Baek Janghoon Productions.
As the filming nears its end, the post-production work also begins.
It’s no exaggeration to say that the true value of a commercial film lies in its editing. Some meticulous directors even spend over a year just on the editing process.
“Driver Kim, let’s take another look at the lift scene.”
Director Baek Janghoon’s eyes are fixed on the editing screen. It was a scene where Jung Hae-seok reveals his true nature while talking with his friends.
True to its title, “Outlaw,” he doesn’t hide his temperament in front of anyone. Especially with the ad-lib by Youngguk, who played Jung Hae-seok, the character appears even more vivid. However…
“Director, don’t you think we should lift this?”
Editor Kim Jeongsoo scratches his head. Of course, it’s not that the scene is unsatisfactory. On the contrary, the ad-lib elevates the scene beyond the script.
But the thick blood captured by the filming camera makes him uncomfortable.
“It’s not an R-rated movie, so if we include this, it will definitely get flagged by the censorship board.”
It’s not even fake blood for makeup; it’s real blood flowing from the actor’s palm. Moreover, the following scene is intense enough to be in an R-rated movie.
Kim Jeongsoo clicks his tongue in regret. That’s how commercial films are. Besides directing, they also have to consider the film’s age rating.
The reason being, the potential revenue varies greatly depending on the rating: General, 15 and over, or R-rated.
“Don’t cut it, use it as it is.”
“Director, if we do that…”
“I’ll find a way to deal with the censorship, just use it.”
Even if the movie gets an R-rating, he wouldn’t budge. After all, the actor put in such a performance; as a director, it would be absurd not to bring out the best in it.
The conversation between the editor and Director Baek Janghoon continues.
Editing a film doesn’t end overnight. Adjusting a single scene dozens or even hundreds of times is not uncommon.
“No matter how many times I see it, it’s amazing.”
Director Baek Janghoon swallows his admiration as he watches Youngguk on the editing screen.
He had definitely felt it during the filming. Youngguk’s acting was improving day by day.
In fact, he initially didn’t think Youngguk would nail the villain role. But…
“He’s like a fish in water.”
Youngguk perfectly embodied the villain role as if he had been waiting for it. It was as if all his previous roles were just a prelude, not quite the right fit.
To someone who didn’t know better, Youngguk’s personality might seem similar to Jung Hae-seok’s, given how well he portrayed the villain’s malice.
“To think he could expand his range so quickly.”
Expanding an actor’s spectrum is not as easy as it sounds. If acting were as simple as stretching and shrinking a rubber band, why would the term ‘great actor’ exist?
Take An Junghyun for example. He is now praised as a national actor and has established himself as one of Korea’s finest, but his acting range wasn’t this wide from the beginning.
He spent years trying to erase the playboy image that had become fixed in people’s minds.
But with Jang Youngguk, it’s astonishing how he continuously challenges new roles and produces successful outcomes, as if peeling back layers of an onion.
At that moment…
“Director—!”
The assistant director rushes into the editing room. Considering that no one dares to enter during editing, this is unusual. There wasn’t even a knock.
The assistant director’s face is drenched in cold sweat, indicating that something serious has happened.
“The footage has been leaked?”
The atmosphere on the set is icy. It feels as if they are walking on thin ice.
The reason for this tension soon becomes clear. Part of the movie’s footage has been leaked.
“I don’t understand.”
It’s understandable. Given the times, incidents of video leaks were rare.
Although cell phones were becoming popular, they didn’t have cameras yet. Those available were only used as phones.
“Hyung, what happened?”
Having grown up appearing in cameos for Baek Janghoon’s team, he had many acquaintances. He went to the assistant director, the person he was closest to apart from the directors.
The assistant director, like everyone else, had dark circles under his eyes. He sighed and said,
“A newspaper contacted us, saying they had obtained footage of the movie. Youngguk, I’m really sorry. Remember that scene where you gave an ad-lib performance despite being injured? It was that scene.”
“How did they get that footage? Did it leak from the editing room?”
“Keep your voice down. If it had leaked from the editing room, we’d know who the culprit is, so the atmosphere wouldn’t be this bad. It seems like someone purposely filmed it with a camcorder from a corner of the set.”
“What are they demanding?”
The assistant director ran his hand down his face and added,
“They’re asking for a reasonable amount of money, or they’ll release the footage to the public.”
“Don’t they have any business ethics? What about copyright awareness?”
“Do you think a third-rate newspaper cares about that?”
Considering copyright, such actions were unthinkable. In Hollywood, outsiders are strictly prohibited from the set, and many productions are entirely closed off.
But in Korea, awareness about intellectual property was still significantly lacking.
“Have they found the culprit yet?”
“That’s why the atmosphere is so heavy within the production company. We’ve reviewed the making film, but no one looks suspicious. Everyone outwardly thinks it’s not the filming team staff.”
Baek Janghoon’s team was well-known in Chungmuro. Most of them had extensive experience in the industry, with even the youngest staff members having at least five years of experience. So, there was no need to say more.
But money can numb and tempt people. No matter how strong the team’s bond, one never knows how they would react in the face of money.
There’s a reason for the saying, “You can know the depths of water, but not the depths of a person’s heart.”
“Just in case, starting today, we’ve searched the belongings of everyone from the assistant directors to the youngest staff and even the actors, from main to supporting roles.”
“No camcorders found?”
The assistant director nodded briefly. Of course, even if the culprit was among them, they wouldn’t dare bring a camcorder into the current tense atmosphere.
Then, Youngguk saw an actor approaching.
“Chigon hyung.”
It was Yang Chigon, who played the role of Jung Hae-seok’s lawyer. He looked visibly flustered at Youngguk’s sudden call.
Youngguk called him to synchronize for a scene they were filming together, but he seemed restless like a puppy needing to relieve itself.
“Come to think of it.”
Yang Chigon often appeared on set even when he didn’t have scenes to shoot. Initially, Youngguk thought he was just a passionate actor eager to learn. After all, working with Director Baek Janghoon was a dream for many actors in Chungmuro. However…
“He didn’t become famous.”
Reflecting on past memories, Youngguk couldn’t recall an actor named Yang Chigon. There could be various reasons why Yang Chigon quit acting later.
But for some reason, he felt that today’s incident was connected to Yang Chigon.
Moreover, his cold sweat during every rehearsal only heightened Youngguk’s suspicion.
“Scene number 121, Jung Hae-seok’s anger—!”
The slate clapped in the cold atmosphere. Even if they couldn’t find the culprit, filming had to proceed.
The set was Jung Hae-seok’s office, overlooking Seoul’s night view. Among the expensive furniture, a glass ashtray shattered and fell.
“What?”
Jung Hae-seok glared at his lawyer. His fierce demeanor left the lawyer unable to speak, standing rigidly.
Jung Hae-seok ran his long fingers over his face, smirking.
“I have to appear at that hole-in-the-wall again? Hey, Lawyer Kim, if you have a mouth, use it. Does it make sense for a mutt to order the homeowner around? Is this the best you and the company lawyers could come up with?”
The lawyer gulped and replied,
“The prosecutor’s evidence is solid. Although we’re pressing from the top to end the investigation, it doesn’t seem easy. Even the Chief Prosecutor has stepped in, but the prosecutor, Lee Howon, is determined, saying he’d rather resign.”
At that moment, Jung Hae-seok stood up abruptly. He walked up to the lawyer and grabbed his hair, his eyes gleaming maliciously. He asked in a voice that seemed ready to punch him,
“So, you’re saying I have to appear again? This time as a suspect, not just a witness?”
The lawyer shook his head vigorously. The camera captured actor Yang Chigon’s perfect portrayal of a terrified lawyer.
He had watched his client and master act like a madman for a long time. If he mentioned appearing before the prosecution again, he knew he wouldn’t leave the office unscathed.
“Hoo.”
Jung Hae-seok leaned back on the sofa, looking up.
“My father shouldn’t have let that bastard run loose. The old man grew soft with age, letting go of someone who owed him. Hey, Lawyer Kim. How did that mutt gather the evidence? He couldn’t have done it alone. I told you to handle it properly.”
The evidence Lee Howon gathered wasn’t just about the car accident. It included embezzlement, drugs, frequent assaults, and attempted murder.
He knew all of Jung Hae-seok’s dirty secrets. Even if he was with the Central District Prosecutors’ Office, it was hard to believe that a single prosecutor could find all this evidence alone. There had to be an accomplice.
At that moment, Jung Hae-seok twisted his lips and looked at the lawyer.
“Lawyer Kim, did you hand it over?”
This wasn’t in the script. Perhaps that’s why actor Yang Chigon looked so flustered, as if confessing he was the culprit.
