Return of the Genius PD

“Now it’s time to get down to real work. As you know, it’s casting war time.”

Ji-won’s eyes lit up, and as he reached for the documents, PD Kim Jong-su slapped his hand away.

“Hey now, how dare a rookie try to pick through materials a senior worked hard to organize. Just take what I give you.”

“…Yes, sir.”

PD Kim Jong-su pushed a single sheet towards Ji-won. It was the expected casting list for Eccentric Doctor Ham In-ju.

“First, the most important role—Doctor Ham In-ju.”

PD Kim Jong-su pointed at the list of actors.

“Tell me about Ham In-ju, who’s going to lead the show.”

Ji-won stared blankly at PD Kim Jong-su.

“…”

“Ah.” PD Kim Jong-su scratched his head. “I won’t accuse you of being cocky, so just speak comfortably. I want to hear your opinion.”

Then he added casually:

“Remember what you learned in the production team. Production’s all about communication, respect, and collaboration. Speak up.”

With permission granted, Ji-won spoke quickly.

“I think Ham In-ju is the character with the strongest personality in the show. His methods are extreme, but he’s driven by clear principles.”

At this, Kim Jong-su asked again.

“Then what’s Ham In-ju’s most important principle?”

“His sense of duty as a doctor to save patients.”

“Isn’t that a cliché sense of duty for a doctor protagonist?”

Ji-won countered without missing a beat.

“I didn’t think it felt cliché. The character who seems furthest from justice due to his eccentric behavior turns out to be the most just.”

Ji-won’s eyes gleamed.

“I think that contrast makes Ham In-ju a fully realized character.”

He continued:

“Behind Ham In-ju’s eccentricity, there’s a set of principles consistently at play, ones that Writer Kyu-kyu crafted so meticulously.”

PD Kim Jong-su’s eyes sparked with interest.

“That’s the point that will hook viewers—this character who doesn’t hesitate to act unpredictably, but whose core values keep the audience invested.”

Ji-won, who had spoken without pausing for breath, felt a little self-conscious.

Was that… self-praise? I basically wrote those words myself. It wasn’t just a feeling—it was a fact.

Meanwhile, PD Kim Jong-su was looking at Ji-won with surprised eyes.

He’s speaking without hesitation?

He began to think that Ji-won might have really written the proposal he’d seen earlier.

No, it’s too soon to be sure.

PD Kim Jong-su’s gaze sharpened.

“Right, I agree. The success or failure of this show could depend heavily on who plays Ham In-ju. What do you think should be the casting criteria?”

“Well, I don’t think we should just focus on acting skills. The actor has to have an overwhelming presence—a unique aura, or what you might call finesse—”

PD Kim Jong-su pointed at the casting list with his pen.

“So who do you think is most suitable from this list?”

Ji-won examined the names and then pointed his finger at one profile.

It was a middle-aged actor in his 50s.

A male actor with a deep, melancholic charm, gazing pensively through his glasses.

“I’d choose this actor, without a doubt. He can embody Ham In-ju completely.”

—Actor Han Se-gyu.

This was the actor Ji-won had envisioned while writing the script.

A legendary actor, beloved by the public for over 20 years, with a career spanning theater, film, and television. A role model for many. No one could criticize his acting because whatever role he took, he owned it with his unique presence.

PD Kim Jong-su’s expression darkened as he looked at the name Ji-won pointed to.

“Actually, I thought the same and put him on the casting list, but it’ll probably be difficult.”

Regret flickered in PD Kim Jong-su’s eyes.

“Actor Han Se-gyu… it’s been over five years since he disappeared after his last project.”

“Disappeared?”

“Rumor has it, he’s deeply into fishing these days.”

The urban fisherman who turned his back on the world.

That nickname for Han Se-gyu echoed from Ji-won’s memory.

“That’s what people in the industry have been calling him for the past few years.”

Ji-won spoke softly, “But I don’t think there’s anyone more suited for Ham In-ju than Han Se-gyu.”

PD Kim Jong-su crossed his arms and stared at Ji-won. He couldn’t deny it. Han Se-gyu would be perfect for the role. But the problem was…

No one had managed to cast him in the last five years.

Just then, Ji-won cautiously voiced an idea.

“Do you happen to know anyone at Han Se-gyu’s agency?”

A name immediately popped into Kim Jong-su’s mind. He’d known one of their road managers for quite a while—hadn’t the guy recently been promoted to manager?

“I’ve been in the industry long enough. Yeah, I know someone.”

“If you could arrange a meeting…”

“And what do you plan to do, just meeting them out of the blue?”

“If they could read the script for Ham In-ju—”

“No, just handing over the script won’t do.”

Han Se-gyu’s manager scoffed when they finally met.

“Do you know how many so-called blockbusters Se-gyu hyung has turned down over the years? Three films that surpassed ten million viewers.”

The manager, looking exasperated, continued with frustration.

“And two dramas that exceeded 20% ratings. We’re at our wit’s end, too.”

“Manager—”

“It’s no use telling me this. No one in this industry knows where Se-gyu hyung is, not even our CEO.”

He let out a deep sigh.

“On the rare occasions we do hear from him, it’s just a brief call to say he’s doing fine and not to worry. I should be the one asking you for help.”

The manager’s voice grew plaintive.

“Couldn’t you try to find Se-gyu hyung for us?”

* * *

“It seems impossible after all.”

That was the first thing PD Kim Jong-su said as soon as he stepped outside the agency building.

“How are we supposed to find an actor when even his manager of over a decade and the agency’s CEO don’t know where he is?”

He ruffled his hair in frustration.

“And even if we do find him, that’s not the end of it, right? Look at the lineup of projects Han Se-gyu has already turned down. I doubt anything we say would make a difference.”

Kim Jong-su had a point. Han Se-gyu had rejected offers from famous directors and writers. Not only was finding him a challenge, but convincing him afterward would be even harder. The whole situation was uncertain in every way.

“No.”

Ji-won wasn’t ready to give up.

“Can you give me three days?”

Kim Jong-su narrowed his eyes.

“What are you planning to do?”

“I’ll find out where he is in three days, somehow.”

“Hey, even a private investigator would need at least a week to track someone down. Do you think you’re Sherlock Holmes?”

“It’s a waste to give up now, don’t you think? Han Se-gyu is perfect for Ham In-ju. I still believe that.”

Kim Jong-su stared at Ji-won. He didn’t like Ji-won’s stubbornness or overly eager attitude.

No, that wasn’t it.

He actually liked it. He used to have that same stubbornness. Getting knocked down here, failing there… losing and learning from it. But over time, those sharp edges had smoothed out.

Kim Jong-su stroked his chin as he studied Ji-won.

To work in the drama department, you needed that kind of persistence—not the type that constantly worried about evaluations or watched superiors’ moods but the kind that really fought for the work.

“You’re a pig-headed, stubborn bastard,” he muttered.

But maybe that’s exactly the kind of tenacity it takes to create something real. Not getting discouraged by harsh words and knowing when to push forward when you’re sure you’re right.

“I’ll give you exactly three days.”

A smile spread across Ji-won’s face.

“Bring me something—anything—by then.”

“Yes, senior!” Ji-won replied enthusiastically.

Meanwhile, Kim Jong-su realized he should cover his bases. He planned to contact the second-choice actors and at least get a sense of their upcoming schedules.

After all, when his young deputy was this determined, how could the team leader not step up? The spark had reignited in his heart.

* * *

Ji-won recalled what Han Se-gyu’s manager had said.

“It’s not like we can search every fishing spot across the country, right?”

Exactly—how could anyone search every fishing spot in the country just to find one person?

Instead…

I need to search smartly.

A search window opened on the blank monitor screen.

What’s the best strategy?

The core of any strategy starts with information, above all else.

Having more information than others. Finding different information than others. Gathering higher quality information than anyone else.

Dig, dig like crazy. Digging ability is essential for a planner.

That was the first thing his ruthless team leader taught him when he worked in the strategic planning department—how to dig for information.

“Find it by tomorrow. If you can’t, this is as far as you go.” 

“What? But where do I even start?” 

“Do I need to know that?”

He shuddered for a moment, recalling the high-pressure environment from those days. Then he snapped back into focus and began scouring the internet for any information on Actor Han Se-gyu.

The first step: compile every photo of him taken at fishing spots.

While it’s known that Han Se-gyu prefers quiet, remote locations, what kind of country is Korea?

Isn’t it an IT powerhouse?

Every now and then, sightings of him or blurry photos of his back appeared on social media. Some posts even tagged the location, though not all of them. Ji-won started comparing those spots with satellite photos from online map services.

A total of 38 locations.

Thirty-eight red circles were now marked on the map of South Korea laid out in front of him.

He really is fishing all across the country, Ji-won thought.

He began narrowing down the 38 spots using three criteria.

Eliminate places with three or more sightings.

Clearly, Han Se-gyu was trying to fish quietly. Using just this one filter, Ji-won was able to cross out 20 spots.

Eliminate places ranked high on search engines.

Next, Ji-won eliminated spots that popped up at the top of search results when entering the region name and “fishing spot.” Han Se-gyu was known to be a fishing maniac, so it seemed unlikely he would visit locations that any average person could easily find.

Scratch, scratch!

Now, only 8 red circles remained on the map.

Eliminate places that don’t match the current season.

Lastly, he filtered out places where seasonal fish wouldn’t be found.

“Got it,” Ji-won whispered.

Out of the original 38 locations, only three fishing spots remained.

One at the eastern edge, one at the western edge, and one in the south.

If he visited one spot each day, he’d soon find out whether his data-driven guess was right.