BIE 29

Chapter 29….

Becoming a Scene Stealer (1)

“Kyah! Juhwan oppa! Your acting these days is on fire!”

Even “failed idols” had fans.
Although people called him a failed idol, strictly speaking, Oh Juhwan hadn’t completely flopped.

He had been part of a group called The Stuff, and within that group, Juhwan was the visual center.
Out of the three albums they released, the best they achieved was somewhere in the top 20.
After that, like many other idol groups, they faded into obscurity.

Still, he occasionally appeared on variety shows, and after transitioning into acting, even though he only got supporting roles, he managed to keep appearing consistently. Because of that, he still had a fandom.

Park Yuna was one of those fans.

As someone who followed Juhwan, what Yuna found disappointing was that he never managed to break out of his “second male lead” status.

That’s why many fans were worried about his recent challenge in a historical drama.
Although people said he acted decently, many idol-turned-actors had tried period pieces only to crash and burn spectacularly.

Of course, it wasn’t just idols—
Even seasoned actors often embarrassed themselves when attempting historical dramas.
So naturally, fans had plenty to worry about.

And sure enough, while the drama itself received praise, Juhwan’s acting initially faced harsh criticism.

But recently, those harsh reviews were slowly turning into positive ones.

“Still, why do they always show him getting beat up? Why not give him a cool scene?”

The only real letdown was that his character was kind of a joke.
At first, he appeared like an important villain, but at some point, whenever he clashed with the masked man who protected the protagonist, his character just kept getting wrecked.

“But that’s cute too.”

Of course, the complaints didn’t last long—
because fans began to think that even his humiliating moments were kind of endearing.

“What are you doing? Fangirling over that flop idol again?”
“He’s not a flop idol! He’s an actor!”

Her brother, who saw her rewatching clips, barged in with a jab.
Then he plopped down next to her and added:

“If you’re going to keep rewatching over and over, you should just join the ‘Find-the-Beggar’ event. The prizes are decent.”
“Hmph. Why should I?”
“Why not? It’s a trend. I even got a gift card from it.”
“Isn’t that fad dying out already?”

Her brother shrugged.

“Well, yeah. Most of the time, it’s just minor roles anyway. Sometimes he shows up as that flower-boy noble, but aside from that, it’s like playing Where’s Waldo—spotting him as a beggar or eating soup at a restaurant.”
“Exactly.”
“Yeah, it’s about time the buzz cooled off. He only got attention from those memes in that movie, and then milked it again in the drama.”
“True.”

Yuna nodded.
Still, thanks to that, the drama got good traction at first, and some of those event participants stuck around as regular viewers.

For Yuna, it wasn’t bad at all—
if anything, it was great that the drama featuring her favorite actor was gaining popularity.

“Still, flop idol or not, his acting really improved.”
“He’s still a flop idol though.”

Yuna bared her teeth and growled at her brother, but since his words carried a bit of praise, she let it go.

“But I think it’s because that other actor is giving him so much to work with.”

Just then, a scene with the masked man came on screen.
Juhwan’s face twisted like he was chewing on dung—
a look of pure annoyance, as if to say, You again?

“Hmph! That was all Juhwan oppa’s skill!”
“Sure. Still a flop idol though.”
“Hey!”
“Anyway, is that other guy a theater actor? He’s good.”
“Maybe he’s from an action background? He’s great at fight scenes.”
“Could be.”

Like they said, the man in black did both acting and action impressively.

“You should fangirl over an actor like him instead of a flop idol. Tsk.”
“HEY!”

At Yuna’s explosive yell, her brother fled the room.

Still fuming, Yuna did what she always did after an episode ended: she checked Juhwan’s personal social media.

“Huh?”

There, she found a selfie of Juhwan and the actor playing the masked man together.

“Are they close?”

Juhwan was grinning brightly, while the other actor posed with an expression similar to his role.

“He… looks kind of handsome.”

Thinking about it, a strong bromance between Juhwan and this guy wouldn’t be bad at all.

“But who is he? Hmm… Well, since he seems close to Juhwan oppa…”

Convincing herself, Yuna slowly started searching up the actor who played the masked man.

Meanwhile, Director Kim Hyun-chul couldn’t stop smiling—
and neither could writer Choi Mi-seon.

“I didn’t think the disguise would last this long.”
“That’s all thanks to my editing skills.”
“Sure, sure. But honestly, I didn’t expect him to stick it out this far.”
“I did plan it, but honestly, I didn’t think it would work this well.”

Of course, it wasn’t like there were no suspicions at all.

That beggar… doesn’t he look like the masked man?
Yeah, next beggar.
Why does Kim Dae-sung keep calling him “that beggar”?
Their acting feels different.
But they look similar.
Idiot. Didn’t you see the director’s interview for “The Beggar Who Became a God”?
Who watched that flop of a movie, lol.
He said they actually cast a real beggar.
A “real beggar,” yeah right. You believe that?

That was about the extent of it.

Even the director’s joke interview about casting a real beggar got buried because the movie flopped. Hardly anyone believed it.

After all, if they had actually used a real beggar, how could that same person pop up in other dramas?
That only reinforced the rumor that the “beggar” was just a viral marketing gimmick.

“Honestly, I’d love to keep it going longer.”

At the writer’s regretful words, Director Kim shook his head.

“No, now’s perfect. We’re at the midpoint. With the undercover beggar event cooling down, this is the right time.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. Plus, no one’s figured it out completely yet. People are starting to re-examine every scene like it’s a mystery.”

The event itself was simple:
Post screenshots of all the roles you thought the actor had played, and you’d get a prize.

But no one had managed to identify every role correctly—not even with “cheat sheets” floating around.

“Well, yeah. At the end of the day, he’s still just a supporting character. We can’t give him too much focus.”
“Exactly. We can’t let marketing overshadow the story.”

After all, Suhan’s role was still that of a supporting character.

“Let’s do our best today!”

At Director Kim’s call, the assistant director ran around finishing preparations.

“Check if Dae-sung and Suhan are ready!”
“Yes, sir!”

The AD rushed to Dae-sung’s car, where both Dae-sung and Suhan were waiting.

“Are you ready?”
“Should we head out now?”
“Yes!”
“Oh, AD! Should I go out now too?”
“Yes.”

Watching Suhan step out of the van alongside Dae-sung, the AD thought about how much things had changed.

From bit parts to supporting roles, Suhan had risen quickly.
He was even responsible for carrying some of the show’s early popularity through marketing.

Though people joked that in Korea he was still “just a beggar,” the drama found success in Southeast Asia, breaking even financially. His career wasn’t harmed at all.

In fact, the AD now looked forward to what Suhan would do after this drama.

He had thought Suhan’s acting in the movie was passable, but this drama proved he had much more to offer.

Sure, most of his lines were short, since his role was limited.
Usually he passed information to the protagonist in secret—disguising himself, handing off notes, or shooting messages on arrows.

His only lines were the few he exchanged while sparring with Juhwan.

But through living alongside him, the AD realized Suhan was far more talented than expected.
So much so that the “beggar theory” became widely dismissed as just a viral stunt by his agency.

Even with just a line or two, Suhan delivered them with a weight that stood out—
which was rare for background roles.

“Let’s do this well.”
“Don’t worry, hyung!”

There was also another factor:
Though not yet official, it was practically certain that Suhan would join GB Entertainment, thanks to Dae-sung’s direct support.

The delay in signing was deliberate—Dae-sung and Director Park Yuchun had decided to wait, knowing Suhan’s value would rise by the end of the drama, leading to a better contract offer.

It was their way of repaying him for helping resolve the issue with Momo, the dog.

That incident had also brought the AD closer to Dae-sung, since they both shared connections to Momo and his grandmother.

For the AD, who hoped to become a director one day, having ties with someone like Kim Dae-sung was a huge asset.

In a way, Suhan’s presence was a blessing for him too.

“So then, I’ll be counting on you today!”

The AD’s voice carried extra strength that day.

Looks like the AD is expecting a lot from my acting today.

Among all my scenes so far, today’s had the most lines.
And if I did well, I might even get more.

That’s what the director had hinted at—a kind of special treatment.

Until now, my role had been full of short lines, since I was always secretly passing information to the protagonist.

But now…

Hmm. Should I go easy on Juhwan today?
Nah. If I make it too easy for him, he’ll get spoiled.
Better to remind him who’s on top, so it’ll be easier to keep him as my lackey later.

“Action!”

After rehearsals, the action cue dropped.
In beggar’s rags, I approached Dae-sung hyung and begged as usual.

“Spare me some money for soup, kind sir.”
“Oh, thank you kindly, master!”

I accepted the coin in my bowl and prepared to slip him a secret letter—
when suddenly, attackers stormed in.

Dae-sung hyung groaned in pain, his face twisted.

“Ugh…”
“Heh! A long tail always gets stepped on.”

Oho! Juhwan nailed that sinister look!
Guess my coaching paid off.

Then he turned and shouted at me:

“You there, beggar bastard! Hand over that letter!”

Hmm. He put extra venom into “bastard.”
His eyes were sharp, filled with real hatred.
What, was he using method acting here?

“Cut! Why aren’t you saying your line?”
“Ah!”

Oops. I’d better focus.