I Acted Once, and Now They Call Me a Genius - Chapter 237

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 237
Before reaching Seon-ji Temple, the scenes still to be filmed were as follows:
Lee Seong-gye returns to Gaegyeong and puts the situation in order. Yet this does not mean Jeong Mong-ju has abandoned his purge. Already with his blade drawn, he continues to petition for the execution of Jeong Do-jeon and others, while Lee Seong-gye seeks to bring Jeong Mong-ju over to his side rather than strike him down.
In this chaotic situation, Yi Bang-won persuades Lee Seong-gye that Jeong Mong-ju must die. Of course, Lee Seong-gye does not heed Yi Bang-won’s words.
And so, realizing at last that Lee Seong-gye will not change his mind, Yi Bang-won resolves to move himself and execute Jeong Mong-ju.
Ahead lay the task of unraveling this entire chain of events.
And what Seon-woo needed to focus on was…
‘First, I need to talk with Senior Kwon.’
Perhaps it was because he’d been thinking from Yi Bang-won’s perspective all along.
Seon-woo found himself frustrated with Lee Seong-gye to some degree. No matter how important justification might be… wasn’t it the case that his own trusted followers were about to die?
Then why, he wondered, did Lee Seong-gye continue to protect Jeong Mong-ju until the very end?
“Senior.”
“Yes?”
“I can’t make sense of Lee Seong-gye no matter how hard I think about it…”
Fortunately, Seon-woo had someone nearby to ask.
He laid bare his honest feelings to Kwon Seong-min.
“According to the historical records, when Lee Seong-gye was told he’d lose everyone if things continued as they were, he supposedly answered, ‘Then that must be their fate.’ Honestly, from my perspective, it just looks irresponsible.”
“Hmm. Yeah. That’s fair.”
“What do you think, Senior? Is he saying such things simply because he’s given up on everything?”
“Hmm… I’ll say this much: you’re acting a lot like Yi Bang-won right now, Seon-woo.”
“I know. That’s exactly how it feels. I genuinely understand Yi Bang-won’s heart right now.”
Yi Bang-won must have felt unbearably frustrated.
Once Jeong Do-jeon and the other ministers fell, their own turn would come next. Everyone he loved would die, and his father’s dream might crumble—yet if he just killed one man, he could prevent all of it. How could he understand his father’s refusal?
Watching Seon-woo, Kwon Seong-min smiled.
“I understand why you think that way. But though I haven’t lived long, if there’s anything like wisdom I’ve gained, it’s this: the world’s natural order doesn’t exist for nothing.”
“Saving Jeong Mong-ju is… the natural order?”
“More precisely, it’s about not wanting to build the nation of Joseon on a foundation of bloodshed.”
“But doesn’t that ring hollow? So many people have already died. General Choi Young, countless commoners—they’re all dead.”
“You’re right about that too. That’s why the thinking diverges here. Yi Bang-won says, ‘Because so many have died, we must kill him.’ While Lee Seong-gye is saying, ‘Yet still, we must save him.'”
It made sense, yet it didn’t.
Seon-woo understood why Lee Seong-gye thought as he did, but he wasn’t convinced. Watching him, Kwon Seong-min smiled again.
“It makes you curious, doesn’t it? Did Yi Bang-won come to understand Lee Seong-gye? Or did he never understand him at all?”
“I thought he definitely couldn’t have understood him, but hearing you put it that way… my thinking shifts a little.”
And Seon-woo’s eyes suddenly lit up as he grasped Kwon Seong-min’s meaning.
“Whether he rebelled despite understanding his father’s heart, or rebelled because he couldn’t understand it—that difference would create a huge gap in the emotional arc I need to portray.”
Kwon Seong-min didn’t bother nodding; he simply smiled with satisfaction.
A junior who grasps ten things from a single hint—how could one not find him remarkable?
Meanwhile, Seon-woo was thinking.
‘If Yi Bang-won understood Lee Seong-gye’s heart, then… the fact that he still killed Jeong Mong-ju means…’
Perhaps someone had to choose to become the villain?
Seon-woo’s gaze deepened.
He felt that finding the answer to this question was key to anchoring his performance going forward.
Seon-woo pondered. And fortunately, he had many people to ponder alongside.
Yun Kyeong was one of them.
“So… you’re saying Yi Bang-won continued to act while believing his actions were wrong?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m supposed to encourage my husband to push forward with this wrong action?”
“That’s right.”
“…Won-kyeong was a cruel woman, wasn’t she?”
Yun Kyeong reaffirmed what she’d come to know.
Kim Seon-woo was definitely a lunatic.
And she loved it.
Before killing Jeong Mong-ju, Yi Bang-won consults with Yun Kyeong. Or rather, it’s closer to expressing his turbulent heart.
And watching him, Yun Kyeong speaks with resolve.
Po-eun must die.
There’s not even a moment’s hesitation to reconsider.
In truth, Yun Kyeong had little attachment to this scene.
Though it was one of the few scenes where she appeared… she hadn’t thought it had much dramatic appeal.
But Seon-woo’s interpretation changed how the scene felt in an instant.
There’s as much difference between simply commanding someone to do what must be done and encouraging them to commit an act you know is wrong as there is between heaven and earth.
Yi Bang-won believes that killing Po-eun crosses a line.
It’s a betrayal of his father, a defilement of Joseon’s founding, and a destruction of his own honor.
And yet, despite this, Yun Kyeong tells Yi Bang-won that Po-eun must die.
To her dearly loved husband, she speaks a cold, harsh truth. Could there be a dynamic more thrilling or fascinating than this?
Yun Kyeong finally couldn’t hold back.
“Seon-woo, have you heard anything about your next project?”
“…Huh? Oh, no. Besides Red Zone Season 2, there’s nothing concrete lined up right now…”
“Good. If something comes up about a next project later, let me know too.”
Yun Kyeong’s eyes burned with intensity.
“Acting with you is fun.”
“Ha, well…”
Her gaze was terrifying.
Seon-woo, feeling slightly intimidated, laughed awkwardly and agreed he would.
Either way, Yun Kyeong’s reaction was a good sign. It meant the interpretation of Yi Bang-won that Seon-woo had crafted was that compelling.
Seon-woo thought to himself.
‘Jeong Mong-ju’s death… affects so many people.’
He wanted to film it as soon as possible.
The mere thought of that moment—acting that scene alongside Seong Jun-il—made his heart swell.
Of course, there were steps to be taken first.
Lee Seong-gye.
He had to face Kwon Seong-min’s Lee Seong-gye.
* * *
What kind of film is The Traitor?
This was the question Seo Tae-rok posed to himself daily.
A director not knowing what his own film is? It sounds absurd. Yet it was unavoidable. Each time he posed the question, Seo Tae-rok felt the answer shifting.
When Seo Tae-rok first conceived The Traitor, there was one focus.
Not Joseon’s founding, but Goryeo’s fall and the act of betraying the nation one had lived in one’s entire life—he wanted to concentrate on that.
Certainly, previous works had touched on Lee Seong-gye’s anguish, but Seo Tae-rok felt something was missing.
He wanted to show more.
How terrifying it must be for an individual to make the decision to destroy a nation.
And so the film came to be titled The Traitor.
And to be honest, in this first part, Seo Tae-rok hadn’t had high expectations for Yi Bang-won.
Yi Bang-won’s real moment of activity was in part two.
When the son of the traitor became himself another traitor who defied his father, that’s when Yi Bang-won was meant to shine.
But after seeing Seon-woo’s audition performance, that thinking changed entirely.
He felt it. How singular Seon-woo’s perspective was.
The moment Seo Tae-rok saw Yi Bang-won brimming with filial piety—as a son—his mind filled with a cacophony of noise.
And that day, The Traitor became the story of a father and son.
The contrast between a father opening a new world and a son filled with admiration for him, and a father crushed beneath the weight of that world—this dynamic imprinted itself forcefully in Seo Tae-rok’s mind.
And so, Seo Tae-rok could not help but anticipate.
What emotional arc would Yi Bang-won reveal as he tried to persuade Lee Seong-gye?
Watching Seon-woo’s performance, how would he once again understand what kind of film The Traitor was?
As Yi Bang-won brought Lee Seong-gye to Gaegyeong, he never once let his emotions burst forth. Even as he listened to Lee Seong-gye weep, he silently pulled the cart; sometimes he carried him on his back through mountain paths.
Yet the fact remained that Lee Seong-gye’s collapse affected Yi Bang-won deeply.
Watching his father’s weakness, Seon-woo’s face always bore something achingly difficult to bear.
Waves of emotion that seemed ready to explode at the slightest touch never quite break the surface.
What would happen today?
Truth be told, Seo Tae-rok had been anticipating Seon-woo’s choice for nearly two weeks. Would Yi Bang-won finally unleash all his pent-up emotion before Lee Seong-gye?
Would he cry out in resentment—why won’t you do what must be done?
Or would he hold it back again?
Seo Tae-rok deliberately gave Seon-woo no specific direction.
His only instruction was: “Perform the most Yi Bang-won-like acting you can conceive.”
That way, he’d see Seon-woo at his absolute best.
And so,
“Action!”
The moment Yi Bang-won finally faced Lee Seong-gye directly, Seo Tae-rok felt his heart pounding like a child’s.
Seon-woo—Yi Bang-won—opens his mouth.
“…How can you leave Po-eun untouched?”
And hearing that voice, Seo Tae-rok’s eyes trembled.
It was so different from what he’d imagined. He’d thought this was a situation where anger was inevitable. Whether he suppressed or unleashed it—one or the other had to happen.
But Seon-woo’s voice was not like that.
His eyes were the same. That gaze, heavy with exhaustion, seemed as though he’d given up on everything.
And watching such an Yi Bang-won, Lee Seong-gye answers stubbornly.
“If I don’t leave him untouched, what am I supposed to do?”
“You must strike. Otherwise, everyone will die. Master Jeong Do-jeon, whom Father cherishes so, and all those who follow you…”
“Enough! You’re shaming Master Jeong and my people right now. Do you think they came this far having no willingness to face death?”
“But they didn’t anticipate a death like this.”
“Yi Bang-won!”
A voice like the roar of a tiger.
Kwon Seong-min’s eyes blaze. It’s hard to believe this is the same man who walks about the set with a gentle smile.
“Stop spouting such foolishness! You understand nothing. Nothing! Are you asking me now to kill Po-eun and build Joseon? To lay the foundation of a new nation with blood-stained hands?”
“I’m asking that no one die.”
“Silence! If that’s all the drivel you have to say, I don’t want to see your face—get out!”
“Father…!”
“Get out, I said!”
Lee Seong-gye’s rage crashes down.
Yet the irony is that Yi Bang-won shows no real emotion in the face of it.
If he’s not angry, then at the very least he should show hurt—yet there’s nothing of that sort visible on Seon-woo’s face.
What appears in that expression of resignation is only sorrow without end.
And still, the reverence and love for his father that he cannot bring himself to abandon.
‘…Ah.’
And in that instant, Seo Tae-rok shuddered.
He felt it. What Seon-woo was trying to express. What kind of man the Yi Bang-won he understood truly was.
Yi Bang-won harbored no anger toward his stubborn father, no disappointment.
Rather, Yi Bang-won understood Lee Seong-gye. He understood both why Lee Seong-gye refuses to kill Po-eun and why he rages at the suggestion.
He knew it all, yet still he acts.
For his father. For Lee Seong-gye.
For his father’s heaven.
It was absurd.
In this moment, Kim Seon-woo’s performance transformed the grain of every story woven into The Traitor. A single actor’s performance altered the very identity of all the narrative contained within The Traitor.
Tragedy.
A tragedy so poignant that one’s heart could only ache.

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