His body was too weak.
The strength he once had—
Gone.
Standing alone looked exhausting.
The camera captured his pain.
Still—
He moved.
Driven by the last fragments of purpose.
Then he stretched his hand out.
Into the rain.
Water pounded his frail fingers.
A stark contrast to his past self.
The staff watched, stunned.
'His aura is completely different.'
'It's heartbreaking… but incredible.'
'Every movement pulls you in.'
Then he whispered—
"It'll be cold."
The man stiffened.
"The sea?"
Lee Sangman smiled faintly.
"Yeah. The sea."
"You've lost weight."
"Have I?"
He stared at his soaked hand.
A faint laugh escaped.
"Let's finish this and go drink."
They walked toward the warehouse.
Rain blurred everything.
Lee Sangman scanned the area.
No one was there.
He exhaled smoke.
"Did he disappear… or was he never here?"
…
Calm.
No longer a beast.
No longer mad.
Just—
A man who had given up.
"He never came."
"Thank you for everything, boss."
"Drop it. It's annoying."
Umbrellas lowered.
Rain drenched them all.
Lee Sangman tilted his head back.
Placed a soaked cigarette between his lips.
Then—
Bang!
A blade drove into his stomach.
He didn't flinch.
He only stared.
The man trembled.
Stepped back.
Lee Sangman looked down.
At the knife.
"Why stop halfway?"
He pulled it out.
Threw it back.
"Do it properly."
"Finish him!"
They rushed him.
The camera pulled back.
Rain swallowed the sound.
Only the downpour remained.
The ground turned red.
Then—
Thud.
Lee Sangman collapsed.
Blood poured from his mouth.
He was kicked over.
Drug paraphernalia scattered around him.
He crawled.
Slowly.
Desperately.
Toward one thing.
A syringe.
Even at death's door—
He grabbed it.
Hands shaking.
Stab.
He injected it.
"Idiot."
He laughed.
"Hehehe…"
Reality blurred.
Drugs and death—
No difference.
The syringe was empty.
Just another wound.
At the edge of death—
He whispered—
"This mulberry taste… is fucking delicious."
──────────
Later.
Kyotaro and Akari left the set.
They did not meet Woojin.
They chose not to.
They didn't want to interrupt that performance.
Silence filled the van.
Time passed.
Then—
"Writer."
Kyotaro spoke.
"After seeing him… what role came to mind?"
Akari removed her glasses.
And answered.
"…Kiyoshi."
Kyotaro smiled.
"Exactly."