After returning, I spent a few days getting used to the modern world, but now it’s time to start thinking about the future.
I would like to take a nice long break after rolling around for fifty years, but it’s not as easy as it sounds.
Our family situation isn’t all that stable, so I have to contribute by earning some money.
—
“Is there something I can easily gain an advantage in because of this regression?”
Even though I’ve regressed five years, I’m not gaining any real benefits.
As an aspiring actor in my previous life, I didn’t pay much attention to worldly affairs, and even if I had, I couldn’t remember them after fifty years had passed.
The only things I vaguely remember are some minor issues in the entertainment industry, but what can I possibly do with that? The ability to use information effectively belongs to those who have capital or connections.
—
“Then how about martial arts… or fighting sports… nah, probably not.”
Even though it’s only partial, I went through the transformation process called “Hwan Gol Tal Tai,” which has given me a body that’s decently usable.
I’ve been through my fair share of battles, so trying my hand at combat sports might not be a bad idea. However, fighting professionals without internal energy would require me to push myself extremely hard, and I don’t really feel the urge to do that.
After all, I’ve already wasted fifty years; why bother wasting more in modern times?
Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I’d like to live a bit more comfortably.
—
“Guess I’ll end up acting after all?”
I was indeed an aspiring actor at twenty-three.
But now, I don’t even remember why I wanted to be an actor in the first place. It might have been for the money, or simply because it looked cool.
Maybe it was because the bloodline mate who wanted to become an idol annoyed me.
Whatever the reason, I was quite serious at twenty-three and worked pretty hard at it.
—
“But I failed.”
Despite my efforts, I never became a proper actor between twenty-three and twenty-eight. I just wandered around doing bit parts and extra roles. That was my limit.
“I thought I had done enough back then and didn’t understand why it didn’t work out… But now, looking back, it wasn’t enough. My efforts were only ever that much.”
The concept of acting as though one’s life depended on it—back then, I didn’t really understand what it meant.
But now I do. I’ve always acted with my life on the line in the Martial Forest.
In the New Religion, my position was someone who collected intelligence and handled external affairs at the Secret Demon (Bima) bureau.
However, I’m better known as the first protector of the Heavenly Demon. In reality, I was the number one lackey to the Heavenly Demon wandering around the Central Plains, and I often accompanied them during their travels.
If the Heavenly Demon appeared in the Central Plains, it meant an emergency situation where tens of thousands of martial experts would immediately gather to hunt them down. They were a target for both the Orthodoxy and the Heretics.
Therefore, when I wandered with the Heavenly Demon, I had to hide my identity with everything I had.
If we stuck to remote mountain paths and sparsely populated areas, it’d be one thing—but our “crazy” Heavenly Demon Lord only frequented bustling cities, famous scenic spots, well-known pleasure houses, and inns.
In places like that, there’s bound to be spies from the Martial Forest Alliance’s secret organization, the Black Death Unit’s information network, and the ever-present Guild of Information Brokers.
To protect myself in such situations, I had to act with every fiber of my being.
I’ve acted as merchants, officials, attendants, medicinal collectors, farmers, chefs, and more. There’s no role I haven’t played: grandfather and grandson, husband and wife, servant and master, official and maid, siblings and so on.
Given how easily our identities could be revealed, I truly acted as though my life depended on it. For thirty years, I’ve performed in a high-stakes environment where one mistake could mean death.
Thinking about it now makes me want a good punch to the face. And who am I kidding, the Heavenly Demon couldn’t even give me that.
Sure, they confessed before death, but it didn’t feel like enough. If the Heavenly Demon had given me a proper beating, it would have been a more satisfying farewell.
No matter how rotten they could be, even a Heavenly Demon should abide by the ethics of the martial world and take a punch.
—
“Anyway, given this situation, acting is probably the best path.”
At this point, I can’t even imagine myself as someone who doesn’t act.
The problem is that excelling in acting alone isn’t enough.
Just because someone’s a good actor doesn’t mean they’ll make it big.
There are plenty of actors out there who are skilled and good-looking but don’t become stars. It’s my belief that, aside from talent and looks, promotion and being supported by a good company are crucial.
In a world where aspiring actors are abundant, relying solely on talent is a little naive, especially for someone like me who wants to enjoy some success without too much pressure.
Securing a good agency should be the top priority. A skilled actor who signs with a good company is destined to succeed unless they commit some serious wrongdoing.
—
“To get the attention of a good company, one must lay the right bait. The first step is the most important.”
With that in mind, I carefully reviewed some online articles and found what I needed.
“Yoo Myung-woo X Min Woo-hee’s Third Collaboration: The Genius Copywriter, Yoon Seo-eun Gets Greenlit”
The article was about a confirmed new collaboration between director Yoo Myung-woo and screenwriter Min Woo-hee. The Genius Copywriter, Yoon Seo-eun is a drama set in an advertising agency and marks the third professional drama by Yoo Myung-woo and Min Woo-hee.
Since the previous two works had been successful, this drama garnered a lot of attention, and it ended up performing well. It achieved about 20% ratings, which is a huge success in today’s industry.
Even someone like me, who spent fifty years in the Martial Forest, remembers the show’s success. While I recall the drama being produced around this time, I wasn’t sure exactly when—fortunately, my regression timing is perfect.
My interest in the drama stems from director Yoo Myung-woo. This guy’s an interesting character, and I’d prefer to debut under his guidance.
—
“Ah, but in order to do that, I need to tell Dad first. At this point, I’ve not even mentioned acting as a career.”
It seems like I’d better announce my aspirations to my family first.
*
I waited for my parents to return home and then honestly confessed my desire to become an actor.
“Huh, an actor. Well, with you as our son, you have what it takes to become the world’s best actor. Hey! Let’s get your autograph now, so I can enlarge it later and display it in the store. It’ll be the size of a door!”
Our ever-optimistic father enthusiastically supported me.
“What? An actor? Suddenly? Ha! You’ve been listening to too many tall tales!”
“Agh! What’s my fault? That kid’s the crazy one.”
“Quiet, brat!”
Our mother smacked the troublemaker of our family with a powerful blow.
“Hmph, well. When have you two ever listened to us? Do what you want.”
However, even our mother wasn’t strongly opposed.
Or perhaps it’s better described as her simply giving up. It seems that this is due to the bloodline mate, who previously turned our house into chaos when she decided to become an idol trainee.
So somehow, I’ve benefited from this kid?
I remember being given a similar reluctant approval in the past, but doing this again makes me feel a bit guilty, though it’s comforting to know they’ll be fine eventually.
Despite her overly detached attitude, I truly felt confident this time.
“Wow, man, are you crazy? Do you think the entertainment industry is some kind of paradise?”
“What? You failed the audition. Just do better.”
“I didn’t fail it!”
“Uh-huh, you will.”
Despite her confident stance now, it didn’t change the fact that she would eventually fail.
And I mean, it was bound to happen.
Is being an idol really that easy?
It’s an industry where one needs a combination of looks, talent, and character to even debut, and this kid has it all wrong.
Her looks are passable because of her natural charm, her skills are questionable since I don’t know them, but most importantly, her character is flawed. And the larger the company, the more rigorous their checks on personality.
After quitting idol training, she went on to study cosmetology and became an intern at a well-known shop. She seemed to find her true calling, so I only hope she transitions soon.
—
“Right, I shouldn’t be wasting time like this.”
“Where are you going?”
“Hmm? I’m going to see Chan-su.”
“Uncle Chan-su?”
“Yeah. He’s in the industry, isn’t he? We should gain something from this. Our son is becoming an actor, so his father should help.”
Faced with the dilemma of what to do with the troublemaker, my father made a call somewhere.
It was to a frequent visitor of our store, someone I was familiar with—an old friend of my father’s, Uncle Chan-su.
Indeed, things were progressing as expected.
Actually, I’d told my father about my acting aspirations because of this potential flow of events. If he hadn’t made the call, I would’ve had to reach out myself, but it seems everything is going as planned.
Now, I just have to wait for the results.
Although I’d complained about not gaining any advantages from the regression, there are still little benefits here and there, and I feel a bit better about it overall.
