Chapter 36

Inside a conference room at Studio Cocoa, a tier-one media content production company.

Today was the day of the main meeting for Studio Cocoa’s most anticipated project — a collaboration with the local government — May the Mountain God Protect You.

Joo Sae-i, cast in the female lead, and Do Je-hyeon, cast opposite her as the male lead, took their assigned seats alongside the writer, the director, and the rest of the production team.

Across the wide table sat warm honey water, snacks, and neatly printed copies of the official script.

Among the crowd of people involved, Studio Cocoa’s CEO, Park Ji-seok, had eyes for only one person.

Why does it have to be some unknown like her…

It was Joo Sae-i — the one set to play the female lead, So Ji-min.

Park Ji-seok’s Studio Cocoa was a production company famous for turning out one hit after another.

Mass appeal, commercial success, and real meaning packed into every work — holding onto all three at once was Studio Cocoa’s motto, and its strength.

Do you have any idea what it took to build this company up to where it is?

Thanks to the name the company had made for itself, this project had landed a partnership with the Gyeonggi tourism industry.

When Studio Cocoa first took on Choi Gi-yeong’s script, a smash hit had seemed all but guaranteed — until the conditions Choi Gi-yeong attached to it left CEO Park Ji-seok thoroughly dismayed.

Leave the casting decisions entirely in my hands.

You already have someone in mind, don’t you?

Mm, of course. You know I write with an image already locked in.

Park Ji-seok should have known something was up the moment Choi Gi-yeong smiled so meaningfully at that question.

The person Choi Gi-yeong brought in, calling her the female lead, was a rookie who didn’t even have a single credit to her name yet.

Word was she’d appeared in a drama by the younger of the Choi sisters, Choi Gi-jeong — but given how that production’s broadcast schedule worked, it was set to air later than the web-drama format of May the Mountain God Protect You, so this could be counted, for all practical purposes, as her actual debut.

What is she thinking, shoving a rookie straight into this?

It wasn’t a matter of doubting Choi Gi-yeong’s eye for talent. It was only that casting someone with even a little name recognition would have made things so much easier — that was the feeling, plain and simple.

At least it was a relief that a big catch like Do Je-hyeon had taken the bait on this project.

Apparently Do Je-hyeon had struck up some kind of friendship with Joo Sae-i on a past set, because the moment he heard she’d been cast, he’d declared he wanted in.

“Haah…”

Her face really is something, though. Clear-skinned, every bit the student type, and delicately pretty besides.

Park Ji-seok, who had been sizing up Joo Sae-i all this while, let out a sigh as the thought ran through the CEO’s mind.

“Let’s start with introductions. Good to meet you all, Team Mountain God. I’m the writer, Choi Gi-yeong.”

The first to speak was Choi Gi-yeong, the writer behind May the Mountain God Protect You.

“Director Kwon Hui-taek. Let’s make this one roll smoothly, heh heh.”

After everyone had gone around with introductions, Choi Gi-yeong took the floor again, stretching out an arm toward Joo Sae-i and Do Je-hyeon to draw every eye to them.

“These are the two leads I fished straight out of my younger sister’s drama. Let’s give them another round of applause.”

“Wahh!”

Choi Gi-yeong’s request for applause came in a tone sharper than her younger sister Choi Gi-jeong’s.

At the request of the woman at the center of the project, everyone in the conference room clapped loudly. CEO Park Ji-seok simply stood with hands tucked in pockets, watching it all unfold.

“First, Joo Sae-i. You’re the actress I’d made up my mind, without question, to cast as my female lead. As for your skill — well, everyone’s about to find out soon enough.”

Choi Gi-yeong moved the hand she’d pointed at Joo Sae-i over toward Do Je-hyeon.

“You all know Do Je-hyeon well, don’t you? Anyone who doesn’t by now must be living under a rock. The moment our Je-hyeon heard Sae-i had been cast, he said he wanted in.”

“Writer Choi, you didn’t have to say that—!”

Do Je-hyeon, who’d been sitting quietly, suddenly cut Choi Gi-yeong off. Looking embarrassed, he covered his face with a broad, large palm.

“We worked together once before, even if it was back when I was a child actor, so I’m looking forward to this. Let’s push through to the very end together.”

Choi Gi-yeong set down the microphone. The next to take the floor was CEO Park Ji-seok.

“This project will be produced in a web-drama format. We’ll be uploading four episodes, each around twenty-five minutes, to the InTube channel. In exchange, the broadcast will air as a weekend single-episode special.”

Park Ji-seok continued the explanation, sketching a chart on the whiteboard set up in the conference room to summarize the structure.

“KDS has confirmed the broadcast slot, and the two episodes uploaded to InTube will be combined into a single episode of around fifty-five minutes.”

Marker in hand, scribbling absentmindedly on the whiteboard, Park Ji-seok glanced over at Joo Sae-i.

Oh?

Of everyone in the room, Joo Sae-i was listening with the most eager, shining eyes.

She looked less like an actress and more like a model student in class, leaving CEO Park with the distinct feeling of student teaching practice all over again.

“Depending on how InTube and the broadcast do, we might even line up a follow-up project. Either way, it all comes down to our two leads doing well. Isn’t that right, Joo Sae-i?”

The question had been aimed straight at her, just to see her reaction. The way she nodded along was every bit the rookie.

“Alright, I think that about covers the explanation.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

The moment CEO Park sat back down, Choi Gi-yeong adjusted her glasses and spoke up.

“Since everyone’s gathered today, why don’t we do a quick script reading? Just to check the tone, if nothing else.”

“Sounds good.”

Do Je-hyeon pulled his chair in close and opened his script.

CEO Park Ji-seok’s eyes naturally settled on Joo Sae-i. With fingertips trembling slightly, she turned the pages of the script set in front of her.

She’s going to stumble over her lines in a minute.

When a rookie went into an impromptu script reading like this, they usually ended up trembling just like that, stumbling over their lines, and on the verge of tears. It was a pattern Park Ji-seok had seen more times than could be counted since taking the helm at Studio Cocoa.

“We’re only checking the mood here, so don’t put any pressure on yourselves. Though of course, perfect would be even better. Alright, let’s go with episode two.”

There was no way Choi Gi-yeong didn’t know how this usually went, and yet, rather than take back her suggestion of a script reading, she pushed it forward. She clearly had something up her sleeve.

CEO Park waited for the reading to start with an unimpressed, unenthused expression, expecting little.

The actors skimmed lightly through the script, and before long, the reading began under the writer’s lead.

“Wait, are we filming a period drama or something right now?”

Joo Sae-i delivered the line with eyes shining. At the same moment, CEO Park’s unimpressed expression cracked.

What… is this?

A tone that bounced and crackled with energy. An accent straight out of a real, present-day high schooler, as though she’d swallowed the twenty-first-century high school girl that was female lead So Ji-min whole.

“What even is— No wait, hold on! Hold on! This is a joke, right?”

“Release this hand of mine.”

“Aaah, this is like a cosplay thing, right? But I’ve got to get to cram school…”

“Gosubore? Is that some four-character proverb?”

“Ugh, seriously, what are you even saying. Please tell me this is a joke…”

The tension carried through flawlessly, even in the back-and-forth banter with Do Je-hyeon that would color the early part of episode two.

It was exactly the feel of “So Ji-min” that Park Ji-seok had vaguely pictured the very first time reading the script for May the Mountain God Protect You.

“So basically, to go back, I need, um, your… divine power, or whatever?”

Joo Sae-i darted around full of energy, like a fish thrown back into water, while Do Je-hyeon caught every line of hers with seasoned ease.

The image of a noisy high schooler against a quiet mountain god painted itself effortlessly, and Park Ji-seok closed their eyes at the sensation of it. It was nothing but a reading, and yet every breath of it felt as alive as the real set.

…Is this really rookie-level skill?

They opened their eyes again and studied Joo Sae-i.

Wherever those trembling fingertips had gone, what remained was a performer delivering lines boldly, in full voice — and Park Ji-seok’s heart, for no good reason, began to race.

Park Ji-seok’s gaze shifted over to Do Je-hyeon.

The Do Je-hyeon they knew was an actor who, overflowing with talent as he was, always approached a script reading with a flat, bored face. And yet…

His eyes are actually lit up? That Do Je-hyeon?

As if to prove he hadn’t been called a child-actor prodigy for nothing, Do Je-hyeon seemed to have the lines memorized cold already, delivering them with his eyes fixed entirely on Joo Sae-i.

“Eeeh, please spare me… If I really don’t go to cram school, my mom’s gonna smack my back, my back!”

“Why is it you come to me looking for a way to save your own skin…”

“Eeeh…”

“Hmph. You can widen your eyes at me all you like — I still won’t hand over my divine power.”

“Ugh, fine, I’m telling everyone the whole gold-axe-silver-axe mountain god thing is a total scam.”

And he said even that with his eyes sparkling, as if he simply couldn’t contain how fun it was to act alongside Joo Sae-i.

What in the world is this…

Only then did CEO Park Ji-seok finally understand.

This isn’t a rookie who managed to hook a big catch.

The casting of Joo Sae-i and Do Je-hyeon was, in the end, a big catch bringing along a big catch of a friend.