Chapter 65….
At the Center of the Issue
Jo Gam-dong sat before the reporters, his heart pounding.
Beside him were Woo Soo-han, the film’s lead, and Oh Joo-hwan, one of the supporting leads.
He hadn’t expected reporters to actually show up.
In truth, this was partly thanks to the influence of the Baeksan Group.
It wasn’t unusual for conglomerates to invest in independent films under the banner of “cultural contribution.” So it wasn’t anything special on the surface. But if such a conglomerate expanded their investment not simply out of charity but because they had expectations, then reporters were bound to take notice.
In fact, investment had been increased twice.
So, reporters showing up was natural. After all, there were rare cases where low-budget or indie films hit it big.
And the lead actor himself had become a hot topic—Woo Soo-han.
A former beggar.
But not only that—he was a beggar who could act.
That alone was enough for critics to call him the model case of “true street casting.”
One drama critic even commented, “The joys and sorrows he experienced as a beggar are what shaped the Woo Soo-han we see today.” That line became a sensation, to the point where agencies started joking about needing to scour the streets for talent again.
Thanks to him, the phrase “actors are found, not made” became popular.
So for reporters, just dropping Soo-han’s name was enough to guarantee clicks.
“Since this will likely be categorized as a low-budget commercial film, how do you feel about working on your first project?”
It was an expected question, but for Gam-dong, it was the moment he had been waiting for.
Though he stammered a little, he managed to answer smoothly enough.
Of course, the questions weren’t only directed at him—Soo-han received more of them, actually.
But Gam-dong didn’t mind. From a publicity standpoint, it wasn’t a bad thing for the lead actor to draw attention.
He didn’t yet have real box-office power, but interest itself was good.
Oh Joo-hwan, too, was almost the best choice possible for an indie project. His acting had improved since his last drama, and he had chemistry with Soo-han, which raised expectations further.
Naturally, reporters kept bringing that up.
But not every question was friendly.
“There are those who say casting Woo Soo-han as the lead was unexpected. Yes, he’s hot these days, but his filmography only amounts to a single drama, doesn’t it?”
At that pointed question, Gam-dong jumped in.
“Perhaps that’s exactly why he suits our project. After all, this is my debut as a director too. Ha ha.”
“They say you had better casting options available, though.”
Gam-dong scrutinized the reporter.
Earlier the man seemed disinterested, but now his eyes were sparkling.
Gam-dong realized what this was about.
‘That lunatic, Kwon Soo-hyun?’
The so-called “better casting” everyone had mentioned all pointed back to Kwon Soo-hyun.
It wasn’t like Gam-dong was some renowned master, with awards from prestigious indie film festivals. No top-tier actors were going to beg for his project.
Yes, when Baeksan expanded its investment, some agencies of rookie actors expressed interest.
But compared to Soo-han—already an issue-magnet—those newcomers didn’t measure up.
So the only one left was Kwon Soo-hyun.
“Of course, there were other options. But the story hinges on the protagonist’s inner transformation. The actor best suited to portray such a wide emotional spectrum was Woo Soo-han. As you all know… he’s already shown a range from beggar to god.”
“Is that the only reason?”
The atmosphere turned tense, as though implying there was another, hidden reason.
Gam-dong bit his lip.
Kwon Soo-hyun’s assault scandal had already been swept under the rug.
But if it was dragged out again here, the damage would fall on them: Soo-han would look like he blackmailed his way into the lead, and Gam-dong like a director who gave in to coercion.
Sure enough, Soo-han’s face had stiffened, as if itching to speak out.
Gam-dong quickly took control.
“That’s the main reason. Honestly, this film even came to life largely thanks to Soo-han. When I was hesitating, he was the first one to encourage me.”
The mood shifted.
“Now that you mention it, I heard you two lived together? That makes sense. Do you still?”
“Right now, I’m actually freeloading at Soo-han’s place. You asked earlier why I cast him? Well, you should always listen to your landlord, shouldn’t you?”
Gam-dong’s joke lightened the room, drawing laughter.
But that same reporter frowned, looking ready to stir up more trouble—until a voice cut in from the side.
“Our chairman happens to be a fan of Actor Woo.”
All eyes turned. Soo-han also looked over and then broke into a smile.
Meeting his gaze, the man gave a polite bow. He was Yang Man-sik’s chief secretary.
“Yoo Ji-gwang, from the Baeksan Group Secretary’s Office. As I said, the ad went viral. Our chairman has high hopes for this film. Plus, our group’s PPL is included.”
Smiling, Yoo Ji-gwang then turned his eyes toward the troublesome reporter.
The reporter immediately beamed.
“Wow! That’s exciting. The ad was a huge hit, wasn’t it? If the chairman has such vision, this film is definitely one to watch!”
The reporter instantly transformed into their most enthusiastic supporter.
I couldn’t help but be amazed.
That reporter guy… even more shameless than me.
If he were a dog, his wagging tail alone could probably make him fly.
That’s how you suck up properly.
He’d clearly been trying to stir up trouble, but… guess this is what anger management looks like.
But still—why did the secretary show up here?
Well, whatever. Since he helped us, I gave him a big smile.
He nodded back.
Thanks, sir. Next time I’ll send you a jar of soy crab.
“Damn it…”
Kwon Soo-hyun trembled with rage.
On his phone screen was an article titled:
“Director Jo Gam-dong’s choice to pass over Actor K for Woo Soo-han draws attention.”
The comments section was on fire.
K-actor? I think I know who that is.
┖ No clue. Is it Kwon’s son, Soo-hyun?
┖ What movie did Woo Soo-han even film? LOL
┖ Wow, K got rejected here too? Brutal.
┖ What’s wrong with my oppa! He’s handsome, and his acting… oh wait, can’t even say that with a straight face.
┖ We were waiting for the scandal to blow over, but the reporter just dug up the corpse again.
┖ “Dug up the corpse”? Like that reality show “The Manager”?
┖ Is “dug up the corpse” an abbreviation? Of what?
┖ Du—Dude
Gwan—Wanting attention
Cham—Charming
Si—Seriously?
┖ WTF… people think “digging up the corpse” is an acronym? Ministry of Education, do your job.
┖ Du—Were you jealous, Soo-hyun?
Gwan—You wanted attention, huh?
Cham—Time for a lesson.
Si—You little punk! LOL
“Arrgghhh!”
Crash!
Furious, Soo-hyun hurled his phone out the window.
Smash!
“…Huh?”
“What? Actor K throws phone, damages car?”
Who the heck takes a perfectly fine smartphone and hurls it, breaking some poor car window?
And he’s an actor, too?
“Tsk. An actor should aim to make headlines with acting, not this crap.”
I clicked on a link in the comments, curious about who it was, but ended up on some clickbait YouTube channel instead.
…Damn it.
[But oppa, aren’t you addicted to your phone?]
“What kind of beggar nonsense is that?”
[You’re always on your phone when you’re home lately.]
“What? Me? When? Oh—oh! Look, a new overseas reaction compilation for Beggar’s Spirit! Nice!”
[…]
Addicted? Me? No way.
And yet, I ended up scrolling YouTube until I passed out in the early morning.
…Okay, maybe addicted.
Overseas, reaction videos to Beggar’s Spirit were gaining traction.
Channels compiling reactions to K-dramas or films were booming, and naturally, clips of Soo-han as the scene-stealing beggar spread like wildfire.
The drama had ended, but secondary content was exploding even faster.
Some viewers hadn’t even realized multiple minor roles were played by the same actor. That in itself amused them.
In Korea, though, the response wasn’t as strong. Just like Koreans often say foreigners all look alike, foreigners probably felt the same.
But soon, detailed analysis videos began circulating, and attention rose again.
[Look at this! Sure, makeup played a role, but this is beyond makeup.]
Comparisons and breakdowns stirred even bigger discussions.
[It’s about how much control an actor has over their facial muscles. In Korea, there’s a phrase, “acting with your feet.” You’re supposed to act with your hands, but imagine trying with your feet—how would that work? (No offense—some artists paint beautifully with their feet. Just an expression.) Some actors get labeled that way because their diction is poor, but often it’s really because they can’t properly use their facial muscles.]
Such detailed dissections naturally led to talk about recent projects.
[And look at this! In this ad, too, this amazing actor shows just how unique he is. Damn it, I was honestly in love with this woman, but then…]
Tearing up, the YouTuber’s heartfelt reaction went viral.
Even people who normally ignored K-dramas tuned in.
As a result, Baeksan Group’s ad—and even its extended YouTube content—gained traction, fueling the buzz.
For Baeksan, it was perfect timing: public interest shifted from “that cross-dressing guy” to Woo Soo-han as a serious actor. They doubled down with more promotions.
Capitalism in action—strike while the iron’s hot.
By now, Woo Soo-han’s name was evolving from “funny meme material” to “memorable actor.”
