[“A Man of a Thousand Faces” points out that you’re wasting time on something meaningless.]
Han Seong-tae was well aware he overthought things. He had too many distracting thoughts and struggled to make decisions—by nature, he was indecisive.
[“One Who Defined an Era” looks at you in frustration.]
Yes, he was that sort of person—indecisive.
Tap, tap.
Sitting on a chair, he tapped the desk.
In front of him lay two business cards: Choi Ye-chan’s and Jeong Du-sik’s.
He reached out and lifted Jeong Du-sik’s card on top.
I’m not ready to join an agency yet.
It wasn’t that PAN Entertainment bothered him. On the contrary, if he could get in, it would be a huge relief.
If I sign now, the terms probably won’t be great.
All Jeong Du-sik had done was offer him an audition. He hadn’t promised anything beyond that. Even if he joined the company, there was no guarantee he’d get decent treatment.
[“A Man of a Thousand Faces” says that having an agency is ultimately just a convenience for acting.]
Exactly. An agency was nothing more than a means to facilitate acting.
If I do join one, it should be on better terms.
He didn’t feel an urgent need to sign anywhere right away.
“Clearly, accepting Director Choi Ye-chan’s offer is the best option…”
He fell silent for a moment.
[“He Who Found Laughter in Tragedy” tilts his head, saying he can’t figure out why you’re hesitating.]
[“A Man of a Thousand Faces” insists you mustn’t waver if you’re serious about acting.]
Right. What did all this hesitation accomplish? Taking Choi Ye-chan’s offer would come with many benefits for him—he’d add a line to his filmography and, by working with Choi, meet people who could become valuable connections. Above all, that single film credit would directly impact how an agency might treat him later on.
[“One Who Defined an Era” calls it a great opportunity.]
Reading the God’s message, he nodded. A great opportunity indeed—how could he deny it?
His deliberation was short-lived. He immediately picked up his phone.
[“A Man of a Thousand Faces” watches you, lifting the corner of his mouth.]
[“One Who Defined an Era” supports your choice.]
—Hello.
Came a voice through the phone’s receiver. Glancing once more at the business card in his hand, Han Seong-tae opened his mouth to speak.
“Nice day,” he said, taking a breath of fresh air as he walked.
Whoosh.
A breeze blew past.
A bit cold still, he thought, cinching his coat tighter and walking a bit faster. November had arrived, and the wind was cuttingly chilly.
[“One Who Defined an Era” insists it’s time to buy new clothes.]
He shook his head. It wasn’t like he had tons of money, nor was he lacking clothes.
[“One Who Defined an Era” pouts that you’re being too stingy.]
“Maybe once I get paid, I can buy at least one new outfit, right?”
[“One Who Defined an Era” retracts the stingy comment.]
Snorting a laugh at the messages from the Gods, he bantered with them as he made his way onward.
“All right, should be around here…”
Checking his phone’s map, he looked around. He saw several shops and a mixed-use building.
The address is here, he thought.
Following the address Choi Ye-chan had given him, he arrived in front of a building. There was a café on the ground floor, and above it, several offices.
Third floor… oh, this is it.
Climbing the stairs, he found a locked steel door blocking his way.
Ding-dong, ding-dong.
After a quick breath, he pressed the doorbell. No reason to hesitate now that he’d come all this way.
Creak…
The rusted hinge groaned open, and Choi Ye-chan appeared.
“Oh, Seong-tae. Come on in.”
Spotting him, Choi greeted him with a smile. The outer exterior was plain, but the inside was elegantly decorated. The interior struck a stylish balance of modern and classical.
[“One Who Defined an Era” takes interest, calling it quite tastefully done.]
One of the Gods of Acting was intrigued by Choi’s office.
“Want anything? Coffee, green tea?”
“Just water is fine.”
Nodding, Choi went to prepare refreshments. Meanwhile, Seong-tae stood from the sofa and glanced around. The office looked just as attractive as the God had hinted, the sort of place that might even serve as a fine photo shoot location.
This setup could really work well for a lookbook too, he mused.
He stopped in front of a bookshelf displaying items from Choi’s past films—scripts, DVDs, and other memorabilia.
“This is my very first short film I shot at twenty.”
“Oh, Director.”
“It was a blast back then. Just a bunch of us kids winging it.”
Momentarily, Choi’s face betrayed a hint of nostalgia before it disappeared.
“All right, shall we talk? I’ve got a lot to say today.”
“Sure.”
Sitting on the sofa, he took the bottled water Choi handed him.
“First, take this. It’s the script I plan to start filming early next year. Since you can be in it, you should read it ahead of time.”
“Thank you.”
“And just so you know, don’t let any details slip out. That’d be trouble.”
“Of course.”
He knew disclosing a director’s script was not only reckless but dangerous, so he’d never consider it. Resolving not to leak anything, he picked up the script.
[War of the Villains] read the title. Seeing that name, he made a curious face. He recognized it—it had apparently reached 3.2 million admissions. Known for intense action sequences, it also garnered good reviews. He was expecting something like this, but it still made him happy to see it for real.
Flip.
He turned the first page to find character bios, then the plot.
(1) Alleyway (Night). A man in a hooded sweatshirt follows a woman returning home…
Page by page—ten pages, then more—he progressed at a steady pace.
Choi Ye-chan stayed silent so as not to disturb him, just watching calmly.
[“A Man of a Thousand Faces” brightens, finding it interesting.]
[“He Who Found Laughter in Tragedy” licks his lips, remarking how cool it’d have been if he’d starred in such a project.]
[“One Who Defined an Era” shakes his head, not sharing their enthusiasm.]
It felt like about an hour before Seong-tae lifted his head from the pages.
“…Whew.”
He released a deep breath. No wonder it broke the 3 million ticket mark—the script was enthralling.
I don’t remember it being this good when I looked at it before, he thought.
He’d seen the script in his past life among many others. War of the Villains was one of them.
“It’s really… enjoyable,” he said, explaining it was about warring Busan gangs, the police getting entangled, and so on—his impressions from reading it.
“If you were the protagonist, how do you think you’d approach the character?”
“If I were the protagonist…?”
He paused. If he were playing the lead…
[“A Man of a Thousand Faces” eagerly listens.]
Hiding a small smile at the pop-up, he spoke:
“If I were the lead, I’d portray the villain just as he is, with no added backstory.”
“No backstory, you say?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t give him any special meaning. It’s more appealing if a villain is just a villain.”
He shared thoughts he’d formed back in his old life when he first studied this script. Choi mulled it over.
“Seong-tae, do you have any experience with action scenes?”
“Action?”
“Yes.”
Action, huh…
[“The Founder of Jeet Kune Do” laughs derisively.]
“I’m confident I can pull it off, if you let me. Just tell me what to do.”
After all, he had the perfect coach who was with him day and night.
People called Bruce Lee a superhuman that everyone acknowledged. Even top athletes recognized him, and his training methods were widely adopted. At some point, everyone who wanted to do great action probably wished they could train under Bruce Lee.
“Hah… Hah…”
[“The Founder of Jeet Kune Do” yells that you haven’t even completed one set yet, outraged.]
Who would’ve known it would lead to this outcome?
[“The Founder of Jeet Kune Do” says with modern times come great workout tools, then smiles.]
“Hah… Hah… I—I can’t…!”
[“The Founder of Jeet Kune Do” mutters that kids these days have no perseverance, shaking his head.]
He couldn’t even read the messages properly—he was too exhausted. Three days had passed since he began “training” with the Founder of Jeet Kune Do, and each session left him feeling his limits.
[“The Founder of Jeet Kune Do” insists you’ve rested enough; if you rest any longer, you’ll lose muscle—get up NOW.]
No way—I’m not standing. I’d rather die.
His whole body screamed in pain; his lungs and heart felt ready to burst.
[“A Man of a Thousand Faces” scoffs that such brute-force training will only break your body.]
[“One Who Defined an Era” worries about your reckless workout plan.]
[“He Who Found Laughter in Tragedy” exclaims in dismay and jumps out a window.]
So this is what made him show such incredible action—years of insane discipline, he thought. Even though it hurt so badly that he could barely think, he found a deeper respect for the Gods of Acting. They hadn’t risen to fame only by talent; they’d also honed themselves through relentless effort. That was how they’d reached a level everyone recognized.
I need to push myself.
He felt even more resolved to work harder than he ever had.
I must try.
[“The Founder of Jeet Kune Do” demands three more sets from you, forcibly.]
But right now, he just couldn’t. Conveniently, his phone rang.
[“The Founder of Jeet Kune Do” frowns.]
Han Seong-tae managed a laugh.
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