– Zeno is undeniably handsome.
– True, but can we please shift our focus away from his striking features and instead appreciate his incredible acting?
– I can manage both tasks simultaneously! Honestly, though, the more I look at him, the more stunning he becomes.
– I nearly cried during that sequence. Why is it hitting so close to home?
– To everyone who feels like Hajin right now, lift your heads high.
– Yes, that’s right! Don’t die just yet. We still need to watch this series together.
The actors, who had yet to witness the Modern Hajin scenes, were enraptured as Zeno’s face graced the screen, gazing thoughtfully at the moon. Then, gasps filled the room as he tumbled from the ledge. Risa turned to Daeshim PD, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“I thought you decided not to include his fall in the scene?” she questioned.
“Hmm,” Daeshim PD replied with a knowing smile. “It just unfolded that way.”
“The special effects team did a great job on this,” she muttered.
Daeshim nodded, responding with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s not special effects.”
The actors shifted their gaze back to the PD, confusion washing over them. What could he possibly mean by that? Turning to Zeno for clarification, they found him lost entirely in the moment, silently observing.
It wasn’t that he felt the need to scrutinize his performance; he was confident in his skills. Rather, he was there because he was genuinely captivated. Without a doubt, he was a fan of ‘The Forsaken Prince.’ He understood its highs and lows and the expectations that came from its devoted readership.
Zeno was the ultimate critic for this adaptation. His standards were impressively high, so if he enjoyed it, there was no question—the drama was destined for success.
In that instant, it felt like the entire workforce of South Korea had collectively paused. Even those burning the midnight oil in their offices froze in place, enchanted by ‘The Forsaken Prince.’
It was the scene in which Hajin faced a brutal assault by a group of thugs, and the level of production quality was astoundingly evident.
– Did he really take that beating?
– This looks so authentic. My heart aches for Zeno.
– The comments are filled with positivity and support.
– It’s only a few minutes in. There is still room for error.
– They started at such a high level. The only direction from here is down. Surely they must have spent the entire production budget on the beginning of the series.
Yet, despite the naysayers and the wishful thinkers hoping for its demise, things simply didn’t unfold that way. The dedication displayed by the actors and crew tumbled over the doubts, and the quality far surpassed everyone’s expectations.
Without a doubt, the most astonishing aspect was Zeno’s acting. It was so impressive that the public found themselves at a loss for words regarding his performance.
– Zeno is delivering an absolutely breathtaking performance. I might just break down in tears.
– Is the episode approaching the end already? I can’t believe I didn’t notice.
– Where are all the haters now?
– Haters, thank you for joining us. Your support has successfully pushed the drama up the real-time ratings chart.
– Were my expectations set low, or is this drama genuinely exceptional?
– Honestly, Zeno bears an uncanny resemblance to Hajin.
Doha and Eli, lounging on the outdoor bed, were captivated by the scene unfolding before them. For a moment, they forgot their friendship with Zeno. He had truly immersed himself in his character.
Minji, in contrast, was still in the towering building of her workplace, watching the episode on the small screen of her phone. She couldn’t help but smile as Zeno’s face appeared.
“You’re doing a fantastic job,” she whispered to herself.
“Minji!” her senior called out, snapping her back to reality. “What are you doing there? Get over here right now and help me move the fax machine!”
“Um, yes, ma’am!” Minji exclaimed reluctantly as she placed her phone down on the table. “I’ll come back to you,” she promised softly before rushing over to assist her senior with the task at hand.
However, as she worked, a man approached her desk, picking up her phone with a slight frown.
“The Forsaken Prince?” he murmured, intrigued.
The episode flew by quickly, and before anyone knew it, it was nearing its conclusion.
The wind whispered through the tall grass, caressing Hajin’s robe like a gentle touch from a mother’s hand. He stood atop a cresting hill, beneath a sky fading into deep indigo, while below him lay the landscape of Joseon—its curved rooftops and winding stone roads aglow under the moonlight. From this point, the kingdom seemed tranquil, resembling an untouched painting, still and eternal.
But Hajin understood better. Beneath those serene rooftops lay bloodshed. Secrets murmured within the walls. And lurking in the shadows beside every palace gate was a royal waiting to strike.
He remained silent, for he did not need words.
His face conveyed everything. The tension in his jaw, the quiver of his lip, and the glimmer in his dark eyes spoke volumes. In the pages of the book, he had pledged his loyalty to his father, prepared to spill his own blood in a display of fidelity. He had faced the court with courage, bowed to the crown, and marched into the conflict between brothers without a trace of doubt.
Yet tonight, as he gazed up at the moon—an orb all too familiar to him—he reached out his hand. For a brief moment, he hesitated.
The sky was vast and open and the stars scattered like forgotten prayers.
Hajin had ventured close once, and it had led him to this moment.
He had died, of that he was certain.
And in this narrative, too, he was destined to perish. That was the conclusion written for him—an offering at the altar of royal duty. Not a death as a prince, but as a devoted son.
And still, as he surveyed the kingdom he once vowed to die for, Hajin’s chest rose and fell with a new cadence. It wasn’t one of submission but of rebellion.
The silence broke as his voice emerged, imbued with resolve.
“This time…” he declared, his fingers curled into tight fists at his sides.
“This time, I will live.”
As the credits rolled, marking the end of the much-anticipated first episode, an overwhelming wave of emotion swept through those watching.
– I can hardly breathe. That was extraordinary.
– Tomorrow can’t come quick enough. I need the second episode!
– The backlash has significantly lessened. It’s undeniable that this was an outstanding pilot episode.
– As an ardent fan of the novel, this adaptation truly strikes a chord with me. I felt that same thrill when I first read it.
The actors and crew fell into silence as the episode concluded, many of them feeling intensely emotional.
Ryeo nodded to himself, arms crossed over his chest in satisfaction. It had been executed brilliantly.
Just then, Chachi’s voice sliced through the quiet—
“Our ratings just came in!”