Chapter 7: The Worn-Out Script of a Perfectionist

Gayun almost forgot to breathe.

‘Was the script reading room always this hot?’

Park Gayun was momentarily shocked by how immersed she became.

“Is he really a rookie?”

The other actors listening in soon realized it too.

There was undeniable depth in Ki Taehun’s breath control.

In the middle of what seemed like casual banter, his vocal tone and delivery pulled everyone in.

‘His voice is low, his diction is clean, and there’s a strange intensity in it.’

Byun Yoohyun glanced around.

The actors, who hadn’t believed in Taehun even a little, were now completely drawn into his performance.

And this wasn’t even 60% of what he could do!

Even though it was just a short first scene, the reading session continued with the energy Taehun had ignited.

Originally, the actors had come intending to just skim through the script and grab drinks afterward to bond.

Instead, they were caught completely off guard.

The room heated up with tension.

Everyone was now desperately trying to keep up with the intensity.

Before long, it became a full-on battle, each person pouring their all into their scenes.

The atmosphere got hotter and hotter.

The actors pushed themselves beyond their limits.

They couldn’t afford to lose face.

So even as they pretended to be relaxed, they gave it their all.

They weren’t at 120%.

They were pushing 200%.

The entire room was now locked into a serious acting battle.

Each performance elevated the next.

Anyone who fell behind stood out as a weak link, immediately drawing uncomfortable glances.

No one wanted to be the one who got overshadowed by Ki Taehun—the so-called failed idol actor.

‘This guy is not some washed-up idol. He’s intense.’

‘What the hell… he’s phenomenal.’

Everyone gritted their teeth.

Script readings are often a key indicator of a project’s future.

And Director Choi felt it.

‘I can hear it… the ratings soaring!’

Every actor was focused to the max.

But then—there was one problem.

Director Choi Jeongseok’s script reading.

“Ex. Cu. Se. Me. But that’s my. Seat.”

Stiff. Robotic.

Minor characters with only a few lines hadn’t shown up for the reading, so Director Choi was filling in.

And the moment he started reading, the energy deflated.

The room began to yawn back into calm.

That’s when it happened.

Just as the director was about to turn the page for the next scene—

Ki Taehun suddenly shouted with fire in his voice: “Hey! You better move out right now! Do you know how long it’s been since you said you’d pay rent? Not a word until now! If I don’t get the money by tonight, I’m tossing all your stuff. You’ve been warned!”

He didn’t wait for the cue or ask for permission.

He just jumped in and read the minor role’s lines.

***

‘Wait… is he even allowed to do that?’

‘Isn’t that a bit rude? But… why is he so good again?’

‘And just like that… I can’t breathe again.’

‘I swear, I’m gonna drop dead at this rate.’

There are plenty of actors who deliver their own lines well.

That’s expected—it’s their job.

Of course they’d rehearse their own scenes day and night.

But to understand the emotions of even the minor characters, and deliver them with perfect nuance?

That stunned everyone—including the screenwriter, Go Eunjeong.

She glanced over at Ki Taehun’s desk and was left speechless.

‘How much has he read to know all this? He didn’t just study Kyungjun’s scenes… he read everything?’

She saw his script—worn to the point of falling apart.

‘Wait. Something’s off.’

Flip… Flip…

While all the other actors flipped pages during the reading, Taehun kept his eyes on the other performers as he said his lines.

‘He’s not turning the pages? Does that mean—?’

Go Eunjeong gulped.

She remembered what Taehun had said when he first walked into the reading room with that confident air.

—’Yes. I’ve memorized the lines. I’m not the type to fall short of expectations.’

It was a statement that could’ve sounded arrogant—especially coming from a rookie.

But he had backed it up with action.

‘When he said he’d memorized the script… he meant the entire script? That confidence was earned, Ki Taehun.’

The writer was filled with both gratitude and exhilaration.

‘He might have read the script more thoroughly than even I did.’

That realization came with a sense of responsibility too.

The increasingly precise and emotionally layered acting—Taehun had a huge part in that.

‘He’s an extraordinary actor.’

Director Choi stared at Ki Taehun as if he were a rare artifact.

The unwavering gaze, the way he used his facial muscles, even the subtle expressions—all natural, all alive.

Then he flinched.

‘Who is this guy?’

[Is this why you read the entire script?] asked the system window.

Ki Taehun smiled and thought, ‘Of course. This is basic. Don’t distract me—I’m focusing.’

[Why is basic etiquette never included in your idea of “basic”?]

Director Choi was still watching him, now with a satisfied smile.

He felt validated—as if his instincts had been right all along.

If this drama succeeded, he was ready to spread out a mat and boast about discovering Ki Taehun.

He could already picture it—Taehun’s acting would become a hot topic the moment the show aired.

***

Three hours had flown by.

They had managed to finish the script reading up through the mid-section that writer Go had prepared.

“That concludes today’s reading. We’ll be heading to Mangsang Galbi, just around the corner, for drinks. I hope everyone can join us…”

But looking around, the cast looked utterly drained.

Understandable.

Even seasoned veterans would be exhausted after a reading like that.

“Well, it’d be great if you all came—!”

Director Choi coughed awkwardly and added: “But of course, since you all worked hard today, feel free to come only if you’re up for it. Really, excellent work today, everyone.”

Ki Taehun approached Director Choi.

“Oh, Ki Taehun.”

Everyone pretended not to listen, but their ears were wide open.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to head home.”

“Huh? Not joining us for drinks? That’s a shame.”

“Yeah. The subway’s about to stop running.”

“The subway? Oh… I take it you don’t have a manager yet?”

Taehun nodded.

“That’s right. And actually—if it’s okay…”

“…?”

“Could you send future schedules to my personal number?”

Taehun then read out his phone number to the director.

While Choi was saving it, the staff from various agencies who had been quietly observing in the back started moving busily.

‘He doesn’t have a company?’

‘If we sign him, it’s a guaranteed jackpot!’

It wasn’t just the management staff who suddenly got busy.

The actors who attended the script reading also started calling their agency reps.

They all said the same thing—that they had to sign the actor named Ki Taehun.

[The subway has already stopped running.]

‘I know that.’

Unable to resist the combined persuasion of PD Choi and writer Go, who both insisted that he should attend for the sake of the project, Ki Taehun eventually found himself seated at a table in a BBQ restaurant.

But maybe it was because the script reading had been so intense and passionate—it left everyone feeling drained.

Even the veteran actors who usually lived for these after-parties began quietly wrapping up and leaving.

Just as Taehun was about to get up, Park Gayun came over and took the seat beside him.

“Mr. Ki, your performance today was really impressive.”

‘What’s with her scrunching her nose like that when she smiles? Is it rhinitis?’

“Ah, I also really enjoyed your impressive performance today, Ms. Park.”

He tried to wrap up the conversation and stand, but Park Gayun leaned in just a little closer.

As Taehun tilted his head curiously—

“Impressive, you say? So, what exactly did you like about it?”

Her eyes were full of expectation as she looked at his lips, hoping for praise.

It was… a bit much for Taehun.

“I thought the first meeting scene had a great feel. Especially the part where you stuffed your mouth full of triangle kimbap at the convenience store and got angry—your performance really stood out. When you delivered your lines with your mouth full of snacks, I could feel your passion.”

Taehun’s comments were sincere.

“And the easygoing, rough-around-the-edges tone really suited you. Your interpretation of a flustered freshman being pushed around by everyone felt spot-on.”

“Wow! You were really watching closely, huh?”

Gayun beamed like a child at his detailed feedback.

Seeing her like that… somehow made Taehun feel awkward.

‘Would it be bad if I mentioned that her diction was unclear and she needs more vocal training?’

He took a sip of water instead.

There were definitely areas in her acting that needed work, but Taehun swallowed those thoughts.

‘It’s only the first day of the script reading. Can’t kill her spirit right off the bat.’

He figured they could work it out naturally once they started filming together.

Wanting to protect the pride of the lead actress, Taehun chose silence.

Everyday acting needed to feel as natural as breathing—if not, the audience’s immersion could easily be broken.

Perhaps because she’d only heard compliments, Park Gayun looked even more cheerful.

“Thank you! Hearing that from the most outstanding actor today makes me really happy.”

In terms of experience, Park Gayun had the upper hand, but Ki Taehun’s acting at today’s reading was clearly on another level.

His presence on set made people wonder where he’d been hiding all this time.

The kind of gravitas he displayed wasn’t something a guy in his 20s could usually pull off.

“Oh! Instead of this, would it be okay if I got your manager’s number?”

“My manager’s number?”

“I just have a feeling… it’s going to get hard to see you soon.”

Watching the two of them chat from a slight distance, writer Go felt good about what she saw.

‘What a relief.’

In a romance story, the chemistry between the sub-leads was just as important as the main couple.

Looking at Ki Taehun and Park Gayun now, Go Eunjeong thought their chemistry wasn’t bad at all.

‘So fresh. Brings me back… I had a time like that too, didn’t I?’

Nostalgia for youth washed over her.

“I don’t have a manager. I’ll give you my number.”

Taehun casually typed in his number and, after saying goodbye, left the restaurant.

[You’ve earned recognition from a senior! Congratulations. 5 points have been awarded.]

[Newbie, Current Points: 301]

‘That’s not what this is, you punk.’

[Don’t you want to check your points?]

‘Nope. Not curious at all.’

The status window was twitching, desperate to explain the point system.

***

Even after the reading was over, Ki Taehun kept going through the script until filming started.

He already had all his lines memorized, so technically there was no need to keep reading.

But this rehearsal was different.

He was reviewing the interpretations and rhythm of the other actors, which he had observed during the previous script reading.

This was essential to truly bring Kyungjun’s character to life in a way that best suited the entire cast.

He had spent just as much time on this process back when he was Lee Jaejun.

What I do well.

What they do well.

What the audience wants.

Acting wasn’t a solo performance.

You had to harmonize with your co-stars, blending in without standing out unnecessarily.

The key was to find that intersection where the director and writer’s vision for the character aligned with the actor’s own individuality.

Though he had read the script over 300 times, Taehun studied it again like it was his very first time seeing it.

He completely lost track of time while reading.

Dding! Dding!

Dding!

Suddenly, his phone started blowing up with messages and calls.

‘If it’s a number I don’t know, I’m not answering. Is this one of those spam calls about internet service? Why so many?’

He couldn’t exactly change his number now, and it was starting to get annoying.

When he finally checked his screen, his brows furrowed.

‘Five missed calls and twenty-three messages?’

[This is Director Park Yongho from YP Entertainment. May I meet with actor Ki Taehun? Our agency YP Entertainment specializes in…]

[Hello, we’re Fighters, a management company for professional actors. We’d love to meet you—please contact us.]

[Mr. Ki, this is Park Gayun :)]

The only people Taehun had actually given his number to were PD Choi, writer Go, and Park Gayun.

But he had no idea that several people at the reading had somehow managed to sneak his number.

‘Something’s off here. Don’t tell me… Park Gayun’s been handing out my number?’

Taehun began slowly typing out a response in full Korean characters.

[Yes. I know.]

Dding!

A reply came back immediately.