As Kang Hyeon glanced back at the man walking ahead of him with a bright smile, he noticed that Choi Jin-hyuk’s car had already driven off.
“Wanna get some naengmyeon?”
Out of nowhere, Chief Choi pointed toward a nearby noodle shop.
“My car broke down, so I took the subway out. It’s a damn sauna out here. If you haven’t eaten, let’s grab something quick. I’ve got to be somewhere soon.”
“Sorry. I have plans.”
He made up the excuse to avoid getting tangled up with Yoon Do-yeong. Chief Choi nodded in understanding.
“Try not to take on roles offered privately by Director Choi. Always go through your agency.”
“…I know what kind of person he is.”
“Good.”
With that, Chief Choi gave a casual wave, like there was nothing more to say, and walked into the naengmyeon shop. Kang Hyeon hesitated, then turned toward the subway.
He glanced back again. Chief Choi had apparently come back out of the restaurant and was now on the phone, heading back into the building where the audition had taken place.
The sight left Kang Hyeon with a strange feeling. He hurried toward the subway.
The cool blast of air-conditioning in the subway car offered some relief as he headed toward the express bus terminal. That’s when he got a text from CEO Goo Seong-do.
[Second round audition scheduled for A Lie for a Lie]
Kang Hyeon blinked, then got off at the next stop.
A second round? He’d been certain he didn’t make it.
Puzzled, he transferred to the subway heading in the opposite direction toward home. He didn’t know which character would be assigned for the second round, so nerves kicked in.
Feels like there’s a role that fits me here somewhere.
A strange sense of anticipation tingled through his entire body.
His free performance had been a bit shaky, but the assigned scene had gone exactly as he intended—he’d delivered the villain role well. That could’ve scored him some points.
Or maybe… is there some intense psycho character they’re looking for?
This time, he swore he’d nail it. He prepared for the villain role more seriously than ever.
But despite all his efforts, the designated script for the second audition turned out to be an unbearably cringeworthy scene of whispering love to the female lead.
In the middle of reading the lines, Kang Hyeon caught himself glancing around, rubbing the space between his brows, flushed with embarrassment.
Director Ji Seok-woo immediately picked up on the fleeting gesture.
“What emotion was behind that expression just now?”
“Why did you look around?”
“What was so embarrassing?”
His signature drawn-out tone sent cold sweat dripping down Kang Hyeon’s back.
He worried that Director Ji was unimpressed with his performance. But for someone supposedly displeased, he was asking an awful lot of questions.
Later, back at home, Kang Hyeon reflected and realized his performance had seemed layered with emotions.
Maybe… it’s because I imagined Yoon Do-yeong as the female lead?
While he was still stuck in that haze, he received a message saying he’d passed to the third round of auditions.
This time, only Director Yoo Ji-ha and Director Ji Seok-woo were present.
From ADR sessions for Intersection Murder to this audition process, July had flown by. And with the monsoon season hitting, Kang Hyeon couldn’t travel down to the countryside and ended up staying at his officetel.
He spent the rainy days binge-watching every romance film and drama he could find—focusing on supporting characters and antagonists.
To kill time, he did a massive home cleaning and even picked up a few local delivery gigs within walking distance.
One day, when the relentless rain finally let up just a little, he got a call from CEO Goo.
“Yes, sir.”
—“Hey, Hyeon-ah. The villain role went to someone else. It was the first one they finalized. Both directors picked the same actor. Writer Oh agreed too.”
Hearing CEO Goo’s calm voice, Kang Hyeon instinctively nodded.
“Ah… I see.”
—“Disappointed?”
“I should’ve done better. I’m sorry.”
—“No, no. You still got a part.”
“Really?”
His eyes lit up at the words. It didn’t matter which role it was. All those auditions—maybe they were leading to this good news.
—“Yeah. You’re cast. But… the pay’s dirt cheap. Still, we’re doing it. It’s such a good opportunity, we can’t pass it up.”
Hearing CEO Goo’s firm tone, Kang Hyeon’s voice lifted eagerly.
“Yes! Absolutely. I’m in. No matter what.”
—“We locked in the minimum rate per episode, and the rest’s going to be on a running guarantee.”
“Yes, sir!”
—“Congrats.”
Then came the words that froze Kang Hyeon mid-smile.
—“You’re the male lead—Kang I-chan!!”
CEO Goo shouted with excitement, laughing loudly.
Without thinking, Kang Hyeon responded cheerfully,
“Wow, seriously?”
—“Director Ji said your features are too sharp—he wants you to put on a little weight.”
While CEO Goo spoke cheerfully, Kang Hyeon’s expression gradually darkened. He bit his lower lip anxiously, then asked again.
“Wait… I’m really the lead?”
—“Yup. Writer Oh actually based the character Kwon Ji-sang on how you look. But the Kang I-chan storyline? She wrote it after seeing how you act. Something about nuanced emotions? I dunno what she meant, but apparently no other actor delivered it like you did. Oh, and Director Yoo backed you too. The camera director—Lee Seon-ho, right?”
“Ah… Yeah, the camera director from Brilliant Choice. He filmed me during that.”
—“Right, that’s why everything fell into place so fast. He said you were solid and emotionally precise. And the assistant director, I think, worked as a crew member when you shot that web drama?”
“Yes. He mentioned doing a project with Director Yoo back then, but I didn’t get to meet him, unfortunately.”
—“Anyway, come to EnterK. You’ll sign the contract and pick up the script and scenario there.”
“Got it.”
He replied firmly, but once the call ended, his expression went blank. His eyes, which had sparkled with excitement over landing a role, turned cold, and a shallow sigh escaped his lips.
“CEO Goo’s going to be disappointed…”
He stared at the now-drizzling rain outside and smiled bitterly.
What the hell did I do in front of Writer Oh to make her see me like this? Why give me a role that’s just going to mess with my head?
Was I really that rude to Do-yeong…?
Probably. There’s no way she could’ve seen me in a good light.
But contrary to his self-doubting thoughts, later that afternoon, he received the entire script scenario, a condensed script, and the episode 3 full script.
The drama’s premise matched its title A Lie for a Lie: a string of small lies the two leads tell to hide their feelings gradually snowball into truths.
The male lead, Kang I-chan, whom he’d been cast to play, had held feelings for the female lead, Lee Ji-ah, since she was his first love.
But her father had driven I-chan’s parents’ company to bankruptcy, then acquired it, plunging his family into ruin.
He tried to keep his distance from her, but then discovered she was being gaslit by her family because she was born out of wedlock. He chose to tell her the truth, and they parted ways after graduation.
Years later, now an adult, he built a struggling startup—only to have it targeted by Kwon Ji-sang, a corporate raider who’s engaged to Lee Ji-ah through an arranged marriage.
Though I-chan hits a rough patch, Ji-ah—who had secretly grown her skills while escaping her family’s manipulation—helps him resolve the crisis. They end up finding love along the way.
But Kang Hyeon couldn’t help but focus more on the character Kwon Ji-sang than his own. He turned to CEO Goo, who was sitting next to him sorting through the contract paperwork.
“Who’s playing Kwon Ji-sang?”
“Hmm… The female lead’s being played by Kim Min.”
“Kim Min…”
He looked her up on his phone and found her SNS. Her face was familiar. Her filmography showed a few minor roles in dramas and movies.
As he was quietly browsing through her profile, a knock sounded on the door. Director Ji Seok-woo stepped in, and Kang Hyeon stood up quickly.
Before he could say anything, the director gestured for him to sit and spoke up.
“Kang I-chan’s been scarred by the trauma of his parents’ bankruptcy. He’s quiet. You’ll see from the script—most of his scenes with the female lead require a lot of internal acting.”
As he spoke, another knock sounded, and Writer Oh I-seul entered carrying a laptop.
“Sorry I’m late. I just got the message now.”
“No worries. I just got here myself.”
Director Ji gave a polite bow, then nodded to her.
“I was passing along what you mentioned earlier.”
He showed deference to the much younger writer, motioning for her to take the lead.
“I thought from the beginning that Hyeon would be perfect for Kang I-chan. On the outside, he never shows anything—but still takes care of Ji-ah. Of course, Ji-ah interprets that as pity. She acts like she’s going along with her manipulative family, but behind the scenes she knows everything about the family’s business. She just hasn’t had a chance to prove herself. That’s when Hyeon’s company becomes Kwon Ji-sang’s next target.”
Writer Oh was visibly excited, speaking in a rushed stream. Director Ji stepped in now and then to clarify, which gradually helped Writer Oh match his tone and calm down.
“Kwon Ji-sang manipulates Kang I-chan’s company into selling semiconductor equipment they developed with a conglomerate to an overseas firm, causing a tech leak. That lands I-chan in a criminal investigation.”
Ignoring a phone call buzzing on her phone, Writer Oh kept passionately laying out the plot. Finally, after a long explanation, something seemed to click in her mind.
“Kang I-chan and Lee Ji-ah are each other’s first love. The key is restrained emotional expression.”
After her long-winded but spirited breakdown, her phone rang again, and she stood up abruptly.
“Hyeon, we’ll go over the rest at the Mpia office.”
“Understood.”
Once she left, silence filled the room. Director Ji spoke in a calm, even voice.
“Take a look through the script and scenario. Let’s meet again next week. I have a staff meeting, so I’ll be heading out. Any questions before I go?”
“Why did you give me the role of Kang I-chan?”
