Episode 449: Speed of Light (1)



September 1st | Early Morning

Columbia Studios – Set Complex

Amid the sprawling stages of Columbia Studios, one stood out—a massive replica of a city center.

Buildings loomed close together. Sidewalks, roads, crosswalks, storefronts, and street stalls—all meticulously crafted.

And within this carefully constructed chaos, over 100 foreign staff members moved with machine-like precision.

It was time for Perriot: Birth of a Villain.

🕗 Just before 8 AM

"Check the camera angles!"

"Extras, get ready!"

"Director! Please review this!"

The energy was palpable. The day's shoot, originally set for 10 AM, had been pushed forward by two hours.

Why?

Because at 1 PM, Kang Woo-jin had his first shoot for Beast and the Beauty.

Today will be a complete sprint.

"Mr. Kang Woo-jin, standby!" Silence rippled through the set as he stepped in.

A hoodie. Faded jeans. He was Henry Gordon. A few curt nods to the staff. No words. Just that calm, ice-cold aura. Still completely in character.

"Almost the end, huh?"

His eyes swept across the cityscape set, a flicker of bittersweetness creeping in.

"It's been a ride."

Footsteps approached. Wrinkles deepened with experience, Director Ahn Ga-bok came up beside him.

"You're here."

A simple greeting.

But both knew—they were running out of time.

Director Ahn Ga-bok approached, storyboard in hand, flanked by the cinematographer.

"We're locking in on Henry Gordon today," he said, flipping through the pages. "Scenes are a bit out of sequence, so the emotional arc might jump. But I doubt that's an issue for you."

Kang Woo-jin nodded, solemn.

"Yes, sir."

Ahn Ga-bok continued, "The goal is three scenes before noon. At the very least, we'll get two. Minimal camera changes to keep things tight."

Woo-jin nodded again, listening as the director of photography outlined the shots.

Around them, the set swarmed with movement. Extras flooded in. Pedestrians on sidewalks. Cars at red lights. Vendors setting up stalls. Shopkeepers dusting off displays. The city felt alive.

There were only Five minutes left before the shoot started.

With Ahn Ga-bok's cue, the set hushed.

Crew members scurried to their positions. Assistants paused, waiting for the director's command. Ahn Ga-bok took his seat behind a row of monitors.

Around him, over a hundred staff members gathered. In the crowd, Choi Sung-geon stood, arms crossed, his ponytail pulled tight.

All eyes were on Woo-jin.

Woo-jin stepped into the frame. His breath slowed. Henry Gordon surfaced.

From his pocket, both hands slipped into his hoodie. The shift was instant. Deep inside, a storm churned. Madness. Joy. Hidden aggression. The Joker, wearing Henry Gordon's face.

"Slate up!"

--Clap.*

"Action!"

City in Motion, The world unfroze. Pedestrians strolled. The Drivers cursed at traffic. A vendor wiped down a fruit stand. Someone bought a newspaper. Loud Sirens. Police cars tore past.

Everyone turned—except Henry Gordon. He walked on, indifferent.

At The Stall He stopped at the newsstand. Among the magazines and tabloids, he reached for a newspaper.

Front page:

[A Clown Appears in the City! Who is He?]

A blurry image of a masked man—Joker.

Byline: Robert Franklin.

Henry Gordon's lips curled into a smirk.

"Good job, buddy."

A voice cut in.

"Hey! You picked that up, so buy it! Huh??"

Henry froze.The stall owner, irritated, stared back. Woo-jin's gaze locked on him.

His pupils trembled. Something fractured beneath his stare. A creeping chill wrapped around the air.

The stall owner flinched. Woo-jin raised the newspaper to his face. Slowly, he pointed at the headline.

Then, at himself.

"What do you think? Do we look alike?"



A little further from the set, Choi Sung-geon stepped away, cell phone pressed to his ear.

He had been watching Woo-jin's performance, but an urgent call had pulled him aside.

A few minutes later—the Call ended. Exhaling, he rolled his neck, the exhaustion weighing on him.

"Damn, this schedule is brutal."

Managing BW Entertainment. Handling Kang Woo-jin's skyrocketing career. To Launching new projects. It was a never-ending grind.

With a sigh, he climbed into the passenger seat of a van. Finally, a break. Then Something caught his eye. On the floor—a stack of scripts. From Korea. Japan. Hollywood.

None had reached Woo-jin. Because what was the point? His schedule was already full until the year after next.

Still, he reached for the top script. A title printed in bold. Choi Sung-geon settled into the passenger seat, unfolding a stack of papers with a hum.

"I've been too busy to pass this on. Just a quick glance for now—I'll give it to Woojin later when the timing's right."

As he skimmed the first few pages, he rubbed his chin.

"Impressive adaptation. Taking a Korean short story and stretching it into a feature-length script? And they layered in new genres? Mystery, thriller, suspense... plus occult and horror?"

The script title glared up at him.

[Guest.]

It was written entirely in English. Not quite his area of expertise—Woojin was better at dissecting scripts—but Choi Sung-geon could appreciate a well-crafted narrative when he saw one.

After a moment of thought, he reached for his phone.

*Ringing...*

The call connected instantly. "Haha, hello, Director Shin Dong-chun. How have you been?"

The director of 'Detective Agency' responded on the other end. This conversation needed more details before it reached Woojin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world was blanketed in snow. Beneath the sun's pale light, a castle loomed in the mountains. Its stone walls and towers looked ancient, worn by time. And yet—the gardens remained meticulously cared for.

Neatly pruned trees....

Vibrant, living flowers.....

But the castle itself?

Dark.

Silent.

Eerie.

Then a figure cautiously stepped into the garden. A young woman. Her blond hair was tied up with a simple cloth. A white dress, a worn brown apron, and a faded yellow cloak wrapped around her shoulders.

Shabby. Humble. But her beauty was undeniable.

Clear skin. Deep blue eyes. A face that had captivated every man in town.

Her name was Belle. And yet—why had she come here?

Belle hesitated. Her gaze swept over the aged stone walls, the massive doors, the winding vines.

Then—A cluster of flowers.....

Her face lit up—only to darken a second later.

"These weren't wild. Someone planted them."

Her eyes drifted back to the castle. It had countless windows. Yet—no signs of life.

A chill crept up her spine, but she steeled herself. With slow, cautious steps, she approached the entrance.

The camera followed.



The Door Creaks Open. Belle peered inside. She expected dust, decay, and abandonment.

Instead—It was pristine. The dark interior was eerily clean.

No dust...

No cobwebs...

No signs of neglect....

Instead, the air carried a fragrant scent. Pleasant, almost inviting. Belle stepped forward, mesmerized.

*At The Grand Hall----

The camera pulled back to reveal— A breathtaking interior. Towering golden pillars. High, arched ceilings With Intricate patterns woven into the floors and a grand staircase—splitting into two paths leading to the upper level. Every piece of furniture and décor radiated wealth. Belle stood in awe, her blue eyes wide.

"Oh my god..."

She traced her fingers over a golden column—not a single speck of dust. Then, she turned—moving toward a tall window. Her reflection flickered against the glass.

Outside—only endless snow. Inside—only silence.But then Something about this place felt wrong. It was Beautiful But wrong.

Belle's heartbeat quickened. And in the darkness—Somewhere beyond the grand hall—She was not alone.

"It's clean." It was so clean that it felt like nothing was out of place.

At that moment—

*Clang! *

Belle, suddenly regaining her composure, slapped her cheeks with both hands, as if telling herself to come to her senses. Naturally curious, she suppressed her rising interest and cautiously called out toward the second floor.

"Is someone there?"

"······"

There's No answer. Only her own voice echoed back.

"I know someone lives here. Let's talk."

"······"

Both the first and second floors remained silent.

Then—

-Clang*Knock!

The sound of wood and metal colliding. Belle's eyes widened as she flinched, quickly shouting.

"Who—who are you? Hey! I heard everything! Come out and don't hide!"

Sure enough, there had been a sound, but nothing appeared. Belle, furrowing her eyebrows, stood in front of the staircase.

"I'm coming up. Please talk to me."

She stepped onto the first step. At that moment, a whisper brushed against her ear—someone was definitely there. Just as the confident Belle was about to take the second step—

"Stop."

A heavy, thick, and eerie voice echoed from behind her. Startled, she spun around with a sharp gasp—

"*Hic!"

But no one was visible through the large open wooden door. Belle hesitated, then cautiously descended the steps she had just climbed and walked toward the door.

"Who—who are you?"

This time, an immediate response. The same deep, ominous voice.

"Get out now."

"Show yourself. I have questions for you."

"Get out!"

A piercing scream—no, more like a roar. Belle, now confused and frightened, stumbled back.

" but I-I just—"

Another thunderous shout rang out, freezing Belle in place.

"You entered someone else's home without permission! So leave!! If you don't get out right now, I'll tear you to pieces!"

But this time, the voice came from the second floor. Belle collapsed onto the floor, her heart pounding wildly. Trembling, she mustered her courage.

No—I can't back down here. I have to meet him. With great effort, she rose to her feet and strode toward the open wooden door, slamming it shut.

Then—*haaa–*

She leaned her back against the door and looked up toward the second floor. Determination burned in her blue eyes.

"Okay, tear me to pieces. But you'll have to come to me to do that, won't you?"

"······"

The roaring stopped. Instead, a creaking noise spread. Someone was stepping onto the stairs—the stairs on the right side of the second floor. It was dark and hard to make out, but the silhouette of a large person emerged. 'Bella' spoke confidently to the man on the second floor.

"I won't move an inch from here."

It meant he should come. In fact, there were many rumors that a monster lived in this castle, but 'Belle' didn't care who showed up. She was ready to welcome him, whether he was a monster or a beast.

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs echoed again.

And again.

The figure of the man, who had been hiding in the darkness, gradually began to appear. No—the form of the 'beast' started to reveal itself little by little. Its height and size were absurdly large. On top of that, the mane covering its face—wait, the mane? The 'beast,' which had already reached the central staircase, didn't have the mane that should have been abundant. However, its face was serious—almost threatening—and its eyes glared at 'Belle' as if it was about to devour her.

A revealed monster. No—a 'beast.'

Then— "······Ugh."

Bella's serious face twitched.

And then—"Pfft!"

The laughter she had been holding back burst out. At the same time, she swept her blonde hair back and apologized.

"Ahhh—I'm sorry, Woojin. I laughed without realizing it."

A sign was broadcast through a loudspeaker across the first floor of the castle.

"Cut, NG!"

The first filming and first take of Beauty and the Beast ended in a spectacular NG.

The reason was now pointed out to 'Belle' with a solemn face.

"Cara, you have to be serious."

It was because of the 'Beast'—that is, Kang Woojin.

Cara burst into laughter again and answered the 'Beast' on the stairs.

"But! The threatening 'beast' is so cute!"

It was true—Kang Woojin was the 'beast' now. However, his situation was a little strange. Woojin placed both hands on his waist and put on an indifferent expression. Of course, it was forced composure. Inside, he was screaming.

'Fuck!! I'm going crazy too!'

Because he was wearing gray tights with strange dots all over his body from head to toe. The 'beast' at heart, Woojin, screamed inwardly again.

'Aww—these tights are really tight, you little punk!!'

It was almost like a roaring mermaid.