How a Loan Shark Survives as an Actor Chapter 145

Chapter 145

 

D-7

The very first thing I did after the audition date was set… was go shopping.

I ordered the basic tools dentists use online.

An explorer, a dental mirror, tweezers, nitrile gloves, and so on.

‘Do I really have to go this far?’

After receiving a dental model complete with gums, I had a brief moment of existential doubt.

But after actually going to a dentist for treatment, I realized practicing the hand movements was necessary.

The way the dentist examined Choo Seomok’s mouth had left a strong impression on me.

Unlike the bored look on his face, his fingertips were unbelievably skillful.

‘Of course, none of this will probably even show up in the drama.’

I was playing a dentist.

Not becoming a real one.

No matter how much I practiced, I wasn’t going to be touching anyone’s actual teeth.

If the drama needed a treatment scene, they’d film my facial expressions while a professional performed the handwork as a body double.

‘Still… I feel like I should practice it.’

My instincts told me so.

If I practiced this, it would definitely help.

I’d never regretted trusting my instincts before.

So I quietly slipped on the blue gloves.

After practicing all day, I realized it was much harder than I’d expected.

‘Relaxing my grip isn’t easy.’

Holding a pointed instrument naturally made me tense my hand.

I tried holding it lightly, the way you’d hold a pen, but the moment I needed to do delicate work with the tip, my grip kept tightening.

Unable to get the feel of it, I even searched through dental YouTube channels.

‘Use your ring finger as a fulcrum… move only your fingers in tiny motions.’

After two days of practicing on the model, I was finally getting the movement I wanted.

‘Good. Now…’

The next thing I corrected was my gaze and breathing.

Whenever I concentrated on my hands, I’d unconsciously stop breathing.

If I became too absorbed, sweat would soon begin running down my face, and the strain showed plainly in my expression.

It was the face of a beginner with no composure whatsoever.

‘I can’t let it show that I’m nervous.’

The character I was playing had spent years working as a salaried dentist before opening his own clinic in a quiet rural village.

He’d long since stopped being a rookie.

His movements needed to convey a familiarity so complete that the work had become almost tedious.

But with most of his face covered by a mask, expressing that boredom using only his eyes wasn’t easy.

“Phew. How is it?”

“It’s good. Definitely better than the first day.”

The day before the audition, I showed Choo Seomok what I’d been practicing.

His response was encouraging.

When he complimented me by saying it was obvious how much I’d practiced, I couldn’t help puffing out my chest a little.

‘Though it’s only been a week.’

A real dentist would have spent hundreds of hours mastering only the things I’d skimmed over.

It felt like I’d taken shortcuts.

Still, just mastering one character was already enough to overwhelm me.

‘A dentist in his early thirties who lives with his dog.’

The protagonist wasn’t an ambitious man.

He simply wanted to earn a modest living treating the local residents and enjoy a peaceful life with his dog.

A man who had grown so accustomed to that tranquil routine that he’d even begun feeling bored… only to suddenly become entangled with a criminal organization.

‘But I can’t emphasize the boredom too much.’

I believed the protagonist cared more about his patients than he himself realized.

The script didn’t explicitly say so.

But that was how I interpreted him.

‘Just look at the fact that he has a therapy dog.’

Logically speaking, animals shouldn’t be in a dental clinic.

Sterilization and sanitation were everything there.

Keeping a shedding dog in that environment?

That alone could drive away half your patients.

On top of that, you’d constantly have parents worrying their children might get bitten.

The fact that he willingly accepted all those inconveniences proved just how much he cared about easing his patients’ anxiety.

‘Now that I’ve actually experienced dental treatment, I understand.’

When a nervous patient had a dog quietly climb onto their lap and curl up on them… there was no way that warmth wouldn’t ease their nerves.

The protagonist was someone constantly trying his best to look after both his dog and his patients.

The effort had simply become routine, eventually turning into boredom.

He wasn’t someone who lacked motivation to begin with.

The week of preparation finally paid off during the audition.

And today…

“Aah… ahurts, Doctor. (It hurts, Doctor.)”

“Yes. It’ll hurt a little.”

The time had finally come to show the four of them everything I’d practiced.

“You’ve got quite a bit of tartar buildup. Bear with it for just a little longer.”

“Ahh… (It hurts.)”

Holding Choo Seomok’s mouth open, I acted out performing a dental procedure.

There hadn’t been anyone else available to help me.

But this guy was honestly the worst possible practice partner.

‘He’s not actually a robot, is he?’

Who pretended to be in pain with such a completely expressionless face?

‘Your acting sucks.’

For a split second, Choo Seomok’s terrible acting broke my concentration.

I immediately forced myself back into character.

“Pfft… Hahaha!”

Even while focusing solely on the inside of Choo Seomok’s mouth, I could hear people laughing.

Ignoring the noise, I stayed focused on the treatment.

“Not there… the suction goes under the tongue. It’s filling with water. Tsk.”

I didn’t miss the lines directed at the imaginary dental hygienist either.

Naturally, since no one was standing beside me, I looked like I was talking to thin air.

But I remained completely serious.

“Rinse your mouth. It may bleed a little because your gums are inflamed.”

Pulling the instrument out of Choo Seomok’s mouth, I delivered the lines as mechanically as a vending machine.

The words themselves were kind.

The tone had absolutely no soul.

“Do you know how to floss?”

“No.”

“The hygienist here will show you how before you leave. Good work.”

I peeled off my gloves inside out and casually tossed them onto the desk.

Then I immediately walked away without a second glance.

“…That’s all.”

After taking several steps, I turned back around.

Choo Seomok was climbing down from the table.

The expressions on the four people sitting before me couldn’t have been more different.

‘Only Writer Koo’s reaction matters.’

There was no need to pay attention to anyone else.

Fortunately…

“Haha! Wonderful. Bravo.”

A broad smile spread across Writer Koo’s face.

“It felt like watching a musician play an instrument. Your hand movements were astonishingly precise and delicate. Did you spend the whole week practicing just this?”

“I practiced while studying the script as well.”

“I haven’t even seen your script performance yet, and I’m already satisfied. Well done.”

Writer Koo’s voice was noticeably more excited.

The production company representative and the platform representative were smiling too.

“Seulho, which scene in the script did you like the most?”

“The first encounter with the suspicious patient left the strongest impression on me.”

“Then let’s do that scene.”

Writer Koo asked PD Kim to read the suspicious patient’s dialogue.

Out of habit, PD Kim smiled and nodded.

But beneath the surface, a faint irritation flickered across his face.

‘So being treated like a subordinate in front of outsiders hurts his pride.’

Still… Considering their ages… Wasn’t he the appropriate person to read the lines?

‘You can’t exactly ask one of the guests.’

I thought PD Kim was in his late thirties.

Whatever complaints he had, working with Writer Koo was already a done deal.

Wouldn’t it be easier if he simply changed the way he thought?

Instead of: “I’m serving a superstar writer.”

He could think: “I’m just looking after an older sister who’s ten years older than me.”

That mindset would probably make life much easier.

‘Well, he’ll figure it out himself.’

It wasn’t something I needed to worry about.

“PD Kim, please start from page 23, third line.”

“Understood.”

I placed the script I’d read over and over again on the table.

Writer Koo looked surprised.

“Don’t tell me you’ve memorized the whole thing?”

“No. I wanted to, but there wasn’t enough time.”

Still, I explained that I’d memorized at least the scene we were about to perform.

Writer Koo let out an amused laugh.

“I wrote the script myself and even I can’t remember every line perfectly. Don’t push yourself.”

She said she understood I wanted to make a good impression, but if I wasn’t confident, I should simply read from the script.

It would be better than forgetting my lines halfway through and having to start over.

Smiling, I answered simply.

“I’m confident.”

“Hmm.”

Clearly pleased, she nodded.

“Then show us. The highlight scene from Episode One of Crown.”

 

***

 

Writer Koo’s comeback drama, Crown, carried a double meaning right from its title.

“Crown” could refer to a king’s crown, a symbol of power and authority.

Or it could refer to a dental crown, the prosthetic cap placed over a damaged tooth.

By the time the drama aired, its synopsis would probably read something like this:

A dentist who places “crowns” every day becomes entangled in a story surrounding the criminal organization’s own “Crown.”

The title hinted that an ordinary dentist would become caught up in a criminal syndicate filled with schemes and power struggles.

Of course… There was an even more obvious reason.

“Y-you can treat me now, right?”

PD Kim read the line in an ordinary tone.

It belonged to the suspicious patient who suddenly visited the protagonist’s clinic one day.

“Excuse me?”

“Can you treat me right now?!”

Astonishingly… The line PD Kim had just read so plainly was supposed to be a patient desperately shouting with anxiety written all over his face.

‘Seriously…’

Even for a table read, wasn’t that way too half-hearted?

You’re killing the immersion.

While grumbling inwardly, I concentrated on maintaining the expression of a dentist.

“I’m sorry, but everyone else has already gone home. I’m the only one here. If you come back tomorrow morning at nine–”

“Just look at my molar once! You only need to remove the crown!”

The patient pleaded desperately.

Though all I could actually see was PD Kim’s bored face… I did my utmost to imagine a man constantly glancing around with an anxious expression.

Standing before him…

“All right. First, calm down and have a seat here.”

I soothed the patient into sitting down.

He looked so frightened, as though someone might burst through the door at any second.

I reassured him that everything was all right.

“Wooju, how about helping calm our handsome patient down?”

I spoke toward Wooju in the corner.

But today Wooju was different.

Usually, no matter how large or intimidating the male patient was, Wooju would happily wag his tail and shower them with affection.

But now… Wooju was stiff with tension, only shaking his head.

“What’s wrong with you today, Wooju?”

“There’s no time! Just do it already!”

“Sigh… all right.”

Pressed by the impatient patient, I reluctantly gave up on calming Wooju and put on my gloves.

‘He’s awfully impatient.’

Thinking I’d better finish quickly so I could go home, I examined the inside of his mouth.

“Huh?”

I immediately spotted the prosthetic the patient had mentioned.

But it was obvious at a glance that it wasn’t a material any legitimate dental clinic would ever import or use.

Just as I was about to ask where on earth someone had installed such a piece of garbage… My eyes met the patient’s bloodshot ones.

The instant I instinctively took a step backward, the patient pleaded,

“You have to take out what’s inside.”

“…What?”

“Right now.”

His reddened eyes trembled… as though they were about to collapse at any moment.