Woo Hyunsik spun the pen in his hand as he asked the question, his gaze saying, ‘You probably already know this, right?’.
“Do you know why Jeong Chanyul became interested in Lee Haryeong?”
The script given to the applicants only revealed that Jeong Chanyul had been interested in Lee Haryeong from the start and nothing more.
Woo Hyunsik had asked this same question to not just Jeon Yeohu, but also the other actor he had liked as a runner-up, and that actor had answered:
– “Lee Haryeong’s personality seemed very bold, and perhaps she was the only one who treated Jeong Chanyul that way?”
A very textbook answer.
But that wasn’t what Woo Hyunsik wanted to hear.
To Woo Hyunsik’s question, Jeon Yeohu answered without much hesitation.
“Because she’s the prettiest in that company.”
……
“Regardless of her personality?”
A long silence followed.
Jeon Yeohu pouted his lips like a duck and rolled his eyes several times.
Woo Hyunsik waited for Jeon Yeohu to speak.
Time passed—time he normally would never have bothered to wait for—when Jeon Yeohu finally said,
“At the beginning, Jeong Chanyul isn’t… mature enough to think beyond that.”
“Pfft.”
The writer sitting next to Woo Hyunsik laughed.
Jeon Yeohu continued.
“The reason Jeong Chanyul first became infatuated with Lee Haryeong was simply that she stood out to him the most. That’s why he doesn’t mind showing her sides of himself he wouldn’t want someone he likes to see, like seeing ghosts and falling apart, or mouthing off at Manager Kim. The only reason he first started liking Lee Haryeong is exactly that. No matter what he thinks afterwards.”
Jeon Yeohu shrugged.
“He’s just that kind of guy.”
To think he’d criticize a character he played so bluntly.
This is really…
‘So Jeong Chanyul-like.’
Woo Hyunsik smiled.
Yes, even if Jeong Chanyul had been sitting right there, he would have answered with his arms crossed and that arrogant attitude.
– “Because she’s pretty. What else do you want me to think about?”
Just like that.
After a few more formal questions, Woo Hyunsik organized the score sheets on his desk and said,
“All right. That concludes the audition. We’ll let you know the results soon, so you may go now.”
“Thank you.”
After Jeon Yeohu left, Woo Hyunsik spoke up so that everyone else in the room could hear.
“That should be enough for the audition, don’t you think?”
Not a single person who’d seen Jeon Yeohu’s acting in that room disagreed.
*****
Leaving the audition and heading home.
I ran into Director Woo Hyunsik again.
‘Is this guy… following me?’
He did have a face you wouldn’t forget after seeing it once, but meeting the director like this might cause some unnecessary misunderstandings with the other applicants, so I tried to walk a little faster.
But then the director also sped up.
What the hell.
Why is that guy walking so fast? Was Woo Hyunsik always like this? Or is it just because we only met at the film festival in my previous life? He didn’t give off this vibe back then.
Anyway, I picked up my pace to shake him off.
And Woo Hyunsik also walked faster.
This wasn’t some romantic race—there was no way to package it like that!
“Um, Director. Why are you—”
“Haa. I just, haa, wanted to ask you something.”
“Then, just ask, why do—”
“You started running first.”
“Oh, well… yeah.”
Maybe I shouldn’t rely so much on my regression and start exercising a bit.
It took a few minutes for us to catch our breath and be able to talk properly.
Woo Hyunsik emphasized that it really was a coincidence running into me.
Once I heard he was headed for ○○ Studio, it made sense.
To get to that studio, you had to pass by Korea National University of Arts.
“But isn’t it weird to have a chat like this before the audition results are out?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to pick you, Jeon Yeohu.”
“Doesn’t the result usually take a bit longer…?”
It comes out in a day?
The actor originally cast for that role was here, too.
I thought they’d at least have to think it over.
If you’re changing a major supporting role in a drama expected to be a hit, I’d figured there’d be at least some discussion. Turns out it’s not that complicated.
‘Well, I’d pick me too.’
Woo Hyunsik said,
“We haven’t officially notified anyone yet, but we basically decided unanimously on the spot. You’re the only one who can play Jeong Chanyul in our drama. There was a reason Park Mintae recommended you.”
“Director Park Mintae does seem to think highly of me.”
I thought he’d say something more, but Woo Hyunsik just let me know the result and stared right at my face.
It was so intense, I turned my head, only for him to stare at my profile, too.
If I showed him my back, he’d probably stare at that too.
‘Can’t show your back to the enemy.’
Well, not that Director Woo Hyunsik is an enemy.
“Um, do I have something on my face?”
“No, it’s just… Have you ever posted an acting video online? On SNS or some platform…”
A video?
“I don’t think I’ve ever posted a video.”
“Really? No channel either?”
“If I haven’t uploaded anything, there wouldn’t be a channel, right?”
“Then I must have been mistaken.”
Woo Hyunsik looked crestfallen at my answer.
What’s this?
Did he pick me because he thought I was some internet-famous actor?
I tried to think seriously.
Acting… video.
“Ah.”
A memory I’d forgotten came back.
“Why?”
“Now that I think about it, maybe when I was in middle school? I uploaded a video once. It didn’t even hit 300 views, so it’s nothing to brag about…”
Suddenly, Woo Hyunsik grabbed my shoulders.
It happened so quickly I didn’t even have time to stop his hands.
“In middle school? About how many years ago?”
“Huh? Well… About ten years ago?”
A long time ago, I’d uploaded an amateur video of myself acting out a monologue from a play that used to haunt my nightmares.
At the time, I didn’t realize it was from a play I’d performed in before my regression.
I’d completely forgotten about it since then.
“Do you remember what kind of video it was?”
Woo Hyunsik seemed pretty agitated.
“It was like a monologue from a play. You don’t see my face. The lines were a mess.”
“Do you remember which play the monologue was from?”
It was a line I’d lifted from a play I’d muttered in my dreams before my regression…
Not like I can say that.
And besides, the script of that play…
I know who wrote it now.
‘I scribbled that out myself…’
The only thing I did when I didn’t want to hang out with people was write scripts at home in my free time. The play Woo Hyunsik was talking about was a script I wrote for fun back then.
But I was so talented that the script I submitted anonymously was sold to a theater troupe, and the director in charge of staging it was none other than Director Woo Hyunsik.
Before his debut, Woo Hyunsik had also been active as a theater director, and it seemed he’d really liked my script.
As a postscript, after he found out I’d written it, he never directed a play again.
Ha ha.
Sure, I didn’t get along with him back then, but wasn’t that a bit much?
‘But that was before my regression. We get along now, right?’
Anyway, I glossed over the origin of the video’s script.
“It was too long ago, so I don’t really remember.”
Woo Hyunsik made no effort to hide his disappointment.
“I see…”
“But why did you suddenly ask… Don’t tell me you’ve seen it?”
He must have, to ask this.
But last time I checked, that video didn’t even have 500 views.
To my question, Woo Hyunsik nodded.
“It was a great performance. Even though your face wasn’t visible, I could feel the boy’s pain vividly. I might have accounted for half the total views myself.”
What a coincidence.
It seems Woo Hyunsik’s tastes haven’t changed a bit.
“So I always thought, if this boy ever starts acting, I want him to appear in my work. And today, I feel like my wish has come true. It’s truly an honor, as a longtime fan of yours.”
Woo Hyunsik was known for being meticulous about his work but taking good care of actors in private.
There were so many good stories about the actors he favored.
There was even a rumor that you could trust the character of anyone Woo Hyunsik followed.
Back then, my character wasn’t trustworthy enough, so he didn’t follow me.
So now…
“It’s an honor for me, too. I’ll do my best.”
“You will. I’m not easy to please.”
“Haha, if you put me through the wringer, I’ll do my best to roll with it.”
I tried making a fresh-out-of-college survival joke that I thought Woo Hyunsik would like.
Never would’ve tried that before my regression.
“‘Roll with it’? Hahaha! Yeohu, you’re funnier than you look.”
He reacted well.
‘Before my regression, I thought I had no sense of humor just because I never got a chance to make these kinds of jokes.’
Maybe I’ve got some talent?
Old guys do laugh easily.
*****
Before I officially got word of passing the audition, I spent a few more days on set for .
Since my character only appeared in the first three episodes, after this shoot, there’d be no reason to come to the set again.
But life and filming rarely go as planned, so I figured I’d end up coming back even if it wasn’t for filming.
‘I should probably keep an eye on Joo Taegang a few more times.’
Whenever I was on set, Joo Taegang always acted well as usual.
The problem was when I wasn’t around—since I couldn’t see it with my own eyes, I couldn’t help but worry.
As someone reborn as a saint in this era, I wanted to carry Joo Taegang all the way to ensure the drama succeeded.
If there was one more actor who avoided retirement thanks to me, surely my own chances of dying would go down.
‘If not, why go through all this trouble?’
During breaks, I secretly checked Joo Taegang’s acting through the camera.
He always delivered a chilling performance.
“Cut! Get ready for the next scene.”
As soon as Joo Taegang saw me, he waved enthusiastically.
‘Yeah, that carefree look is good.’
But shouldn’t you stay still during makeup touch-ups?
Next to him was Senior Han Serang.
Han Serang was always cool, no matter when I saw her.
She was one of those actors I’d never crossed paths with before my regression.
She was famous for never giving out her personal number and had never been in a single scandal—completely opposite from me.
‘It’s touching that I’ve gotten to know her number in this life.’
“Jeon Yeohu.”
“…”
“Jeon. Ye. Hu!”
“Oh, yes.”
“You came because you have a shoot today, right?”
“Yes, I think my scene’s in the afternoon.”
Han Serang, with some time before her next shoot, quietly sat next to me and read her script.
When I started reading my script in silence, Han Serang peeked over and pulled her chair over right beside me.
“Is this your first time in a drama?”
Han Serang’s asking a question?
Caught off guard, I answered,
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Where did you learn to act?”
“I majored in acting.”
“Oh, really? Hmm… Do you have an agency?”
“An agency?”
Han Serang nodded.
“Not yet.”
Guess it was about time to start thinking about that.
An agency.
‘Last time I had no accomplishments, but now at least I’ve got something to show.’
Come to think of it, what was Han Serang’s agency again?
“Be careful with your contract. An agency’s important, especially for a rookie.”
That’s obvious.
Commercials, dramas, movies, variety shows, and all kinds of promotions.
If you don’t get with the right agency, you might never get a shot at those opportunities as a rookie and just get buried.
In my previous life, after my child actor contract ended, I picked the wrong first agency and spent years doing everything myself. They didn’t even get me auditions, so I had to go out and hand out my own business cards. I barely ever saw my manager and went to almost every site alone.
‘And when I finally got popular, the company took all the credit. It was the worst.’
The agency I joined after terminating that contract was the real deal.
‘The company name was kind of lame, though.’
Happy Dream Entertainment. And the one who founded it, Ma Eunin.
Back then, it was a small company with only a few rookie actors and no big names, so they struggled. When I joined, they were genuinely happy.
– “We haven’t had anyone for years, so it’s been tough. But we’re a small but strong company. We may not have a name, but we’re financially stable. Do the acting you want, and we’ll support you no matter what.”
Ma Eunin lived up to that. No matter how unreasonable my requests, she granted them all.
Even when I refused ads that could have jeopardized my relationship with the company, Ma Eunin always took my side, even when I was struggling.
– “I understand how you feel, Yeohu. But sometimes, I wish you’d just act how you want. The company exists to protect its actors. All right?”
Even more importantly, she didn’t treat only me that way—everyone at that company adored Ma Eunin.
‘What if I’d joined that company from the start? Neither of us would have struggled, right? Win-win?’
…Maybe I should repay that favor.
I’d heard she started her company around this time.
‘But why is Han Serang giving me this advice all of a sudden?’
“I just feel like you’re getting the short end of the stick.”
“…Me?”
Getting the short end?
“You’re too nice. Maybe it’s because you don’t know how the world works.”
“…Me?”
I was so shocked I could barely speak.
She called me nice?
Said I’ve been living at a disadvantage?
First time I’ve ever heard that.
I checked to see if my jaw had dropped.
“This whole thing with Joo Taegang—honestly, I think the lead actor was lacking responsibility. Even if the staff and insiders knew what was going on, it still caused problems. Sure, it worked as noise marketing, but that’s only because things worked out.”
She was absolutely right.
“But at the same time, I think it’s amazing that he came back carrying that trauma. As a person, I mean.”
“Yes…”
That was true, too.
“And I think it’s because of you that it was possible. If it weren’t for you, Joo Taegang might’ve quit acting over this. Being an actor is a glamorous job, but in the end, it’s a lonely one.”
‘Is she a shaman or something? How did she know about quitting?’
Come to think of it, how did Han Serang’s acting career end?
By the time I died, Han Serang was already on the decline.
After failing to re-sign with her agency, she started a one-person company, but after being dogged by rumors and scandals for years, she barely got any work.
‘I can’t remember exactly which scandal it was.’
Her scandals weren’t really connected to my death—we barely had any overlap, so maybe that’s why I don’t remember clearly.
If she’d held out, maybe her career would’ve bounced back?
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
With that, I quickly buried my face in the script. I didn’t want to have any more serious conversations.
—
Filming ended at five in the evening.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
“Yeohu!”
“Writer?”
On my way home, near the tent where filming equipment was gathered, Writer Kim Hyemi appeared from where she’d been hiding.
But why is the writer here on set?
At this odd time, on this odd day?
“This way.”
Writer Kim Hyemi called me over and suddenly handed me a box with four small cupcakes.
“Here. I bought these from the best cake shop in our neighborhood.”
“What’s this for…?”
“Today was your last shoot, right? I’m just so grateful for so many things, I dropped by. I want to do more, but if I play favorites too much, it’ll look bad. Make sure you come to the afterparty, all right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I was moved, but honestly,
If I were Kim Hyemi, I’d be grateful to me too.
I prevented the rumor-prone kid who replaced the lead from taking over, after all.
I wasn’t a fan of sweets, but I was hungry, so I ate a cupcake on my way home.
“Excuse me, Actor Jeon Yeohu…??”