Kim Dong-hoo, or rather Lee Jae, was High Dream's hidden ace. The production team had made efforts to keep him out of the making-of films and reporters’ articles.

However, no matter how hard they tried to hide him, his appearance was too extraordinary to be concealed. Even the briefest exposure was enough to set the comment sections ablaze.

"Is it even possible for someone to be this handsome?" "That’s not Jin Soo-hyuk, but seriously, who is this guy?" "But if someone this good-looking didn’t get proper screen time, isn’t he just a regular person?"

Questions like “Who is he?”, “Is he going to appear?”, “What’s his name?”, and “What role does he play?” flooded the comments. Despite the increasing curiosity, there was no clear answer to satisfy the audience’s inquiries.

High Dream’s team, however, was happy with any kind of buzz. After all, the scariest thing is to disappear without a trace. In that sense, this kind of attention was more than welcome.

‘The editing is almost done, and the broadcast will be soon,’ thought PD Kim Young-mo.

December was fast approaching, and in the blink of an eye, it would be January. With High Dream scheduled to air in early to mid-January, there was just over a month left.

He glanced at the calendar.

With time flying by, there was one thing weighing on his mind.

‘We have about two more days of shooting with actor Kim Dong-hoo.’

High Dream was set for 16 episodes, and Dong-hoo’s character, Lee Jae, was to appear in about five. It was impossible to predict what kind of impact those five episodes would have.

If his appearance caused a surge in popularity, if the viewership exploded like the comment sections were now, then—

‘It could change the entire story of High Dream.'

That would mean more filming, more editing—just thinking about it was exhausting.

“Ugh, it sounds like a nightmare just imagining it,” Kim Young-mo muttered, though a smile never left his face.

+++++

The day of the Endless Frontline script reading.

People were puzzled by a newly added seat at the square table.

“Whose seat is that?”

“I’m not sure. It just says ‘Cadet Soldier’ without a name.”

“I heard CEO Park cast someone in a hurry.”

“It’s refreshing to have someone join in the middle of the schedule, isn’t it?”

Unlike the rest of the table, where the character’s name and actor’s name were neatly written, there was only a solitary sign that read Cadet Soldier at this empty seat.

People were curious about the identity of this new actor, especially Han Tae-geon, who was playing the lead in Endless Frontline. He even asked the director directly.

“Director, aren’t you going to tell us anything about the new actor?”

With a friendly smile, Director Kang dodged the question. The truth was, he didn’t know much either.

‘CEO Park insisted it had to be him, so I agreed... but I haven’t even seen him act yet. It’s awkward to say anything definitive.’

All he knew for sure was that the kid was absurdly handsome, but that wasn’t exactly the right answer to give.

“You’ll meet him soon enough.”

“I heard he’s a rookie. Isn’t he a little late?” Han Tae-geon teased.

Director Kang laughed.

“Ah, you’re turning into an old man now, huh?”

“Come on, you know I’m just kidding.”

“I told him to come a bit late on purpose. He’s new, so it’s good for him to get some attention when he arrives.”

The director had figured the actor might show up two hours early if he hadn’t said that.

Tae-geon played along and stood up from his seat.

‘So, you’re trying to make the rookie a bit nervous by giving him a grand entrance, huh?’

While curiosity about the mysterious actor simmered in the air, the script reading session drew nearer.

“Hello, everyone! I’m Kim Dong-hoo, and I’ll be playing the role of the Cadet Soldier. Nice to meet you all!”

With a clear, confident voice, the long-awaited actor finally appeared.

His face was undeniably young—at most, he looked like a fresh high schooler.

But what stood out the most wasn’t his youth.

“Wow... What’s up with his face?”

It was his unbelievably good looks.

It was like witnessing a masterpiece created by the gods, a sense of encountering ultimate beauty.

There was a momentary silence at the script reading, purely because of his appearance.

Step, step.

Even though he was just walking, each movement felt like a photoshoot. This silence persisted as Dong-hoo greeted the senior actors and the director, finally sitting down at his seat.

Everyone seemed momentarily dazed, unable to process his surreal looks.

“Finally, all the pieces I wanted are falling into place.”

But was that really his unfiltered appearance?

Glance.

Even while continuing the conversation, Director Kang stole glances at Dong-hoo’s face.

In a world where Photoshop could alter anyone’s appearance with ease, and where social media was full of people who looked vastly different in real life, he had to wonder—

Could someone’s real-life appearance actually surpass their photos?

What had this kid eaten growing up to turn out like this?

‘Focus. His looks aren’t the most important thing.’

Though, to be fair, in this business, looks did matter. But without the acting skills to back it up, none of that would matter.

‘Please, just have the basics. If he can act even half as well as he looks, we’ll be in for a success.’

“Alright, let’s get started with the script reading. And remember, just because there aren’t any cameras here doesn’t mean you should hold back.”

The atmosphere lightened with the director’s words.

“Let’s jump right in with the Cadet Soldier’s part.”

“Scene 165, the cadet kills an ally to survive.”

As soon as Director Kang finished his narration, something shifted.

Whoosh!

The cheerful expression on Kim Dong-hoo’s face vanished in an instant.

+++++

Why didn’t the Cadet Soldier have a name?

Because in his life, even having a name was a luxury.

In the midst of war, under constant bombardment, what could be more foolish than having a name in a world where you could die at any moment?

Under the red flag, these revolutionaries had gathered. They were given a grand purpose, yet their treatment was abysmal.

Eating baked dirt, gnawing on tree roots—this had become their daily reality.

“What is this so-called revolution that’s worth living like this?”

The cadet soldier—no, Kim Dong-hoo—spoke in a voice devoid of emotion.

He was a boy who had lost his entire family and taken up a gun. The words that came from his mouth were chillingly cold.

Looking down, he saw a comrade dying. It was the same guy who had screamed at him earlier for stealing his food.

A worthless fool—why did that even matter?

“Yeah, I ate it. But does that really matter now?”

There was no one left to teach them that stealing food from each other was wrong.

They were no more than disposable lives. So, who cared if one of them died?

“If we’re all going to die here anyway, the ones who survive need the food more.”

I have to live for my sister too, so I’m really hungry.

Creak.

The sound of grinding dirt filled the script reading room, sounding to the others like bones breaking.

The cadet soldier was nothing but a killing machine now, driven by survival. He was a weapon.

Everyone was stunned by his presence.

‘What have you brought us, Director?’

Han Tae-geon, who had been all smiles earlier, couldn’t take his eyes off Kim Dong-hoo.

Never before had he thought his acting could be overshadowed, but what he was witnessing now was in a different realm entirely.

The cadet soldier’s cold, emotionless eyes scanned the room, sending chills down everyone’s spine.

This was the monster that war had created—born from violence and gunpowder. His voice, once again devoid of life, broke the silence.

“Is there really such a thing as salvation?”

Whooosh.

A deep breath filled the room like a storm.

Compressed to its limits, his emotionless tone bore down on the entire space, as the gaze of this killing machine looked out beyond the battlefield.

“Sister, is there really something beyond all this?”

Eating white rice and meat soup is proving to be far too difficult.

At that moment, Dong-hoo displayed emotions far beyond what someone his age could typically express. Director Kang couldn’t take his eyes off him for a second.

‘How is this even possible?’

The range of emotions was unreal.

Dong-hoo portrayed both a longing for his sister and a total lack of empathy when killing others. It was a level of acting that only a machine could pull off—humans aren’t supposed to be able to turn their emotions on and off like that.

‘And yet, he’s doing it? A rookie?’

And at his first-ever script reading, in front of a room full of experienced actors and staff?

Director Kang’s grin stretched all the way to his ears.

Finally, the puzzle was complete.

Not 100%, but 120%.

And the key was—

‘Kim Dong-hoo!’

Kim Dong-hoo had it.

And there was someone else just as shocked as the director.

‘Have I signed with someone truly extraordinary?’

It was none other than Kim Dong-hoo’s manager, landlord, and agency CEO, Choi Seok-ho.

He had known Dong-hoo was good-looking. He had assumed Dong-hoo would be a decent actor.

But what Dong-hoo had just shown was beyond comprehension.

‘I need to adjust my plans.’

A smooth road to success? That wouldn’t be necessary.

Kim Dong-hoo’s talent had the power to take everything on its own.

Now, what role did Choi Seok-ho have to play in all of this?

After a brief moment of thought, he came to a conclusion.

‘I’m going to build an agency tailored specifically for Kim Dong-hoo.’

A perfect space, designed just for him.

+++++

After the shocking script reading, Choi Seok-ho and CEO Park immediately finalized the contract for the movie.

A master negotiator, Seok-ho secured the best possible terms, and CEO Park, seeing no issue in accommodating a new rookie actor, readily agreed.

Thus, Kim Dong-hoo’s contract for Endless Frontline was sealed.

Time quickly passed, and soon it was December.

“Today is the last day I’ll see Lee Jae.”

The day of Kim Dong-hoo’s final shoot for High Dream had arrived.