“The Sword” is a fusion historical drama, though not a purely traditional one. To be precise, it is a blend of fictitious imagination and modern sensibilities manifesting in a fusion style.
Wi Ji-hye, the best swordswoman in the land, had taken on a disciple—Ha-ryeong, who had a terminal illness.
The burden resting on Ha-ryeong’s shoulders was heavy.
Though Ha-ryeong was terminally ill and her life would soon end, her goal was to attain the position of the best swordswoman in the land before her death. There was no way she could avoid the urgency each day brought.
Thus, she trained under Wi Ji-hye. More earnestly than anyone else.
However, maintaining the position as the best was demanding. Wi Ji-hye was busy dealing with challengers arriving from all over, and the teaching time for her disciple was exceedingly short.
Worse, the instructions she offered were merely:
“Swing it.”
Just that.
“Swing it.”
“Swing it.”
Wi Ji-hye gave Ha-ryeong no other instructions, yet Ha-ryeong silently complied with the orders.
Swinging the sword was basic, and basics are of utmost importance. Moreover, it was her master’s command, so she followed it without resistance.
“Swing it.”
But the orders seemed never-ending.
Even after a hundred times,
a thousand times,
ten thousand times.
Even after a day,
a week,
a month, it continued.
It became a problem when death drew near.
“Cough!”
One day Ha-ryeong coughed. Her normally pristine white sleeve, used to cover her mouth, was now stained red with blood, and there was quite a significant amount.
That was when she truly realized she didn’t have much time left.
At that moment,
Ha-ryeong turned sharply in response to a sound.
Somewhere, Wi Ji-hye stood. The master would know well that Ha-ryeong’s life was reaching its end.
For a moment, tension filled the air.
Would Wi Ji-hye, knowing her disciple had little time left, take pity and offer some teaching? Would she simply stand by and watch her die? Would she discard her due to her short-lived constitution?
While Ha-ryeong was lost in such anxieties,
Wi Ji-hye, using the technique of telekinesis, picked up the sword lying on the ground and silently placed it in Ha-ryeong’s trembling hand soaked with blood.
“Swing it.”
There were no exceptions. As always, this was the end of her instruction.
“You must reach a hundred thousand swings today.”
“You are not qualified otherwise.”
Ha-ryeong, who had recently spat blood and could barely stand, was met with firm resolve from Wi Ji-hye, who clearly knew her condition yet maintained her unforgiving attitude.
A thought suddenly grew in Ha-ryeong’s heart.
There must be a profound reason behind my master’s actions.
No, my master has already abandoned me.
Like the double-edged blade of a sword,
Ha-ryeong held two thoughts, and “Sword” began.
Finally, the audition commenced.
“Ha-ryeong, you can’t even stand straight, let alone swing the sword. Shall I report to our Master that even standing here has become too burdensome? Taking rest would not be enough…”
This line was delivered right then by Director Park. He was assisting another disciple’s role, voicing concern for Ha-ryeong as she held the sword.
Park was a director, not an actor. His delivery was stiff, akin to reading from a textbook.
Still,
“My sword is still intact. How could I concern myself with my body first?”
Sua responded, already embodying Ha-ryeong. It was accompanied by the downward slash of a wooden sword.
Whoosh—
Her swinging arm trembled violently.
Park swallowed hard.
That was not the kind of swing that should waver so precariously. Though it was a wooden sword, hollow and light as a feather,
She was acting.
Ha-ryeong, despite being a lifelong skilled swordsman, had many uncertainties now, as the master merely insisted on swinging the sword though her days were numbered.
“Her heart expressing her concerns through the sword this clearly?”
Sua’s hand swung again, forcefully.
Whoosh!
The movement was much more intense than before.
A sword has no self; it merely obeys the trajectory set by the human wielding it.
Thus, Ha-ryeong’s sword strokes never remained consistent, because her mind wavered.
Heart demons (心魔).
The art of expressing a troubled heart vividly.
Park glanced at the script momentarily.
p.37 S#3 Training Ground / Dawn
Ha-ryeong swinging the sword.
Her strokes are never consistent, full of worries.
She swings first, driven by the compulsion to reach a number.
Surprisingly, that’s all the script described.
“This scene may seem simple to read, but conversely, it’s exceedingly challenging to act. And yet…”
There was an audition candidate executing it before everyone’s eyes.
The wooden sword wielded by Sua was about to slip from her grasp, swaying precariously, and her pale complexion emphasized trembling arms. Her swaying was like the last leaf clinging to a tree on a windy day.
Sua continued staring ahead and spoke.
“Sister, please count for me.”
“Huh? Ah…”
Park, who had been absorbed in watching, finally snapped back to reality.
“Ninety-three thousand and twenty.”
Her strokes were never consistent due to her worries.
“Ninety-three thousand and twenty-one.”
They remained inconsistent because of her numerous thoughts.
How many more swings did she make?
“…There’s no way. Ha-ryeong, we should quit. Completing another hundred thousand strokes by this dawn? It’s an absurd order.”
“Still, we should try, shouldn’t we?”
“Look at your condition now. Standing is miraculous. And yet, the speed with which you swing your sword is gradually slowing down, isn’t it?”
“We should not swing carelessly even once.”
To swing even once should give one’s all. That was one of the few teachings Wi Ji-hye imparted to Ha-ryeong.
Of course, Ha-ryeong had countless uncertainties inside.
Should she leave now? Should she confront her master? Would it be right to give up everything and wait for death calmly?
All of it filled her with fear and trembling.
The emotions would, thus, stain the sword.
She continued to waver and halt.
Like a swan swimming beneath the water, treading in place.
“What…?”
Director Park was bewildered.
People think the director intends everything in a scene.
But that’s only half true. Ultimately, it’s the actor who embodies the role and brings it to life.
Most of the interviewees who came today while playing the part of Ha-ryeong focused their emotions on ‘hardship’. The despair of having to complete a certain number of swings, despite being in a painful situation.
But Sua was different.
Doubt.
She concentrated entirely on doubt.
Her face only reflected the intense doubt, to the point where she didn’t feel the pain. Why would the master issue such an order?
Why. Why. Why. Why…
Park watched in awe as Sua swung the wooden sword.
How many more strokes, each distinct from the last, did she make?
“Ah.”
There was a different sound compared to before. Though she was far from reaching a hundred thousand swings, her expression brightened slightly.
“Could it be?”
She adopted a stance, raised the sword, and struck.
Though it was a simple movement, it was markedly different from before. After swinging it three more times consistently, Sua’s eyes were wide open.
The look of someone who had found the answer.
Huff!
Sua took a deep breath and swung the sword down.
Her body was drenched in sweat, and her complexion worse than before. Yet, why did her lips keep curving upward?
“Swing it. This is why my master…”
“Ha-ryeong, your sword….”
The line just delivered by Park was not in the monotone of reading from a textbook. He didn’t need to act because he was genuinely surprised.
It became consistent. Ha-ryeong, or rather Sua’s, sword.
“Sister, how is my sword? I can’t see it well.”
“…It’s surrounded by light. The moon itself seems to take notice of your sword.”
He nodded as if confirming the expected answer.
Sua continued swinging the sword afterward.
Adopting a stance, raising it, and striking. The motions flowed like water, becoming smoother until the boundaries between them faded.
Soon, the sword technique transformed into a sword dance.
A flower blossoming, simple yet elegant movements.
Ha-ryeong, that is, Sua, bashfully asked.
“It must be clumsy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you look happy.”
At that, Ha-ryeong rarely smiled and was about to do something.
Park reacted quickly.
‘It’s not written in the script. What’s she about to do? Perhaps, an adlib?’
He immediately held his breath and focused.
‘What is it? What’s she prepared?’
When someone so skilled is about to present their own interpretation, it’s natural to be curious about what lies ahead and to wait only for that answer.
It seemed they perfectly understood Park’s psychology.
Sua smiled faintly, lowered her sword,
Beep!
And the timer blared.
10 minutes. Perfectly accurate with no deviation.
“…This doesn’t make sense.”
Park mumbled blankly.
A comet-like shockwave had struck his mind, scattering his thoughts in every direction.
‘I didn’t know she had this skill. This is insane!’
Sua’s acting was a strong source of worry.
It’s excellent. Truly excellent.
To the point that Park reconsidered his decision to scrap the movie and thought twice about his retirement plans.
When he turned around, Yang Ha-rin’s expression had already changed. Her eyes were sparkling with interest.
“…Park Director, who is that woman?”
“I don’t know.”
Sua.
She’s coveted. Such a promising newcomer. But still…
Park shook his head.
Because he understood what Ha-rin’s shimmering eyes meant. That was the look of a fierce predator finding its prey.
‘On the contrary, since her skills are extraordinary, it would be better to let her go. I’ve seen new talents ruined by Ha-rin more than once.’
With such impressive skills, she could easily find other opportunities to shine.
There was no reason to let such a gem collide with Yang Ha-rin. If it fell apart and she were ruined, it would be a tragedy not just for the film industry.
Having decided, Park carefully spoke.
“Ha-rin, it’s best to drop her. Regardless of how well she acts, the chemistry between you two is terrible.”
“No.”
Ha-rin’s tone was unwavering.
“Take her on, Director Park, absolutely.”
“Ha-rin, please, just….”
“Take her. Are you not hearing me?”
A single phrase charged with madness.
The sharp gaze Ha-rin shot him was so piercing that Park, unknowingly, leaned back his head.
But he soon replied calmly and skillfully.
“But aren’t you curious about the adlib she intended to perform at the end?”
“That’s why I’m insisting. Director, I need to see it.”
Of course, what Park observed, Ha-rin couldn’t have missed. She too was curious about the adlib Sua decided not to finish.
“Adding her to the cast isn’t necessary. She can do it now if asked.”
Park skillfully adjusted the timer to 5 minutes.
Then he called out to Sua, who was catching her breath from afar.
“Miss Sua.”
“Yes.”
Sua nodded quietly.
“Your acting and timing control were both remarkable. However, I was personally curious about the adlib you intended to show. I’ll extend it by 5 minutes. Could you perhaps perform it for us?”
“No, thank you.”
A moment of silence followed.
Park blinked in confusion.
An answer completely outside of expectations.
Was that what I just heard?
She rejected me when I asked her to show a bit more? Isn’t it unusual for an auditionee to refuse an interviewer’s request?
Then,
“But I could show another performance.”
Sua said with perhaps a touch of mockery.
“For example, Master Wi Ji-hye’s role.”
