From A Producer To A Global Superstar-Chapter 258: Cast exposed.

By the end of the second day, the doubts on set had completely disappeared.

What began as quiet skepticism had turned into something close to admiration. The debut actors those many of the crew had silently worried about had delivered consistently solid performances. They took direction well, adapted quickly, and showed an understanding of their roles that went beyond simple memorization.

Thus was because of their compatibility with the role they were playing were high.

For the crew, that was enough.

They no longer watched with folded arms or guarded expressions. They worked with ease now, trusting the process, trusting the director, and—most importantly—trusting the cast.

Dayo noticed the change.

He didn’t comment on it, but he felt it in the way instructions were carried out immediately, in the way camera operators adjusted angles without complaint, in the way assistants anticipated needs before they were spoken.

The set had found its rhythm.

With the train interior scenes progressing smoothly, the production moved into its next phase.

And this phase was different.

The next scheduled shoot was an outdoor train station scene—one of the most critical moments in the story.

It was the point where hope briefly surfaced... only to be crushed.

In the original narrative, the survivors exited the train believing the station to be safe, only to encounter infected soldiers once protectors, now monsters.

For the production team, this scene carried weight.

Unlike the enclosed train shots, this location was open.

Public.

Unavoidable.

Dayo knew that this meant the actor and actress names would be out there but he was ready for it.

The station had been secured with permits, barriers, and controlled access zones, but no amount of planning could completely isolate a real-world location. People would see. People would watch.

And people would record.

The crew arrived early, setting up equipment with precision. Makeup teams worked intensely, transforming actors into uniformed soldiers with pale skin, glazed eyes, and stiff, unnatural movements.

From a distance, it already looked unsettling the make up artist have done a very good job making them look very zombie like.

Dayo walked the location slowly, surveying the space. He checked sightlines, marked actor positions, and reviewed movement paths. This scene required coordination—panic without chaos, fear without confusion.

When filming began, everything moved according to plan.

The train doors opened.

Actors stepped out cautiously.

Relief showed on their faces—carefully acted, carefully timed.

Then they saw them.

The soldiers.

Still.

Silent.

And wrong.

The camera captured every second.

The moment fear set in.

The realization.

The shift from hope to terror.

Then—

"Action."

The soldier-zombies moved.

The scene unfolded exactly as envisioned.

But while the crew focused on the monitors, something else was happening beyond the barriers.

People had gathered.

At first, just a few.

Then more.

Passersby slowed, curious. Phones came out—not aggressively, not disruptively, but instinctively. A crowd forming around something unusual always attracted attention.

Uniformed figures staggering unnaturally.

Actors screaming.

A controlled panic unfolding in a real train station.

Someone whispered, "Are they filming a movie?"

"Hmm yes looks like a zombie film."

Another raised their phone higher.

"Which one?"

"I don’t recognize these actors."

Videos were recorded.

Photos were taken.

And within minutes, clips began to circulate online.

By the time the crew wrapped the scene and moved on, the footage had already started spreading.

Short clips.

Blurry zooms.

Angles taken from behind barriers.

People online began asking questions.

"Anyone know what movie this is?"

"Looks like Train of Busan?"

"I see Park Hyun-Seo and Min-Ji... but who are the others?"

"Why are most of the actors unfamiliar?"

Speculation followed immediately.

Some viewers shrugged it off.

"We’ll judge when it comes out."

Others were less convinced after all not having known actors in a movie this popular seem to be doomed for failure.

"Using this many new actors in a movie like this? Risky."

"First-time producer, mostly rookies... doesn’t sound promising."

The general public didn’t know details.

They didn’t know about auditions.

They didn’t know about preparation.

They only knew what they saw—and what they didn’t recognize.

The videos continued to spread.

And eventually, they reached the people who paid the closest attention.

That evening, a private Zoom meeting was held.

Five windows appeared on screen.

Five representatives.

The Top Five agencies.

The mood was neutral, but alert.

One of them spoke first.

"Did everyone see the video?"

"Yes."

"I did."

"Already analyzed it."

Another leaned back slightly. "Thoughts?"

A pause.

Then—

"At first, I didn’t believe he’d actually get this far."

"Same."

"But what caught my attention wasn’t the scene."

"It was the cast."

They began pulling data up on their screens.

Databases opened.

Names were searched.

Faces were matched.

One by one, the results came in.

"...No prior film credits."

"...No debut records."

"...Training background only."

The room grew quiet.

"They’re all rookies," one of them said plainly.

Another added, "But they’re all registered under the same agency."

"Which one?"

A brief pause.

"DM."

That name lingered.

DM.

A label that had appeared quietly two years earlier.

No major announcements.

No aggressive signings.

No public projects.

At the time, it had been dismissed as irrelevant—just another small agency that would fade away.

Now, it was everywhere.

All the new actors were from the same One label.

Another agency representative frowned. "So the DM belongs to him ."

It wasn’t a question.

It was a conclusion.

"He’s been planning this longer than we thought."

Someone exhaled slowly. "Five steps ahead."

The realization settled in.

Dayo hadn’t just prepared a movie.

He had built an entire structure beneath it.

Control.

Independence.

Then, someone chuckled.

"I still don’t see the problem."

The others turned toward that window which belong to VIREX Group.

"He’s using debut actors for his first major production," the man continued. "That’s not bold That’s complete reckless for a movie worth more than 15 billion KRW it’s bond to fail."

A few nodded.

"No matter how talented they are, experience matters when it comes to making film."

"A film like this needs weight regardless if it’s a zombie movie." Another added.

"And rookies can’t carry that."

The tone shifted.

Confidence replaced concern.

Another voice added, "Let him finish it I feel we have given him too much credit because of Min-Jae so let’s watch it play out."

"Yes," someone agreed. "Let the movie come out."

Their thinking was not wrong after all using debut actors for a movie has never been heard of before and that was because it was bond to fail.

But the mistake they all made was to look at Dayo with ordinary eyes and this might either cost them or they would be happy that they did nothing.

So they all came to an agreement.

No sabotage.

No pressure.

No interference.

Just observation.

The decision was made.They would do nothing. And Let the project run its course.

Let the gamble play out.

The meeting ended shortly after.

Screens went dark one by one.

Back on set, Dayo was unaware of the full extent of the discussions happening elsewhere.

And even if he had known—

It wouldn’t have changed anything.

Filming continued.

The crew moved forward with renewed confidence.

The actors—new and experienced alike—settled deeper into their roles.

What began as doubt had transformed into momentum.

And while some believed the project was heading toward failure...

Dayo stood firmly in motion.

Unbothered and Focused.

Letting the work speak for itself.

The cameras kept rolling.

"Cut that’s all for today."