The Genius Actor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 18

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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 18

Once everyone was seated, director Choi Il-hyeong spoke first.

“Hello, I’m Choi Il-hyeong, the director of Shipwreck. People say that film is the director’s art, but I believe that without any one of you present here, the film cannot be made. I’m grateful to everyone in this room and will do my best work.”

Applause erupted.

“Hello. I’m Kim Sook-hyun, the screenwriter. I’m honored that my work will become a film thanks to all of you.”

Behind the screenwriter Kim Sook-hyun stood a man who looked about my age.
Seong-su?
How did he make it this far when he wasn’t even an assistant writer, just a gofer?
Well, I should make sure we get along.
I can’t acknowledge him in a public setting like this, so I’ll greet him briefly after the script reading is done.
Seong-su bowed in unison with screenwriter Kim Sook-hyun, then took his seat in the back.

“Hello. I’m Lee Hyun-jin, playing the role of Sang-jin Park. I look forward to working with you all.”

I studied Lee Hyun-jin’s face carefully.
Looking at him closely, his voice was soft and his impression bright.
I could certainly see why directors now only cast him in wholesome roles on morning dramas.
But from the side, his eyes held a sharp intensity.
After playing Sang-jin Park in Shipwreck, Lee Hyun-jin would take on many villain roles and his range would expand considerably.

“Good day. I’ll be playing the captain….”

The other actors continued with their introductions, and finally my turn came.
I stood up and spoke with the warmest smile and brightest voice I could muster.

“Hello! I’m Yeon Gi-jun, a rookie actor! I’m honored to be debuting in Shipwreck! I’ll work hard to not burden the veteran actors and staff!”
“By the way, the snacks on the table were prepared by our rookie here.”

The assistant director said this with a knowing grin, and I responded by bowing my head, feigning embarrassment.

“Thank you!”
“If a rookie prepares something like this, what am I supposed to do?”
“Please take care of me on set.”

The staff and actors greeted me.
I seemed to have made a decent first impression.
I met their gazes again.
I took in everyone in the room with my eyes.
He didn’t show up?
Well, it makes sense—it’s the early admission period right now, so he couldn’t come.
The Korean National University of Arts holds auditions especially early for the acting department.
So I’ll probably run into him several times during the actual shoot.
I’ll need to prepare for what to do when we meet.
Soon the introductions of the supporting and minor actors came to an end.
Director Choi Il-hyeong opened his script and spoke.

“Then let’s begin the script reading in earnest.”

Actor Lee Hyun-jin rinsed his mouth with the bottled water in front of him to clear his throat, then opened his mouth while looking at the first page.
The first scene of the script began with narration over a black screen.

“When I think about it… my life has always been heading downhill.”

Rough and parched, as if metal scraped through it—that was the tone of his voice.
The energy had drained from it, yet it carried a deep, unresolved ache.

“Being abandoned at an orphanage alone was enough.”

They say an actor’s eyes are the window to emotion.
I watched Lee Hyun-jin’s eyes carefully as he embodied Park Sang-jin.
They were shining with brilliant intensity.

“And then losing his adoptive parents within just a few years.”

Resignation.
Park Sang-jin’s already-shattered life crystallized in his gaze.
I made a mental note—I’d have to use this later when I played the part myself.

“Maybe that’s why I fell into gambling.”

A brief silence.
The moment the narration ended, dialogue from inside the Gambling Den began.

“One, two-timing, three-timing, raccoon….”

His back slouched, his neck craned forward, he perched precariously on the edge of the chair—as unstable as his own life.

“Heh heh, how much is all this?”

His hand mimed slowly drawing the stack of Gambling Chips toward him.
Excitement made his fingertips tremble almost imperceptibly.

“Hey, Park Sang-jin.”

A low, thick voice cut in from beside him.
I turned my head toward the voice.
It was a supporting actor playing a loan shark.

“You’re sitting here gambling and won’t pay back your debts?”

Lee Hyun-jin’s pupils flickered, then his expression shifted to one mixed with anxiety.

“D-damn persistent bastards. How’d you know I was here….”
“I told you. I’ll chase you to hell itself and get that money.”
“Damn it…!”

The ragged breathing of someone backed into a corner.

(Flipping the table and running away.)

Following the stage directions, he was expressing the scene of fleeing from the loan shark in the Gambling Den while sitting in the chair.

“Out of the way!”

Despite remaining perfectly still in his seat, his breathing had become harsh—as if he were actually running.
Without thinking, my grip tightened on the script in my hand.
A veteran really is something else.

“All right, good. Let’s move on to the next scene.”

Director Choi Il-hyeong gave a single clap as he spoke.
The Script Reading continued, and soon a scene came up where I would act alongside Lee Hyun-jin.

* * *

Lee Hyun-jin turned another page of the script, his eyes drifting subtly toward the other actors.
Though he’d never seen most of them before, the one who drew his attention most was Yeon Gi-jun.
Did he bring a gift because his skills fell short?
Or was it the opposite—confidence?
Either way, he was an actor who sparked curiosity.

‘Let’s see how well he really performs.’

“All right, this scene here needs some revision, so we’ll move on for now.”

Director Choi Il-hyeong flipped the script as he spoke.
And the page he opened to was—

“Scene number thirty-seven! Park Sang-jin, drunk, facing off against Sky!”

It was the first scene where Yeon Gi-jun and Lee Hyun-jin would perform together.

⌜Park Sang-jin staggers on, swaying.
With a face flushed from heavy drinking, he weaves forward, gripping a Soju Bottle in one hand.
Sky enters from ahead of him.⌟

Yeon Gi-jun’s gaze found Lee Hyun-jin, and their eyes locked across the empty space.
The senior-and-junior relationship that had existed moments before dissolved, replaced by a gaze woven between two characters—Sky and Park Sang-jin.

‘That pure look I saw before—it’s gone now.’

Park Sang-jin spoke first.

“Hey, you.”
“…….”
“Kid, you done with the job?”

Yeon Gi-jun’s line hadn’t come yet.
But the moment Lee Hyun-jin received the sharp, rebellious glare that seemed honed to a blade’s edge, he understood Park Sang-jin’s emotional state and sank into character.

“What the hell are you staring at?”

A flinch.
Sky shrank back slightly, as if frightened.
Witnessing that flawless reaction unfold before his eyes, Lee Hyun-jin—

“Getting scared, are we.”

—was suddenly infected by the twisted superiority that lived in Park Sang-jin’s core.
An immersion so corrosive that Lee Hyun-jin himself—an actor who had lived by law and morality his entire life—felt genuine disgust with his own reflection.
Merely holding eye contact with this actor was enough to make him feel as though he were becoming the character itself.
Thrilled by the sensation, he grew angrier, more vicious, and radiated from his whole body the air of standing above his opponent, crushing him completely.
And before long—

“Ugh.”

Sky’s counterattack had begun.

“Old man.”

Sky’s voice descended, low and even, filling the Script Reading space.
It seemed devoid of any emotion—which made it all the more chilling.

“Aren’t you ashamed?”
“What?”
“You said your son exists. He lost money gambling, got chased by loan sharks, and ended up on a Deep-sea Fishing Vessel, didn’t he?”
“That—how did you…?”

Lee Hyun-jin’s breathing wavered as the man laid bare his secrets in a single breath.
It was the moment when Park Sang-jin’s most vulnerable, hidden weakness lay nakedly exposed.

“Living like this—aren’t you ashamed in front of your son?”

At those words, Lee Hyun-jin swallowed.
When acting alongside a good actor, there are moments that arrive often—
moments where the deeper you meet their gaze, the more you sink into your own role.
If he could achieve this level of chemistry through a Script Reading alone, what might happen on set?
Everyone in the reading room was thinking the same thing.

* * *

“Hyun-jin and Gi-jun, you both worked hard today.”

The Script Reading ended, and they took a brief rest.
I recalled Lee Hyun-jin’s performance just now.
The phrase “matching rhythm” wasn’t enough to describe it.
Usually, when I act, my partner reacts.
And when they act, I react in return.
But acting with Lee Hyun-jin was different.
When I responded to him, he responded to me in kind.
There was no “action”—no pause, no break in momentum.
If a Script Reading alone could achieve this level of chemistry, how far could we go in front of the camera?
I stood and walked toward Lee Hyun-jin.

“When we just matched that scene together…”
“So you’re Gi-jun? Why do you act so well?”
“Pardon?”
“Usually when I set the pace, there’s a break somewhere in the middle. But with you—not once. It never broke at all.”

He was saying exactly what I’d wanted to say.

“I felt the same way.”
“Don’t call me that. Call me hyung.”

When you grow close to an acting partner, it shapes your performance.
Because you feel comfortable with each other, you’re free to act more openly.
I smiled, pleased that I’d achieved what I’d planned.
I’d set three goals coming to the reading room today.
The first was to make a good impression on the staff.
I’d accomplished that with gifts and greetings.
The second was to get close to the other actors.
I’d done that too.
And as I was recalling the third goal—

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I had a practical exam today and got held up—I’m terribly late.”

The person in question walked in.

“Could you tell us your name and which role you’re playing?”
“Ah, yes. I’m Choi Byung-chul, playing Sailor 2.”

Finding no seat available, Choi Byung-chul stood behind Lee Hyun-jin.
I waved at him.

“Hello?”
“……Huh? Why are you here……?”
“Well, I came to act, of course.”

He glanced back and forth between the seat I’d taken and the role I’d been assigned, his eyes widening.
So I was the supporting role he’d dismissed so thoroughly, while Choi Byung-chul himself had landed a minor part.

“…….”

Choi Byung-chul’s expression had become quite worth watching.

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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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