Chapter 3 – Continuous Nightmare (3)

“Cut.”

At the director’s words, I pulled back Jo Danseok’s consciousness. The excited emotions subsided, and my rapidly beating heart calmed down. It all happened in less than a second.

Did I make a mistake?

It seems like I’m the only one who could have made a mistake here? I scratched my sideburns.

I saw the child actor who had fallen down. A youthful face that looked like he had just entered high school. I extended my hand to help him up.

“Ugh…”

The boy turned his head away with frightened eyes. Ah, that hurt my feelings. Well, I can understand.

People are usually embarrassed when they fall.

He should get up on his own anyway. Besides, a grown man probably doesn’t want to hold hands. While I was trying to soothe my hurt feelings,

“Mr. Kang Junho! Come over here!”

Director Cho Makdun called me. Seeing the director’s grim expression, I sighed inwardly. Was it my mistake after all?

I trudged towards the director. People slightly moved aside, sending meaningful glances. Probably sympathy?

I stood in front of the director. Director Cho Makdun’s index finger tapped the thick script. Was it because of the hot weather? Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

It doesn’t seem that hot though.

If anything, it’s chilly. A cold wind is blowing, carrying away the sweat.

“What’s the matter, Director?”

“Hoo…”

Was he frustrated with my acting? Director Cho Makdun looked up at the sky blankly and sighed. Then he took off his hat and scratched his head vigorously.

His lips are slightly blue. The weather certainly seems cold, yet he’s sweating like that.

He must be the type to sweat a lot? To sweat even in this cold weather.

A yellow ginkgo leaf falls behind Director Cho Makdun. One yellow ginkgo leaf landed like a decoration on top of a pile of brown fallen leaves.

“Mr. Kang Junho. Have you ever studied acting?”

Acting?

“No, I’ve never acted before. I haven’t even watched many dramas or movies. Was my acting that bad?”

“Bad… bad, you say. Haa, well, I guess that’s not entirely wrong. Anyway, you’ve never acted before?”

“No. This is my first time acting.”

“First time, huh.”

He looks deep in thought.

“Well. Mr. Kang Junho, your acting was incredible. I’ve been directing for nearly 20 years, but I’ve never seen acting like yours.”

Does he mean it was incredibly bad? Even though I said it was my first time, isn’t it too harsh to criticize me so openly? I felt dissatisfied inside, but I tried to hold it in. I can’t embarrass Taehyuk, after all.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to improve.”

“Improve? Ah! I didn’t explain properly.”

Director Cho Makdun smiled.

“Mr. Kang Junho. Your acting was perfect. So much that it seemed to break through the screen.”

“What? Perfect?”

I thought I’d be doing okay if I just got scolded a little. But praise? This isn’t some kind of sarcasm, is it?

I tilted my head in confusion.

“It was just a few lines in the script. A role without explanation or dialogue. A bit part where you just had to manage your gaze. A role that anyone could do, even a regular person.”

Director Cho Makdun hadn’t expected much. An ordinary person recommended by an existing bit-part actor. He was brought in just because his looks were better than a top actor’s. He thought he’d just need to direct him properly. There wasn’t even any dialogue for the role.

But.

“From the first step. I felt it from the first step out of the courthouse. That Jo Danseok was being transported. And not just Jo Danseok, but an upgraded version.”

It was just walking, but it contained Jo Danseok who had killed fifty people. With each step, the smell of blood resonated, and the pride contained within was palpable. Arrogance and pride built on blood.

It wasn’t acting. The real Jo Danseok was moving towards the transport bus. And in a much more cruel state.

Director Cho Makdun saw it.

The tense faces of the supporting actors playing the detectives holding Kang Junho’s arms. The faint fear in the eyes of the reporters thrusting recorders and cameras. One person’s presence had transformed this place from a filming set into a transport scene.

The character had come to life. As a result, all the actors had fallen into method acting. Without even realizing it themselves.

Is this even possible?

A presence that creates the most perfect filming. Acting skills that bring out the space within the script? Director Cho Makdun sensed it as soon as he saw that acting.

His only role was to finish the filming. Everyone on the set was being moved by a single actor. Without even knowing it themselves.

The words of the hospitalized actor Park Taehyuk came to his mind.

— Ah, you don’t need to worry about his acting skills. That guy is a real monster. A monster that can’t be compared to me. The problem is getting devoured by it.

He thought it was a joke. How could an ordinary person who had never learned acting be an acting monster? But now he knew.

That there was no lie in what Park Taehyuk had said. Ah, there was one lie.

“This isn’t being devoured, it’s controlling, isn’t it?”

Being devoured by the role? Nonsense!

An actor who can compose his emotions and step out of the role in just one second, being devoured by the role? That’s complete nonsense.

Director Cho Makdun suddenly extended his hand.

“Mr. Kang Junho. We’ll pay you enough for your appearance. Would you like to continue filming a bit more?”

“I appreciate the offer, but…”

The words trailed off.

Is he going to refuse?

Well, it’s natural to feel resistant when suddenly being offered to become an actor. As he was trying to hide his disappointment,

“I’d like to film first, if that’s okay?”

Kang Junho looked at the filming set. Director Cho Makdun recognized the emotion in his eyes. It was the same feeling he had when he watched a play in Chungmuro 30 years ago.

Love.

He had fallen in love with acting.

“Well then. Let me ask for one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Please go easy on us. We need time to adapt.”

Kang Junho’s gaze fell on the tired-looking child actor. Was it Cha Taehyun? There was a stubborn determination in those eyes not to lose.

“Okay. I’ll give you time to adapt.”

But.

“I won’t go easy though.”

Because it’s become fun. With Director Cho Makdun’s signal, filming resumed.

“Again.”

“Again!”

“Cha Taehyun! Don’t back down, glare at him!”

“Put more strength in your arms! You’re not playing a role that’s being dragged around by a serial killer!”

“Reporters, get closer! More! More!”

Several NGs followed. Director Cho Makdun kept repeating the retakes without rest. Just as people were starting to get tired,

A satisfied “Cut!” rang out.

“Huff… What a struggle just to film one cut.”

“It’s because of that person. Though ‘because’ doesn’t do justice to how amazing it was.”

“True, he practically carried today’s filming all by himself.”

The extras collapsed with weak legs. The main and supporting actors didn’t look much better. Dark circles were evident under their eyes. Though not visible due to the constant makeup.

Among them, only one person looked fine. The one-time bit player, Kang Junho, just wiped off a bead of sweat from his forehead. Perhaps thanks to his regular exercise, he only shed a single drop of sweat despite the long filming.

“You were amazing, Mr. Kang Junho.”

“Was I? Haha.”

I scratched my head, embarrassed. To receive praise directly from the director, who’s practically a god on the set. It’s incredibly embarrassing.

“The regret of not killing enough in the first step, Jo Danseok’s arrogance and twisted pride while walking through the courthouse, and the languid gaze forcibly put on before boarding the transport bus to avoid looking like a loser! I really thought Jo Danseok had come to life! And besides that…!”

Director Cho Makdun spoke like a machine gun. At first, I was impressed by his insight in recognizing what I had intended, but I couldn’t understand any of the advanced terms that followed. It was like he suddenly switched from Korean to Arabic.

I need to change the subject!

It feels like my ears are about to bleed. It’s clearly praise, not scolding, but my head hurts.

“I hope I didn’t cause trouble because of my own enjoyment…”

“No! No! How could it be trouble!”

Director Cho Makdun interrupted, denying it.

“You turned what would have been the least noticeable cut in the drama into a scene-stealing cut. How could that be trouble?”

A cut that would have just passed by in the protagonist’s flashback. A character whose name is mentioned often in the story, but whose face doesn’t appear much. The reason is simple.

Because it’s boring.

Cuts that would have been nothing but sweet potatoes. The protagonist is always strong when facing any criminal, but it’s different with Jo Danseok. The criminal who killed his father.

That trauma would continue to haunt the protagonist. Despite that, it would have been a cut added reluctantly because it was essential to the plot.

But now it’s different.

Jo Danseok, who would have been a frustrating sweet potato. But now this Jo Danseok is a scene-stealer exuding tremendous charisma? The frustration viewers would feel decreases exponentially.

Director Cho Makdun lowered his chin and covered his mouth with his hand. He couldn’t control his smile at the skyrocketing ratings unfolding before his eyes. Where did the charisma from the filming go? Director Cho Makdun smiled good-naturedly.

“I’ve worked in this industry for a long time and seen many so-called geniuses, but none of them can compare to you, Mr. Kang Junho.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Not at all! No one would call it exaggeration if they saw the acting you displayed. I, Cho Makdun, can assure you of that.”

There’s no special technique in Kang Junho’s acting. Of course. He’s an ordinary person acting for the first time today. He hasn’t spent years preparing as an aspiring actor or studying acting. But he was closer to the pinnacle of acting than any actor Cho Makdun had seen.

‘Acting is the miracle of breathing life into a character that’s nothing more than letters and imagination.’

Just as God created humans and breathed life into them. The writer creates the character role, and the actor breathes life into that role. And a great actor. Breathes life into the script.

“You were amazing, Mr. Kang Junho.”

I thought there was no compliment better than praise for one’s appearance.

There was one more.

I’m usually weak to compliments, but hearing praise for my acting makes my ears feel hot.

“As discussed with actor Park Taehyuk, the filming fee plus the additional amount I’m adding from my own pocket will be deposited into your account today.”

“What? Filming fee?”

I’ve never heard of this before.

“Oh? You didn’t hear about it?”

Director Cho Makdun explained. Park Taehyuk had recommended me as a stand-in and arranged for a filming fee to be paid. And the reason I was able to take on the bit part over other actors was.

‘Because the production company run by Park Taehyuk’s parents fully funded the production of <Continuous Nightmare>.’

From what he heard, it was the first favor they had asked, so he couldn’t refuse.

‘So that’s why the gazes in the rest area were sharp?’

A parachute directly inserted by the production company.

‘No wonder the looks weren’t good.’

Well, now the content has completely changed.

“So, I’m asking you this. Would you appear in <Continuous Nightmare>?”

I opened my mouth.

“I…”

Footnote:

1. Method acting: An acting technique where actors fully immerse themselves in their characters, often drawing on their own emotions and experiences.
2. Chungmuro: A district in Seoul, South Korea, known as the center of the Korean film industry, similar to Hollywood in the United States.
3. NG: Stands for “No Good,” a term used in film and TV production to indicate a take that isn’t usable and needs to be reshot.
4. Sweet potatoes: In Korean slang, “sweet potato” can refer to something frustrating or annoying, often used to describe boring or unnecessary parts of a story.
5. Parachute: In Korean workplace context, a “parachute” refers to someone who gets a position due to connections rather than merit, similar to the English term “nepotism.”