"Endless Frontline draws in 490,000 viewers on opening day—Is this the signal for a 10-million-ticket hit?"
"What’s Kim Dong-hoo’s deal? Treats theater staff to snacks and takes commemorative photos before stage greeting!"
"War films: Do they still work if done right? A deep dive into Endless Frontline!"
"Kim Dong-hoo, the Mise-en-scène 4-time award winner, is also making waves in commercial cinema. Chungmuro is buzzing!"
"Kim Dong-hoo’s promise if Endless Frontline hits 10 million? A rice-eating broadcast!"

The media was relentless, with articles pouring in every day, seemingly determined to hammer home Endless Frontline's inevitable success.

Starting with a strong 490,000 opening-day audience, a crucial number for any film targeting the coveted 10-million-viewer milestone, the film was receiving rave reviews, and social media was ablaze with people posting their experiences.

Audiences are always thirsty for fresh faces.

They want actors who guarantee box-office success, yet the more often these stars appear, the more people get tired of them.

But someone who can bring a new flow to the screen, a fresh presence—audiences are always hungry for that.

"And that someone is our Dong-hoo."

Choi Seok-ho chuckled with pride as he looked at the pile of business cards and scripts before him.

"Wow, there’s really a lot."

All of these were from people eager to form a connection with Kim Dong-hoo. The sheer volume made it clear—everyone wanted to work with him.

But there was one downside.

"We can’t take on more projects."

Dong-hoo wasn’t superhuman, and his current schedule was already packed.

The Swordsman Baek Dong-su was still filming, and Il-sik was set to start production soon.

Taking on anything more would be impossible.

"His schedule is pretty much full until the first half of next year."

If they pushed him too hard now, the balance between work and rest would collapse.

To become a lasting symbol, rather than a brief flash in the pan, sufficient rest was essential.

"And this upward trend is insane."

It was like Endless Frontline was following the perfect formula for a 10-million-ticket hit.

Around 500,000 viewers on opening day.

2.3 million by the end of the first week!

With 1.3 million people flocking to theaters over the weekend alone, Endless Frontline was dominating screens nationwide, and every showing was sold out.

A quick internet search would bring up reviews of the film on every corner of the web.

“Han Tae-gun’s acting has seriously improved.”
“Yeah, Han Tae-gun is great, but Kim Dong-hoo is on another level. He’s insane.”
“That’s the feeling of war!”
“How does he know that? He’s never experienced it, LOL. But seriously, the psychological depth was incredible.”
“Right? As soon as I saw the movie, I went straight home and had yukgaejang with white rice, LOL.”
“You too? Same here, haha.”

Endless Frontline was unstoppable, as proven by the word-of-mouth spreading like wildfire.

And at the end of the second week...

"Dong-hoo’s already hit the 5-million-ticket mark."

It had already surpassed 5 million viewers.

+++++

On the final day of filming for The Swordsman Baek Dong-su:

"Can’t believe this is the last day."

I stepped out of the van, feeling a mix of relief and sadness.

Maybe it was because I had gotten into the habit of arriving two hours early since the first shoot, but now it just felt natural to show up ahead of schedule.

"I guess it’s kind of fun to wander around the empty set."

As I adjusted to the crisp morning air, suddenly—

Pop! Pop, pop, pop!

Fireworks exploded, and people poured out from the quiet set.

"Dong-hoo! Congrats on hitting 5 million! Let’s keep it going to 10 million!"

"?!"

A surprise?

I was completely caught off guard. Everyone seemed pleased with my reaction and laughed as they continued.

"Our young star personally helped promote the drama, so we couldn’t just sit back and do nothing."

"I helped promote it?"

"Of course! Anything you’re in right now is bound to be a hit."

And coincidentally, the premiere of our drama was set for around the third week of Endless Frontline’s run.

Hearing that, I quickly put two and two together.

"Oh, so that’s why they’re saying I’m promoting the drama naturally."

While my popularity was soaring, my action scenes in the drama would air back-to-back. The attention would naturally spill over into the drama.

And of course, that attention would translate into viewership.

In short, everything I touched was about to turn to gold.

"You’re a real blessing, Dong-hoo! That’s why we have to celebrate!"

Even though the drama’s success wasn’t directly related to them showing up early to prepare a surprise celebration...

"I appreciate it."

I quickly bowed, trying to hide how moved I felt. If I said anything more, I might end up crying.

"I can’t cry here."

Luckily, all my experience acting made it easy to control my emotions. I quickly composed myself and lifted my head.

When in doubt about what to say—

"Please take care of me for today’s shoot as well."

There’s nothing like a textbook response.

With that, the cheerful atmosphere continued, and we smoothly transitioned into filming.

In the final scene, Baek Dong-su and Ja-un, after honing their skills, were admitted into the royal guard, the Jangyongwe. But they soon faced a deadly ambush from the group known as Geomlim, leaving most of the key figures dead.

Only a handful survived.

Baek Dong-su was left seething with hatred for Geomlim, while Ja-un began to question his ties to the group.

"Okay, cut! That’s great!"

Since it had become famous that Kim Dong-hoo didn’t make mistakes, the other actors worked harder to avoid messing up as well.

As a result, filming wrapped up quickly.

"I didn’t get to spend much time with the other actors."

Normally, I would have had more chances to film with a wider range of actors.

But because of the stand-in shoot due to the child actor’s injury, those opportunities were limited.

Still...

"Dong-hoo, just because you’re doing well now doesn’t mean you’ll ignore my calls later, right?"

"How could I ever do that to you, sunbae?"

"In this industry, they say people can change in an instant when they get hit with the fame bug. I hope you don’t turn out like that."

Despite fewer opportunities, I did manage to make some valuable connections.

One of them was Jin-hyuk, the actor playing the older Baek Dong-su.

"Plus, you’ll be joining our school in two years."

School connections are really important, after all.

I chuckled at his words.

"By the time I join, you’ll be graduating."

"I’ll still look out for you. Trust me, I’ll pave the way at Daehan Arts High. Just come and see."

"Thank you, sunbae."

"But you’ve been calling me ‘sunbae’ this whole time. Just call me ‘hyung.’"

"I don’t know if I can do that..."

"Technically, by debut year, you’re the sunbae. Didn’t you star in Kyarureuk Doctor when you were five? Just call me ‘hyung,’ or it’ll mess up the hierarchy."

He wasn’t wrong.

"Did I really debut at five?"

Even though I’d taken a long break in between, debut age is still debut age.

"If I just count the years, I guess I’ve been in the industry for about ten years now."

Not bad.

Muttering to myself, I awkwardly opened my mouth.

"S-so, Jin-hyuk hyung?"

"That’s better! I hope to see you in another project soon."

"And by the way, the director’s been dying to talk to you. He’s been watching you all this time."

As soon as he said that, I turned toward Director Oh Jae-deok.

Jin-hyuk wasn’t exaggerating.

‘Is he shooting fire out of his eyes?’

His gaze was intense.

And that’s when it hit me.

The Swordsman Baek Dong-su was officially wrapped.

Another project successfully completed.

+++++

In the third week of Endless Frontline’s release:

Having reached around 8 million viewers, the film was on track to hit the 10-million mark, and it seemed to be all anyone could talk about.

Various magazines rushed to interview the cast.

"Is it true that Kim Dong-hoo is an amazing actor?"

"You have no idea. He’s probably the best of all of us here."
"Ah, no, no way. Please, sunbae, no...!"
Laughter.

What stood out in the interviews was Kim Dong-hoo’s personality.

Despite being the star of High Dream, a 30% viewership hit, winning four awards at the Mise-en-scène, being the face of Brilliant uniforms, and poised to star in a 10-million-viewer movie, Kim Dong-hoo remained warm, polite, and humble.

"There are only about 2 million viewers left until 10 million. Do you know where you’ll be eating your celebratory rice?"

"Ah... I haven’t decided on anything yet, so I’m still thinking it over."

Click.

With a simple press of the remote, the interview screen froze.

"What does this mean?"

The marketing team leader addressed the executives, who were now focused on the current presentation.

What does it mean? Their expressions seemed to ask.

The marketing team leader adjusted his glasses and continued.

"It means he’s about to hit 10 million, and he hasn’t picked where he’ll be eating his rice yet."

"Wait, what?"

"Think about it: If, when he hits 10 million, the rice he eats is our Ottu Rice, what would that mean?"

!

The executives immediately understood why they had been called in.

"Could it be...?"

"Kim Dong-hoo’s value is skyrocketing, and the best time to partner with him is now, while it’s still affordable."

"Are we really going to let Ottu Rice keep losing to Hetban?"

The executives were buzzing. Every word the marketing team leader said made sense.

"Let’s be honest about quality. We’re not behind; it’s just our marketing that’s lacking."

"That’s why I strongly recommend making Kim Dong-hoo the new face of Ottu Rice!"

The executives nodded enthusiastically, ready to give the plan the green light.

Meanwhile, at that exact moment...

"When you think of instant rice, it’s Hetban, right? Imagine if, after hitting 10 million, Kim Dong-hoo eats Hetban!"

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

Hetban was thinking the same thing.

The Kim Dong-hoo wave was crashing through everything in its path.