There Are Four Top Idol Uncles - Chapter 198

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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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Part 2, Episode 24
* * *
And so time passed, until the day of the Film Production Club interview.
Yewon arrived at the Practice Room where the interview was being held and froze.
W-why are there so many people…?
“Oh, Yewon! Over here!”
From within the crowd, the small figure of Inhee bounded toward her, waving.
Since the acting practicum class not long ago, Yewon and Inhee had become fast friends.
Once they started talking, the two girls discovered their taste in films was identical—practically a carbon copy.
Two middle school girls both obsessed with movies and sharing nearly identical tastes?
It was almost impossible for them not to become best friends.
But then….
‘Siwoo?’
Yewon’s eyes widened as she spotted Siwoo standing beside Inhee.
What were the two of them doing together?
“Oh, Siwoo applied for the directing track too!”
“What?”
Yewon stared at Siwoo in bewilderment.
Him? Directing?
“…Acting just didn’t seem like it was going to work out….”
“….”
Yewon found herself nodding along with Siwoo’s explanation.
She recalled vividly how wooden he’d been during the acting practicum, stiff as a log, his eyes wavering without mercy every moment.
Yeah, you definitely didn’t have what it takes for acting…!
Though whether directing would suit him any better, she honestly couldn’t say.
Yewon studied Siwoo quietly.
“I’m confident I can handle the grunt work better than anyone.”
“Oh, that’s right—I explained to the freshmen that basically that’s what first-years do!”
“…….”
Watching Inhee beam brightly while Siwoo just nodded along, Yewon found herself at a loss for words.
…Not my problem, so let them do what they want.
“Anyway, there really are a lot of people. Feels like half the freshman class showed up….”
Yewon glanced around and steered the conversation elsewhere.
She’d assumed only Drama and Film Department students would apply, but there seemed to be quite a few from other departments as well.
“Yeah. Lots of students from other departments applied for the directing track too. This is the most famous club in the school, after all. There are tons of art directors and music directors who came out of this Film Production Club.”
Yewon nodded at Inhee’s explanation.
Right, film is a synthesis of all the arts—visual design, music, and everything else.
“Though I have to admit, having half the school apply is a bit intimidating.”
“Yeah, I feel the same way.”
Yewon and Inhee nodded in unison and let out a shared sigh.
“Next! Drama and Film Department, first-year, Class 1, Kim Jihyun! Come in!”
Yewon turned toward the call echoing from the Practice Room.
“Oh, so it’s one person at a time.”
“Yeah. I peeked through the door crack earlier, and there were three seniors in there. Looks like it’s a 3-on-1 interview format.”
Yewon started to ask whether Yoo Eun-o was one of those seniors, then stopped herself.
She didn’t want to give the impression that she had any particular interest in that direction.
“Wow. How are they going to get through this many people?”
“Right? At this rate, they might not finish today…”
“Next! Art Department, Class 4, Kim Yuyoung!”
“!”
But she’d only just gone in—they were calling the next person already?
All three of them turned toward the door in confusion.
That was when Jihyun, who’d just gone inside, emerged looking thoroughly deflated.
“Jihyun!”
Inhee called out to her, apparently knowing her.
“Why did you come out so fast? Are you okay?”
“No….”
Jihyun’s shoulders slumped as she shook her head.
“They only asked three questions. Your favorite film, why you like it, and what you would have changed about it if you’d been involved in making it.”
“…!”
“I think I answered the first two questions reasonably well… but I couldn’t answer the last one right away. Since I hesitated for a moment, they said I could leave.”
“Seriously?”
“I applied for the acting track, so I expected them to ask me to perform. I only prepared for that. I had no idea the interview would end after just questions.”
Jihyun let out a heavy sigh. Her eyes glistened with tears.
“What can you do. I’m going to apply for the Musical Club instead.”
Jihyun said that and hastily excused herself. It seemed she was trying to leave before the tears came.
Once she was gone, the three of them looked at each other. And simultaneously, they spoke.
“Come on, think fast! Think fast!”
“Let’s think this through…!”
“Yeah.”
* * *
“Next. Drama and Film Department, Class 1, Yewon! Come in, please!”
When it came to Yewon’s turn, all eyes shifted toward her.
‘Of course she’ll pass if she goes in.’
‘This is so unfair. How is this even allowed?’
‘This is really inconsiderate… does she have to take this one too? That’s another spot gone.’
Sharp glances and complaints echoed from all around.
Yet Yewon could only laugh bitterly to herself on the inside.
Well… if Yoo Eun-o was one of the judges, I’d definitely bomb this.
Yewon entered the practice room with a sense of unjust resignation.
The first thing she saw was—
‘…No Yoo Eun-o?’
Three judges she’d never seen before.
One woman judge who looked distinctly particular and exacting, one man judge with the most exhausted, bored expression in the world.
And in the middle, one woman judge with an extremely kind smile.
Yewon instinctively sensed that the judge in the middle was the most frightening person here.
‘Every time I’ve been on set, the directors with that kind of face have always been the scariest…!’
She stood before them, tense and alert.
“Ah, yes. I’ll jump right into questions. What’s your favorite film?”
“I… most love Adrian Volkoff’s ‘Orion’s Summer.'”
At Yewon’s answer, the three judges briefly exchanged glances.
From their expressions, it seemed all three knew the film well.
“Why do you like that film?”
“The film itself is excellent, but I think the director’s perspective is truly unique. Adrian Volkoff conveys a character’s emotions without explaining them directly—instead showing them through landscape and silence. That directorial approach really resonated with me.”
The three judges seemed to consider her answer for a moment.
“The thing is, that kind of direction does reduce the actor’s role somewhat, doesn’t it? But you applied for the acting track. Are you really okay with that? Even if your role becomes smaller?”
Then the judge in the middle, still wearing that gentle smile, posed the question.
“Yes. I have no problem with that. I believe the film’s completeness comes first—my role or screen time doesn’t need to be a consideration at all.”
“Hmm.”
Even at Yewon’s answer, the smiling judge seemed displeased and tilted her head.
“You can say that, sure. But once you actually start working, you might find yourself wanting more, you know? Everyone says in their interview, ‘Just let me work—I’d be happy to play a tree in the background!’ Then when they get a small role, they kick up a fuss.”
The judge said this and laughed more deeply, adding:
“Especially those who already have some experience, like you.”
At that, Yewon felt like she wanted to cry silently inside.
‘I knew it! I knew she’d be the scariest one…!’
“On the contrary, because I have field experience, I’ve come to understand viscerally that I won’t always land leading or substantial roles. What people see on screen is the actor, so they might think the actor plays the biggest role in the film. But people who’ve actually been on set know this well: I’m merely one wave in a vast ocean. That’s all.”
Yewon spoke slowly and sincerely, with her whole heart.
From experience, she knew that with someone like this, no method worked except speaking the truth with genuine sincerity.
“….”
“So if you’d participated in that film, what would have been different? Do you think as just one small wave, not much would have changed?”
The judge in the middle simply stared at Yewon after her answer and asked nothing further.
Instead, it was the exhausted-looking male judge beside her who continued the questioning.
“No, that’s not right. I think the opposite is true—everything would have been different. It would’ve become an entirely different film.”
“Why? You just said so yourself—that the actor doesn’t play the biggest role. Your answers contradict each other, don’t they?”
This time it was the exacting-looking woman judge sitting to the side.
Yewon looked at the three of them and offered a faint smile.
“My words aren’t contradicting themselves. I don’t think the actor plays the biggest role, nor do I think they play the smallest. Everyone on set is their own wave, in my view.”
Yewon said this and took a deep breath, then added:
“But I believe that when one small wave builds upon another, it can become a tsunami.”

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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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