The actors have gathered in the break room to discuss whether they will be participating in the upcoming project.
Though it’s quite rare for freelance actors to deliberate together about appearing in a particular piece, we’ve reached that level of camaraderie.
Moreover, they’re trying to cast three actors from the same company here, aren’t they?
Excluding Yang Yuli, who is a writer, Flame (the company) only has five artists under its wing—it’s a somewhat small enterprise. With child actress Miju and singer Moon Suyeon set aside, that only leaves three of us, meaning they’re essentially trying to cast the entire company.
In particular, Nam Hyun-ho, who notoriously doesn’t have a good eye for quality work, is seeking advice from Heavenly Yuah, who has impeccable discernment.
“Well, it’s still just a synopsis available at the moment, so I can’t really say much definitively. From the looks of it, it seems decent. If it’s from Writer Su-hyeon, it shouldn’t turn out weird.”
“Is that so? Then Heavenly senior, are you in?”
“No, it seems unlikely for me.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“I have some personal matters to deal with, so I’m thinking of taking a break for a while.”
“Ah…”
First off, the information we’ve been provided with alongside the casting proposal is merely the character outlines and a summary. This is indicative of how early in the process this all is.
Even at a glance, it’s clear the script isn’t fully developed yet, but it takes a certain confidence to bring this much so early.
What confidence? Well, Writer Su-hyeon at the helm and a robust budget, so this self-assurance isn’t without some basis.
Nevertheless, just the character outlines we’ve received help us roughly imagine what the story could be about.
Heavenly Yuah’s character is a genius resident.
Nam Hyun-ho’s character is an academic obsessed with history.
And my character? The hidden protector of Admiral Lee Sun-sin.
Given the project title is “Remake” and relates to the year 1592 (Im Jin-nyeon), it seems like it might involve modern characters traveling through time to the year 1592 and altering the tragic events of the Imjin War for the better.
While historical fusion dramas with time travel might not be groundbreaking, if the script is meticulously crafted, it could indeed be a solid drama.
“It will most definitely be controversial, given how historical figures feature prominently, but nothing stirs the Korean spirit like the Imjin War.”
Despite being somewhat optimistic about the work itself, Heavenly Yuah doesn’t seem inclined to participate.
She mentioned having various projects lined up, and it seems there are quite a few S&M business matters needing attention.
As for her other reason for declining…
“And most importantly, Siwoo absolutely won’t take part in this work.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“Oh, I just feel like it…”
“What happened, exactly?”
“Well…”
I guess the reason I’m not participating is fairly obvious—I’ll be doing the exact opposite.
After Heavenly Yuah and me, the mood turned to questioning Nam Hyun-ho about why we wouldn’t take part. Once I recounted incidents from the previous work, Nam Hyun-ho looked at me like I was the most unreasonable person alive.
“Wow, you are awfully petty.”
“… Sorry, I guess?”
“If you have something against me, just say it, no need to show up unexpectedly in the middle of the night in a strange masked outfit.”
“… Do you want me to come right now?”
Nam Hyun-ho doesn’t seem to understand my righteous indignation after years of industry experience.
His inability to comprehend my decision to take a stand against the broadcasting station similarly baffles him.
In fact, he’s somewhat right.
But for me, it’s impossible to let this slide without some form of retaliation, especially when the other party seemingly remembers nothing about the incident.
“I understand her perspective. We should let off some steam. Stress is the root of all diseases, after all.”
“That’s true. Although passing on funding at the last minute was a bit underhanded, it boosted our ratings despite that.”
“Yeah, sure. Maybe that’s fine for you, Su-yeon, as a singer, but Heavenly senior turning it down is a bit…”
“Why? Everyone has their own considerations.”
“Ugh! I’m the fool. I should have asked a different person.”
Heavenly Yuah and Moon Suyeon agree with me quite naturally, much to Nam Hyun-ho’s apparent confusion.
The analogy would be like the only person with two eyes in a village of one-eyed people, where even normal reactions can seem strange.
Both of them seem to support my position wholeheartedly.
It seems Nam Hyun-ho blames me entirely for their reactions.
Fair point, I’ll admit—it’s mostly accurate.
As he shook his head in disapproval, Nam Hyun-ho suddenly got an idea and widened his eyes.
“Hold on. If you aren’t interested in this work for those reasons, it means you’re preparing to do something else, right?”
“Perhaps.”
“Then I probably shouldn’t do this either.”
“Why not, senior?”
“Well, knowing what you’re capable of, and seeing how things go in our company, it’s clear. Whenever you flare up, something crazy happens.”
“… What, me? What could I possibly…”
“Isn’t it obvious you’ll look for a competing project?”
“Something like that.”
“See? Just the thought makes me tired. I’ve had enough of drama.”
Ultimately, it looks like Nam Hyun-ho might also pass on this drama.
Perhaps his change of heart comes from the company’s box office success with our last movie, which made over a million viewers.
If Nam Hyun-ho participates in this, it could complicate my plans. Personally, it’s a relief.
If a company actor joins a competing project, it would strain our internal support resources, which means success there depends solely on talent.
“Let’s at least verify any projects airing in the same timeslot.”
“Sure, I’ll check that.”
“But don’t get your hopes up. If we make too much fuss, even decent projects might be postponed.”
“That’s likely. I’m not expecting too much either. Cutting down by just 10% would be enough.”
“… You’re pretty extreme. Genuine madness, huh?”
Nam Hyun-ho seems to be pondering what to do about this crazy colleague.
His attitude makes me reflect on my own.
Is it normal to be this angry about minor industry incidents?
Actors go through these sorts of situations daily—it’s a fact of life in the business. While outwardly, I keep emphasizing how I thought the success of Moon Suyeon was partly mine, the truth is, Nam Hyun-ho’s success had already closed that chapter.
I’m no child, and I know the world doesn’t always go my way. Still, why am I holding onto this resentment?
The Martial Forest has thrown me under the bus more than a few times.
Though my motto has always been “an eye for an eye,” there are situations where that just isn’t practical.
For instance, while I have an unyielding love for New Religion, factions within that group have long been against me. They constitute the largest power bloc in the organization.
They were the ones who fiercely opposed my ascension to the rank of Heavenly Demon, and they kept sending assassins after me.
If it wasn’t for them, I’d probably have reached that rank much earlier.
In hindsight, even the ambush that ultimately killed me may have involved some sort of scheming from internal dissidents in New Religion.
Of course, I now consider it a well-timed d*ath but those treacherous individuals, who stabbed me in the back for their own gain, are despicable.
Likewise, Yeon-i’s d*ath was another such incident.
While I was unaware, Hao Moon’s Elder’s Council made secret pacts with Orthodox groups and betrayed me, leading to her forced s*icide.
I lost Yeon-i while completely unaware of the machinations against us.
It appears I strongly resent large organizations that betray and undermine me for their benefit.
SBC just made a calculated decision based on their own profit margin, but it pushed my buttons.
Maybe this is some kind of trauma?
When I have unresolved emotions, it feels better to release them.
“Bad vibes need an outlet. Mental illness doesn’t offer solutions.”
Filmography wise, I’ve done well.
Three successful dramas and a box office hit.
Taking on one more challenging project wouldn’t be a big deal.
Ultimately, life is about personal satisfaction. Why shouldn’t I sacrifice one project for my own peace of mind?
“So, just help me secure something decent.”
Exactly. Let’s aim for just 10%, friend.
I’m quite curious to see what works will emerge in the first quarter of next year.
*
Joy determined that conventional methods wouldn’t get people to open up, so she changed tactics.
She started by serving as a diligent town marshal, solving various issues and building positive relations with the townsfolk.
Joy’s earnest efforts gradually softened the initial mistrust the townsfolk held against outsiders.
It was perplexing why a busy town marshal would be stationed in such a small place, but having one didn’t appear to be a bad thing.
Once trust was built, fragments of old tales emerged.
“Oh, back then, if I recall correctly from what my mother told me, things were very chaotic.”
“There’s a term called divine punishment, isn’t there? They were truly wicked people.”
“Yes, there was a child. A child that they severely mistreated.”
“It was hell back then. Like an evil spirit had entered the village. Strange things started happening after that family moved in.”
“Strange things? Cattle dropped dead suddenly, dogs died. There were eerie wails at night. Oh, recalling that still gives me chills.”
Joy found this a jumble of inexplicable stories.
“Wait, what’s going on? I was mistreated? Me?!”
“Joy, calm down.”
“This is strange. Too strange. That’s impossible. Divine punishment?”
“But, Joy, you don’t remember anything from that period, right? What if…”
“Bev, you think the same thing?”
“It’s not certain. But we can’t outright deny it either.”
“… Because I don’t remember.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“… d*mn it.”
Discovering that she, who thought she lived a normal life, was once mistreated, and worse, that divine punishment was involved, left her bewildered.
Joy couldn’t believe she was ever the abused child.
“I see, good. Good.”
Improving relations with the villagers, Joy is steadily uncovering the truth.
Today, as well, she completed another intense scene.
“This is exactly what I envisioned. Approaching townsfolk with a kindly demeanor but subtly maintaining an ominous aura. That’s why I suggested this role to the actor.”
The reason Director Jung wanted a face that combined good and bad was for precisely these moments.
Joy’s expression switches between earnestness and sudden, eerie coldness while collecting stories from villagers, and that’s the key focal point.
All in all, it’s a grueling script for an actor’s mental fortitude.
