GalaxyTL
The meaning of an action often depends on who is taking it.
In the past, Kim Donghu declining a project didn’t carry much weight for industry insiders.
Actors choosing their roles was just a routine part of the business.
But now—
"Have we heard back? Did we set a meeting?"
When Kim Donghu turned down a project these days, it carried an entirely different significance.
He was, after all, a box-office guarantee.
Even his brief appearances on variety shows managed to hit peak ratings of over 30%.
Every project he participated in was at least a solid hit, if not an outright home run.
Rumors even circulated that he personally chose his scripts.
For a project to be rejected by Kim Donghu was essentially akin to labeling it a flop.
"No, he hasn’t responded. I don’t think we’ll be able to set a meeting."
"Hmm... Maybe if I meet him and explain, I can change his mind."
Director Kim Jihoon sighed with disappointment and reviewed his script again.
He was deeply satisfied with his work, especially the final scene, where the protagonist breaks down in tears with his family.
Even the investors had expressed their approval.
"Is it because of that?"
Kim Jihoon reexamined the details of the script he had sent to Kim Donghu.
It was set during the Joseon dynasty, with the story centered around the titular Tale of Steel. While it featured swords, it also introduced guns, showcasing the power of Joseon artillery.
"The imbalance creates both comedy and action."
Why couldn’t Donghu see its potential? Why would he reject it?
At that moment, Kim Jihoon felt an unexpected resentment toward the young actor.
And the news of Kim Donghu rejecting the project soon reached the ears of another actor.
"...Our youngest turned this down?"
"Yes."
"Really? Even knowing the investment was over 20 billion won, he said no?"
"Yes."
"Then I won’t do it either."
"What?! Why not?"
"I’m planning to join the same agency soon. It’d be weird for me to take on a project rejected by someone from my new agency, wouldn’t it?"
This actor was none other than Seo Jinwoo, who had recently been considering ending his hiatus.
"If Donghu turned it down, then not doing it is the right call."
Having spent his break after his role as a pilot in Flames of the Stage, Seo Jinwoo was planning his return to acting while transitioning to Veritas.
"Whether it was Swordsman Baek Dongsoo, Flames of the Stage, or now..."
Seo Jinwoo had learned to trust his instincts when it came to following Donghu’s lead.
Whenever Donghu made a decisive move, it almost always turned out to be the right choice.
As April unfolded and the flowers began to bloom, the movie was entering its final stages. Only editing remained.
Conversations about Japanese dubbing were already underway.
"The voice actors for the Japanese dub have been mostly cast."
"Already?"
"Yeah, they seem to have prepped this alongside production. Even the recording location is nearly finalized. You’ll probably be in Japan for about six weeks."
"Six weeks..."
"Yeah. I’ll confirm once the final cut is ready, but that’s the plan."
"Got it."
Listening to Seokho-hyung, I gathered my thoughts.
"Six weeks in Japan, huh."
Not bad.
With the possibility of tacking on a Golden Bell overseas trip or something similar, it meant—
"I’ll have at least eight weeks there."
Two months. Even excluding work, I’d be able to enjoy a perfect vacation schedule.
"Sounds great."
Excited for what lay ahead, I went about my routine.
I attended school classes for the first time in a while, learning theory, and fully immersed myself in everyday life—things I hadn’t had time for because of my schedule.
Then came July.
"Donghu, they’ve finished the final cut."
"Wow, already?"
I was surprised at how quickly time had passed.
Maybe it was because so much had happened recently.
Among the big events was this headline:
『 Shocking! Seo Jinwoo’s New Home is Here? 』
『 A Pilot Reunites with the Young Prince! Veritas Welcomes Seo Jinwoo! 』
Jinwoo-hyung joining our agency had been the biggest news.
It was seamless, as if it had always been meant to happen. Jinwoo-hyung transitioned to Veritas without any drama.
Of course, Veritas couldn’t offer him the lucrative deals that larger agencies could.
But Jinwoo-hyung didn’t care about that.
He made one simple request in his contract.
"You really signed for this, hyung?"
"Yeah. That’s all I need. Honestly, it’s the reason I joined. You’ll agree to it, right?"
"Of course. If that’s what brings you to our agency, I’m all for it."
His condition was for me to pre-screen any scripts sent his way.
Essentially, he wanted me to act as his personal script evaluator.
"That’s not hard at all."
Still, I hadn’t expected him to single me out for something like that.
"How sharp must his instincts be to make a request like this?"
It’s said that people at the top of their field have something unique about them.
In Jinwoo-hyung’s case, his instincts were undoubtedly exceptional.
That was the biggest highlight.
Another development was Sujin frequently visiting my place.
After that day when she ran into Yerim—
"Donghu, I want a key to your place too."
"Huh?"
"Why don’t I have a key? By the natural order of things, I should’ve been the first to have one!"
"...What natural order?"
"Just... there’s an order to these things! Give me a key! Oh, and switch to a digital lock later—it’s safer!"
"...Okay."
From then on, Sujin began visiting my place regularly, even bringing side dishes.
"Ever since then, my fridge has been packed."
It no longer looked like a single guy’s fridge.
Every container of food was meticulously prepared with care and thoughtfulness.
"And sometimes Jaerin’s grandmother would send over kimchi too."
I realized I was truly blessed with good food.
The final cut of The Traitor: Roots of Corruption was no exception.
"It’s incredible."
The progress of technology was apparent. The scene where Jo Seonghak and Yi Taeseong clashed swords and the latter demonstrated his mastery of dual blades—it was spectacular.
The edits added immense impact, making it rival Star Wars.
"I’d love to play a Jedi someday."
Dreaming of Hollywood, I let time carry me forward to late July.
"Wow, it’s been ages since I’ve been to Japan. Donghu, should we check out some food spots while we’re here?"
"Oh, do you know any good places, hyung?"
"I did my research. A manager’s job, right?"
"...You’re the company’s CEO."
"Donghu, I think of you as the CEO. I’m just the figurehead. If I follow your lead, money practically rains from the sky, doesn’t it?"
"...Sure."
And so, Seokho-hyung and I arrived in Japan.
The Japanese voice acting industry is unparalleled, even on a global scale.
It transcends merely providing voices for characters, with voice actors often described as artists who breathe life into their roles. In some cases, the success of a work depends heavily on the voice actor's performance.
This made voice acting one of the most popular, yet fiercely competitive, careers in Japan.
Perhaps that’s why—
"...A Korean actor is dubbing with us?"
When this announcement was made in the studio, the Japanese voice actors frowned.
Some senior voice actors outright dismissed the idea as absurd, with a few going so far as to openly criticize it. While some comments were bluntly hostile, most expressed skepticism about the Korean actor's competence.
"Does he even know Japanese? Will he understand if we speak quickly?"
"What about pronunciation? Speaking conversationally and performing as a voice actor are two completely different things."
"Actors and voice actors are entirely different fields! Are they joking?!"
Unlike themselves, who had climbed through the cutthroat competition of the voice acting world, this Korean actor had seemingly parachuted into their domain. They couldn’t view him positively.
"Honestly, I didn’t think this was real. I thought they were joking when they said we’d be dubbing with a Korean actor."
"Same here! I figured he’d bow out when it came to the dubbing sessions."
So why had they agreed to participate in a project where a Korean actor was involved?
The answer came up in their conversation, but the decisive reason was—
"It’s because Director Kiryu Sota is so eccentric that no one could say no!"
Kiryu Sota, deeply moved by Kim Donghu’s performance, insisted on bringing him to Japan. As a director seeking to revolutionize the Japanese film industry, he believed it was essential for Donghu to participate in person.
In other words, the “Korean actor” they were referring to was—
"This Kim Donghun or whatever! I don’t care; I’m not going to let this slide!"
"Yeah, let’s intimidate him. Scare him off—he won’t be able to handle it anyway."
They were talking about Kim Donghu.
To suppress him and send him packing, their strategy was simple:
"Let’s start by making him wait!"
The plan was to subtly remind Donghu of his “inferior” status, with preparations for this effort underway.
At the same time—
Slurp.
"Donghu, aren’t you supposed to start with the broth when eating ramen?"
"...Oh, is that how it’s done?"
"I’m not sure, but it feels like the right way."
"We won’t get kicked out for doing it wrong, right?"
"Nah, no way."
Kim Donghu was currently eating ramen without a care in the world.
"We have to be at the dubbing studio at least two hours early, so I’ll finish this and head over."
Slurping down noodles as if inhaling them, he was on his fourth bowl of ramen when—
【 Eating ramen without a care, hot guy spotted next to me wwwwwwwwwww 】
(Photo of Kim Donghu eating ramen)
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The tweet was going viral.