The Genius Actor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 19

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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 19

“Phew, it’s freezing.”

The Seaside before dawn, the sun still below the horizon.
I blew on my hands and shivered, trying to warm myself.
The salty sea breeze stung my face.

“When does shooting start again?”
“Three in the morning, sir.”

I checked my watch. Still only 12:30 a.m.
Usually, the Actor Call Time was an hour before filming began.
Actors had to be dressed and have their makeup done before the cameras rolled.
There was still plenty of time before shooting, yet the crew bustled about the set with urgent energy.

“Set the White Balance low for now, then raise it once the sun comes up.”
“Yes! Got the Preset locked in! Holding the LUT steady!”
“Okay, that’s good. Hey, Assistant Director—can you tighten the Aperture by just one stop?”
“Won’t that make it too dark?”
“No, I checked the last Location Shoot footage. It looked better than I expected.”

Director Choi Il Hyung moved rapidly across the set, checking everything methodically.

“Oh, and tell the Makeup Team not to apply the base too thick on the actors.”
“I’ve already passed that along to the Makeup Team, sir.”
“Okay, do that then. No, no, no—over there with the lights!”

I prepared for today’s shoot by reading through my Script on my phone.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been on a set. I’m actually excited.”

CEO Kim Hyun Deok watched Director Choi Il Hyung with a bitter expression on his face.
He’d probably convinced himself that his path wasn’t that of a director but rather of a Talent Agency president, yet being back on set clearly stirred something different in him.
There was still longing there.
So someday, far in the future, he’d probably make his directorial comeback and shoot a film again.

“CEO.”
“Oh, Gi Jun.”
“It’s cold out here. Would you like to wait inside the car?”
“Yeah, the key is…”

I led CEO Kim Hyun Deok into the car so he could no longer see the set.
This wasn’t the time for him to let his eyes wander back to filmmaking.
He needed to focus entirely on the agency.
That way, I could continue to absorb everything I could learn from him and grow enough.
When the day came that he directed a film again, I would have the strength to claim its lead role without hesitation.
I was reinforcing this plan in my mind once more when it happened.
Tap-tap.
Someone tapped on the passenger window where I was sitting, and I turned my head reflexively.

“…?”

It was Choi Byung Chul.
Choi Byung Chul gestured for me to lower the window.
Knowing his track record, I wondered what he was up to now.
Still, with CEO Kim Hyun Deok—all six feet of him—planted solidly beside me, he’d at least have the sense to stay in line out of sheer intimidation.
If he didn’t, there was no telling what the CEO might do to him.
I lowered the window and watched him.
Choi Byung Chul, who had hesitated for a moment, finally spoke.

“Gi Jun…?”

He’d spent quite a while deciding how to address me.
Still, I was satisfied that he found me uncomfortable to deal with.
At least it meant he was now aware I wasn’t someone he could push around carelessly.
There wouldn’t be any more attempts to trip me up on set from here on out.

“Yes?”
“You should head to Makeup soon.”

That was all Choi Byung Chul said before he disappeared.
Choi Byung Chul.
At first he’d been a stranger, but his face was somehow familiar.
And when I started preparing for Shipwreck, I found out why.
He was the one from the audition hall—now cast as an extra in this production.
I had no intention of using this as an opportunity for revenge or anything like that.
The wave and smile during the reading was less about revenge and more about leaving a strong impression.
We’d be filming together, and if he kept needling me like he had back at the audition, the shoot itself would suffer.
The problem wasn’t that I was sitting still—the real issue was that Choi Byung Chul’s presence was poisoning the entire atmosphere on set.
Whether my strategy had worked or not, he hadn’t picked fights with me the way he used to, even though filming had been underway for some time now.
He also spoke far less than before.
Well, why would he be in a good mood? The person he’d so thoroughly dismissed was now a supporting actor, and he was just an extra.
Besides, I’d later learned that Choi Byung Chul’s agency was mid-sized—the kind that would eventually go completely under when the representative got caught up in gambling.
With neither talent nor character to speak of, it made sense no scandals about him ever made the news.
Thinking about all this, I got out of the car and headed toward the makeup tent.
There it was.
While they called it a makeup tent, it was actually a large Mongolian Tent.
There must be the adult practicalities of budgeting—squeezing out every last penny wherever possible.

“Hello! It’s quite cold today, isn’t it?”

As I stepped inside making small talk, the Makeup Team Leader greeted me with a smile.

“Welcome.”

Inside, I could see a heater, snacks, and various costumes.
And I could see Lee Hyun Jin, who was having his makeup done by the Makeup Team Leader.

“You’re here, Gi Jun?”
“Oh, hello!”

I bowed deeply in greeting.

“I told you to call me brother.”

Lee Hyun Jin was forty-two years old.
At twenty-one on paper, it felt awkward for me to call him brother, but in the entertainment industry, it was common to call someone brother even if they were old enough to be your father, as long as you were close.
And besides, by my actual age, it would be perfectly fine to call him that.

“Hyun Jin, then?”
“Yeah, now I’m actually getting that feeling—like we’re becoming closer.”

While I was chatting with Lee Hyun Jin, the Makeup Team Leader finished his makeup.
His pale skin had taken on a sallow tone, and his face was streaked with heavy dark lines, as if stained by floodwater.
Interesting—I was curious what he’d look like when we acted together later.

“You okay with that?”
“Wow, you really do look like Park Sang Jin!”

Lee Hyun Jin had only ever played heroic roles because of his innocent face and warm voice.

“I had no idea my face could look like this.”

The makeup had elongated the corners of his eyes, making his gaze appear sharper and more menacing.
He glanced at the mirror once more, then lowered his eyes.
Makeup was far more than a mere cosmetic device to align appearance with a role.
It transformed an actor’s baseline expression and shaped the entire direction of their performance.

“Rotten bastard.”

He murmured the words softly to his reflection.
Watching him, I felt something shift within myself as Haneul—some internal resonance with the character.
It seemed Lee Hyun Jin had finished his transformation into Park Sang Jin.

“Gi Jun, I’ve got a shoot. I’m heading to the location now.”
“Got it. Good luck out there!”

After he left, I took a seat and began preparing myself as Haneul.
While the Makeup Team Leader worked on someone else, the Makeup Team Intern—a woman in her mid-twenties—came over to handle my makeup.

“……Hello.”

She looked exhausted.
Which made sense—they’d been shooting night scenes continuously.
The Makeup Team Intern seemed uncertain about which products to use, her hesitation plainly visible.
Watching her, I recalled a time before the regression when I’d worked briefly in the makeup department myself.
Back then, I’d spent considerable effort studying how to apply makeup to conceal scars—researching and experimenting for some time.
Complete scar coverage required special effects makeup, but if I went that far, it would look unnatural in real life, even if it might pass on camera—so it never proved particularly useful.

“Then… please wait just a moment.”

The Makeup Team Intern grabbed her bag.
Her bag? What for?
A bad feeling crept over me, but it wasn’t my concern.
I pulled out my smartphone and opened the script file.
I needed to prepare the scenes I’d be filming soon with Lee Hyun Jin.
And the Makeup Team Intern never came back.

* * *

“Lee Hyun Jin, we’re doing your hair now!”

The Makeup Team Leader’s voice rang out.
Though the makeup team and actors had a working relationship, actors who’d been in the industry longer were addressed as “senior.”

“Intern, get the base makeup for actor Gi Jun.”

Actors with less experience couldn’t be called “senior,” so they were addressed as “actor” instead.

“Intern, respond!”
…….
“Intern…?”

No matter how many times she called, there was no answer from the intern.
The assistant handling makeup for the other supporting actors looked toward her phone with an anxious expression.

“Oh no, unnie!”
“Why the fuss again?”
“The intern bailed, apparently?”
“What?”

The Makeup Team Leader’s face crumpled as she checked her phone.
The makeup team’s group chat.
One person was missing.

—————————
-I didn’t know a shoot could be this cold and exhausting ㅜㅜ I’m leaving

The intern has left the chat.
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Reading the intern’s final message, a wave of deep frustration welled up in her chest.
It was true that shoots were grueling, and especially this one—having to do makeup in a tent while shivering in the cold. But just leaving a message and bolting like this? That wasn’t acceptable.
She bit down on her frustration.

“How much makeup do we still have left for the other actors?”
“Um… still quite a bit.”
“Can we finish it all in time without the intern?”
“It’s going to be tough… um….”

The Makeup Team Leader exhaled deeply.

“Could we maybe push back the shooting time a little?”
“Of course not. We’ve been doing actors’ makeup since yesterday just to keep to this schedule.”

Frustration sharpened her tone.
A moment of silence fell.

“Sigh… Sorry for snapping. Give me a second. Let me think this through.”
“It’s fine. But what are we going to do?”
“I wish I knew.”

When she thought about it, bringing an intern who’d barely started working to a location shoot hadn’t been ideal in the first place.
By the time they finished makeup and hair on the remaining actors, the sun would already be fully up.
What could they do?

“Calling someone else in a rush won’t get them here in time anyway….”

But if they pushed the shoot to another day, they’d have to apologize to all the other teams working on set.
Everyone had been working since dawn, some even starting the night before, and now the schedule would slip because of the makeup team’s mistake.
The Makeup Team Leader looked like she might cry.

“And Director Choi already said the budget was tight enough….”

The Makeup Team Leader pressed her throbbing temples hard.
There was no way out.
Even if they rushed now, they couldn’t finish everything.
But rushing through the makeup and sending people out half-done? She couldn’t accept that as a professional.
Just as the Makeup Team Leader was sinking into despair,

“Would you like some help?”

A young actor approached from behind.

“I’ve done this kind of makeup many times since back in the day, so I should be pretty good at it.”

It was Gi Jun, the actor playing Haneul.

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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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