“I’m sorry, but I’ll pretend I never heard that.”
“It’s not like I asked anything inappropriate. ‘Investment’ means putting up capital to gain profit. I don’t invest where there’s no return.”
“I’m curious why you’d think that. I assure you, Rowoon got the role through a fair audition.”
“Oh, really? But this person can’t act—right?”
“H-hey, Director, that’s our investor! You’re supposed to humor him, not annoy him!”
The assistant director came in close, elbowing him hard in the ribs while whispering. But Director Kim didn’t feel the same.
If I can’t call the truth “truth,” how am I any different from those who tried to bury me?
His voice, trembling throughout the entire presentation, suddenly found strength.
“Pardon me, but casting is the director’s prerogative. If you don’t like it, it’d be unfortunate, but go ahead and reconsider your investment.”
“Director, are you crazy?!” The assistant director hissed quietly, sounding panicked. But Director Kim paid no mind.
“Amusing. Is this actor really so precious to you, that you’d turn down my proposed sum?”
Acting intrigued, the man gestured to his secretary. The secretary took out a phone, typed in a figure, and showed it to the director.
“Ugh…”
Next to him, the assistant director gasped as though about to faint. That sum alone would let them reject any number of smaller investors.
“If I asked you to cut this actor, what would you do?”
He gave the director a choice: either take the money or keep the actor.
“With the investment amount I’m offering, you could pick someone much better than him, right? I know full well how desperately you’ve struggled to find cast members.”
Normally, there would be no dilemma at all. The assistant director urged him, “What are you waiting for? Just accept that money!”
However, Director Kim stood firm.
“I won’t drop him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I saw potential in him.”
“Potential… Are you really willing to stake your comeback film on that potential?”
This was the critical moment. One misstep, and the investment might vanish. But ironically, what filled Director Kim’s head right now wasn’t the film or the money. Instead:
Rowoon… How can he be surrounded by so many villains, in all directions, yet still deliver such admirable acting and keep that kind heart intact? All he’s been through…
A surge of emotion welled up.
At least I can see him for who he truly is—like how he saw me!
Logic screamed that he should stop now, but his heart said otherwise. Director Kim decided to follow his heart.
After all, we can survive without a clever mind, but if our heart stops, that’s the end!
“I’m unaware of his past, but…!”
His vehement voice rang through the tiny office. He could sense the assistant director thinking, “Has the director lost it?” but ignored it.
“People can and do grow. Everyone deserves a chance!”
“Director, calm down. You’re getting too worked up…”
“Whatever you may think—
this actor is someone I personally—
with these very eyes—
chose for this role!”
“Director, please—! Just a second—!”
“You came to invest in me, right? Then you should trust my judgment too!”
Clap, clap, clap.
Crisp, short applause echoed. It came from the man sitting casually before them with his legs crossed. Only then did Director Kim regain his senses.
“Ahem. I realize no amount of explaining right now will convince you.”
“So, what do you plan to do?”
The man tilted his head curiously, eyeing the director.
“I-I’ll show you. I’ll show you personally, so you can judge for yourself!”
“Meaning you will go ahead using that actor?”
“…Yes! There’s no way for me to change any preconceived notions you have right now.”
He had committed fully. If that ends the funding, so be it.
This was a matter of principles. The movie was crucial, but not worth breaking his beliefs for. Worst case, he’d sink his own savings back into it.
While it was satisfying to speak his mind, a sense of doom loomed. After a brief silence, the man said:
“I like it.”
“Th-thank… sorry, what?”
Completely unexpected. The man continued:
“Don’t let go of that resolve or that mindset.”
With that, he stood. Towering a head taller than the director, his abrupt motion made Director Kim step back. Gazing down, the man gave a faint smile.
“As for the investment, I’ll proceed as mentioned. As for the actor…”
He cast a glance at the bright image on the projector screen.
“I do, in fact, respect a director’s exclusive right to cast. I look forward to seeing a good film. Well, then.”
He gave a slight bow and departed as swiftly as he’d arrived. His secretary stayed briefly to go over details, but the director barely heard.
“…?”
Huh? Wasn’t he opposed to this? He seemed so against it, but now he’s gone, no complaint?
“Um… so… are we all set?”
“I guess… so?”
It was like a storm had swept through. Director Kim and the assistant director stared at each other, baffled.
And when Director Kim relayed all this by phone to Rowoon…
“…?”
Rowoon had no idea what to make of it.
“Ah, so that was what it meant.”
Rowoon listened to the news his manager brought, and finally, an exclamation point formed in his mind.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“The bit about Kim-nim’s film getting an investor. Yesterday, the director called me about it.”
Rowoon recalled the phone call from several hours ago. The director had sounded strangely emotional and excited, talking in circles. Rowoon hadn’t gotten a clear sense of what was happening.
So that was it.
He’d been tested, but thinking of Rowoon gave him the strength to endure. He’d kept his beliefs because of Rowoon. The other side was impressed by that. Something along those lines. Rowoon was just… confused.
At least, Rowoon gleaned they no longer had to worry about the film being canceled. That alone was a huge relief.
“So Director Kim calls you directly, too?”
“Yes, we talked yesterday, remember?”
“That was him giving you a direct explanation, right? But now he shared the investment news with you first?”
“Is that wrong?”
“No, it’s not wrong but… that guy’s not the type to be so considerate. Strange…” the manager mumbled, puzzled.
Director Kim’s calls didn’t stop there. A few days later, Rowoon heard more good news:
“Rowoon! Did you hear? For Kim Director’s film…!”
“Teacher Gu Il-hwan is joining, right?”
The manager, who had come rushing in excitedly that morning, froze.
“Where are you hearing all these things, considering you’ve got no friends? I just got word about this top secret info.”
Slightly stung by the “no friends” remark, Rowoon realized the manager meant no harm. In his old life, or rather his old body, having no friends was indeed a fact.
“The director told me.”
“Again?! So he really must be fond of you. He’s not the type to do that. It’s out of character.”
“Right. He’s such a caring, thoughtful person.”
“Caring… thoughtful…?” the manager repeated blankly. “He’s never had that rep. Did he mellow with age…?”
Not noticing the confusion, Rowoon went on:
“I’ll really do my best. He’s done so much for me, I need to repay him somehow.”
Before his possession, Rowoon’s life had lacked kindness. He’d constantly been yelled at for being slow, forced to hurry at others’ whims, told to churn out songs on zero notice, locked in a one-room to churn out work. No time to warm his vocal cords or stretch his stiff body. The repeated strain damaged his vocal cords and knees, yet the old company pinned all blame on Rowoon:
–If you’d managed yourself better, you wouldn’t be whining now. Slacker.
Everything was Rowoon’s fault, so remembering that made his current situation feel like heaven. Such gentle courtesy and warmth!
“He’s unbelievably kind…” Rowoon murmured, oblivious to the manager’s flabbergasted expression.
“That man with a ‘bad temper’ reputation…? I’m missing something…” the manager whispered.
Rowoon, not hearing, clenched his fists:
I absolutely must succeed in this quest.
Besides the looming mortality, he now had another reason to complete it.
Leave a Reply