GalaxyTL
The rumor that Kim Dong-hoo successfully filmed The Swordsman Baek Dong-su spread quickly. SKS Broadcasting, the production company behind the show, was buzzing with excitement.
"They say he didn’t make a single mistake during filming." "Are you serious? That can't be true, can it?" "It’s true! He handled the sword so well that even the martial arts director was impressed." "Who was the martial arts director again? Gi Seong-chan, right? That strict guy." "Yeah! He rarely gives compliments and always has that stern face!" "That’s really impressive."
Kim Dong-hoo, whose popularity is rapidly rising, had joined their ranks.
With his remarkable looks and acting skills, it had been painful to watch him excel on a rival network. But now that he was on their side, they couldn't have been happier.
"If things keep going this well, our ratings might hit thir—" "Shh! Don’t jinx it."
Although many people still watched TV, a 30% rating was on an entirely different level. A hit show like Secret Garden had achieved 35% ratings, so hitting 30% was considered the benchmark for a major success.
"Other shows are doing fine, but breaking 30% really makes a difference..." "Yeah, that’s when the big investments and advertisements start rolling in."
The rumor that Kim Dong-hoo hadn’t made a single mistake slowly evolved into speculation:
"Could Kim Dong-hoo be the key to breaking the 30% rating threshold?" While it was just a whisper below the surface, it was starting to spread. Who knew when someone might bring it into the open?
+++++
“Is Kim Dong-hoo really that impressive?”
In a salon for his schedule, Park Jin-hyuk, who played the child role of Baek Dong-su, pondered the rumors he had been hearing.
"I haven’t seen it firsthand, so I’m not sure."
The entertainment industry was as sensitive to rumors as it was quick to spread them. Even if you wanted to avoid it, you’d inevitably hear things in this business. The hottest rumor these days was Kim Dong-hoo's remarkable looks and talent. He knew Dong-hoo was handsome from watching High Dream, but he couldn’t make any quick judgments on his talent without seeing it for himself.
"Does he just seem impressive because he’s handsome, or is he really that good at acting?"
He had watched High Dream, though not very thoroughly, so Park Jin-hyuk was curious about meeting Kim Dong-hoo at the upcoming shoot.
Just then...
“Oh, sunbae-nim! Hello!” “Hmm? Jin-hyuk, huh? Are you preparing for the shoot?” “Yes, it’s for The Swordsman Baek Dong-su.” “Oh, right, right.”
Park Jin-hyuk greeted Han Tae-gun, the lead actor from Endless Frontline, whom he had bumped into at the same salon.
“Filming historical dramas is long and tough, but it’s rewarding once you’re done. Feels like experiencing the past, doesn’t it?” “It really does! I want to do even better this time since it’s a reshoot.” “A reshoot? Why?” “Oh, the child actor practicing swordsmanship got hurt, so they brought in another actor to film it again.”
The two continued chatting. Park Jin-hyuk admired Han Tae-gun beyond just being agency mates—he was truly captivated by Tae-gun’s intense, emotional acting.
“How can someone act that well?” Park Jin-hyuk often found himself thinking. Han Tae-gun was that kind of actor for him.
“Who’s the other actor?” “Oh, you might have heard of him. Kim Dong-hoo…” “Kim Dong-hoo? You mean that Kim Dong-hoo?” “Yes, wait, you know him?”
Han Tae-gun almost admitted he had worked on a film with Dong-hoo but stopped himself.
‘The recruit must stay a secret weapon until the very end.’
Secrecy was paramount. Kim Dong-hoo’s appearance, planned as the film’s ace, was not meant to be revealed yet.
‘And now he’s joined another drama?’
Han Tae-gun marveled at Kim Dong-hoo’s seemingly superhuman stamina. Based on timing alone, it didn’t seem like Dong-hoo had taken any significant breaks. Yet he was performing flawlessly in every project.
‘Come to think of it, he was flying solo during Endless Frontline too.’
Even if he was young, his level of activity was something that couldn't simply be explained by youth.
“Well, I’ve heard some things here and there,” Han Tae-gun said evasively, trying to change the subject quickly, worried he might slip and reveal something he shouldn’t.
However, Park Jin-hyuk’s next words stopped him cold.
“I’m actually going to be working with Kim Dong-hoo tomorrow, and I’m really curious. Is he really that good at acting?”
Park Jin-hyuk’s innocent curiosity ensnared Han Tae-gun.
“Jin-hyuk, do your best.” “Uh, what?” “If you don’t give it your all, things might get complicated. So seriously, put everything you’ve got into it.”
Han Tae-gun locked eyes with Park Jin-hyuk, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, emphasizing as gently as he could.
“Put your entire effort into it, and try to outshine Kim Dong-hoo in every way.”
Don’t just try to match him; never underestimate him. Han Tae-gun sincerely advised. He had years of acting experience that boosted his confidence, but...
‘Will young actors be able to muster their passion when they see Kim Dong-hoo?’
Han Tae-gun had watched all of High Dream with keen interest.
Kim Dong-hoo had burst onto the scene like a supernova, trampling everyone underfoot like a tyrant and naturally standing out on his own.
Han Tae-gun hoped Park Jin-hyuk wouldn’t have to experience something similar.
++++++
The morning after the first successful shoot, it was still cold enough to need a hot pack.
I was in the warm van, reviewing the script.
‘The weight and scope are entirely different.’
With High Dream, Endless Frontline, and even The Hero, none of these roles had significant screen time. Although my scenes as Lee Jae-yi increased towards the end, they were still short overall.
This time, however, I had at least eight episodes lined up. In terms of screen time, importance, and role, it was essentially a lead role.
‘I’m really looking forward to this.’
All that was left was filming, as I’d already immersed myself in the role.
“Dong-hoo, we’re here.” “Yes.”
As soon as Seok-ho opened the door, I stepped out.
“Hello!”
I made my presence known with a hearty greeting.
After greeting the director and my seniors, exchanging the usual pleasantries, I jumped right into preparations.
‘Today, I’m working with a senior actor.’
Cha Min-soo—a seasoned actor with a deep, impactful presence. I’d heard he practiced kendo regularly.
‘Who would’ve thought I’d get a chance to match swords with someone like him?’
Unlike High Dream, where our scenes had been mere dialogues, today we would be clashing emotions and synchronizing our breaths.
I was already excited.
“So, you’re Dong-hoo, right?”
As I went around greeting everyone, Cha Min-soo recognized me and approached first.
“Yes! I look forward to working with you, sir!” “Working with you? I’ve heard people saying you’re really good these days.”
Cha Min-soo had a casual, relaxed smile as he warned me to take it easy. But his eyes told a different story—they urged me to give it my all.
‘Well, in that case...’
It was only right that I give it everything I had.
++++++
Clang!
Sparks flew as our swords clashed.
“Looks like you’ve finally lost your mind.”
It was no longer Cha Min-soo, but Heavenly Master Chun-Sal Daesa, grinning darkly at the young man charging at him.
“Do you see me as the one who killed your father?”
It wasn’t surprising. After all, the boy’s father had killed his mother, and then he had killed his father. It was no wonder his mind had cracked.
But even so, Chun-Sal had never imagined he would lose his grip on reality and start swinging his sword wildly.
‘Unexpected.’
Chun-Sal was just as shocked by the young man’s frenzy as he was by the boy’s exceptional sword skills.
‘How is he so good with a sword?’
Though Cha Min-soo had practiced kendo for a long time, he was startled. He had initially thought it would make for a great scene, but after a few exchanges, he could tell.
‘There’s a clear difference in skill.’
He could feel it—Kim Dong-hoo, or Ja-un, was leagues above him. Sensing a prodigy firsthand was proving to be more difficult than anticipated.
He regretted signaling for Dong-hoo to go all out.
‘But I can hold on.’
If this were real, it would be genuinely dangerous, but this was just acting. No matter how skilled the opponent was...
King!
He was ultimately the one in control.
‘But he’s reacting perfectly.’
Dong-hoo, having read Cha Min-soo’s intention, immediately dropped his sword when Min-soo’s blade struck.
Whish!
Ja-un’s sword flew into the air before landing straight into the ground. It wasn’t just skilled swordsmanship but also impeccable acting.
“Argh...!”
Ja-un clutched his head and collapsed as soon as he dropped his sword. This had happened about three times, each time echoing the trauma of killing his parents.
“...Fine, I’ve decided how I’ll use you.”
Chun-Sal Daesa muttered solemnly, looking down at the fallen Ja-un. With that, the scene ended, and both actors halted.
“Cut! That’s a wrap! Well done!”
Director Oh Jae-deok immediately gave the OK signal.
‘Isn’t this unbelievable?’
Watching everything, Director Oh couldn’t contain his amazement.
‘This shoot wasn’t supposed to end so quickly.’
The acting flowed so naturally, and they were so in sync that no mistakes were made. In fact, they were reshooting scenes from various angles just to explore different perspectives.
The only change had been the replacement of a single child actor, yet the filming progressed smoothly.
Today’s shoot was over, and tomorrow they would move to a larger location to film group training scenes.
Reflecting on Ja-un’s role, the director was suddenly curious.
‘I had originally envisioned Ja-un as the ideal genius.’
But now, Kim Dong-hoo wasn’t just meeting expectations—he was surpassing them.
‘I thought I’d need to direct him to act like a genius.’
There was no need for that.
Why? Because Kim Dong-hoo was a genius.
++++++
And so the next day arrived.
At the point in the story where Ja-un trained to be accepted as a member of the Sword Forest.
“...Am I really seeing this right?” “Yeah, it looks like it.”
The crew watched, slack-jawed, as Ja-un climbed a rope using only his arms. Kim Dong-hoo was doing this without any stunt double.
‘Something... something big is happening here.’
A sense of something extraordinary brewing was palpable.
‘He’s supposed to be my rival?’
Park Jin-hyuk, who played Ja-un’s rival, stared at Dong-hoo, who was climbing the rope.
‘I’m supposed to fight him? Me?’
He gawked, his mouth hanging open.
Was he really supposed to beat him someday?
Park Jin-hyuk was starting to understand what Han Tae-gun had meant.