The Genius Actor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 24

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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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Chapter 24

The award itself was worthless.
I’d come solely to build connections with Han Seo-jin, a police superintendent.
Han Seo-jin, the Grim Reaper of the Entertainment Industry.
A detective who could sniff out cases involving drugs, violence, or celebrities with uncanny precision—that was the name whispered in police circles.
Despite being a cop, he’d briefly appeared on broadcasts with an actor’s visuals and had become famous because of it.
Later, he became even more famous as Han Seo-hyun’s brother.
But since I didn’t want my face spread all over the place, I wore a mask.
Click-click—
Camera flashes exploded in my direction.
For a moment, I almost struck the pose I’d practiced for profile shots without thinking.
There were internet users who could identify you by posture alone, so I stood as ordinarily as possible.
I stared at the reporters with an expressionless face.
One reporter asked me to remove my mask, but I pretended not to hear.
Soon after, Superintendent Han Seo-jin handed me a Certificate of Appreciation.

“Thank you.”
“We should be the ones thanking you.”

After stepping down from the podium, I kept my mask on the entire time.
Some reporters wanted a few interview questions, so I pulled up my phone’s notes app for them to read.

-I just got my wisdom teeth extracted, and the bleeding won’t stop! I’m biting on gauze so it’s difficult to speak. My sincere apologies! ㅜㅜ

Fortunately, the reporters were decent people who understood the hint and let it go.
Once they realized I couldn’t give an interview, they dispersed.
Of course, the whole wisdom teeth thing was an act.
After the ceremony ended, Superintendent Han Seo-jin called me over.

“Could we have a quick word, Gi-jun?”

Superintendent Han Seo-jin led me to a corner of the Police Station.
He was a man with an upright bearing and impressive height.
If I ever took on a police role, I’d have to study his demeanor.

“This is my business card. If you ever need help, don’t hesitate to call.”

Superintendent Han Seo-jin.
He looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties at most, but he clearly had considerable skill.
I bowed respectfully and saved his number into my phone.
After parting ways with him, I headed toward the bus stop.

“Excuse me.”

Someone called from behind me. I turned to see the reporter from earlier.
This time, I showed him the phone’s notes app again.

“Oh, gosh. That must hurt. I’m sorry. Would you mind hearing me out for just a moment?”

If I hadn’t seen him at the Police Station, I’d have mistaken him for a cult follower based on that line alone.
I gave a light nod.
I had three minutes before my bus arrived.
If he said anything weird, I’d just leave.

“It’s nothing really. It’s just that your mask looks so good. What’s your line of work?”

I held up my phone’s notes app once more.

-A university student who just finished military service.

There was no particular reason for me to mention that I was an actor here.
A flicker of disappointment crossed the woman’s face.
Why was that?
She asked by writing in her notepad, and she answered.

“Oh, that’s because… I’m a reporter, so I was wondering if there was anything I could help you with.”

So she was being that kind to someone she’d just met today.

“Well… here, take my business card! Then you should try becoming an idol or something. Or an actor, maybe. Either way, I’d recommend going into the entertainment industry.”

Was she seriously a con artist?
Or maybe she ran a fortune-telling shop.
Still, refusing a business card offered to you was basically asking for a fight, so I took hers anyway.
That’s when the bus arrived.

“Mmm!”

I gestured with my eyes and chin to say “My bus is here!” and the reporter acknowledged, waving me off.
Once I boarded the bus, I examined the business card closely.

Shin Seon-ah

What I paid close attention to wasn’t her name, but her email address.

[email protected]

It matched the fancam account ID I still remembered.

[fresh.ah*****]: Our actor.png

I recalled she’d been posting like that for over fifteen years.
There had been a rather long gap in her activity at one point.
Was that because she was working in the social affairs department?
Hmm. Around when did she start posting on her fancam account again?
If I approached around that time, it would be too late, so I should try contacting her through Kim Hyun-deok around the time Shipwreck opens.
I’d gained an unexpected piece of information.

* * *

Not long after I received the Plaque of Appreciation, an article came out.

[Helmet Man’s Identity Revealed.jpg]

But why is he wearing a mask?
󰠌 Must have caught a cold
󰠌 He was wearing a helmet then too
󰠌 If there’s been this much news coverage, he must be someone who doesn’t want his face known, right?
󰠌 Does he have some kind of social anxiety disorder?
󰠌 Title change: Helmet Man → Mask Man (new!)
󰠌 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Ah, I figured it out — this guy’s an entertainer
󰠌 Honestly, from the silhouette alone it’s 100%ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
󰠌 Ah! Is that why he covered his face??
󰠌 Sherlock Holmes level deduction
󰠌 I’ve done fancam posting for a long time, so I know — he’s not an idol, he’s definitely an actor
Why are you deciding that on your own?

If he’s a celebrity, I’m genuinely curious who he is
He looks kind of like that rookie group that debuted recently, what was their name again
Whether you’re a celebrity or not, just debut already

That suit fit is insane
Right though
stupid
You get out of here

Beyond that, the comments stretched on with political opinions and social commentary.
Not all of them were kind.

Lol what, this guy thinks he’s a celebrity or something
If I fought him I’d win in three seconds flat

For what it’s worth, I knew exactly who’d written that comment.
Choi Byung-chul.
How did I know? Simple.

“Whoa! You scared me half to death!”

I’d been looking over Choi Byung-chul’s shoulder at his smartphone.
What the hell?

“…Hey.”

I greeted him with the friendliest smile I could muster.
On set, basic courtesy has to be default equipment.
Even for someone whose face you can’t stand.
And there were other bit players around us.
I’d been playing the role of a cheerful twenty-one-year-old these days, and if I acted like my real self around this guy, my cover would blow.

“Oh… hello. …sir.”

He’d started using the honorific when addressing me.
So he wasn’t a complete ruffian, then.
Maybe receiving fifth-place alternate status at Korean National University of Arts had humbled him a little.
Fifth-place alternate wouldn’t fall through, so I’d never have to see him again.
Still, considering his acting ability, I doubt he’d earned that fifth place on merit alone.
He’d done fine on set, skill-wise.
They probably docked him points for attitude.
Or maybe he’d lost points academically.

“Huh…?”

Choi Byung-chul looked me up and down.
Then he glanced back at his smartphone.
He repeated that stupid sequence a few times before his expression shifted from suspicion to certainty.

“Wait, hold on. That doesn’t make sense… Could it be….”

I placed my hand on Choi Byung-chul’s shoulder.
Then I raised my index finger to my lips.
Shh.
And I formed the angry expression of “Sky” that I’d used when acting with Lee Hyun-jin, letting my eyes do the talking.
‘Say a word and you’re dead.’
Choi Byung-chul’s face drained of all color.

* * *

“Long time no see!”
“Oh, Sung-su? Man, it’s freezing.”

Sung-su had returned to school for the first time in a while.
The winter break, spent busily at Kim Suk-hyun’s side, was nearly over.
Seok-ju, now a fourth-year Acting major, draped a hand across his shoulder.

“How’s the script coming along?”
“Good, really. I think the work I did on your production last time helped a lot.”
“That’s a relief.”

When Seok-ju had been in third year, Sung-su—then a first-year—had helped him finish the script for a production they’d staged together.
From that point on, the two had grown remarkably close.

“How are the play preparations going?”
“Oh, you know. So-so.”

The third-years were busy preparing for the upcoming university theater festival.
They were even borrowing help from the second-years to build the stage.

“So I just head inside and get to work today, right?”

Seok-ju caught Sung-su’s arm just as he was about to head toward the theater.

“The others are running late anyway because of costume checks today. They went out to pick up some things, so we’ve got plenty of time.”
“Should we wait at a cafe?”

Seok-ju shook his head with a slight smile.
Then he grinned as though he’d stumbled upon something amusing.

“Hey, want to check out the entrance ceremony?”

Today was the day of the Korean National University of Arts entrance ceremony.
Freshmen who’d arrived early in the morning were scattered across the campus, posing for photos with their parents.
It seemed a waste to spend their youth in the dark, dreary theater practicing until nightfall when there was all this fresh vitality waiting outside.
So Seok-ju and Sung-su made their way toward the auditorium where the ceremony was being held.

* * *

Inside the auditorium, the president’s tedious speech droned on from the podium.
Seated in chairs beside him were the valedictorians from each department.
Below the podium, the freshmen were arranged in neat rows, while Seok-ju and Sung-su slipped into the last available seats in back.

“Let me see. The Acting department valedictorian should be….”

Seok-ju’s eyes swept across the podium.

“There—that’s the Acting valedictorian.”

Seok-ju pointed to one of the chairs on the podium.
Sung-su looked up.
What caught his eye first was hair—a warm brown with a subtle golden sheen.
Striking lips and sharp, distinctive eyes.
Fine, textured hair in that peculiar way of foreigners, falling just short of the nape of the neck.
The moment they saw him, both Seok-ju and Sung-su recognized who he was.

“Hey! Isn’t that him? The one from <Shadow Tunnel>? What was his name again….”
“Kim Soo-ho.”

Kim Soo-ho.
An actor with an exotic appearance—half Korean, half Caucasian.
He debuted as a child actor at age seven and has taken on countless roles since.
From childhood, his distinctive features made him popular.
In particular, when Kim Soo-ho was sixteen, his performance in the thriller film *Shadow Tunnel* earned him considerable acclaim for his acting prowess.
At that moment, the president called out names one by one and presented certificates of appreciation.
After the valedictorian from the playwriting department received his certificate, bowed, and descended the stage.

“Acting department valedictorian, Kim Soo-ho.”

The audience stirred at the announcement.

“Hey, it’s Kim Soo-ho.”
“Is that really the Kim Soo-ho I know?”
“Wow, we go to school with a celebrity?”
“The acting department really is different.”

Those who had harbored doubt from appearance alone now murmured in certainty.
The freshman representative’s address followed.

“Hello. I’m Kim Soo-ho, a first-year acting student, speaking to you today as the freshman representative.”

His voice was soft and clear, the kind you wanted to keep listening to, and it carried far through the auditorium.

“We freshmen will learn together with people who share the same dreams going forward.”

People photographed and recorded Kim Soo-ho as he stood at the podium.

“The profession of acting cannot grow in isolation. An actor grows by watching good performers and drawing inspiration, sometimes realizing their own shortcomings, and through observing each other’s work, finding better paths forward.”

Kim Soo-ho gazed down at the people below the podium.
As though searching for the very people he had just described.

“I hope to meet many outstanding people here. And I wish to struggle alongside them, compete with them, and grow into a better actor than I was yesterday by having a positive influence on each other.”

Baek A-rin, standing beside Kim Soo-ho, muttered under her breath.

“Where in this school is there an actor better than him?”

No matter how prestigious Korean National University of Arts was, it couldn’t compare to Kim Soo-ho, who had been acting in the field for over fifteen years and already stood shoulder to shoulder with renowned performers.
Kim Soo-ho continued.

“When we meet someday, each of us active in our own place, I promise to do my best so that we can say the time we spent learning together at this school was the greatest factor in our growth. Thank you.”

Then he bowed respectfully, inclining his head.

‘I won’t meet any decent actors at this school.’

He thought with the arrogance befitting a valedictorian.

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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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