A Genius Director Who Dominates OTT Platforms - Chapter 23

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Genius Director Who Dominates OTT

Episode 23

* * *

‘The timing really doesn’t match up.’

Director Jeong Hee-su clicked his tongue inwardly as he looked at the set ready for filming.

Just last night, he had raised concerns to Dohyeon-u about Eum Seong-hyeon’s acting.

But today’s first shoot on the set was Hyeon-tae’s solo scene.

And it was a very complex and difficult internal acting scene at that.

The timing was bad.

Given Dohyeon-u’s personality of not delaying work, he would have contacted Eum Seong-hyeon immediately, and Eum Seong-hyeon was obviously feeling the pressure.

It would be nice to ease the tension with a few easy scenes…

But a call sheet wasn’t something that could be easily modified.

It was set weeks or even months in advance after considering filming costs, necessary props, and production environment.

‘Should I have considered the call sheet before speaking up?’

But it was right to raise the issue before set filming.

The Gangwon location had many group scenes and ensemble scenes, but the set had many one-man scenes and emotional scenes.

One-man scenes are difficult.

Even actors who are now considered top-tier were once caught up in bad acting controversies in their youth.

Was it because those people weren’t born with acting talent?

It was because they faltered during one-man scenes.

So the judgment to speak to Dohyeon-u was right, but…

‘His condition looks really off.’

Eum Seong-hyeon looked much stiffer than usual, which was worrying.

But what else could be done?

The only option was to give the best direction possible so he could deliver peak performance.

And call Dohyeon-u if necessary.

Jeong Hee-su, hiding his worry, sat in front of the director’s monitor.

“We’re starting filming. Ready, action.”

The sharp crack of the slate announced the beginning of the performance.

* * *

It was in front of a mirror in the dark dawn.

Even after washing his face with cold water, his mind wouldn’t clear.

Or perhaps, there was no need for it to clear.

With hands dripping with water, he wiped the mirror that was cloudy like an oil film.

Through the blur, he saw bloodshot eyes, anxious gaze, trembling lips.

Is this really my face?

All these things happening at the Gangwon-do mountain cabin are real?

His friend died, and he died too.

When he woke up from death, he had returned to the first day, and his friends died again.

In that process, emotions he thought were friendship became tainted, and memories he thought were precious were trampled.

Is this reality?

No, does it need to be reality?

He wiped the mirror once more.

He was sure he was wearing a gray sweatshirt, but through the mirror he seemed to glimpse a mental hospital restraint jacket.

Am I insane?

Is the time loop not a real occurrence but a manifestation of schizophrenia?

Then who killed my friends?

An unknown culprit?

Could it be that everyone except me is in on it together?

If not that.

“If I’m the murderer…”

Startled by the words that slipped through his teeth, Hyeon-tae looked at the mirror.

“…!”

The reflection of himself in the mirror was wearing a disgusting smile.

As if asking, “Do you realize it now?”

“No! Fuck! That’s not it!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He pounded the mirror like a madman.

Crash!

The mirror shattered and blood dripped from his fist.

At that moment, a sufficiently large and thick piece of glass caught Hyeon-tae’s eye.

If he stabbed someone with this, wouldn’t he be able to understand?

Whether all of this is the imagination of a mental patient.

Or if it’s something real.

That someone could be himself, or it could be another person suspected of being the culprit.

But.

Creak.

The moment he gripped the glass shard tightly, a tearing pain came to his palm.

“Ah…”

The pain awakened a sense of reality.

Just as he was about to drop the glass shard.

Without warning, Hyeon-tae’s eyes rolled back.

He had slashed his left arm with the mirror shard he was holding.

Hiss!

Blood gushed out like a fountain.

“I’m… not.”

As if proving his innocence.

“Really…”

As if declaring his purity.

He spoke to his distorted reflection in the broken mirror.

“I’m not…!”

With a voice mixed with tears.

* * *

“…!”

The set was silent.

Even when Eum Seong-hyeon’s acting swept through like a storm.

Even when that acting went beyond the script.

The only moment a voice was heard was when Eum Seong-hyeon suddenly slashed his arm with the mirror shard without warning.

“Ah!”

It was closer to a scream than a voice.

Because it was an unplanned scene.

Of course, the mirror itself was fake.

It was sugar glass with varying thickness to break realistically, mixed with resin pieces.

It was an object that couldn’t cut skin.

But no one could think that the mirror shard was fake.

Because when Hyeon-tae slashed his arm, they seemed to see blood that shouldn’t have been visible.

Someone anticipated a horrific scene and instinctively squeezed their eyes shut.

So.

“…Okay.”

Eum Seong-hyeon had hatched from his shell.

* * *

The moment Director Jeong Hee-su called “okay,” murmurs spread across the set.

“Did you see those eyes just now?”

“That gave me chills…”

Contrary to public perception, it’s rare for staff to be amazed by an actor’s performance.

In fact, many new staff members often lose their illusions about acting.

Because acting is just one of the ingredients that make up a drama.

The directing ability to emphasize what’s needed and remove what’s unnecessary within a fixed frame.

The technical ability to add sound effects, layer music, and convey emotions through color schemes.

The writing ability to make scenes have organic power within the narrative.

Drama as an art form is the result of combining all these elements.

So it wasn’t easy for those accustomed to finished dramas to be shocked by just one ingredient called acting.

But Eum Seong-hyeon had achieved it.

Without directing, sound, or music.

With his acting alone.

That’s why the staff couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

“Wow, I thought I was watching Jake Gyllenhaal.”

“I thought of Nightcrawler.”

“DiCaprio?”

“That’s what came to mind.”

“For me, it was Fight Club.”

“Ah…!”

Those without much experience focused on the acting.

Each mentioned masterpieces that came to mind while watching Eum Seong-hyeon’s performance.

“Isn’t a great actor being born from our drama?”

“If he keeps acting like that, the Best New Actor award is practically guaranteed.”

“He must be suited for sets. It’s incomparable to when we were on location.”

Those with some experience focused on the actor.

They began discussing what would become of the unknown actor named Eum Seong-hyeon.

But those with very long careers or who understood the core of the production industry focused on someone else.

Namely, Dohyeon-u.

“How is that even possible?”

“Does he really see something we don’t?”

“Honestly, I thought it was ridiculous casting…”

It wasn’t just SSK that had doubts about Accomplice’s casting.

The on-site staff felt the same way.

While it was nice not having star actors throwing tantrums, they wondered if drama production was really possible with such a lineup.

Being generous, the seven key supporting actors were understandable.

They were unknown but not rookies.

The actor with the shortest career had eight years.

The one with the longest had fourteen years.

They had accumulated enough years to build acting skills, and there was potential for them to do well if given the opportunity.

But protagonist Eum Seong-hyeon was a completely incomprehensible choice.

He obviously wouldn’t help with box office success, nor did he have acting experience.

If anything, he could only attract prejudice for being an idol.

But now.

Dohyeon-u had proven his choice was right.

One might say it’s making a fuss over just one scene, but that kind of acting isn’t something anyone can do.

It’s a realm that countless actors couldn’t reach even by chance in their entire careers.

Perhaps for the next ten years, Dohyeon-u might be called “the person who discovered actor Eum Seong-hyeon” instead of by his name.

What’s amazing is that even after ten years, Eum Seong-hyeon would only be in his mid-thirties.

But even combining all these staff emotions couldn’t compare to Director Jeong Hee-su’s amazement.

‘What on earth did he do?’

Just until the day before, Eum Seong-hyeon’s acting had been shaky.

To be precise, he showed good moments in ensemble scenes, but was disappointing in two-person scenes.

There was definitely a feeling that he struggled with acting as the emotional lines became more concentrated…

His level had changed in just one day.

No, his species had changed.

Without a doubt, none of the dramas and movies he had ever filmed could compare to that.

Normally, Jeong Hee-su would have likely called Dohyeon-u over to ask various questions.

Despite pretending otherwise, Jeong Hee-su was curious and couldn’t stand not knowing things.

But he too was an artist.

Seeing Eum Seong-hyeon’s acting made him want to reach the highest place he could as a director.

“Assistant director. Prepare for silent acting filming.”

“What? Silent?”

“We need to film Hyeon-tae in the mirror watching that scene!”

Since an unplanned masterpiece scene had emerged, an unplanned masterpiece direction had to emerge too.

That was the director’s responsibility.

Jeong Hee-su, who had shouted at the staff, hurriedly ran to Hyeon-tae, no, Eum Seong-hyeon.

“Seong-hyeon.”

“…”

“Seong-hyeon?”

“Ah, yes. I was confused for a moment.”

Though there was no subject, both the actor and director knew what he was confused about.

“Why did you cut your arm?”

“…I wanted to be innocent through pain. In the anxiety that I might be a murderer, I wanted to feel reality.”

“But even in that pain, you didn’t recall feelings of certainty, did you?”

“No. It was just a painkiller.”

“Good. I want to film Hyeon-tae in the mirror watching all this. Can you express it? If you want, I can project the scene we just filmed on screen. It would be easier to catch the tempo if you act while watching that.”

But Eum Seong-hyeon shook his head.

“I can just do it.”

Though no additional words were added, there was a strong sense of confidence.

“Good. Let’s do it. We’ll film without any take limits. Don’t feel any pressure. Just pour out what you can do.”

Jeong Hee-su’s consideration was unnecessary.

“Cut! Okay!”

Because a perfect scene came out in just one take.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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