—“I... I have to turn you into an eternal angel.”
The English monologue suddenly breaks into Korean.
Is it to stick to the character’s identity as a Korean-American?
Or is it an unconscious admission that he himself is incomplete?
A scene with unclear intent plays out.
Onscreen, Kim Donghu caresses the body of a ballerina on TV.
His eyes, glinting with murderous desire, appear once more.
The woman’s face isn’t shown.
Even her body remains obscured.
What’s visible are pink pointe shoes.
A floor wiped spotless and a white barre gleaming under reflected light.
Capping off that imagery, which stirs the imagination—
—“I want you... I want to have you, Natasha.”
It’s a well-mannered man’s mad, obsessive declaration of love.
Something thick and unpleasant that shouldn’t even be called love.
And with that, the barely two-minute clip ends.
“Obviously, this is the edited version. It’s the audition video theme.”
“Yeah. They’re looking for the woman who fits Natasha on screen the best.”
The video was sent to actors worldwide, regardless of nationality.
To those Dezni considered suitable.
There were three conditions:
You must know how to do ballet.
You must not lose your presence next to Kim Donghu.
And you must possess an air of allure.
Simple, yet deeply ambiguous.
Frustratingly vague standards.
“So they’re going to audition with this, and decide who gets to stand next to Kim Donghu?”
“Ha. What’s the deadline?”
“One month. They said we’re free to use the time however we want.”
“Please sign me up for a ballet academy. Just the basics, condensed into three weeks.”
The phrase “next to Kim Donghu” made everything click.
Because, right now, there’s no male actor hotter than Kim Donghu.
His looks have been praised to the point of exhaustion—so let’s skip that.
More importantly, he’s never flopped at the box office. Not once.
‘That’s genuinely terrifying.’
He officially debuted in Korea at around fifteen.
Now, eight years later—
Not a single failed project.
Not even just “not a failure”—he’s a consistent blockbuster hit-maker.
So of course the thought crossed people’s minds: He’ll pull it off again.
But this time, something felt different.
He still had that signature freshness—
But there was also... a new maturity.
And The Pianist wasn’t just notable for having Kim Donghu as the lead.
It was filled with all kinds of elements that stoked curiosity.
“They’re picking three? What is this, a harem?”
“Seriously, I’m not sure. But I bet tons of people are going to apply.”
Instead of one female lead, they were picking three.
“And the producer’s Berryard again? That’s actually insane.”
Because Berryard, who never worked with the same actor twice—
had broken his decades-long philosophy.
Honestly, that was the part that shocked people more.
That meticulous, uptight man—
would turn into syrupy sweetness the moment he saw Kim Donghu.
Just witnessing it was unreal.
Anyway, the flood of actresses vying for the chance to stand beside Kim Donghu began.
The first selected actress, Evelyn Queen Amber, stood in front of Kim Donghu.
“Tarzan! It’s been a while.”
Evelyn felt deeply satisfied at still being called by her nickname.
She pushed her hair lightly back and continued.
“Good thing I learned a bunch while doing musicals. I get to be by your side again .”
“Ha ha, thanks for saying that.”
Hearing Donghu’s response, Evelyn smiled and looked around.
The vast cornfield stretched out endlessly, with a lone white house standing in the middle.
It was clearly neat and well-kept—
but gave off the sense of a blemish in the surrounding space.
‘I was shocked when I first read the script.’
The script that Lee Minha handed her.
The first line of it was nothing short of stunning.
—“The moment I saw him, I knew. It was a powerful premonition. I’m going to die because of this man.”
An unspoken order to act while knowing she would die.
So she’d asked the writer and director directly.
“This is hard to get a feel for. What should I do?”
“If you don’t lose your way inside Kim Donghu’s acting, everything will resolve naturally.”
And the answer she got—
Don’t lose your way, they said.
It sounded ridiculous, and yet... she understood.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
“You’re meeting the woman looking like something out of a horror movie.”
“I mean... knowing I’ll die, but still having no choice but to approach you.”
Because Kim Donghu’s styling was chillingly seductive.
His sharply defined muscles peeking through the outfit.
A crisp two-piece suit.
Slicked-back pomade hair.
An ideal gentleman, really.
But if it stopped there, it might’ve felt flat and cliché.
There was a faint scent of violence at his fingertips.
A dangerous air radiated from him.
Like he could easily kill everyone around him if he wanted to.
In this surreal cornfield—
He stood out, sharp and pristine, exuding overwhelming pressure.
All of that made Kim Donghu’s presence even more intense.
He hadn’t done anything, and yet the tension spiked.
Trying to suppress it, Evelyn blurted out something she couldn’t say in a message.
“U-um, what are you doing for Christmas?”
Today was December 20.
About five days left until Christmas.
He probably had plans, but she had to ask.
“Ah... I do have plans then.”
“On the 25th itself?”
“What about the 24th?”
“I’ve got something then, too.”
She felt briefly downcast—
but quickly gathered her courage again.
“On the 24th... could you meet me too?”
“Oh, um... well... honestly, if you’re okay with it, I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, um... my sister Seohyun loves meeting new people, so I think she’d be fine with it.”
“Seohyun? Who’s Seohyun?”
“My little sister. She’s the princess of our family.”
Kim Donghu’s little sister!
She must be adorable!
It had always been her dream to have a little sister like that.
Her thoughts racing, Evelyn quickly nodded.
“By the way, this place is super far... and the house is kind of eerie.”
A small comment to break the tension.
Donghu nodded in agreement.
“Seriously. Someone could sneak in and we wouldn’t even know.”
“Ugh, don’t say scary stuff like that. A lone house in the middle of a cornfield... someone sneaking in? That’s terrifying.”
“Just thinking about it makes it feel wrong.”
“Exactly. Should we go in?”
The tension diffused.
The atmosphere relaxed just enough—
“Alright, let’s begin shooting!”
The director called it.
The first meeting between the pianist and the ballerina was about to begin.
It begins with the pianist offering full sponsorship to the ballerina—
and inviting her to a meal.
The two sit across from each other at a long table.
Even as they eat from opposite ends—
neither of them says a word.
“Thank you for inviting me to this meal...”
Unable to bear the awkwardness, the ballerina finally opens her mouth.
“When you eat, you focus only on eating.”
The pianist silences her.
Kim Donghu—or rather, Do Gyu—openly stares at the ballerina.
He observes everything she does while eating.
Whether the utensils clink against the plate.
Whether her tongue flicks out.
Whether she eats noisily, how she handles her cutlery, and so on.
He evaluates many things.
Does this woman truly deserve to die?
Even in the mud, sometimes a pearl is found.
Could that pearl become a Venus?
No. That’s impossible.
A person already tainted can never be clean again.
The past is a stain, an indelible scar.
And that is why she must die.
He continues eating, lost in such thoughts when—
“Ah, ahahaha, ahahahahaha! I’m here! I’m here! I said I’m here!”
Someone suddenly bursts out of the bathroom—
I whip my head toward the director in a panic.
His face says he has no idea what’s going on.
The producer looks equally stunned.
And the moment I see their faces—
A third party had barged in.
Like someone who’s been homeless for quite a while.
Disheveled hair. Slightly unfocused pupils.
Someone mentally unstable—
had been hiding inside the model house.
The bathroom isn’t functional, so... no one would’ve checked it.
A completely unchecked area.
He must’ve taken something, gone high, and lost it.
Is this common in the U.S.?
Maybe he’s like a hooligan storming a soccer field?
The difference is—he has a gun.
He hasn’t aimed the barrel at anyone yet.
But the fact that he’s holding it is enough of a problem.
A lunatic with a weapon was now fully controlling the set.
Everyone held their breath so as not to provoke him.
Call the cops? In this endless cornfield?
Call the guards? Through this cramped space?
The cameras are rolling. Everyone’s tense.
Of course, no matter how spacious the house looks—
there’s no room for the guards to enter during filming.
Even just the film crew barely fits in here.
And right now, the one who rules this place—
is a drugged-out intruder.
That’s when I knew exactly what I had to do.
I have to subdue him. I’m the closest person here who can.
I slowly rise from my chair.
Carefully, without provoking him.
I lift my body when I’m outside of his line of sight.
“This—this is my house! This place, it’s mine! I—ha! Hahaha!”
His speech is slurred, his words incoherent.
I take a clear mental snapshot of this man.
Thick UGG boots. A washed-out beanie pulled tight.
A coat worn down, likely scorched by cigarette burns.
One hand holds the gun, the other’s in his pocket.
I factor in the possibility of a second weapon and measure the distance with my eyes.
The distance isn’t far.
If there’s the right signal... something to draw his attention...
Just as I slowly lower my stance, preparing to lunge—
“H-hhic... sob... hhic...”
Terrified, Evelyn bursts into tears.
“You—what? Why are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?!”
The muzzle begins to drift toward Evelyn.
I leap forward, launching myself straight at him.
The goal: total subjugation.
As my body moves, the suit tears from the force.
I’m already within striking range.
At that exact moment—