From A Producer To A Global Superstar-Chapter 266: Janet and Deborah ?

The set went loud as Dayo started barking orders here and there, giving direction on what to do.

"Positions!"

"Reset the barricade!"

"Extras, stay sharp!"

Dayo’s voice cut through the set like a blade. He moved with purpose, clipboard tucked under his arm, eyes constantly scanning. One hand pointed, the other adjusted. Do this. Do that. Again. Faster.

He gave the order, and the whole set came to life like a well-oiled machine.

Deborah and Janet stood close together near the monitors, eyes wide.

"So this is how it really is," Deborah whispered.

Janet nodded slowly, watching as actors stumbled out of a train carriage built entirely on set. The illusion was convincing metal walls, flickering lights, fog drifting low across the floor. The actors screamed, ran, stumbled again.

"Cut!"

Everything stopped.

The zombies froze mid-snarl.

Crew members rushed in. Makeup touched up. Sweat wiped. Blood reapplied.

"Again. This time, take your time. Don’t rush it. We are close to the end and want the audience to feel the tension," Dayo said calmly.

"Retake!" Dayo shouted.

The scene restarted.

At first, the girls were fascinated. The way fear was performed. The way chaos was choreographed. Actors rushed out of the train, pretending to escape something horrifying behind them zombies spilling from another carriage, arms flailing, bodies crashing into each other.

The survivors jumped back into the train wrong car.

This one was already filled.

"Cut!"

Reset.

Again.

They watched the survivors push forward, bodies pressed together, fighting toward a narrow safe zone near the barrier door. Hands slammed against glass. People screamed for help.

Behind the door, silhouettes hesitated.

Then turned away.

"Cut!"

Deborah gasped. "They’re not opening it?"

Janet shook her head slowly. "That’s messed up."

Again.

Again.

Again.

The excitement slowly faded into repetition. The screams lost their edge. The zombies became predictable. The chaos became mechanical.

Deborah leaned back against a stack of sandbags without realizing it. Janet followed, head tilting to the side.

Minutes later, both of them were asleep.

Dayo noticed almost immediately.

He glanced over during a reset, saw them curled slightly into themselves, exhaustion written across their young faces. Without a word, he walked over, lifted a folded jacket from a nearby chair, and gently covered them.

No one said anything.

He turned back to the set.

"Alright," Dayo said, voice firm but calm. "Let’s walk it through."

The crew gathered. Actors listened.

"This moment," Dayo continued, stepping into the space between the fake train doors and the barricade, "is desperation. Not rage. You’re not just fighting zombies you’re fighting time. You think if you get through that door, you live. So you push with everything you have in you to open the door. That’s the feeling I want you to portray."

He tapped the glass.

"And you," he said, looking toward the actors behind it, "you’re scared. But fear makes you selfish. You hesitate. That hesitation costs lives."

Silence.

The actors nodded.

Dayo then shouted, "Action!"

This time, it worked.

The push felt real. The panic sharper. The refusal behind the door colder.

"Cut."

Jang-Wook nodded slowly and muttered, "That’s the one."

Behind them, Dayo’s parents watched quietly.

They had seen their son manage kitchens. Seen him supervise staff. But this—this was different.

This was movie production, and he had the skill to control it. Here, people listened when he spoke. Adults. Professionals. They obeyed not because he was the sponsor or the director, but because he had what it took to hold the set together.

His mother’s hands folded together. Pride sat quietly on her face.

His father exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving Dayo. He knew his son was amazing, but seeing and experiencing it firsthand made his chest rise with pride.

While Jeffery, Dayo’s brother, stood there amazed at his brother for the nth time in his life. He had not once seen his brother fail in whatever endeavor he took, which made him look up to him and made Dayo his role model.

When the scene for the day was called,

Dayo smiled at the exhausted faces of the actors and actresses. He had achieved his revenge. Of course, he didn’t forget them calling him Devil Director, and today served as a kind of revenge to them.

The actors and actresses looked at Dayo like a vengeful spirit playfully. They all thought that since Dayo’s family were here, he would forget and not make things hard, but they failed to realize how vengeful Dayo was when offended.

Dayo saw their faces and laughed internally. Then he smiled and announced,

"Due to my kind heart, tomorrow will be a free day for you all."

The whole set erupted into cheers.

"Greatest Director ever!"

"Greatest Director ever!"

"Greatest Director ever!"

They cheered, although they knew the reason Dayo gave them the day off was because of his family. But who cared? A day off was a day off.

Dayo waved them off and walked back to where Deborah and Janet were sleeping.

"Hey," he said softly, crouching. "Wake up."

Deborah groaned. "Already?"

Janet rubbed her eyes. "How long were we out?"

"Long enough," Dayo said with a small smile. "Still think filmmaking is exciting?"

Janet hesitated. "It’s... harder than I thought."

Deborah sighed. "I didn’t know it was like this."

Dayo nodded. "That’s the part people don’t see."

Janet looked at him, then blurted out, "I still want to be an actor."

He paused.

Then smiled. "If you’re serious, I’ll help you."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really."

Deborah crossed her arms. "And what about me?"

Dayo looked at her.

And he thought of something.

The world slowed.

And a familiar screen appeared.

Janet

Music Talent: C+

Acting Talent: D+

Music Potential: S

Acting Potential: SS+

Dayo’s breath caught.

He turned his gaze to Janet.

Deborah

Acting Talent: D–

Acting Potential: B+

Management Potential: SSS+

He straightened slowly.

Deborah... management?

Not just good monstrous potential.

He looked back at them, hiding his reaction behind a calm expression.

"I won’t forget you," he said to Deborah as he ruffled her hair.

She smiled. "As long as I’m not left behind."

"You won’t be," Dayo said quietly.

He was happy they both had talent, and he would push them if they really wanted to do it. His eyes rested on Deborah her main talent lay elsewhere, but he would support her regardless of her choice.

From a distance, his mother watched him laugh with them and shook her head gently.

"This boy," she murmured. "He spoils them."

But she was smiling.

That night, Dayo drove them home. Dinner was quiet. Everyone was tired.

One by one, the house went dark.

And Dayo lay awake for a while longer, thinking, and did not join everyone else in sleep.