NIS Agent Reincarnated as a Genius Actor

“Hmm, Yeon-woo don’t you think you should take a break? You’re already finished three projects in a row.”

“It’s fine, Sir. I feel like I’ve rested for about 40 years, so I want to do more projects.”

Yeon-woo replied with a cryptic smile, causing Kim Joo-seong to chuckle and tilt his head in curiosity.

“Mr. Penton, do you mind if those people join us?” Kim Joo-seong asked.

“Oh, of course not. I’m actually glad to see Director Yo-han after such a long time,” Penton responded.

– Beep. –

“Please ask the two gentlemen outside to come in,” Kim Joo-seong instructed.

– Yes, Sir.

Soon, the door to the CEO’s office opened, and Hwang Min-kwon and Jung Yo-han entered.

“Thank you! Please just take a look at it. We’re confident in the script,” Hwang Min-kwon said, bowing repeatedly as he took three printed scripts from his backpack and handed them to Yeon-woo, Kim Joo-seong, and Bernard Penton.

“Hmm, I don’t understand Korean at all. I’ll just catch up with Mr. Yo-han,” Penton said.

“Oh, Mr. Penton, would you like me to explain the script to you?” Jung Yo-han offered, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Sure, let’s hear it. Is this a project you’re involved in, Mr. Yo-han?” Penton asked.

“It turned out that way. This friend of mine is the director, and he’s my bosom buddy,” Jung Yo-han explained.

Yeon-woo took the script and began reading from the first page.

‘Hmm? A medical action thriller…?’

The cover of the script had the working title ‘White Blood’ and was labeled as a medical action thriller.

‘Interesting. What exactly is a medical action thriller? Do they fight with scalpels and stethoscopes?’

Yeon-woo delved into the script, engrossed in the story. CEO Kim Joo-seong was also deeply absorbed in reading the script.

Over 20 minutes passed, and Yeon-woo had skimmed through most of the script. He looked up, deep in thought.

‘Hmm, this is…’

At that moment, CEO Kim Joo-seong also looked up, having finished reading. Yeon-woo turned to him and spoke.

“Sir.”

“I know exactly what you’re going to say. But remember, even if you take another leave of absence, you need to be enrolled for at least one semester this time,” Kim Joo-seong reminded him.

According to the regulations of Korean universities, if a student takes more than two semesters off after enrolling, their admission is canceled. Yeon-woo was planning to re-enroll next week, so Kim Joo-seong preemptively reminded him of this requirement.

“…Yes, that’s right.”

Sitting quietly in the corner, the unknown director Hwang Min-kwon felt like he was on pins and needles.

“Um… what did you think of it?” he asked nervously.

Kim Joo-seong looked at him and began to speak.

“I read the script thoroughly. The concept is fresh and quite intriguing, but the structure and progression are disorganized and amateurish. If LN were to produce it, it would require significant revisions.”

Most creators are extremely reluctant to have their work altered. However, Hwang Min-kwon’s eyes lit up even as he received what could be considered a harsh critique.

“As long as it gets produced, you can revise it as much as you want! Haha, I’m good at coming up with ideas, but my writing and structuring skills are lacking,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Kim Joo-seong stroked his chin, deep in thought. Yeon-woo observed him and thought,

‘When the CEO strokes his chin like that, it means he’s unsure and contemplating.’

Yeon-woo decided to speak up, knowing this was the moment to seal the deal.

“Director, do you want me to play the lead role?”

“What? Oh, yes! Absolutely! If it’s possible,” Hwang Min-kwon replied, nodding vigorously. Jung Yo-han, who was still talking with Bernard Penton, widened his eyes in surprise.

Given Yeon-woo’s current status as a box office guarantee, they would welcome him with open arms.

“Then my opinion is the same. The story will need revisions, and I’ll have limited shooting time for the next five months due to my university schedule. Is that acceptable?”

“Of course, absolutely. We’ll adjust everything to fit your schedule, Mr. Ryu Yeon-woo,” Hwang Min-kwon said, nodding enthusiastically.

Yeon-woo then turned his gaze to Kim Joo-seong, who shook his head in resignation, clearly unable to resist Yeon-woo’s determination.

– Beep. –

“Please ask Team Leader Jung to come to the CEO’s office,” Kim Joo-seong instructed.

– Yes, Sir.

To coordinate the exact schedule, Kim Joo-seong called for Team Leader Jung Hyuk. Shortly after, there was a knock on the door, and Jung Hyuk entered the office.

“Sir, you called for me?”

“Yes, Team Leader Jung. What’s on Yeon-woo’s schedule?”

“Due to his university commitments, there’s nothing immediate, but there’s an additional shoot for the Lee Han Tech commercial in May,” Jung Hyuk replied.

Kim Joo-seong stroked his chin again.

“Hmm, but they already scheduled something for May?”

“Ah, we signed a contract to shoot a special commercial before June, which is the Month of Patriots and Veterans,” Jung Hyuk explained.

“The Month of Patriots and Veterans. I see. So, aside from that, there’s nothing else?” Kim Joo-seong confirmed.

“Yes. We receive dozens of casting requests daily, but as per your instructions, we’ve declined them all,” Jung Hyuk replied.

Hwang Min-kwon and Jung Yo-han’s eyes widened. While it was common knowledge that Ryu Yeon-woo was highly sought after, hearing the internal details made it hit home even harder. The thought that an actor who turned down countless offers could potentially be the lead in their film made Hwang Min-kwon’s heart race.

Yeon-woo, who seemed disinterested in the scheduling discussion, was deeply engrossed in the script he had received earlier. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke up.

“You know, no matter how I look at it, this script can’t be condensed into a movie’s runtime,” Yeon-woo said.

“Hmm, I agree. Even with significant revisions, it doesn’t quite fit the movie format,” Kim Joo-seong nodded in agreement.

Hwang Min-kwon, who had been listening quietly from the corner, opened the script and tilted his head in confusion.

“Excuse me, but could you tell me which parts you think should be changed?”

Yeon-woo looked at him with a slightly troubled expression.

“Are you sure you want me to be honest?”

“Yes, of course.”

Yeon-woo began flipping through the script.

“First, the sudden appearance of an alien spaceship needs to be cut out.”

“Ah, yes.”

“And the part where dinosaurs pop up should also be removed.”

“…Ah, yes.”

Continuing to flip through the script, Yeon-woo added, “The setting where the protagonist acquires SSS-level skills seems unnecessary.”

“…Yes.”

“And about the supporting character… the terms ‘depraved,’ ‘obsessive,’ and ‘yandere’? I’m not sure what they mean, but my gut tells me those elements need to be changed.”

“Ahem, understood.”

Listening to the conversation, Jung Hyuk’s expression grew increasingly bewildered.

“Alien spaceships, dinosaurs, and some kind of skills… What kind of script is this…?”

“Team Leader Jung, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to remove all those odd elements. The core concept is actually very good.”

Jung Hyuk, still puzzled by the script’s bizarre elements, looked at CEO Kim Joo-seong for guidance. Kim Joo-seong simply nodded in agreement, indicating his support for Yeon-woo’s assessment.

At that moment, Bernard Penton, who had been listening to the conversation through Jung Yo-han’s translation, spoke up.

“You mentioned that the script is too long for a movie, right? How about Netflix?”

“Netflix?”

The primary reason for today’s meeting was to discuss matters related to Netflix, but this new angle hadn’t been considered. All eyes in the room turned to Penton.

“As far as I know, LN Media has the capability to produce both films and dramas. I can handle the connection with Netflix,” Penton explained.

Yeon-woo, struck by an interesting idea, asked, “Mr. Penton, when is the Netflix release date for the project I was originally going to audition for?”

“Well, it’s not set in stone, but it’s tentatively scheduled for late this year or early next year,” Penton replied.

Considering the time needed for Yeon-woo’s return to university and the subsequent filming schedule, the timing seemed to align well with the revised script.

“That sounds intriguing. Doing it on Netflix could be interesting,” Yeon-woo remarked.

Kim Joo-seong nodded in agreement. “It’s too long for a movie and too innovative for a traditional drama. It doesn’t quite fit with terrestrial or cable networks either…”

Launching the project as an original series on an OTT (Over-The-Top) platform like Netflix would open up new possibilities. It would also give LN Media a strategic advantage in negotiations with broadcasters for future projects. If LN Media could carve out a space in the OTT market, it would become a powerful player, capable of bypassing traditional networks if necessary.

Having completed his calculations, Kim Joo-seong made his decision.

“Let’s go ahead with this plan.”

Yeon-woo turned to Hwang Min-kwon.

“Director, what do you think? This means it won’t be a movie.”

“Yes, yes? That’s fine with me!” Hwang Min-kwon replied, feeling overwhelmed by the rapid developments.

‘This is incredible. Did Ryu Yeon-woo just call me ‘Director’? This is insane! I should have recorded it,’ Hwang Min-kwon thought, barely able to contain his excitement.

A few days ago, Hwang Min-kwon had been sitting at home, scratching his backside while eating cup noodles and drinking beer. To him, Ryu Yeon-woo was a national star he could only see on his monitor. He wasn’t the only one struggling to keep up with the sudden developments.

Jung Hyuk, who had been tilting his head in confusion, finally spoke up.

“I’m curious, what’s the genre of the project you’re discussing?”

Given that terms like alien spaceships and dinosaurs had been mentioned, it was clear this wasn’t a typical genre. Yeon-woo flipped back to the first page of the script he was holding.

“It’s a medical action thriller,” Yeon-woo replied.

“A medical drama… Wait, action?”

Jung Hyuk’s expression turned puzzled again. Medical dramas and action films were distinct genres. The concept of a medical action thriller was perplexing.

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***

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Of course, simply finding the script intriguing wasn’t enough to seal the deal. After telling Hwang Min-kwon and Jung Yo-han that they would consider the project positively, LN Media’s experts analyzed the works the two had previously participated in to assess their capabilities.

The next day, CEO Kim Joo-seong attended a meeting to receive a briefing on the analysis.

“…For the reasons explained earlier, this is our assessment, Sir,” a planning team member concluded, pointing to various analysis details displayed on the screen.

“Hmm, so there were no particular issues with the technical aspects of the direction, but the stories tended to go off track midway?” Kim Joo-seong summarized.

“Yes, that’s correct,” the planning team member confirmed.

Kim Joo-seong alternated between looking at the analysis on the screen and the written report on the table, tapping his finger on one name. “So, the director is one thing, but this CG director, Jung Yo-han, is supposed to be quite exceptional?”

The planning team member nodded vigorously.

“Until last year, he was considered a super rookie in Hollywood. Even with money, studios couldn’t secure his schedule because he was so in demand.”

“Is there such a significant skill gap among CG directors?” Kim Joo-seong asked.

“Yes, Sir. It’s not just about technical skills; personal creativity and sense play a huge role, much like directing. Some studios even adjust their release schedules by over a year to secure a top-tier CG team,” the planning team member explained.

These days, it’s becoming increasingly rare to find a project that doesn’t involve CG. As technology advances, classic sci-fi novels of immense scale, once only imaginable, are being turned into films. The demand for innovative and stimulating stories is growing, and the supply is following suit.

Given the increasing importance of CG teams in determining a film’s overall quality, it was only natural that their role would be significant.

“This project will likely rely heavily on CG,” Kim Joo-seong mused. In this context, the key player wasn’t so much Director Hwang Min-kwon, but CG Director Jung Yo-han.

“Alright, let’s proceed with this project. Meeting adjourned,” Kim Joo-seong declared.

With the CEO’s approval, the planning team members quickly stood up and dispersed to tackle their respective tasks. Entering a new project with in-house production meant a significant increase in workload.

Meanwhile, Yeon-woo, who had been reviewing the script and contemplating areas for improvement, received news of the final approval. He arranged a meeting at the headquarters to discuss the script with Director Hwang Min-kwon and CG Director Jung Yo-han.