Top Star by Luck

Chapter 37

[Forever Green] Scene 23.

The content could be summarized as follows:

>[Detective Goo Hak Jin is a passionate person. He became a police officer because he truly wanted to catch real criminals, but he’s growing sick of the internal politics that are far from what he imagined.
>
>He works hard.
>
>However, his senior detective, [Oh Man Shik], keeps blocking him, forcing him to stay silent.
>
>There’s enough reason for it, but from Detective Goo Hak Jin’s perspective, even though he understands it in his head, his heart just can’t accept it.
>
>He vents all of this to his friend over the phone.
>
>He explains how far he’s dug into the case, where he got stuck, and laments why he has to go through such hell.
>
>This happens to reach the criminal’s ears by coincidence.]

This scene marks the beginning of Detective Goo Hak Jin facing a real crisis.

This particular phone call becomes the turning point where Detective and serial killer Kim Jong Hak starts seeing him as a threat.

The pace control of this scene was critical.

The information needed to be leaked in a way that the criminal could overhear, but without making it obvious that it was done on purpose.

The nuance of pacing was crucial.

Scene 23 was a key scene for this very reason.

Moreover, as a rookie actor, the added pressure of enduring the intensity on set was a burden in itself.

As for Lee Min Ki…

“Why is it always me? Like I’m the only one they pick on. If they needed a janitor, they should’ve hired one instead of a detective. Why did they even pick me? Did I study like crazy in Noryangjin just to end up like this, slamming my head against the desk? I have a good idea of who the criminal is and I want to investigate, but they keep blocking me from getting close! Damn it, should I just quit?”

Lee Min Ki portrayed [Detective Goo Hak Jin] masterfully.

He unleashed the frustration of living a police life completely different from what he imagined, pouring out the feelings of isolation with no one to confide in.

“I get it too, you know? No one wants a public servant running around like a rat in a burning house. But I’m a police officer! Hell, that’s my job! So why won’t they let me do it?!”

The current Lee Min Ki seemed like a completely different person from his usual self.

He was hot-blooded.

A youth unable to control his fiery temperament.

He was a low-ranking revolutionary, yearning to overturn the world but lacking the authority to do so, his anger bubbling inside.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Lee Min Ki strode briskly along the edge of the parking lot, reciting the more than twenty lines of the script continuously as his footsteps echoed sharply.

There were no mistakes.

Well, actually, there was one.

“Uh, you know what I mean, right?”

He fumbled through a minor line, but it passed as an impromptu ad-lib.

It wasn’t a big deal.

But, for a rookie, such flexibility was not an easy feat.

Rookies tend to obsess over strictly following the script, so when they miss a line, they often freeze up, like a robot running out of battery.

Of course, for an ad-lib to be successful, the final result has to be good.

However.

The fact that Director Yeom didn’t point out his mistake was as good as an order to keep going as is.

“Not bad.”

He smiled inwardly.

“Yeah, if it’s not a critical part, we can just cut it out in editing. Show as much as you can for now.”

It was better than cutting the camera.

If it had been a clumsy ad-lib, he would’ve shouted at him immediately, but at this level, it was tolerable.

Still, there was something curious.

“He’s quite comfortable on set. Is he naturally camera-friendly? There’s not a hint of nervousness.”

Lee Min Ki’s movements were too natural.

The truth was this:

Lee Min Ki had both experience and a backstory.

Even though he had only played minor roles and low-ranking supporting characters, he had experienced many sets over the years, becoming accustomed to the environment itself.

During that time, he nurtured a dream of one day standing among the lead actors.

But despite all that accumulated input, he had encountered obstacles in fully displaying his talent.

He was stifled.

His psychological state as a minor actor prevented him from revealing his full abilities.

Without him even realizing it, his confidence had been tightly bound.

Thanks to the continuous “nagging” — no, guidance — of Trainer Kim Ah Sung, that mental restraint had loosened somewhat.

The baseball field incident was a turning point.

“Tell them to go eat lettuce wraps with pork belly, damn it.”

This role also aligned well with his true nature.

He had always wanted to achieve something but had never been able to.

Director Yeom probably wasn’t aware of it, but the character [Detective Goo Hak Jin] represented a part of Lee Min Ki himself.

When the dam he’d been building up burst, it flooded out.

Now, Lee Min Ki had risen above the level of a typical rookie.

“Cut!”

At that moment, Director Yeom’s voice rang out, signaling the end of the take.

At the same time, the actors and crew snapped out of their immersion and visibly shuddered.

“Huuuu…”

Lee Min Ki, who had been delivering a long monologue, finally exhaled deeply.

And then…

His face flushed red.

‘Did I go a bit overboard?’

He had deliberately intensified the emotional line, knowing that the pressure of the gaze would be tough to handle.

But as he acted, something strange happened.

The lines struck a deep chord within him.

It felt as if Detective Goo Hak Jin’s lines were telling his own story.

When practicing with just the script, he had consciously controlled his emotions, but on set, everything turned white, and he let loose.

‘Maybe I overdid it.’

He instinctively braced himself for criticism and a retake.

“Min Ki.”

Director Yeom clapped his hands and said.

“That was great.”

“Huh?”

Lee Min Ki blinked, surprised by the unexpected words, and Director Yeom continued.

“You definitely have a knack for it. You know exactly where to emphasize and where to hold back in the lines. It’s something you learn from being on set a lot.”

Director Yeom then glanced up and down at Lee Min Ki’s physique, evaluating him as he muttered to himself before asking a question.

“Did you perhaps work under another stage name?”

“Huh? No, I’ve always been Lee Min Ki, using my real name.”

“Then as a child actor?”

“No.”

“Did you do theater?”

“That was just for a short time in a club.”

“I see. So you do have some experience.”

Nodding as if he had just realized something, Director Yeom said.

“Let’s shoot a few more takes. What we have now isn’t bad, but I think we can get something even better.”

“…!”

It was praise from Director Yeom, known for ruthlessly tearing apart even the smallest flaws.

Lee Min Ki’s eyes widened in surprise, and he shouted energetically.

“Yes! I’ll do it a hundred times if needed!”

“No, we don’t need that many.”

Meanwhile, at the same time…

Actors Choi Yoo Chang and Kang Do Won were standing at a distance, watching Lee Min Ki’s performance with quiet admiration.

“He doesn’t seem like a rookie. Come to think of it, doesn’t he remind you of when you first started, Do Won?”

“Did something happen with me?”

“When you were a rookie, they banned you from set because you made all the senior actors feel small. They said you were too arrogant, remember? Hahaha!”

“…”

Kang Do Won frowned at the memories, which were not exactly sweet.

Still, he could relate to some extent.

‘There are plenty of people who are bitter about the rise of a skilled rookie.’

Kang Do Won briefly drifted into old thoughts before shaking them off.

Enough.

He only needed to avoid perpetuating such toxic traditions.

With that thought, Kang Do Won stood up and muttered.

“I’ll have to work harder.”

“Are you talking about him?”

“No, I’m talking about the two of us.”

* * *

It had been two weeks since filming started.

A change had come to Lee Min Ki.

“Good, good. Let’s move on to the next scene. Min Ki, get ready.”

“Yes!”

He had fully adapted to the environment and melted into the scene.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t had the opportunity to prove himself before, but once he did, the recognition came quickly.

Especially from his colleagues on set.

“Min Ki, do you know a bit about action scenes? I’m supposed to get into a fight with you in the latter part. You’ll go easy on an old guy like me, right?”

“Haha… haha…”

Actor Choi Yoo Chang, in particular, couldn’t seem to stop chatting, as if he found Lee Min Ki utterly adorable.

“Now that I think about it, you seem to have a sturdy build. Do you go to the gym? Do you have a personal trainer?”

“I just go to a gym near my house.”

“That’s right. The best gym is always the one closest to home. When it’s far, it’s too hot to go in the summer and too cold to go in the winter.”

He rambled on, endlessly.

This was a characteristic of actor Choi Yoo Chang.

A “too much talker.”

Or TMI (too much information).

In the industry, he was infamous for talking too much.

There was even a joke that if he hadn’t become an actor, he might have become either a snake-oil salesman or a cult leader.

>[I once saw him at a restaurant and asked for his autograph. He ended up planning out my entire life for me.]

Someone like him wasn’t going to ignore a rookie like Lee Min Ki.

Throughout the filming, he was practically glued to Lee Min Ki’s side.

“Yoo Chang, aren’t you being a bit too friendly?”

Kang Do Won actor spoke up, sounding somewhat uncomfortable.

“Min Ki seems uncomfortable. Maybe you shouldn’t be so overbearing.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Lee Min Ki was about to protest.

“Hey, Do Won, what’s wrong with actors getting to know each other?”

Choi Yoo Chang laughed heartily in response.

“A senior actor can find a junior charming, right?”

“I mean, rookies can get their emotional acting thrown off if they get too familiar with their seniors. You’ll be fighting later, so how are you going to make that look real?”

“That’s only for rookies who don’t know what they’re doing.”

Was he implying he wasn’t a rookie?

Lee Min Ki’s eyes twitched slightly as Choi Yoo Chang snorted and said.

“Ah, I get it. You’re jealous that I’m getting along with a younger guy while you can’t even talk to anyone. Right?”

“… Yoo Chang, have you been drinking?”

“Ohh, if you can’t argue with the message, you attack the messenger.”

“Ugh, I should stop talking. Min Ki, be careful around this guy.”

“Ah, thank you.”

As soon as Lee Min Ki bowed his head to the senior actor’s advice…

“What? Min Ki, I’ve been looking after you, and now I’m the one to be careful of? Is that how it is between us?”

Choi Yoo Chang muttered as if feeling offended.

“…”

What kind of relationship was this?

Although Lee Min Ki had seen Choi Yoo Chang on TV, they had only worked together for less than a week on set.

‘This is really disappointing.’

What did Lee Min Ki think of Choi Yoo Chang?

He was a symbol of veteran actors.

Solid and intense.

He often played stiff characters on screen, which only amplified this image.

He was respected by his seniors and admired by his juniors—a distant role model.

Who could have imagined that, in reality, he had the personality of an uncle who wanders around in his boxers on weekends?

‘Give me back my fantasy.’

But why was he sticking so close?

There were plenty of other rookies and talented actors around.

Why was he so focused on Lee Min Ki?

The absurd affection only deepened Lee Min Ki’s suspicion.

In truth, this was all because of his talent.

‘This guy is fun to tease.’

Choi Yoo Chang chuckled to himself.

To him, Lee Min Ki was humble despite his skills.

Even when it wasn’t his turn, he attentively observed and learned, taking notes.

He didn’t go out of his way to impress his seniors, which made him an exceptionally likable junior.

And Choi Yoo Chang wasn’t the only one who thought highly of him.

There was one more.

“You really are something special, actor.”

Joo Ha Na, who seemed to follow Lee Min Ki around like a shadow, also admired him.

“When I watch your acting, it feels like I’m seeing the real thing. It gives me chills.”

“Haha, thank you.”

Unfortunately, Lee Min Ki wasn’t too thrilled about her interest.

‘She’s a bit overwhelming.’

Joo Ha Na had gained fame through scandals.

It was hard not to be wary of someone who had been notorious for leading people on.

Of course, there didn’t seem to be any immediate issues.

“I brought something you like! An iced Americano!”

In fact, she seemed quite likable at the moment.

However, there was an old saying: Don’t tie your shoelaces in a melon patch.

He didn’t want to get too close and risk unforeseen problems later, so he kept his distance.

“Can you tell me where you work out? I’d like to join.”

“I just go to a gym near my house.”

“So, you don’t want to tell me?”

“No, it’s really just a gym near my house.”

At this point, Joo Ha Na’s reputation was quite good.

She was seen as a hardworking, polite actress.

In this way, Lee Min Ki unintentionally became the center of attention on set, a situation that seemed like the perfect scenario.

But there’s something you should know.

In a classroom of thirty students, there’s always at least one person who dislikes you for no reason.

So, not everyone on set viewed him positively.

‘Ugh, he’s sucking up so hard.’

There were also people who harbored ill feelings towards him for getting along so well with the senior actors.

“If you’re a rookie, act like one. Why is he acting so bold?”

“He’s in his mid-twenties. Isn’t it embarrassing to act like the youngest?”

These feelings mostly came from other rookie actors who were stuck in between.

They weren’t complete newbies anymore, but they weren’t exactly receiving much attention either, just drifting around on set like spare parts.

To them, Lee Min Ki’s behavior seemed irritating.

“Actor Choi Yoo Chang is just nice, that’s why he’s putting up with it.”

“They act like they don’t notice, but they know what’s going on.”

From their perspective, he was kissing up to his seniors while pretending to be humble to his juniors.

How could anyone see that in a positive light?

Of course, this could also be interpreted as being polite to his seniors and humble to his juniors.

But to those who had already formed a negative opinion, such nuances didn’t matter.

‘I’ve seen plenty of guys like him. They think sucking up will put them on the same level as their seniors.’

Though, in truth, it was more that Choi Yoo Chang had taken an interest in him.

But they couldn’t see that.

Add in a little bit of personal resentment.

‘From the very first shoot, he’s hanging out with a woman? His head’s not on straight.’

‘A rookie with a woman?’

‘He’s definitely a player.’

This assumption was largely due to his appearance, a face more pretty than rugged and a well-proportioned physique.

It was a total mess.

One of those with a twisted view of Lee Min Ki.

“Acting all high and mighty, huh?”

Kim In Gwon, a stunt actor, muttered to himself from a distance, arms crossed as he watched Lee Min Ki.

“I’ll show him what real skill looks like.”