The Story of a Former Idiot who became a Top Star Chapter 13
“Hey, Director.”
“What?”
It was a short break. Ever since Rowoon left, Director Kim Seong-ha had been scribbling away in a notebook, as if possessed by some inspiration. The assistant director spoke up, cautiously.
Whenever the director got like this, it usually meant something had strongly caught his interest. Normally, the AD would keep quiet, not wanting to break his focus, but this time, curiosity won out.
“Don’t you think you’re making that decision too hastily?”
“What decision?”
The director’s answer was terse—he was clearly too focused.
“That guy, Lee Rowoon. I mean, sure, he seemed different, but I’m not convinced he’s worth going that far for. Yes, he ‘leveled up’ a bit from before, but you have to admit it was still kind of rough.”
In response, Kim Seong-ha put down his pen with a thud, clicking his tongue in disapproval.
“If you plan to bury your bones in the film industry, you ought to have better eyes than that.”
“Huh? What’s wrong with my eyes?”
The assistant director felt blindsided. All he’d done was speak his mind, and suddenly he was under fire.
“I’m not saying Mr. Lee Rowoon was bad, but is he really someone you need to latch onto?”
Instead of answering, Director Kim Seong-ha just clicked his tongue again.
This kid is great in so many areas, but when it comes to spotting talent…
The assistant director had been by Kim Seong-ha’s side for over ten years. They’d somehow ended up working together all this time. Normally, he could have branched out on his own by now, but he chose to stay.
“Where would I go without my teacher? I still have so much to learn, so I’m sticking around.”
Yes—thanks to someone like that, Director Kim Seong-ha could endure, even when everyone else turned against him.
Even so, this is that, and that is this.
He was grateful for the AD but also disappointed in this shortcoming. The AD had brilliant ideas, real skill at writing, and was capable in so many ways… except he had zero instinct for recognizing “the one.”
“AD.”
“Yes?”
“Being rough around the edges can be fixed—people can learn. But—”
“…?”
“That light, that aura—presence. That’s something time won’t improve. You can’t learn it.”
Just as the assistant director said, not everything about Lee Rowoon was perfect. For one, he’d inadvertently kept locking eyes with the camera, almost creepily. His breath control wasn’t exactly polished, either.
But that was only natural.
From the director’s point of view, Rowoon was basically a newborn to acting.
(Neither he nor the AD had any idea that Rowoon had been at it for only three days.)
“Well, yeah, the moment he walked in, he was the most eye-catching,” the AD admitted.
Simply standing there and commanding people’s attention isn’t easy—especially in front of seasoned industry veterans who’ve seen it all. But that wasn’t all.
He also managed to figure out the script’s content just from the synopsis and a simple prompt.
He’d clearly studied intensely. With such natural talent combined with diligence—someone like that was downright terrifying. Even more so if he had solid instincts.
On top of that, he improvised and directed the flow on the spot with quick, perceptive decisions.
No wonder the director was eager to snag him.
“AD, it’s been a while since I’ve felt this confident about someone,” said Director Kim Seong-ha.
“Really that much?”
The assistant director thought about all the top stars they’d discovered during his time with Kim Seong-ha.
“Yes. I’m already excited to see how far he’ll go.”
A gleaming raw gemstone that his instincts screamed for him to seize.
He couldn’t wait to see how beautifully that gem might be cut and polished under his hand.
“Let’s get a few profile pictures! Right this way, please!”
As soon as Rowoon stepped out of the audition hall, someone led him elsewhere. The same went for the other two applicants who’d gone in with him. They took a few quick pictures, still feeling dazed.
“We’ll let you know the results individually. Thank you for your time!”
With that final send-off, it really sank in that it was over.
“Uh, g-good job…”
The one to speak was Kim Jeong-ryul. He’d been in a daze ever since the audition, but now he forced himself to talk to Rowoon, awkward and stumbling. Then, before Rowoon could even respond, he dashed off somewhere in a hurry.
“You did really well, Hyung.”
“Huh? Thanks…?”
This time it was Sim Sae-ro. He casually addressed Rowoon as “Hyung,” sounding quite at ease.
“Did you see that guy’s face? He looked about ready to cry.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, his expression was priceless the entire audition. Especially when you did that live acting. Hilarious.”
Sim Sae-ro laughed mischievously and held out his hand.
“It’s true—you really don’t know someone until you meet them, right? I’d only heard rumors about you. But seeing you today, I realized you can’t just judge by hearsay.”
“Uh… th-thanks?”
“I’m sure that jerk is definitely out. I hope I get to act with you, though. That’d be fun.”
He was refreshingly honest, to the point that Rowoon didn’t know how to reply. With a casual wave, Sim Sae-ro also disappeared.
Soon after, an all-too-familiar car pulled up.
“Rowoon! You must be exhausted. You look half-dead!”
Of course, it hadn’t even been half a day, so there was no way he was that drained—but Rowoon just nodded obediently. The ride home went by in a blur. By the time they arrived, he already felt the tension melting away.
“I need to pass… or I’ll die…”
He mumbled to himself, remembering that if he didn’t get cast through this audition, he wouldn’t survive. The manager jerked in surprise.
“H-hey, Rowoon? I believe in you.”
“…? Thanks, Hyung.”
“Yeah. And it’s not like there’s only one audition in the world—so don’t think so darkly, okay?”
“Huh?”
“Failing one audition doesn’t mean you’re gonna die or anything!”
…But I actually will die, Rowoon thought, though he couldn’t say it out loud.
“You must really have poured your heart into this. I never thought I’d see the day… You’ve grown so much…”
The manager, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, took Rowoon’s hand.
“Don’t be hung up on just one. If you want, I’ll line up a hundred auditions for you! No need to worry!”
“N-no, that’s not… necessary—”
“It’s okay! I’m proud of you—just seeing you go for something is impressive! That spirit of challenging yourself!”
“Wait, Hyung, hold on—”
“Really, it’s fine! Failing once won’t kill you. It’s all experience—every bit will pay off someday.”
…But it actually will kill me, Rowoon sighed inwardly, yet he couldn’t say that.
“Thank you, Hyung.”
He appreciated the manager’s genuine attempt at comfort. Rowoon had definitely sown bad seeds in the past, so this misunderstanding was partly his own doing. At least it was heartfelt.
The manager, tears brimming, muttered, “The boss was paying extra attention to this. So you’ll get plenty of support going forward—so don’t worry, and don’t think about any scary stuff, okay?”
“…Got it, thanks.”
It was all a big misunderstanding—but Rowoon was still grateful. The manager offered to keep him company, but Rowoon turned him down, so he left reluctantly, still oozing concern.
“At least I got through a major hurdle…”
Finally, he felt the day’s tension drain from his body.
[Good job! You did great!]
Lying slumped on the expensive couch, Rowoon looked up to see Cheong-Hwa appear.
“You saw? I couldn’t spot you—thought you’d gone missing.”
[Ah, someone offered up some ‘popcorn’ as tribute, so I ended up snacking while I… ahem!]
Apparently, Cheong-Hwa had disappeared midway through to munch popcorn.
[Anyway, you did well. Headstone also said your ‘one-man show’ was impressive.]
If his mentor, Headstone, said so, that meant it wasn’t bad at all.
…Yeah, it really was fun.
Leaving aside whether he’d pass, the audition itself wasn’t so bad. Actually, it was great.
It kind of reminded me of my Garion idol days…
Now that he thought about it, maybe that was partly why he’d clung so desperately to that ragtag group. On his own, Lee Rowoon was useless—nothing but a burden draining his family’s money, achieving nothing. But as “Lee Rowoon of Garion,” it was different. He could receive somebody’s love, be someone’s hope, prove his value. Perhaps that feeling was what he hadn’t wanted to lose.
If I lost my purpose, I thought I wouldn’t be able to live.
He carried that desperate need. Though it was all in the past now…
But it’s only been a week since I died—still feels distant already.
He’d thrown himself fully into preparing for the audition. That might be why it felt so far away.
Acting felt like living a life that isn’t mine…
Though it was similar in some ways to being an idol, acting had a different appeal. He wanted to do more—experience more.
But first, he had a pressing issue:
“Cheong-Hwa.”
[Yes?]
“For the quest, I can’t complete it until the audition results come out.”
[Right. And?]
“But it doesn’t look like I’ll hear back immediately. So what happens to me in the meantime?”
[…!]
He could almost see an exclamation point pop over the droplet’s head as it froze. Instantly, it declared an emergency meeting. Who it was meeting with or how, Rowoon had no idea, but…
[We almost missed a huge disaster! Hey, old geezers, gather around—now!]
Messages blipped into view:
[Starlight #24 expresses concern, saying “Indeed, that was close!”]
[Starlight #11 replies, “We narrowly avoided calamity!”]
[Starlight #4 objects, “There’s still a big problem!”]
They seemed to talk among themselves, sometimes sending subtle messages to Rowoon:
[Starlight #17 recognizes your sincere efforts toward the quest.]
[Starlight #17 discreetly asks if there’s any wealth or powers you desire.]
[Starlight #17 says if you’ll grant them one favor, they’ll give you everything…]
Some evidently tried to seize the opportunity. But:
[Starlight #3 explodes, “Are you nuts?” and grabs #17 by the collar!]
[Starlight #4 demands to kick out that unscrupulous jerk!]
[Starlight #17 retorts, “Don’t pretend you’re any different!” and disappears…]
So they handled that. Meanwhile, Rowoon mused:
Even aside from the quest, I really do want to do this film…
But that was only possible if he survived. He’d just have to wait for Cheong-Hwa and the others to decide something.
As he watched the flurry of pop-up windows, one final announcement appeared:
[User’s objection is under review.]
[Multiple opinions have been received. A system patch is being prepared.]
“Huh…?”
[While the system is patched, no time is deducted from the countdown, and no penalties apply.]
Rowoon’s eyes went wide.
Whoa. So… that’s allowed, huh?
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