God of Ad-libs - Chapter 3

OO Hotel, Nonhyeon-dong, Gangnam-gu.

Near the bustling wedding hall on the third floor, at the end of a long corridor, was a restroom.

In front of the mirror, softly lit with a golden glow,

“…Hired guests?”

“Uncle!”

The groom, looking sharp in a tuxedo, quickly covered the mouth of a bearded man. Checking around to make sure the restroom was empty, the groom tried to quiet his annoyed uncle.

“Keep it down—”

“You should’ve told me before hiring them!”

“Come on!”

“Do you even know who I am?”

The bearded man—Gwak Inho—was incredulous.

“A guest gig? For your wedding? With your uncle in the drama industry?”

After all, as a once-popular drama writer, he could’ve easily invited actors he knew to his only nephew’s wedding.

“You think people are ignoring me just because I’ve hit a rough patch? I could’ve made this wedding busier than a TV station, you know that?”

“Uncle.”

“I could still make a few calls and block up the four-lane road outside. This ungrateful kid—”

“Even Dad doesn’t know about this.”

“…Your mother?”

“Mom doesn’t know either.”

“Unbelievable.”

Inho scratched the back of his head in frustration.

Uncles, by nature, tended to be soft when it came to secrets shared only with their nephews, secrets even hidden from the parents.

“Only my girlfriend—no, my wife—and you know about this.”

“But it’s my nephew’s wedding… Haa…”

Inho sighed, disappointed that he’d missed the chance to pull off something grand for his nephew.

“You said you were busy these days, Uncle.”

“Kid.”

“How could I ask an uncle who’s been in and out of detention past forty? Honestly, I was nervous even telling you about the wedding.”

“…”

Inho fell silent at that.

“You were on edge about this new project, weren’t you? Dad said he couldn’t even get a meeting with you.”

“…”

He didn’t have much to say to that.

These days, Inho was considered a washed-up drama writer.

After hitting rock bottom, he’d retreated to the mountains, grinding away for over a year to write a new script. Just a few weeks ago, he’d finally managed to get it picked up by SBC for a last-minute slot.

In short.

He’d been fighting his own war, a war that wasn’t ending anytime soon.

“I couldn’t burden you with it, not when you’ve been struggling too, Uncle.”

“That… well.”

Still, he couldn’t shake the sting of it.

If he hadn’t stumbled upon his nephew’s phone at the sink and happened to see the notification, he’d be sitting at the wedding, believing every guest was one of his nephew’s friends.

“Would it have killed you to mention it? If you’re using guest actors, at least tell the family for strategy’s sake—”

“Uncle, please!”

Inho flinched at his nephew’s firm voice as he opened the restroom door and glanced back at him. Knowing his own meddlesome nature all too well, Inho couldn’t help but nod at his nephew’s earnest request.

“Just pretend you don’t know until the ceremony’s over. Please.”

Guest actors.

He wouldn’t tell anyone.

***

Entrance of the participants.

Step.

Step.

As a few individuals climbed the hotel staircase leading to the wedding floor, their footsteps seemed weighed down with a sense of responsibility.

—We work in the shadows, aiming for the light—

The group gave off a vibe of strict professionalism, yet here, they had to remain completely anonymous as they celebrated in the open.

These were the guest actors, tasked with blending into the wedding crowd without revealing their true identities.

But even among strangers, guest actors can usually recognize each other.

‘Hmm.’

Looking around at the others maintaining awkward distances and giving off obvious signs, Taegyu shook his head as he checked his messages.

━━━━━━━━━

Hello,

This is [Joyful Companions] your Guest Service Agency.

Date: December 20th, 5 PM

Location: OO Hotel, Nonhyeon-dong

Details: Meal included / 50,000 won / Group photo required.

Role: Act as friends who met in a college travel club, and please do your best to sincerely congratulate the couple!

━━━━━━━━━

To fit the role, they’d have to drop those suspicious looks and walk with a bit more purpose.

Taegyu, fully ready to “celebrate” with gusto, mentally reviewed the requirements for his part.

‘I’ve gone over everything in the group chat.’

Each guest agency had its own setup, but generally, actors were put into group chats for staffing coordination and to receive specific instructions for each event.

—Collect your cash gifts behind the podium.

—Photos are mandatory.

—Sign the guestbook as XXX, OOO, or EEE.

—Write “OD University Travel Club” as your affiliation on the gift envelope.

—Absolutely avoid mentioning “guest actor” at the venue. Be careful.

…

Having reviewed all the instructions one last time, Taegyu braced himself, recalling the personal message he’d received from the agency.

‘As sincerely as possible…’

That was the real challenge.

True sincerity was one thing, but being “as sincere as possible” clearly meant he needed to act as close to genuine as possible.

Playing a fake friend.

In reality, the key to this kind of acting wasn’t about minor details like travel clubs or shared hobbies.

What mattered was the vibe—

The subtle aura that only real friends shared.

‘Piece of cake.’

In this regard, Taegyu had a reliable weapon at his disposal.

Fwoosh!

The dokkaebi flame flickering above his stomach.

Taegyu had recently decided to call this storage area in his belly, where he kept copied emotions, his Emotion Pouch.

And the emotion he had stumbled upon and stored two days ago would be the perfect weapon for this guest job.

Step.

Step.

As he climbed the stairs, crossed the lobby, and caught sight of the groom and his parents in the distance—

Fwoosh.

Taegyu reached for the dokkaebi flame with his left hand and pulled it over his face.

“Kgh.”

Barely holding back the emotion rising from his core, he kept walking.

Step.

Step.

Just as the feeling spread from his stomach up to his throat, he recalled one of the other warnings in the group chat.

—Don’t overdo it.

It was a given.

Most guest gigs get ruined by amateurs who try to show off with sloppy acting.

But.

“Huh?”

The moment he saw the groom’s face from afar—

A surge of emotion broke loose.

The feeling—

‘The joy of running into an old high school friend at a bar after 20 years.’

—overwhelmed him, crossing the rational boundary of “no overacting.”

“Chunshik! Man, how long has it been!”

…He had officially blown past the “no overacting” rule.

***

A disaster.

Several of the guest actors loitering in the hotel lobby, waiting to see who would take the lead, froze in place.

“Chunshik-ya!”

They sensed it in 0.01 seconds.

That was a vibe no guest actor should ever project.

‘Oh, what is he doing?’

‘Didn’t they tell him not to show off?’

‘This is embarrassing.’

They had already identified him as a guest actor from the moment he came up the stairs using their unspoken radar.

And typically, such over-the-top antics from guest actors carried an air of forced enthusiasm that quickly tipped off others to their inauthenticity.

‘Ugh… I can’t watch this…’

The guest actors nearby squeezed their eyes shut and slowly stepped back.

“I almost felt hurt! You should have called me first!”

“Uh, yeah…”

The groom, too, wanted to squeeze his eyes shut.

“Sorry, I was busy.”

“Anyway, congratulations, really.”

The groom clenched his jaw as the mysterious guest actor grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug.

‘…What is this guy doing?!’

Just as the groom was about to whisper for him to stop overacting, the man pulled away.

This was a problem.

His parents, who didn’t know anything about the hired guests, were now eyeing this supposedly close friend with curiosity.

“Oh, um… this friend is…”

“Hello! I’m Kim Taegyu, Chunshik’s friend from the university travel club!”

“Nice to meet you. XX University?”

“Yes, I’ve known Chunshik since freshman year.”

“Is that so? Thank you for coming today.”

“Not at all. Thanks to Chunshik, I became a decent person, so I had to be here.”

Stop. Just stop already.

The groom shot a warning glare at him, trying to stop him from launching into even more over-the-top details, but his parents’ curiosity was piqued.

“A decent… person?”

“Yes, I got a lot of motivation watching Chunsik during university. He worked so hard.”

“Haha, our Chunsik did work hard.”

Subtly trying to push him away, the groom nudged his hand, only for the guy to take his hand for another handshake and pull him into yet another embrace.

“Remember? I used to mess around, drinking and failing my classes… then after my military service, I ran off to South America for a study-abroad escape and ended up staying there. Man… we’re already thirty, huh?”

The last part was whispered.

What kind of crazy backstory is this guy making up? Just as the groom was about to snap—

“Don’t overac—”

“Chunshik-ya.”

Something felt off.

“Out of all of us, you’re the first to get married. Congrats.”

Look at this guy’s face.

His voice carried a mix of joy and mischief, a playful tone that hinted at the slight embarrassment of sharing a cheesy line between friends. It all blended together perfectly.

The glimmer in his eyes, the soft smile laced with nostalgia and warmth, and his casual gestures that exuded natural camaraderie.

‘Is he really… a guest actor?’

The groom was confused.

The way this man’s lips twitched, as if he were tempted to crack a joke to ease the tension, yet instead he simply patted the groom’s shoulder and stepped back—it all felt too natural.

Just as the groom tilted his head in doubt…

“Do well. See you later.”

“…Yeah.”

“Hey.”

The guy, now retreating, smirked and tossed a playful tease.

“You didn’t forget me, did you?”

At last, the groom himself couldn’t help but question it.

‘…Wait a minute.’

Do I… actually know this guy?