"Have someone else make those calls," he said. "You have another task."
A daring smile slowly spread across Venste's face as an idea took shape.
"Take a few crew members and bring me ten to fifteen men in their twenties," he continued. "They shouldn't be overweight or… unpleasant to look at. Just find someone who can replace that actor for this scene. Anyone who looks like they could stand in front of a camera."
In his mind, the logic was simple.
They still had six hours.
Why not take a gamble?
Maybe—just maybe—they would stumble upon someone with real talent.
And even if they didn't, it was only one scene.
They didn't need a trained professional. Just someone who looked the part and could deliver an acceptable performance. If the acting turned out mediocre, editing could still save the moment.
Besides, this was only a side character.
Even if the actor was changed in Season Two, most viewers wouldn't even remember his face.
What mattered was surviving tonight.
Mikhail's eyes widened as he processed the suggestion. He stared at the director, unsure whether to admire the boldness… or question the sanity.
"Director… do you really think this will work?"
Venste shrugged, confidence flashing in his eyes.
"We only need one usable take. How hard can that be?" he said calmly. "Who knows, we might even find some struggling actor nearby. As long as it's not painfully awkward, we can make it work."
He paused and then added firmly, "And we'll be waiting for an actor to arrive anyway. We lose nothing by trying."
The young assistant director's nervousness slowly disappeared, transforming into confidence.
Mikhail straightened, eyes shining.
"Understood, Director!"
He even snapped a clumsy salute before grabbing some crew members and rushing out.
After Mikhail left with a few crew members, Venste turned toward the two remaining actors and explained the situation quickly.
To his relief, neither of them protested.
The male lead—tall (1.76 m), broad-shouldered, with sharp eyebrows that gave him a naturally intense look—was already a rising star. His previous drama, where he had played the second male lead, had become a surprise hit, and his fanbase had been growing steadily since.
His name, Leon Shern, was already established in the industry. Leon's classic red hair was already a trend among teenagers.
The female lead, Gisha Nile, on the other hand, was only in her second drama. She was far more famous for her stunning looks and social media popularity than for her acting skills. With long black hair and delicate features, she fit romantic roles easily, even if critics often questioned her performances.
This drama had boosted both of their popularity.
Still, neither of them was in a position to challenge a veteran director like Venste Morel.
Even if they were frustrated, they wouldn't dare show it.
Venste asked Leon to rest for a while in his vanity van, since his brief interaction with the new character could only be filmed after the casting was finalized.
Gisha, however, had to remain on set.
She would be lying unconscious in bed while each candidate performed beside her.
Venste believed in flukes.
There were countless stories of people delivering incredible performances by accident—driven by pure emotion, instinct, or blind luck. If such a miracle happened tonight, he needed the cameras ready to capture it.
With digital filming, it cost nothing to keep recording.
And since it was only one scene, they could afford to experiment.
He intended to film every single attempt.
Gisha went to freshen up while the crew reset the lights and adjusted the camera angles.
Not long after, Mikhail returned.
Behind him stood thirteen men, all roughly in their twenties.
Most were average-looking—some nervous, some curious, some clearly confused about how they had ended up inside a hospital drama set instead of wherever they had planned to go tonight.
But one of them stood out immediately.
He had striking blue hair and matching eyes, his features sharper and more refined than the others, giving him an almost unreal presence under the bright hospital lights.
Venste felt slightly reassured.
At least visually, this group wasn't hopeless.
Maybe one of them could manage a decent performance.
Acting, after all, was an art form intended to make the audience forget that they are watching someone perform.
The moment viewers became aware of the performance, the illusion collapsed.
Venste gathered them together and explained the situation briefly, outlining the emotional tone and the purpose of the scene.
Each of them was handed a copy of the script and the short monologue.
The dialogue itself wasn't long.
What mattered was expression.
Grief. Regret. Silent affection.
Remembering the lines was easy.
Feeling them… was not.
Venste gave them twenty minutes to prepare.
While the candidates were sent for light makeup and fitted into lawyer-style suits from the costume rack, the crew adjusted camera positions and softened the ICU lighting for emotional close-ups.
When everything was ready, the first candidate stepped forward.
He was thin—too thin—with narrow shoulders and a slightly sunken face, as if he hadn't been eating properly. His hands trembled faintly as he approached the bed.
Venste didn't judge.
Tonight wasn't about perfection.
It was about faith.
Maybe this young man would give a performance they didn't expect?
Who knew?
The young man was guided to the bedside and told to hold the heroine's hand as the scene began.
The rushing-into-the-hospital portion could be filmed later. For now, Venste wanted to capture the emotional core first.
The clapperboard was raised.
"Lights."
The ward brightened.
"Camera."
The lens focused.
"…Action."