Goosebumps rose along veteran director Ahn Gabok's wrinkled forearms.
For a man who had directed ninety-nine films, it was a rare sensation. A smile, worn with age, slowly formed on his lips.
'Twenty years… no, maybe even longer than that. I can't remember clearly anymore.'
A strange expression lingered around his mouth, one that seemed to hold both bewilderment and delight at once. He had worked with countless actors of every nationality, from Korea all the way to Hollywood. If one were to count all the actors who had crossed paths with Director Ahn Gabok, the number would have been impossible to measure.
And yet, the number of actors who had ever given him genuine goosebumps with their acting could be counted on one hand.
But this was different.
'To think a rookie actor could revive a mood that had long gone stale… remarkable.'
Unexpectedly, the one who had seized his attention was a newcomer. Even for a giant of Korean cinema like Ahn Gabok, that was rare. More than that, this was an actor compelling enough to win over even the notoriously stubborn Kwon Gitaek.
His gaze remained fixed on Kang Woojin, who was slowly removing his bulletproof helmet inside the shooting zone.
'A rare one. Truly rare.'
In a market where actors seemed to spill out in factory-made batches, someone like that was hard to find. At least, that was how Ahn Gabok saw it. It was like finding a freshly unearthed wild ginseng in barren land overrun with weeds.
Even so—
"Okay, cut."
The first approval for the tense group scene finally came from Director Kwon Gitaek's composed voice. The moment the signal dropped, dozens of staff members from the hundred or so standing by rushed onto the set. The once-quiet location instantly turned noisy.
"Art team! We need support over here!"
"We're on it!!"
An approved take did not mean the scene was over. They still had to shoot it again from different angles, including individual shots of each character. Repeating the same sequence over and over was standard, and the staff who had run in were already reorganizing the set for the reshoot.
It did not take long.
"Ready!!"
"Stand by! One minute!!"
The next take was already approaching. The actors steadied their breathing and stepped back into their camera positions. This time, the emphasis was less on the group as a whole and more on each individual character.
"Hoo..."
The first focus was Kang Woojin—Private Jin Seoncheol.
What Director Kwon Gitaek saw on the monitor shifted from a wide shot of the actors to a medium shot, and finally to a close-up of Woojin's face. Slowly, with his rifle resting against his shoulder, Woojin sank into thought.
'Everything starts with me this time, so focus.'
Once more, he called up the Jin Seoncheol engraved within him. The sensation of two identities filling his quiet inner world spread through his veins.
'Should I do it the same way as before?'
The answer came quickly.
'No. This is a solo shot, so make it stronger. Make it sharper.'
Woojin had never lacked acting ability. If anything, he had too much of it. But at his core, he was still a beginner, and because of that, he had no clear standard for what counted as "too much." There was no upper limit in his mind, no precise line where excess began.
'I don't know. I'm not sure. So I'll just do what I can.'
That left him with only one option.
To keep pushing into unknown territory.
That was not really the mindset of a polished actor.
Still, the years of experience possessed by the great actors around him could never be compressed into a day or two. Kang Woojin simply immersed himself completely in Jin Seoncheol as a character.
And then he moved forward.
Originally, his goal had been to use the force of the void space—those repeated readings and accumulated experiences—to make a character vivid. But now, with his own increasing acting experience layered on top of it, the effect had gone beyond its original boundaries. Ever since his days as Assistant Manager Park, he had already been learning how to control, suppress, and expand his own thoughts.
By now, it was almost second nature.
Others might have called it analysis. Or interpretation.
But Kang Woojin's process—and the result that process created—belonged to an entirely different level. Of course, the novice that he still was had no interest in defining it in such lofty terms.
When he came back to himself, that timid man had already taken control of the situation.
The camera pushed into a close-up of his upper body. Then, through the loudspeaker, Director Kwon Gitaek's cue reached Private Jin Seoncheol.
"Hi—action."
His comrades' voices sounded faint and far away. All Kang Woojin's eyes could see was the trembling movement of the private standing beside him.
'What should I do? As his senior, I feel like I should help him. But if I speak to him, won't I only scare him more? Or would he even listen to me? He's kind of scary.'
At that exact instant—
'Idiot. Why are you hesitating? If he won't hear you softly, then make him hear you.'
A rough voice rang out inside him.
'How should I do that?'
'You go and rest.'
In an instant, Private Jin Seoncheol's inner posture changed.
Was it pleasure? Ecstasy?
The phenomenon and the dialogue were unfolding inside Kang Woojin, but none of it could be seen directly by the camera right in front of him. No—what he wanted was to show that double-sided nature without ever stating it outright.
So how should he express it?
"Private Jin Seoncheol." It was a name he wanted to hide from the men in uniform around him, yet at the same time, flaunt before an outsider.
That was the game.
And so he began to search. How could he make these men's legs shake beneath them?
Then he realized it.
Sign language.
Yes, sign language existed.
A language capable of stirring boundless emotion in the other person without a single spoken word, without even opening one's mouth. A skill through which conversation, emotion, atmosphere, sensation, and expression could all be unfolded in silence.
Slowly, almost without realizing it, the presence of sign language deepened around Jin Seoncheol.
At that moment, the camera tightened into a close-up of his face.
But Jin Seoncheol was holding a rifle. He could not move his hands. Which meant he had to rely solely on his eyes, nose, lips, the muscles of his face and body, the tremor of his nerves, the direction of his gaze, his breathing.
That was enough.
More than enough.
And then he glanced sideways at the private and began the game.
Shyness lingered in his eyes. The corners of his mouth trembled ever so slightly. For a fleeting instant, a trace of intoxication rested on his lips.
All of it was captured on the monitor exactly as it was.
That was why—
'...He's showing off. He's boasting.'
Director Kwon Gitaek lowered his breath, seriousness filling his eyes.
'Unbelievable. He took the subtle emotional line he showed at first and expanded it even further. Right now, it feels as though he's secretly bragging to the audience about the truth of his double nature.'
Kang Woojin's acting was astonishing.
'Is he really growing even in this short span of time?'
Goosebumps spread across Ahn Gabok's body as he found himself already standing close beside Kwon Gitaek. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as those eyes widened further and further.
'I see. The psychology of the character is coming through with startling clarity. In that world, he wants to hide his inner self completely, but to us—outsiders—he wants to reveal it proudly.'
But somehow, Kang Woojin's precision only continued to grow.
'There was more? He still has more to show? It almost feels… as if he's explaining everything with his face alone.'
And more than that—
'Why am I sensing the scent of sign language, the very thing I longed for, from this performance?'
Then a gunshot rang out.
-Bang!
A long-limbed monster burst in. One of the soldiers fell. The others plunged into confusion, and the officers were shaken.
What followed was an endless hail of gunfire.
-Bang bang bang!!
The soldiers, cursing as they fired, scattered across the battlefield in terror. The scene rolled forward smoothly, and Kang Woojin, clutching the dead soldier in his arms, broke into sobs.
"Hhk! Hhk—!"
Inside, however, he was laughing.
'Heh. Heheheh. Got one.'
'I'm really sorry. So sorry. Next time I'll try to stop this bastard properly. I didn't do enough. What? Shut up. You're enjoying this too, aren't you? Just enjoy it.'
"Jin Seoncheol!! What the hell are you doing right now?! Didn't you hear the order to run?!"
'Yeah, damn it. Stop crying and run.'
"Get a grip! He's dead! He's already dead!! Shut up and get up! Hurry!!"
There was still plenty left to do.
Kang Woojin's face changed constantly before the camera, second by second, moment by moment. The tears running down his face were real, and so was the smile bent like a drawn bow.
And then—
"...Cut. Okay."
Director Kwon Gitaek's signal rang out through the set once more, but the hundreds of staff members could only stand there in silence.
"..."
"..."
"..."
Perhaps it was the oppressive heat, but not only Ahn Gabok—everyone nearby had goosebumps.
What had they just witnessed?
'Without even a single line of dialogue… you can tell that Private Jin Seoncheol has a dual personality. Wow. This is incredible.'
As the second and third retakes followed, that feeling only deepened. In a shockingly short span of time, Kang Woojin's acting was visibly evolving. Before long, the film company executives and employees standing behind Ahn Gabok gave up trying to make sense of it.
'Acting? Can this even be called acting?'
'If—if this film makes it to theaters and audiences see it… this is more than just "good acting," isn't it?!'
The CEO of the film company, in particular, looked deeply shaken.
"This is an astonishing style of acting. I've never seen anything like it before. I almost pity the actors who have to perform alongside him. You can see him growing with every scene, and it doesn't feel like there's any limit to how far that growth can go."
He too was a veteran of the industry. He had seen countless actors, yet this experience felt like standing inside pure ignorance. After glancing at the back of Ahn Gabok's head, he noticed the employees on either side of him, all standing there with their mouths slightly open. Then he swept his eyes over the hundred or so staff members in the broad, open set.
The space was vast.
Yet somehow, it felt small.
Because this story was about Kang Woojin.
The CEO's gaze shifted to Woojin, who was mingling with the other actors. He looked like a whale swimming among freshwater fish. Without realizing it, the CEO let out a genuine laugh.
'He's not the kind of monster you direct. He's the kind of monster you have to deal with.'
Not long after, the CEO's imagination spread wings of its own. He pictured that whale's back being showered in dazzling light on the world stage.
'Could he dominate not just freshwater, but the ocean too?'
For some reason, the idea did not feel absurd.
──────────
Filming for Island of the Missing continued at a brutal pace through the scorching morning and afternoon.
"Alright, let's take ten."
"Yes! Ten-minute break!!"
The concentration of Director Kwon Gitaek, the hundred or so staff members, and the actors had all risen to an unusual height.
Part of the reason was that Ahn Gabok was still there, watching.
"Whew, today's shoot was brutal. Seriously brutal. I feel like I'm dying."
"What can you do? It was a major group scene. At least once today's shoot ends, we'll finally get out of this damned brush."
"That's true. Most of the remaining scenes are in the village from Island of the Missing. Ah, we can finally see the end."
"What do you mean, the end? The overseas shoot is ending, sure, but there's still plenty left to shoot back in Korea."
According to the storyboard, once this group sequence was done, most of the remaining scenes would shift from the jungle to the village. In other words, they would be leaving the monsters behind and moving on to the bizarre villagers of Island of the Missing.
The hellish overseas location shoot in Da Nang, Vietnam was finally approaching its end.
Of course, there was still plenty left to film in Korea, including green screen work and set shoots in Buyeo, but finishing the overseas portion meant that roughly thirty percent of the entire production was now complete.
As the afternoon sun began to sink lower, the actors kept sneaking glances toward the director's station.
They were looking at Kwon Gitaek, yes—but their eyes were drawn even more strongly to Ahn Gabok.
In truth, every actor in Island of the Missing had been conscious of Ahn Gabok ever since before filming began.
Ryu Jungmin slowly removed his helmet, lost in thought.
'What did he think of my acting? Was there something lacking?'
Ha Yura, Kim Iwon, Jeon Woochang, and the rest of the supporting cast all kept glancing toward him as well.
'My timing was a little slow in that last cut. Damn it, why did it have to happen today of all days? It's okay. I won't make the same mistake in the next cut. Calm down, Ha Yura.'
'Ah, I'm so nervous I can barely hear my lines properly.'
'Director Ahn… it's impossible to read his expression. I hope he looked on us favorably.'
Even Hong Hyeyeon, who was waiting for her cameo scene while watching the set with the staff, felt the same way.
'How far is he going to look today? Whew… somehow I have to make up for the parts he pointed out.'
It was not as if they lacked greed or desire. They had come as participants in the shoot, but catching Ahn Gabok's eye and earning a place in one of his films was the sort of opportunity that could lift an actor's entire career in an instant.
For actors, it was the kind of chance that felt almost close enough to touch.
There was one exception.
'All I've done all day is run. Damn. Ah, I'm hungry. At some point I should ask Suhwan for some chocolate.'
Kang Woojin showed no particular interest in Ahn Gabok at all. No—if anything, he looked as though he were deliberately ignoring him. His attitude was one of complete indifference.
At that moment, Director Kwon Gitaek, who had been sitting in front of several monitors, turned his head.
Whatever thoughts might have been moving behind Ahn Gabok's seasoned face, his expression itself remained stern. Kwon Gitaek asked him softly,
"What did you think, Director?"
Ahn Gabok slowly turned his eyes and answered in a low, aged voice.
"It was good. Thank you. It has been quite a long time since I last saw properly shot footage. Your directing always exceeds expectations."
"You're too kind."
"Not at all."
With a gentle smile still on his lips, Kwon Gitaek leaned in slightly and lowered his voice, changing the subject.
"What did you think of Woojin's role?"
"A dual personality. If you couldn't see that in his acting, then you might as well quit directing."
Ahn Gabok turned his gaze again toward the actors in uniform as they adjusted their makeup, and more specifically, toward the expressionless Kang Woojin.
"An ordinary soldier following orders. A loach hidden inside a relatively solid organization. But because his sense of purpose remains indistinct, he becomes even more interesting, and he breathes life into the scene. He's a character audiences will thoroughly enjoy."
Of course, Ahn Gabok wanted to explain more, but he held himself back. After all, he was only a viewer here.
Kwon Gitaek, whose smile had deepened in agreement, rose casually from his seat.
"All of that came purely from Woojin's own ability."
"Hm?"
"You know the atmosphere of my script. The description of Private Jin Seoncheol was very simple. The only reason he became so vivid is because of Woojin's talent."
Ahn Gabok looked up at him for a moment, a smile wrinkling across his face.
"Ah, I see. Now I understand why you favor him so much."
"I'll give you the script for Island of the Missing. Read it on your way back. It'll help you understand."
"Thank you."
Kwon Gitaek gave a light bow and calmly walked back into the busy set. Ahn Gabok's eyes followed him.
What was interesting was this—
"Hm?"
The instant Kang Woojin's gaze met Ahn Gabok's, Woojin looked away first.
Seeing that, Ahn Gabok let out a quiet laugh to himself, folded his arms, and muttered,
"For some reason, it seems I've become disliked."
──────────
Two days later.
November 3rd, on the set of Island of the Missing in Da Nang, Vietnam, Director Kwon Gitaek's signal rang out.
"Stand by—cue."
For about three hours, Kang Woojin, Ha Yura, and Ryu Jungmin, all dressed in military uniforms, delivered an intense performance.
Not long after—
"Cut. Good. Everyone worked hard."
Around lunchtime on the third day, the moment the word "approved" was announced, the hundred or so staff members threw their safari hats high into the air and erupted in cheers.
"Whew!! We're finally free!!"
"Great work, everyone!"
"You all worked so hard! The actors too!!"
"Wow, I don't think I want to think about Vietnam again for the next ten years!"
"Anyone seeing us celebrate like this would think the war just ended! Hahaha!"
The overseas location shoot for Island of the Missing had come to an end.