GalaxyTL
"That shouldn’t have broken, right?"
The props team gawked as they watched the wooden sword snap. They had intentionally prepared an aged, worn-looking wooden sword to give the scene a historical feel, and while it had plenty of marks, it had passed every durability test they ran. They even ensured it wouldn’t break during filming to avoid any potential injuries.
"Maybe if you hit the weakest point, it could break? Like, targeting a specific spot..." one team member suggested.
"Are you filming a martial arts fantasy? How would that even work? And even if it were possible, how could someone actually do that?" the team leader retorted.
But Dong-hoo did it, didn’t he?
The props team stopped themselves from arguing back. The situation unfolding before them was so surreal that they could sympathize with the desire to deny reality.
And it wasn’t just the props team who felt this way. Everyone on set was watching Kim Dong-hoo with a mixture of disbelief and awe.
Director Oh Jae-deok, in particular, was visibly shaken, his hands trembling.
"Is everyone okay?! Did anyone get hurt?" the director shouted, rushing to assess the situation.
"I’m fine," said Park Jin-hyuk.
"Dong-hoo, are you okay too?"
"Yes, I’m perfectly fine, Director."
Once Director Oh regained his composure, he hurried over to check on Park Jin-hyuk. If any fragments had flown when the wooden sword broke, it could have been dangerous. But, somehow, Jin-hyuk had released his grip on the sword just before it snapped, avoiding any injury.
It was almost as if the timing had been preplanned, down to the last second.
"Could it be... did you break it on purpose?" Director Oh started to ask Kim Dong-hoo but quickly stopped himself. No matter how he thought about it, it didn’t make sense. Intentionally breaking a wooden sword? This wasn’t some fantasy novel—it was impossible.
Regardless, the most important thing was that no one was hurt.
"It’s a relief that neither of you was injured. Let’s take a short break. We’ll replace the sword and reshoot the scene with the wooden sword duel," Director Oh said.
"Yes, sir."
As they both responded simultaneously, Park Jin-hyuk shot a glance at Kim Dong-hoo.
‘Was that really just an accident?’
Dong-hoo had told him earlier to let go of the sword if anything seemed dangerous. Now, Jin-hyuk couldn’t shake the feeling that Dong-hoo had anticipated this very situation.
"...Still, it’s incredible. How did the wooden sword even break?" Jin-hyuk muttered.
"It was just a coincidence. No one can intentionally break a wooden sword like that," Dong-hoo replied, his expression completely calm.
"For a coincidence, you sure don’t look surprised."
"Uh, maybe I’ve just got strong nerves."
While the two actors exchanged words, Ha Seung-hoon, who played the adult Ja-un, nodded slowly from afar.
"...So this is why people go on and on about Kim Dong-hoo."
That kid is supposed to grow up into me?
‘Seems like I’ve lost my swordsmanship skills,’ Seung-hoon mused.
"Man, that was insane," another voice chimed in beside him. "Shouldn’t we be trying that hard too?"
Ha Seung-hoon smiled wryly as Seo Jin-woo, who played the adult Baek Dong-su, approached.
"You think Dong-hoo’s going to win Best New Actor?"
"Best New Actor? He debuted in a ten-million-won box-office hit. This year’s award season is going to go crazy."
Their conversation naturally shifted to the upcoming year-end award shows. With both dramas and movies under his belt, Kim Dong-hoo’s accomplishments were undeniable. And since The Swordsman Baek Dong-su would wrap up before the awards season, it wouldn’t be surprising if he was on stage receiving an award.
"Crazy, huh..."
"Why?"
"It feels strange to just sit here and watch him like this."
Jin-woo chuckled at Seung-hoon’s words. "You’re right. Should we ask for his number?"
"Wait, what?"
"Come on, there’s no need for actors to play it cool with each other. Let’s just ask for his number straight up."
"What? You’re talking about asking for his number like it’s some sort of... pickup line."
"Well, it is a pickup," Jin-woo replied, laughing again.
Seung-hoon gave him a confused look, waiting for an explanation. Jin-woo chuckled and continued.
"Talented actors always rise to the top. It doesn’t hurt to get close to them early on."
Seung-hoon still seemed bewildered by the idea.
"That’s... not how this works."
"I never studied acting," Jin-woo suddenly said, catching Seung-hoon off guard.
Of course, Seung-hoon already knew the story. Jin-woo was famous for being a self-taught actor who had climbed his way to stardom.
"So when I thought about learning acting, I wanted to learn from someone much better than me."
"...Wait, hold on. Am I hearing this right?"
"Yeah, you heard me right."
It was ridiculous, but Jin-woo’s light-hearted attitude and reasoning were hard to argue with. Jin-woo wasn’t about to miss out on an opportunity to learn from someone exceptional.
"Well, no point in being a fool who doesn’t ask for a great teacher’s number," Jin-woo said before walking toward Dong-hoo, Seung-hoon trailing behind him.
+++++
"Huh?"
By the time I snapped back to reality, I had two top actors’ numbers saved in my phone.
"Wow... Seung-hoon and Jin-woo don’t usually give out their numbers like this," Jin-hyuk muttered in disbelief. He had exchanged numbers with them too, but still seemed stunned by the situation.
I, on the other hand, was calm for one reason.
‘This feels so surreal.’
It was just such a far cry from my normal routine. Having the phone numbers of actors I only saw on TV was a bizarre reality, different from chatting with Soo-jin and Jae-rin.
"Dong-hoo, how do you approach acting?"
In the midst of my thoughts, Seo Jin-woo’s sudden question caught me off guard.
"You finished shooting with the child actors, right? Now it’s our turn. But before that, I’m curious—how do you approach your roles?"
Why now?
As I considered his question, I felt the weight of everyone’s attention shift to me. Even Jin-hyuk, who had been muttering to himself moments ago, was waiting for my response.
It was an awkward question to answer. More specifically, I couldn’t really answer it.
‘How do I act? I just immerse myself in the role, that’s all.’
But I couldn’t exactly say that out loud.
"Uh, well... I just try to really become the character. It’s like I fully immerse myself in the role."
"Immersion, huh?"
I gave as vague an answer as possible.
Somehow, Jin-woo seemed to interpret it in his own way.
"So you mean you even integrate the character into your daily life, right?"
"What?"
"You incorporate the character into your routine, right? Wow, at such a young age. Are you self-taught?"
"Y-yeah, I learned acting on my own."
"Yeah, I figured."
Jin-woo seemed to be growing a misunderstanding, but I didn’t bother to correct him. Regardless, the shoot continued without any further complications.
When all the filming was finally done, Director Oh Jae-deok exhaled like an excited bull, eager to start editing.
"I’m going to edit this beautifully. We’re going to push The Swordsman Baek Dong-su over that 30% ratings mark!"
"Yeah!!!"
Amidst that determined declaration, time flew by, and soon enough...
"Dad, are you watching The Swordsman Baek Dong-su?"
"I have to. My son’s in it, after all."
"..."
The final broadcast date for The Swordsman Baek Dong-su had arrived.
+++++
"This is nerve-wracking."
SKS Drama Director Jung Do-seon watched the final episode of The Swordsman Baek Dong-su with growing anxiety. He wiped the sweat off his brow, despite his expression betraying little emotion.
In the tense meeting room, the only person who seemed relaxed was Director Oh Jae-deok.
"It’ll do well," Oh said confidently.
"It has to. If it does, we’ll get bonuses and maybe even a trip abroad."
Jung’s sudden mention of incentives made everyone in the room sit up straight. Could they really receive such perks if the ratings broke 30%?
‘It wouldn’t be surprising.’
After all, SKS had already tasted success once with Secret Garden, and now, if they had another massive hit with their Monday-Tuesday drama, the advertising revenue would be astronomical.
"I’m sure the viewers will love it," one staff member said optimistically.
"Viewers don’t care about ratings. Only the people behind the scenes worry about that."
"I’ve spent the last week editing, getting maybe two hours of sleep in total," Director Oh said, smiling confidently as the highlight scenes of The Swordsman Baek Dong-su began to air.
"Is there really no going back?"
"Don’t say something so foolish. That’s why you always end up watching your loved ones die."
Sparks flew as swords clashed, cutting away at Ja-un’s lingering attachments to life.
In the midst of the duel, scenes from their childhood flashed on the screen, interwoven with the present. The playful wooden sword sparring of their younger days had turned into a deadly fight with real blades.
Clang!
The transition between the past and present scenes was seamless, as child Dong-su raised his wooden sword, while child Ja-un stood calmly in contrast.
Slice!
Ja-un’s sword struck, severing not just Dong-su’s defense, but also the remnants of their shared past. The sword of someone born under the fatal star left its mark, and Dong-su could no longer remain passive.
Gasp!
With a sharp breath, Dong-su’s sword surged upward from below, cutting through the air with lethal intent. In the past, when child Dong-su had swung clumsily, Ja-un had easily broken the wooden sword and claimed victory.
But that innocent rivalry was long gone.
Slash!
Dong-su’s sword cut deeply into Ja-un’s body, leaving a brutal wound as he desperately tried to hold Ja-un upright.
"Why! Why didn’t you block it? You could’ve easily stopped it!"
Dong-su’s anguished cry echoed through the scene as Ja-un, wincing at the sound, quietly replied:
"...Thank you."
With that, Ja-un exhaled his final breath.
As Dong-su mourned his fallen friend, the words Thank you for loving The Swordsman Baek Dong-su until now appeared on the screen, and the production team let out a collective gasp.
"Director, this is incredible! It’s going to be a huge hit, isn’t it?!"
While everyone else buzzed with excitement, Jung Do-seon remained calm, his sharp gaze fixed on his phone. The only thing that mattered to him now was the ratings.
A notification chimed.
The room fell silent as Jung checked his phone, then removed his glasses with a satisfied grin and slicked his hair back.
His expression was lighter, almost relieved. Director Oh hurried over to see the message on Jung’s phone.
"...A peak rating of 35%?! Final tally... 32%!!!"
As Jung Do-seon announced the final result, Director Oh practically tackled him in a hug.
"Did we really do it?!"
"Yes, we’ve claimed the throne of Monday-Tuesday dramas."
With that, the heated drama battle of 2011 came to an end. SKS dramas were now the reigning champions.
And, of course, with such incredible ratings...
The online forums exploded once again.