Aura of a Genius Actor

“Brother, I want chicken.”

Whenever she called him ‘brother,’ it usually meant she wanted something.

“It’s been weeks since you last saw me, and the first thing you ask for is chicken?”

“You didn’t bring any? Then you’re not my brother anymore.”

“When do you start work?”

“Next week.”

After passing the civil service exam, Jiyeon had finally received her placement a year later. It was fortunate that she could commute from home. It was also fortunate that she would finally get off the floor.

“Here.”

“Huh? Chicken? I don’t smell any chicken.”

“It’s a gift.”

“What? A gift?!”

Jiyeon’s back finally lifted off the floor.

She quickly sat up and grabbed the package.

“What’s this for? My birthday isn’t even close.”

“It’s a gift for getting a job.”

As soon as she opened the package, Jiyeon’s eyes widened.

“Is this... this is...?”

“Mm-hm. That’s right.”

“Why would you buy something this expensive for me? Did you buy it for your girlfriend and then get dumped?”

Even while saying that, Jiyeon quickly picked up the watch.

With a level of care he hadn’t seen since she raised a chick as a child, she unclasped it and fastened it around her wrist.

“Wow... it’s so pretty.”

“It looks good on you.”

“What’s going on? Did you do something wrong? If you tell me now, I’ll forgive you.”

“Pfft... You always lose track of time when you focus on something. Since you’re a teacher now, I’m giving it to you so you’ll be on time for class. As your brother, the one who raised you and introduced you to the world, I should take responsibility. You need to become a respectable member of society.”

“You didn’t raise me... No, everything you said is true! Yes, we’re the same age, but you raised me, changed my diapers, everything.”

“Hey, that’s a bit...”

Watching Jiyeon stare at the watch without taking her eyes off it made Yoomyeong smile.

Money really was a good thing.

It could make the people he cared ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ about happy.

Creak—

The front door opened, and his parents came home together.

“Mom! Brother bought me this!”

“What is that...? Oh my goodness!”

His mother looked startled when she saw the dazzling watch on Jiyeon’s wrist.

“Isn’t this too much? You just started making money, and you’re already spending it like this.”

“I haven’t really done anything for you all until now.”

Yoomyeong smiled sheepishly, and his parents’ expressions softened. Meanwhile, Jiyeon’s eyes grew slightly moist.

Yoomyeong truly meant it.

Even when his younger sister got married in his previous life, he had been a brother who could do nothing for her.

The moment he saw the amount deposited into his account after the first and second broadcast payments from the drama, his heart had pounded uncontrollably.

What should he buy for his father, his mother, and his younger sister?

“This is for Mom.”

“Oh, you bought something for me too?”

For his mother, whose lungs were weak and who coughed often, he bought scarves and neck warmers.

“And this is for Dad.”

Since his father spent long hours standing in the store and often suffered from swollen legs, he bought him comfortable shoes and a massage machine.

The entire family was delighted as their son, still only twenty-five, came home with gifts bought from the first real money he had earned.

Laughter filled the house,

unaware that this was Yoomyeong’s first act of filial devotion in seventeen years,

and with no need to know.

“Well, can that kid handle it? The role is too intense. It might be difficult if he doesn’t have much acting experience.”

“But aren’t you looking for someone in their early to mid-twenties anyway?”

“Well, there are actors who’ve been working steadily since childhood. I’m not saying his acting is lacking. It’s more a matter of ‘presence,’ I suppose? He hasn’t carried a lead role yet, has he?”

“I guarantee it, Director. Please just give him a chance. I think you’ll understand why I’m recommending him once you see him.”

“Haha, does that mean if I don’t understand why you’re praising him so much, I’m failing as a director, Actor Yoon?”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant... I just have a lot of confidence in his acting.”

The director, whose hair had turned completely white despite not yet being sixty, laughed warmly as though amused.

“Alright then. At the very least, I should see his face.”

Hansung’s expression brightened immediately.

He genuinely wanted to act alongside that ‘guy.’ Ever since his recent slump, that desire had only grown stronger. He still hadn’t fully overcome the slump caused by the shift in his acting style, and he felt as though ‘that guy’ might give him some kind of clue.

And beyond that, he wanted to give his junior, Yoomyeong, a good opportunity.

Hansung looked toward the director smiling like a benevolent Buddha.

Director Son Chi-wook.

He was one of the most renowned directors in Korean film history.

Hansung considered him his mentor. Yet unlike his gentle smile, Director Son was famous for refusing to compromise once filming began.

He had invited Hansung, his disciple, to join this project and was discussing it with him before finalizing the rest of the cast.

And Hansung had recommended ‘him’ for the film’s second male lead.

Although nothing had been finalized yet...

‘Hopefully he hasn’t already chosen his next project...’

{I see. I’m about to start a movie, and while talking with the director about casting some rookie actors, I thought of you. It’s a fun role. Interested?}

“I’ll do it.”

Yoomyeong answered immediately.

{Hmm? But you haven’t even heard what the project or role is yet.}

“I don’t need to. If you’re recommending me, then I’ll do it!”

{Look at you... you’re awfully confident.}

“I trust you, senior. I’ve always wanted to work with you too, so I’ll do it.”

Hansung let out an awkward laugh.

{Are all rookie actors like this, Yoomyeong? It doesn’t suit you.}

Yoomyeong had two reasons for being so proactive.

The first was that he hadn’t read a single script all week. And there were still three more weeks before he’d finally be allowed to touch one again. He truly couldn’t believe it.

It was the moment he realized he was seriously addicted to acting.

The second reason was the debt of gratitude he owed Yoon Hansung, both in this life and the previous one.

In his previous life, Hansung had left behind a precious glimmer of hope for an unknown extra actor, telling him, ‘Your small but fiery acting will shine someday.’

And in this life, he had directly influenced Yoomyeong’s entry into Oedipus, which had become an extremely important place to him. Yoomyeong considered that a debt he owed.

Besides, he genuinely wanted to act alongside someone like Yoon Hansung.

{It’s Director Chi-wook.}

“What? Director Son Chi-wook?!”

Yoomyeong was startled by such a major name.

Director Son was a master filmmaker who had created landmark works in Korean cinema history.

He wasn’t the sort of trendy director who guaranteed box office hits, but he was the kind of director actors dreamed of working with at least once because of the powerful messages in his films.

{The project is called <Late Goryeo Dynasty & the Early Joseon Dynasty>. It’s a historical film depicting the turbulent era between the end of Goryeo and the founding of Joseon. The central characters are Jeong Mong-ju and Lee Bang-won, and the story revolves around them. The role I recommended you for is Lee Bang-won.}

“Wow. Even without hearing the details, it already feels amazing just knowing you recommended me.”

{That’s true. Seems like you’ve got quite a bit of luck, haha.}

“What role are you playing, senior?”

{Jeong Mong-ju.}

“I see.”

Jeong Mong-ju and Lee Bang-won—what an unusual pairing.

Most Korean historical dramas centered on figures like Yi Seong-gye, Jeong Do-jeon, or Lee Bang-won. While Jeong Mong-ju was certainly an important historical figure, Yoomyeong had never seen a story where he was portrayed as the main protagonist.

What kind of story would it be?

{More precisely, it’s about the relationship between Jeong Mong-ju and Lee Bang-won rather than the founding of Joseon itself. Their relationship is the climax.}

“Ah... the poems ‘What If’ and ‘Faithful Heart,’ right?”

{Exactly.}

“But from the way you’re describing it, it sounds like Lee Bang-won’s role is incredibly important. Could I really suit a role like that? I’m still a rookie...”

{To be honest, the director is worried about that too.}

“...”

{Convince him. He has a sharp eye, so if you meet his expectations—or even if he simply sees potential in you—he’ll fight the production company to cast you.}

“You seem to respect him a great deal, senior.”

{In my heart, I consider him my mentor.}

“I see.”

{It’s not really a formal audition with a script. More like a meeting to discuss things face-to-face. When are you available?}

And so, a meeting with Director Son Chi-wook and Hansung was arranged.

On the day of the meeting, at Film Maru’s conference room—

“Hello, haha. You’re even more handsome in person than on television.”

“Hello, Director! I’m rookie actor Shin Yoomyeong.”

Yoomyeong bowed deeply.

“Please, sit down. I’m not a difficult person.”

The director chuckled, though beneath his gentle eyes lingered a certain sharpness.

As they shook hands, he briefly scanned Yoomyeong from head to toe.

“I enjoyed your dramas and films.”

“Thank you.”

Yoomyeong felt slightly awkward and lowered his gaze.

“The impression you give in person is quite different from the one you give on screen. Just looking at you now, I don’t sense the stubbornness I expected from you, haha.”

“His acting turns on and off, Director.”

“I see.”

Sipping the chrysanthemum tea set before him, the director addressed Yoomyeong.

“To be honest, I’m merely a film enthusiast, so I don’t know much about acting, haha. Acting belongs to actors, and managing that belongs to directors, doesn’t it?”

The director’s humility was clearly deliberate.

How could acting and filmmaking ever truly be separated?

Moreover, someone whom Yoon Hansung regarded as a benefactor could not possibly lack insight into acting.

Like a carefully planted twist, the director smoothly shifted the conversation.

“But I do know how to judge whether the world beyond the camera feels real or fake. Even if it’s an invented world, isn’t our job to make it feel real enough that people believe such a world truly exists beyond the screen?”

Yoomyeong nodded.

“I was impressed by how you created a sense of ‘this could exist,’ even with characters balanced on the boundary between reality and unreality. But perhaps I’m simply old, or perhaps I don’t fully understand how much of that comes from the actors and how much comes from the camera.”

The director’s words were laced with unnecessary humility, almost provocative in nature.

Smiling gently, he revealed a trace of mischief.

“Still, this is more an old man’s curiosity than a test, but could you briefly show me through acting what kind of actor ‘Shin Yoomyeong’ is?”

It was a trap disguised as a comfortable conversation.

Seeing Hansung’s startled and slightly embarrassed expression, Yoomyeong immediately realized this had not been arranged beforehand.

Either way, he remained unfazed.

Being an actor was always a series of tests.

A test to win a role,

a test to earn an ‘OK’ from the director,

and above all, the most terrifying test of all—the audience.

Yoomyeong quietly considered the request for a moment before pulling over a pen and sheet of paper and quickly writing out a short script.

The director watched him with interest.

After finishing the impromptu script in just five minutes, Yoomyeong read over it several more times, forming an image in his mind. Then, after a while, he looked up.

His eyes were calm, completely unshaken.

“I’ll perform this script three times, starting now. Please watch carefully and pay attention to the differences.”

“...Hmm.”

Director Son raised an eyebrow while Yoon Hansung swallowed nervously.

Tension filled the small conference room.