Peninsula: From a supporting actor to the best actor in Chungmuro

Chapter 119 The Last Radio Broadcast

In April, the cherry blossoms in Seoul had almost all fallen, but the sycamore trees outside the film set grew even more lush.

In the blink of an eye, filming for "Veteran" has been underway for over two months, and the shooting schedule is already more than halfway complete. It is expected to wrap up in another two months.

Kang Jae-hoon has now almost become one with the character of Jo Tae-oh.

The look in his eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses, the nonchalant cruelty, and the arrogance typical of a third-generation chaebol heir had become his second instinct.

Today's filming focused on office scenes.

Kang Jae-hoon only appears in two scenes.

First, the character Choi, played by Yoo Hae-jin, takes the punishment of being spanked by his grandfather in his place.

Secondly, there was a "family dinner" that Executive Director Cui had with them before he took the blame for Zhao Taiwu and went to prison.

In the center of the film set.

Veteran actor Song Yongzhang, who plays the chairman of a chaebol, is currently auditioning.

The way he held his cane made him look like a seasoned veteran, and every step he took exuded an aura of quiet authority.

Liu Haizhen was already propped up on the carpet, his posture as humble as a dog waiting to be slaughtered.

Kang Jae-hoon, meanwhile, sat in his seat with a detached and mocking expression.

"Attention all units—"

"Scene 65 of 'Veteran,' one shot, one take."

"Action!"

"Snapped--"

As the clapperboard slammed down, Song Yongzhang raised his cane and brought it down heavily—

"Snapped!"

The dull thud of a solid wooden stick striking a specially made protective pad sent a chill down the spines of everyone present.

On the monitor—

The low-angle shot of Song Yongzhang occupies the center of the image.

The vertical lines of the dark solid wood bookcase framed him at the center of power like an iron fence.

The light from the overhead lamp poured down on his head, casting a deep shadow on his brow bone and slicing his wrinkled face into a majestic mask of light and shadow.

The moment the cane was raised high, the Patek Philippe watch peeking out from the cuff reflected a cold light.

Bottom left corner of the screen.

Yoo Hae-jin's micro-expression of clenching his teeth is textbook perfect; the bulging veins on his forehead and his instantly pale lips perfectly convey the pain.

The muscles in his arms, supporting him on the carpet, were taut, and fine beads of sweat seeped from the back of his neck, leaving dark water stains on his shirt collar. This deliberately lowered perspective made him look as small as an ant, and even his cries of pain could only turn into suppressed groans in his throat.

In the mid-ground composition cut diagonally to the right, Kang Jae-hoon is lounging lazily in a leather sofa.

The gold-rimmed glasses reflected the sunlight streaming through the window, obscuring his eyes. He rested his cheek on his right hand, while his left hand toyed with a Dunhill lighter.

The metal lid clicked rhythmically as it opened and closed, creating an eerie chorus with the dull thud of the cane falling.

The most ingenious part is the invisible diagonal formed by the three people—

Song Yongzhang's cane pointed at Kang Jae-hoon's fist holding the lighter, Kang Jae-hoon's toes were aimed at Yoo Hae-jin's trembling back, and Yoo Hae-jin's pleading gaze passed through his glasses and connected to the toes of Song Yongzhang's shoes.

This intricately linked composition vividly illustrates the distorted power food chain within chaebol families.

"Crack!"

Ryu Seung-wan stared at the monitor, replaying the footage repeatedly, when suddenly he picked up the walkie-talkie:
"Jaehoon, slow down the rhythm of opening and closing the lighter."

"clear."

Jiang Zai Xun understood and adjusted his posture.

When filming resumed.

The sound of the metal opening and closing became increasingly nonchalant.

He even deliberately paused for two seconds when the cane fell once—

Like a wild beast toying with its prey.

"Ka! This one passed!"

Director Ryu Seung-wan's voice echoed across the set via walkie-talkie.

Two more items were saved, and the props team began to rearrange the scene.

Next, we will film the "family banquet" scene before Executive Director Cui takes the blame and goes to prison.

After changing clothes.

The three began rehearsing the scenes they were about to film.

This scene depicts Chairman Zhao making empty promises to Executive Director Cui, asking him to take the blame for Zhao Taiwu.

The chaebol family hypocritically threw him a "farewell banquet".

On the surface, they appear warm and affectionate, but in reality, they each harbor ulterior motives.

"Brother Cui..."

Before Kang Jae-hoon could finish his first line, he was suddenly interrupted by the production assistant:
"The director told everyone to go to the rest area... Something happened."

The three looked at each other in bewilderment, then quickly followed the stagehand to the rest area.

The once noisy film set was now completely silent.

Everyone crowded around the television, holding their breath as they stared at the KBS news channel on the screen.

The footage is from a helicopter.

The ship, listing like a stranded whale, had a few scattered orange lifeboats being pushed away by the waves. Coast Guard patrol boats circled the passenger ship, but no large-scale rescue operation was in sight.

Liu Haizhen frowned as he stared at the screen:

"This tilt angle..."

Kang Jae-hoon pulled out his phone, and social media was already buzzing with excitement—

#SewolFerrySinking# suddenly became the top trending topic.
Clicking on the topic instantly brings to mind a deluge of on-site videos and photos:
Footage of water entering the ship's cabin, taken by a student;

Footage shows parents breaking down in tears at the port;
More numerous were angry statements questioning the inadequacy of the rescue efforts.

Why did the coast guard only circle around the area instead of going up to rescue the people?

My friend messaged me from the ship saying the crew told them to stay put!

……

Kang Jae-hoon stared at the constantly refreshing SOS messages on the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard but not moving.

(So ​​many students...)
He suddenly realized a terrifying truth—

Surprisingly, I felt no emotional reaction whatsoever.

Those crying faces and pleading words—scenes that should have gripped his heart—now seemed to be seen through a thick layer of frosted glass. He could clearly see them, but he couldn't feel the emotional response he should have.

(wrong……)
(Something's not right with me.)
Kang Jae-hoon suddenly strode towards the restroom.

The moment the cold water hit his face, he stared at the terrifyingly calm face in the mirror—

The coldness in his eyes startled even himself.

Kang Jae-hoon suddenly pinched the web of his hand.

The sharp pain brought him to his senses slightly.

He took out his phone and opened social media:

Prayers for everyone on board the Sewol ferry; may they be safe.

After finishing editing, Kang Jae-hoon stared at the screen for a few seconds, then added:
Please make sure the children are evacuated first.

His finger paused for a moment on the send button; he deleted the second half of the sentence and edited it again:

Please do everything in your power to rescue them.

(At times like this.)

(You must not show any bias.)
(Even if it was well-intentioned.)
Kang Jae-hoon was startled by his own thought—

When did he start calculating the risks of public opinion even when posting a tweet to pray for blessings?

After sending the tweet.

Kang Jae-hoon took a deep breath and walked out of the restroom.

Filming has resumed on set.

But the atmosphere was noticeably more somber.

Director Ryoo Seung-wan was speaking quietly with the producer, and once everyone was present, he announced:
"Prepare to film the next scene in ten minutes."

……

Three days later, the truth swept across the country like a tsunami.

While mainstream media outlets continue to broadcast carefully edited official "rescue footage," JTBC reporters risked their lives to infiltrate the restricted area and documented the harrowing 72 hours on camera.

Coast Guard rubber boats circled around the sunken ship but did not board it.
Rescue workers prevented civilian boats from approaching;

Almost none of the survivors were students; the captain and some of the crew were among the first to escape.

Even more appalling is that the authorities immediately blocked the news after the incident, and Ms. Park mysteriously disappeared for seven hours...

That night.

The van is driving on the road near the SBS Mokdong Building.

Kang Jae-hoon's phone and Kim Dae-won's phone both vibrated wildly at the same time.

Mainstream media outlets simultaneously released emergency press releases—

Officials are urging the public to remain calm and avoid spreading unverified information.

[Coast Guard Clarifies: Rescue Operation Never Stopped; Some Footage Was Maliciously Edited]

[Official spokesperson: The claim of "disappearing for seven hours" is pure fabrication...]

……

Kang Jae-hoon scrolled through social media and found that the hashtag #SewolFerryTruth# had disappeared, replaced by the official hashtag #PrayForSewolFerry#.

When you click on it, all you see are candles and heart emojis.

Those angry questions and the video footage from the scene vanished without a trace, as if erased by an eraser.

Even more bizarrely, JTBC's official website suddenly crashed, with a "server maintenance" notice displayed on the homepage.

Meanwhile, the real-time trending topics lists on major portal websites are undergoing a bizarre reshuffle—

1. #BaeksangArtsAwardsNominations#
2. #EXO comeback teasers#
3. #The Fatal Encounter Trailer#
……

Just ten minutes ago.

These locations are also related to information about the Sewol ferry.

Discussion posts on a certain forum were being deleted at a rate of dozens per second.

The administrator account issued a series of announcements:
[We are currently removing some inaccurate information; please do not spread unverified videos.]

The nanny van passed by JTBC television station.

Kang Jae-hoon saw that the building was surrounded by police cars.

Several people who looked like reporters were being pushed and shoved out of the revolving door.

He rolled down his window and could vaguely hear the protests being swallowed up by police sirens—

"What about freedom of the press?!"

"Everything we filmed is true!"

"..."

Jiang Zai Xun sighed and asked Jin Da Yuan for a cigarette.

He doesn't smoke.

But at this moment, I inexplicably need the numbness of nicotine.

The flame from the lighter illuminated his furrowed brow in the dimly lit carriage.

The gold-rimmed glasses were casually taken off.

The cigarette butt flickered in the dimly lit carriage.

The grayish-white smoke rings hit the car window and shattered into a hazy mist.

Kim Dae-won looked at Kang Jae-hoon's gloomy profile in the rearview mirror, hesitating to speak.

In the end, they simply rolled down the car window silently to let the smell of smoke dissipate.

As the van arrived at the SBS television station's underground parking lot, Kang Jae-hoon stubbed out his third cigarette. For the few dozen seconds the elevator ascended, Kang Jae-hoon stared at his reflection in the mirrored car—

He was dressed in a suit and tie, his cufflinks gleaming coldly.

What's the difference between this elite-looking person and those impeccably dressed officials in the news who refuse to help those in distress?
Ding--

I don't know if it is a psychological effect.

Kang Jae-hoon felt that the studio lights were brighter than usual.

“Jaehoon.”

The radio PD approached, looking rather displeased.

"EXO's manager canceled the trip at the last minute, saying that the comeback album's audio was leaked."

Kang Jae-hoon nodded.

Whether it's true or just an excuse, idol groups really shouldn't appear in the public eye at times like this.

The writer sister hurriedly handed over a new script:

"This is the revised process, take a look."

Kang Jae-hoon opened the script, his pupils suddenly contracting—

[Topic 1: What has happened recently that has made you angry?]

(Encourage the audience to share their dissatisfaction with public services)
[Topic 2: Share a touching story of community mutual aid]

(In contrast to the slow pace of official rescue efforts)

[Topic 3: What would you do in an emergency?]

(This implies the importance of self-rescue for the public)
Several keywords were marked on the edge of the script: ramen, life jacket, seven hours
Kang Jae-hoon looked up, his voice slightly strained:

Are you sure you want to broadcast it this way?

The PD's gaze was unusually firm:
"We were broadcasting live, so they didn't have time to cut off the signal."

The writer sister added:
"At worst, I'll be summoned by the Ministry of Culture tomorrow, and the broadcast will be suspended for two weeks."

Kang Jae-hoon stared at the script for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed:
"Okay, then we'll broadcast it like that."

He turned and walked towards his seat, his steps much lighter than when he came.

The red light in the live stream room turned on.

Kang Jae-hoon put on his headphones, and the opening music began to flow gently—

"Don't Worry" by Wild Chrysanthemum Band.

This comforting song sounds particularly ironic at this moment.

"Good evening, listeners. This is SBS FM's 'Jae-hoon's Moonlight Drive,' 101.3MHz..."

The song ended.

He paused for three seconds on purpose.

The three seconds of silence felt particularly heavy on the radio.

"Today I want to talk to you about... something that has made me angry recently."

"I ordered takeout three days ago, but the delivery person was a full seven hours late."

Kang Jae-hoon deliberately emphasized "seven hours":

"The most ridiculous thing is that the food delivery platform actually said 'the system shows that it has been delivered'."

The PD in the control room gave him a thumbs up through the window.

"I later found out that the deliveryman had gone to help a friend move halfway through the journey."

Jiang Zaixun sneered: "And the platform's customer service explained that the system needs time to synchronize."

He turned to the next page of the script:
"Speaking of mutual assistance, I recently heard a touching story. A ramen shop owner, upon learning that his neighbor's house was on fire, didn't immediately call for help; instead, he carried a soaking wet quilt and rushed in to rescue the people..."

……

The phone indicator light in the live stream room suddenly started flashing wildly.

Kang Jae-hoon answered the first call from a viewer—

"Hello, host! I'm a listener from Anshan."

The background noise on the other end of the phone was loud, but it was a young woman's voice.

"Your story about the takeout reminded me of something: last week I ordered a life jacket, but the merchant sent me a children's swim ring instead!"

"What a coincidence."

Kang Jae-hoon adjusted his glasses and chuckled, "I recently bought a life jacket too. The tag says 'In case of emergency, please wait for professional rescue.'"

He paused for a moment: "But the last page of the instruction manual says that this product's buoyancy is only enough to support the wearer for 15 minutes. Ironically, the life jacket has a shelf life of seven years."

When the second call came in, the line was clearly processed, and the sound was severely distorted.

"Host, I'm a fisherman from Jindo Island. That day we wanted to go to rescue people, but the sea..."

The piercing static suddenly cut off the call.

Kang Jae-hoon continued without changing his expression:

"It seems the signal isn't very good. Let's hear the next listener's story."

The third caller spoke rapidly: "I work at Incheon Port, and our company's rescue boat was..."

The live stream signal was suddenly interrupted for three seconds, and when it was restored, it showed a busy signal.

Kang Jae-hoon took off his headphones to check the wiring and gave a wry smile into the microphone:
"Technical malfunction; it seems today is not a good day to answer the phone."

"beep--"

Just as Kang Jae-hoon finished reading the list of sponsors, the call was suddenly cut off.

A commotion broke out in the control room.

Kang Jae-hoon looked up and saw through the glass that the PD was arguing fiercely with several men in suits.

Music automatically starts playing.

It was "Will Spring Come?" which had been prepared long ago.

"In accordance with Article 105 of the Broadcasting Act, your station is hereby ordered to immediately cease broadcasting this program."

The staff member showed his "Ministry of Culture" work badge:

"Please cooperate with the investigation."

The writer sister was asked to hand over today's script.

The producer tried to argue his point: "Where did we break the rules? Is talking about being late for takeout illegal???"

"take away."

The leader, not wanting to waste any more words with him, simply confiscated all the recordings.

Inside the studio.

Kang Jae-hoon silently tidied up the desk.

If nothing unexpected happens, this show probably won't survive.

He put the pen back in its holder, carefully collected the listener's letters, and finally gently stroked a corner of the platform calendar. His movements were slow, as if he were saying goodbye to the livestreaming room where he had spent less than six months.

“Kang Jae-hoon-ssi.”

Staff from the Ministry of Culture pushed open the studio door:
"Please cooperate by making a statement."

"Ok."

……

The Ministry of Culture's recording room was more rudimentary than I had imagined.

The incandescent light bulbs hummed overhead as Kang Jae-hoon sat in a metal folding chair, facing two expressionless investigators.

"Kang Jae-hoon, are you aware that the remarks made on tonight's program violated Article 27 of the National Security Law?"

"Are discussing food delivery and life jacket quality issues considered sensitive topics?"

Kang Jae-hoon answered calmly.

"You know what I'm talking about."

The investigator pushed a document towards us:
"This is the transcript of tonight's program, with all puns and metaphors marked."

Kang Jae-hoon glanced at it—

The phrase "seven hours" was circled in red, with the note next to it stating "[alluding to Ms. Park's disappearance]";
The statement "Life jackets have a seven-year shelf life" was underlined and annotated with the comment "[A veiled criticism of official incompetence]".
Even the ramen shop owner's analogy was interpreted as "inciting the public to resist the government."

"According to the decision of the Broadcasting Censorship Board, your radio program is suspended effective immediately."

The older investigator adjusted his glasses:
"At the same time, we advise you not to post any related comments on social media in the near future, otherwise..."

He emphasized the word "suggestion," and his gaze behind his glasses was meaningful.

Kang Jae-hoon stared at the blank space at the end of the transcript—

His signature should have been there, but now there's only a pen.

(Signing means acknowledging it.)
(I won't sign...)
He picked up his pen and neatly wrote in the signature column:

[Read and approved, Kang Jae-hoon]

Neither admit nor deny.

The investigators exchanged a glance, then finally put away the documents: "You can go now."

……

It was late at night when I left the Ministry of Culture building.

It was rare to see a few stars in the Seoul night sky.

Kang Jae-hoon took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs and easing the lingering oppressive atmosphere of the interrogation room.

The van slowly pulled up in front of him.

The car window rolled down, revealing Jin Dayuan's worried face:
"Are you okay?"

Kang Jae-hoon shook his head.

"PD and the others are waiting for you at the barbecue restaurant."

"Ah."

The barbecue restaurant was filled with smoke.

The pork belly sizzled on the grill, and the liquor bottle was quickly emptied.

"Respect the truth!"

The PD raised his glass and drank it all in one gulp, while the others clinked glasses in tacit agreement but no one said a word.

Kang Jae-hoon picked up a piece of golden-brown roasted pork skin and suddenly spoke:
"Actually, I just..."

He paused for a moment: "In the interrogation room, there was a moment when I was genuinely scared."

The hustle and bustle of the barbecue restaurant suddenly subsided.

"What are you afraid of?"

"The writer sister asked."

"I'm afraid of implicating my teachers and the director, and I'm also afraid I'll never be able to act again..."

Kang Jae-hoon stared at his reflection in the wine glass: "I'm even more afraid of becoming the kind of person who just goes with the flow."

PD placed a piece of grilled beef tongue on Ginger Jae-hoon's plate:

"The things that scare you are the very things that prove you haven't become like them yet."

"Yes."

The writer sister raised her glass: "Let's toast to our Moonlight DJ!"

"To the moonlight!"

Amidst the crisp sound of glasses clashing.

Kang Jae-hoon suddenly noticed that his reflection was swaying slightly on the side of the cup.

The faces of everyone around were reflected in that small arc, as if they were captured in the same shot.

The slices of meat on the baking tray sizzled and dripped with oil.

Kang Jae-hoon smiled to himself, then put the last piece of charred pork skin into his mouth.

Salty, fragrant, and crispy, it carries the flavor of everyday life.

(End of this chapter)