In historical dramas or action filming, using stunt doubles is common practice.

The reason is obvious: it’s dangerous.

A misstep while riding a horse can break your back, and one mistake during a sparring session with practice swords can result in broken bones.

So, they often use professionally trained stunt actors. The downside is that the main actors’ faces can’t be shown during action scenes, but it ensures the shoot continues safely.

‘If the situation allows, using a stunt double is definitely better. I mean, what age are we living in? You can’t ignore actors' safety.’

Director Oh Jae-deok wondered if he was dreaming as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Has Kim Dong-hoo trained in some special martial arts or something?” “Pardon?” “I mean, it’s like the other kids are at a school sports day, and he’s training at the Taereung Training Center.”

Kim Dong-hoo seemed almost too perfect for the role of Ja-un, an image of genius that was nearly ingrained from childhood. But even that had its limits. If an actor could just pretend to be a prodigy, it would be enough to clap for a mere semblance of talent.

‘How does he even pull off a 720-degree kick like that?’

Wasn’t that a bit excessive? Was he supposed to be that good with his body?

Scratching his head, Director Oh glanced at the script.

It mentioned Ja-un’s childhood, passing all rigorous training with the highest scores to join the Sword Forest. Although the highest scores could be conveyed in different ways, even basic competence would have been fine. By making others appear incompetent, Ja-un could seem naturally talented.

But…

‘Since the actor’s actually skilled, the visuals come together effortlessly.’

There was no need to hold back from overshadowing the main lead. Why? Because no one could outperform Kim Dong-hoo even if they tried their hardest.

In a crowd of kids, Kim Dong-hoo was a wolf among lambs—a crane in a flock of chickens. He had already dominated the scene with his looks, and now his stunning physical skills held everyone in awe. Director Oh felt as if Ja-un had stepped right out of the script.

And because of that…

‘This is fun.’

For the first time in a while, he was excited about filming a drama. It wasn’t just about ratings or the success of the production; it was thrilling to see a character he had invested so much in coming to life on screen.

Whoosh!

As he mused, Kim Dong-hoo, no—Ja-un—continued to shine, displaying an array of impressive kicks showcasing his physical prowess.

“The stunt actors are really good; it looks like they’re genuinely getting hit by those kicks,” Director Oh praised the stunt team’s performance.

“Y-yes, they’re doing a great job.”

The leader of the Youth Stunt Team at the Korea Action Academy answered, wiping cold sweat from his brow.

He’d been training kids for years and had seen a lot of stunt performances, so he knew.

‘That’s not acting.’

They had mentioned before filming that Dong-hoo could hit them with full force and that they would be wearing protective gear, so they were ready to get hit hard.

‘But the shock on their faces wasn’t pretend.’

The stunt actors’ expressions of horror weren’t fabricated. Naturally, the acting looked impressive.

‘Because it’s not acting—they’re really getting hurt!’

How could the blows hurt even with protective gear? He didn’t even voice such obvious questions.

It was hurting them, so it must have been real.

As everyone marveled at Kim Dong-hoo’s action sequences, one person seemed determined to rise to the challenge.

“Could I try performing without a stunt double later on?”

Director Oh glanced over, impressed by Park Jin-hyuk’s question. He was the only one showing such fierce competitive spirit.

‘Kim Dong-hoo’s presence alone is setting the whole set ablaze.’

When an overwhelming game-changer appears, those around them often begin to grow at an unusual pace, much like how a highly advanced civilization can propel the world forward.

‘As a director, it’d be unfair to crush this kind of ambition.’

Of course, it wouldn’t be right to let him take on action scenes without prior testing, either.

“Sure, but if it seems too risky, I’ll stop you. Plus, you’ll have to pass a skills test with the martial arts director beforehand. Is that okay?”

He was essentially saying it was dangerous and would require skill verification. While it could hurt one’s pride to hear that Kim Dong-hoo didn’t need testing while he did, Park Jin-hyuk didn’t mind.

‘I want to be as good as Kim Dong-hoo.’

With the goal in front of him, nothing else mattered. At that moment…

‘I’ll catch up no matter what.’

Park Jin-hyuk’s new target was Kim Dong-hoo.

+++++

A shoot without any NGs—flawless.

‘Nothing’s holding us back.’

It was like speeding down an open, eight-lane highway. With the acting so perfect, there was no need for direction; just capturing it from various angles was enough.

As a result, shooting times were cut short, and progress moved swiftly.

After Ja-un is accepted as a member of the Sword Forest, he guards his father’s grave, where he meets Jang Sa-mo, an old acquaintance of his father. He enters a shantytown, aiming to restore the Jang Yong Guard that once protected the king. There, Ja-un and Baek Dong-su encounter each other for the first time as children.

Baek Dong-su, still with untapped potential and a long road of growth ahead, and Ja-un, already shining brightly with genius—they were bound to clash.

“Let’s settle who’s superior once and for all!” “Why should I?”

Baek Dong-su and Ja-un, with personalities so starkly different, revealed much through their dialogue alone.

“I’ve been here longer and know more people! So, naturally, I should be on top!” “What are you talking about? I don’t care about that. You can take the top or whatever.”

Ja-un looked around, taking in the kids surrounding them with wooden swords in hand. He couldn’t help but laugh at the childish scene.

“You say you don’t care, yet you want to beat everyone down like that?” “Beat down? Me?”

Maybe you’re just weak.

“What?!”

Provoked, Park Jin-hyuk, as Baek Dong-su, rushed at Ja-un.

‘I want to act as cool as him.’

They had rehearsed this—a choreographed exchange of three strikes with wooden swords. Park Jin-hyuk showed off the swordsmanship he had practiced dozens of times with the martial arts director.

Clack!

A light downward slash, effortlessly parried by Ja-un’s smooth movements.

‘This really feels like Ja-un and Baek Dong-su.’

Park Jin-hyuk was secretly amazed.

‘So cool.’

As he was about to continue, his foot slipped on the half-frozen ground. His sword veered off course.

‘No!’

The sword’s momentum made it impossible to stop or redirect. Worse, the slip sped it toward an unintended target—Dong-hoo’s head.

As everyone froze, witnessing this sudden attack, only Kim Dong-hoo stayed calm, following the trajectory of the sword.

Guided by his talents in Heaven’s Body Form and One-Stroke Blood-Smashing, he knew how to deflect the strike perfectly.

In a flash, he deflected the tip of Baek Dong-su’s sword with his own, using the blade to swiftly advance inside Baek Dong-su’s guard.

Whisk!

Spinning his blade, he caused Baek Dong-su to drop his sword.

“...Huh?”

This was swordsmanship at its peak.

True talent shows in these unexpected moments. Kim Dong-hoo’s skills were finally on display.

“Cut! Cut! Cuuuuut!!!”

Director Oh Jae-deok urgently called a halt and rushed onto the set.

“What happened here? Was that planned? That was way too dangerous!”

With actors nearly injured, Director Oh demanded an explanation, concern evident on his face.

‘I have to confess... I made a mistake…’

Trembling, Park Jin-hyuk steeled himself to admit his slip-up.

But then…

“Apologies. I was overly eager due to my confidence in swordplay and made a reckless request to Park Jin-hyuk.”

Kim Dong-hoo’s calm apology followed.

“Kim Dong-hoo! Seriously? You can’t do that. We’re lucky no one got hurt! Don’t do this again.”

It’s not worth the good footage if someone gets hurt! Don’t do it again!

Even under the scolding, Kim Dong-hoo silently bowed in apology.

Since the outcome was good, they decided to let it go and took a break to calm their nerves. As everyone settled, Park Jin-hyuk approached Kim Dong-hoo.

“Why did you do that?” “Hm?” “Everyone could see it was my mistake. Why did you cover for me?”

Dong-hoo looked at him thoughtfully.

Back when he was bullied for his looks and constantly misunderstood, he had no one to cover for him. During those lonely days, he had vowed not to become that kind of person.

‘How could I just stand by when he’s trembling, afraid of being scolded?’

Now that he was in a position to help, he would. Not that he’d say it that way.

“I want us to get along.”

“Huh?”

“I haven’t been acting for long, so I don’t have many friends yet.”

I just wanted to make a good impression.

“...”

He’s better at acting, and better-looking, yet he wants to be friends with me?

Why?

Momentarily confused, Park Jin-hyuk’s mind went blank. What was he supposed to say?

“Uh, okay, but don’t do it again. I can handle myself.”

“Yes, sunbae-nim.”

“Um... right, want to exchange numbers?”

Unsure what else to do, they exchanged numbers.

+++++

While The Swordsman Baek Dong-su filming continued smoothly, another entity ramped up its promotional efforts.

『Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival! Which project will make a splash this year?』 『Search for the breakout star! Will there be a knight in shining armor?』

The festival was gaining traction, and rumors were starting to spread online.

ㄴHey, I heard Kim Dong-hoo’s appearing at Mise-en-scène? ㄴFor real? No way, that’s got to be fake. Kim Dong-hoo wouldn’t be in it. ㄴNo, it’s true. A friend of a friend of mine knows someone involved. They said Kim Dong-hoo’s in it!

The story that Kim Dong-hoo was filming a short film was making the rounds.

ㄴWait, is he filming both a drama and a movie? And he’s just a rookie? ㄴWow, debuting on the big screen with a short film? He must be the lead then.

Excitement was building.

“Impossible! My film was supposed to be his debut! It was supposed to be my film!”

One director with a beard like Guan Yu’s couldn’t accept reality.

“Losing Dong-hoo’s screen debut to a short film? Unforgivable!”