NIS Agent Reincarnated as a Genius Actor

“Slide check complete!”

“Camera 3, adjust a bit higher, please.”

The staff busily moved around, setting up the cameras, while Yeon-woo checked the details he had planned for the scene. To shoot a scene with such intricate movements in one take required highly precise filming techniques. Not only did they need a full cam to capture the entire set from a wide angle, but a rail camera also had to follow Yeon-woo’s movements without any margin for error. Moreover, the cameras had to avoid capturing each other in the frame. This meant that both the actor and the cameras had to move precisely along their designated paths, making it a highly challenging shoot.

‘The higher the difficulty, the better the result will be.’

While Yeon-woo appeared calm, the staff were visibly tense, given that this was the first shoot of the project. Director Hwang Min-kwon’s lips finally parted.

“Alright, let’s begin the first shoot of 「White Blood」. Ready, action.”

With the cue, the red recording lights on top of the cameras lit up, and Yeon-woo instantly immersed himself in the role, as if the red lights were a trigger for hypnosis. From Ryu Yeon-woo to Jung Do-jin.

Bzzz─.

The loathsome mechanical sound that he had grown sick of hearing filled the air. They never knew when to give up. These emotionless beings. No, saying they lacked emotions implied they once had them but lost them, which wasn’t accurate. They never had emotions to begin with. They were created with a single purpose.

[Intruder elimination requested. Dangerous element elimination requested.]

After the surveillance level increased, he had been chased by them day and night, leading him to this ancient castle. He had climbed to the upper floors, where a high spire was visible, to evade the pursuing White Blood Army. Though they weren’t visible at the moment, he could faintly sense their presence.

‘Here they come!’

Beep─.

As Do-jin focused on a spot, an android suddenly appeared out of thin air and charged at him. Do-jin quickly countered, rotating his body. The android swung its silver-gray arm swiftly, and Do-jin blocked it with his left arm.

Clang─.

The sound of metal clashing reverberated through the old castle’s air. It was not a sound that could be produced by a human and a machine colliding. While he was blocking the one in front, another android appeared from the opposite side, swinging its arm like a beam of light.

‘This is troublesome. It would have been easier if I had a sturdier sword.’

He extended his leg to block the incoming android’s attack. At that moment, he heard a woman’s sigh in his ear.

Seriously, who cuts through a giant iron door with a sword? I told you to take the detour.

‘You said it would take at least two more years if we took the detour. Thanks to the gate, we got near the femoral artery in one go.’

[It’s not the femoral artery; it’s the femoral.]

‘Same difference. Huff!’

There was no time for leisurely conversation. Four androids had now surrounded him, and he was engaged in a fierce battle with them.

The enemies surrounded him from all directions, moving like interlocking gears, making it hard to keep up. He regretted not being able to draw his sword, which had already cracked past the patella. Do-jin had no choice but to find an opening and swiftly dodge to the side, escaping their encirclement.

Just then, a bright beam shot towards him from the right. Reflexively, he drew his sword and deflected the incoming laser.

‘Damn. This sword is really going to break.’

He could almost hear the sword cracking. While deflecting the laser, the androids charged at him again. With one hand holding the sword, unable to swing it or sheathe it, he had to fend them off with his free hand and legs.

He needed to reduce their numbers to buy time before reinforcements arrived, but without a proper weapon, he had no way to inflict significant damage. As he parried attacks from all directions, he found himself gradually retreating and being pushed into a defensive position.

[We need to lower the threat level first. We should find a place to hide and wait it out.]

‘Who doesn’t know that? But where can we escape to?’

As Do-jin retreated, he saw a large hole in the upper part of the ancient castle. An eerie wind blew through the hole, brushing against the castle’s dark gray walls.

At that moment, the androids, having cornered Do-jin and blocked all escape routes, began to charge their arms simultaneously.

‘An all-out attack? That’s cheating.’

Bzzz─.

Zap─.

The high-heat lasers intertwined and flew towards him, distorting the surrounding scenery. The light bent and warped along the curvature, spreading like watercolor paint on a palette.

The white beams shot towards Do-jin, who barely managed to deflect the strongest one with his nearly broken sword, taking the rest to his body. The impact sent him flying through the hole in the wall.

Crack─.

At that moment, a dimensional rift intermittently opened in the air, swallowing Do-jin as he fell like a kite with a broken string. He lost consciousness until he woke up in an underground prison in a remote Red Blood village.

“Okay, cut! This is it! Hahaha.”

Director Hwang Min-kwon was ecstatic, seeing Yeon-woo bring his vision to life. He shouted the OK sign and ran towards the ball pit where Yeon-woo had fallen. Yeon-woo emerged from the colorful plastic balls, grinning at Director Hwang.

“Was it alright?”

“It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

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***

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Back in the editing room, Director Hwang Min-kwon and CG Director Jung Yo-han reviewed the day’s footage, both exclaiming in awe.

“Wow. Isn’t this amazing?”

“Look at those movements. Rewind to 37 seconds.”

At Jung Yo-han’s request, Director Hwang manipulated the mouse.

“Here?”

“No, push the frame back a bit more.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Play it at 0.25x speed.”

As Director Hwang adjusted the program and hit play, Jung Yo-han nodded and spoke.

“See the part where Ryu’s right arm holding the sword vibrates slightly after deflecting the object?”

“Oh, really? That deflected object weighs only about 100 grams.”

“It’s extreme method acting. When he does it like that, the CG I add later will look a hundred times more natural. Let’s watch the whole first part in slow motion.”

Director Hwang Min-kwon and CG Director Jung Yo-han leaned forward, their heads almost touching the monitor, as they began to analyze the footage in detail.

“Wow, look at the force he’s putting on his supporting foot. It really looks like he’s bracing against something heavy.”

“Hey, look at his expression at the beginning. The script says the android suddenly de-cloaks and appears there.”

Originally, the stunt team member was supposed to jump in at the right moment, having been waiting in position. But Yeon-woo’s ability to perfectly time his reaction, trembling as if something had just appeared, made it look incredibly realistic.

“Matching the complex action choreography alone is tough, but thinking about these details too…”

“This is a rare opportunity for an unknown director like you.”

At Jung Yo-han’s words, Hwang Min-kwon nodded vigorously.

“I’m pouring my soul into this project, squeezing out every last drop.”

Jung Yo-han chuckled at Hwang’s enthusiasm. Though he seemed quirky and a bit offbeat, once he got fired up, he was relentless.

“By the way, can I edit a small part of this footage and share it with Nard AP?”

“Trying to reel them in?”

“Yeah. Those guys will definitely bite.”

Nard AP was a professional community Jung Yo-han was part of during his time in Hollywood. It was a small community mainly for Hollywood CG professionals. CG, when broken down, involves many specialized fields, and it’s rare for one person or team to handle everything. While Korea had many talented people in traditional fields like set design, costumes, art, and makeup, the pool of experts in CG and VFX was still small due to the domestic film industry’s reluctance to venture into SF or fantasy genres.

Director Hwang, who had heard this explanation countless times, nodded.

“Of course, go ahead. We’re planning to release a making-of video on YouTube around the time the trailer launches anyway.”

“Okay. Time to reel them in. But seriously, why do all the experts here end up in game companies?”

Hwang Min-kwon chuckled at Jung Yo-han’s frustration.

“Can’t be helped. We’re the world’s top gaming nation. That’s where the money is.”

Shaking his head, Jung Yo-han took the file and sat down at his computer, diving into his work. After some quick edits, he uploaded a 20-second video to the private community.

[Posted by: Director Yohan]

Hello, buddies.

I’m currently working as a VFX supervisor on a project in Korea. If anyone’s interested after watching this video, please send me a private message.

─Frances.M: Hey Yohan. Haven’t seen you for a while. What have you been up to?

└ Rick: WTF. Did you see the video? It’s pretty solid.

─Peggy.A: What’s with that movement at 14 seconds? Did you do a rough edit on just the subject?

└ Yohan (poster): Not at all. All I did was trim the beginning and end to shorten the length.

└ Peggy.A: Crazy. So that’s the actor’s performance?

─Kaplan: I’m in! I want to join. Sent you a message.

└ Rick: What about the project you’re currently working on?

└ Kaplan: I’m almost done with my current project. I’ll wrap it up quickly and join this one. I like the video, and it would be great to learn from Yohan.

Jung Yo-han grinned as he watched the reactions in the community.

“Hey, I’ve just cast the bait.”

“Oh, and they’ve bitten hard?”

Jung Yo-han and Hwang Min-kwon shared a knowing smile in the studio. The treatment at LN Media was comparable to Hollywood, and doing it this way was much cheaper than outsourcing to a Hollywood studio.

Messages started pouring into Jung Yo-han’s inbox from the big fish who had taken the bait. Soon, Hollywood engineers, who had never worked in the Korean film industry, were booking their flights to South Korea.