“Wow…”
I stepped into Moon Hee-seong’s house, holding his hand.
The scene before me looked like something straight out of a drama.
Passing the shoe rack and entering the hallway, I saw a portrait of him that seemed even taller than he was. The hallway walls were lined with what looked like valuable paintings.
“Haha, fascinating, huh?”
“Mm!”
It reminded me of the modern version of the salon that my mother, the duchess, had once so painstakingly curated in my previous life. Rather than lavish floral arrangements or gemstone decor, the long hallway was finished in pristine white marble, which by itself looked quite magnificent.
Impressive.
I nodded, acknowledging his sense of aesthetics. Indeed, someone who’s great at acting often excels in other areas too.
We walked on and on, finally reaching the living room. Standing there, I couldn’t help but gape.
W-what is that?
So that’s also a TV?
A massive TV dominated the living room wall—far bigger than the one we had at home. My jaw dropped, and I may have been about to drool, so Moon Hee-seong handed me the remote.
“Do you like watching TV?”
“Mm! I like it!”
Immediately, I grabbed the remote… but even that was huge. My small hands couldn’t wrap around it completely, so I propped one end against my little belly and pressed the power button.
Pop.
“Woooow!”
It was gigantic.
Just my luck, they were airing a rerun of a drama I’ve been into lately. The actors’ faces— now magnified about tenfold—made me practically quiver with excitement.
Th-this is a revolution!
While I stood there, eyes shining, Moon Hee-seong lifted me and set me on the sofa.
Oh, this is different from the one in the troupe director’s office. It’s so comfy.
I leaned back against the sofa and got right into the show. Seeing how quickly I made myself at home, Moon Hee-seong chuckled.
“Wait here a moment, Siwoo. I’ll bring something for you.”
“Mm!”
I was fully absorbed in the drama and only answered half-heartedly, my eyes glued to the giant screen.
Ah, I want one like that. But who knows how many chickens Dad would have to sell for us to afford it. Poor Dad. I decided to keep that thought to myself.
Clink.
“Siwoo, you like tea, right?”
“Mm! I love tea!”
Nice. Good sense.
I gave a satisfied smile when I saw the little snacks, some green grapes, and chamomile tea on the tray.
Grinning, I picked up a cookie and took a crunchy bite.
“Wow…” It tasted heavenly.
Once upon a time, as Noah, I loved honey-dipped raisins. These days, I’m discovering so many new and wonderful flavors—like this soft, sweet chocolate.
I gulped down the cookie and munched the rest piece by piece.
“Tasty?”
“Mm! It’s yummy!”
“Glad to hear it.”
He watched me eat, smiling, and took a sip of his coffee.
People nowadays really love coffee. I frowned for a moment, recalling how my uncle once overindulged in coffee and floated around the house like a ghost.
Tea, in my opinion, smells and tastes far better than that stuff.
I blew on my chamomile and took a sip. Ah, what a lovely scent. It was a bit of a shame the chocolate overpowered the aroma, but still, I was enjoying it when Moon Hee-seong spoke up.
“Shall we talk about acting now?”
“Mm, sure! Let me go first.”
“Oh? You want to start?”
He looked pleasantly surprised, nodding for me to continue. I had an agenda for visiting him today, after all.
“You never told me last time—how did you see Romeo?”
He nodded, as if remembering.
“Right, I did say I’d tell you later.”
“Mm!”
“Hmm, yeah. You asked me what sort of Romeo I wanted to portray, right?”
“Yes. Why did you play him so sadly? But at the very end, he wasn’t sad at all. After Juliet dies, Romeo doesn’t seem as heartbroken as before. Right?”
When I asked that, he paused, silent for a moment.
I was curious about what inspired Moon Hee-seong’s portrayal of Romeo—someone whose performance reminded me of Richard Burbage. Shakespeare had always approached social and philosophical themes with a certain objectivity, featuring many scene changes, making it complex to stage. Some theater directors disliked that complexity, but Shakespeare stuck to his guns.
His imagination was boundless, resulting in characters with unique personalities that could be quite enchanting. Because of this, many people who initially criticized his freewheeling style eventually fell head over heels for his plays. But it also brought him plenty of hardship.
‘Hey, Noah! What do you think of the Romeo from yesterday’s show?’
‘If you’re already that upset, how do you expect me to answer?’
He’d often approach me angrily, demanding my opinion. As objectively as he wrote his characters, the actors would interpret them in all sorts of subjective ways.
Reinterpreting or re-creating a character without straying too far from the original storyline was one of Shakespeare’s great joys… although some actors went so far as to ruin the play by completely veering off track.
‘Ha, never mind. Reflecting on it, that Romeo did deserve a stabbing.’
‘I see you’ve had another idea already?’
‘Then, Noah, how about you completely ruin my next play too?’
‘…You’re the only playwright I know who would say such a thing so casually.’
He’d laugh uproariously at my complaints and then vanish to write another play.
Each actor’s interpretation varied, and that, in turn, inspired Shakespeare. So I was extremely curious: where did Moon Hee-seong draw his inspiration?
Eventually, after some thought, Moon answered:
“Probably from spontaneity.”
“Mm?”
I tilted my head. Spontaneity?
Sensing my confusion, he elaborated.
“Spur-of-the-moment instincts might be what drives my creative spark.”
“Spur-of-the-moment instincts?”
I couldn’t connect the dots. I folded my short arms, frowning in concentration. Seeing me tilt my head this way and that, he took a moment and then tried again.
“I’ve never actually explained this to anyone before, so I’m not sure how to phrase it, but… yeah, I think this is the key. I don’t look at the script much once I’m on set or stage.”
“Mm? Why not?”
Not reading the script?
That’s like an actor’s lifeline. I stared at him in shock. Not using the single most important guideline an actor has?
“When you obsess too much over the script, you lose your objectivity.”
“Oh.”
So it compromises your objectivity. That phrase made sense to me.
“After thoroughly memorizing the script and capturing the character’s essence, I stop reading it. If I dive too deep into those scripted lines, there’ll come a time when I can’t rein myself in. Then I’ll end up with a character only I understand.”
“That’s right. The audience won’t get it.”
I definitely got that. Actors are human too, and their lines have to convince the audience. Otherwise, people will lose interest in whatever the actor is trying to say.
“Exactly. You end up a ‘monster’ the audience can’t relate to. Haha, talking with you makes me feel like I’m explaining this more clearly than ever.”
“Mm. So once the show starts… you rely on spontaneity?”
“Exactly. That’s why, as you noticed, my Romeo didn’t stay in that sorrowful state the whole time.”
Hmm, maybe I was too fixated on him alone. When I get home, I should rewatch that Romeo performance. Now that I think about it, I hardly remember what Juliet’s performance was like at the end.
“Don’t recall every detail now, but… I likely adjusted to whatever that Juliet actress was doing at the time. People are unpredictable, right? And we, being human as well, can also change mid-performance. Err, is this too difficult for you to understand, Siwoo?”
He suddenly seemed worried he’d gone too far. But I shook my head.
“No, I get it. Because humans change.”
“…Right. Exactly.”
He gave me a strange look as I nodded along.
Not sure why. But I remembered something from this conversation.
Shakespeare used to stress how crucial an objective viewpoint was—he wanted his plays to be broadly accessible.
“Mm. Got it.”
“Got what?”
“The reason your acting feels so natural, especially how it glides over certain moments, but stays fun.”
“Haha, that’s a compliment, right?”
“Mm. Of course.”
His style could be sly but still very natural. I might wonder if it suits the character, yet it never goes overboard. That’s how I realized it was his own brand of acting.
So that’s it. It springs from his spontaneity. Next time I perform, maybe I’ll try not looking at my script just before going on stage.
“Speaking of spontaneity, I was reminded of your ad-lib, Siwoo.”
“My ad-lib?”
“Yeah. You weren’t stuck in one place, so you could pull it off.”
His eyes sparkled like a kid’s as he said that, and I beamed back. It sparked memories of chatting with Shakespeare.
“Hey, mister, do you know Seyt-pi-eo?”
“Seyt… what was that?”
“Sigh, William Shakespeare!”
“Huh?! Shakespeare? Wait… Siwoo, how is your pronunciation so—”
“I watch a lot of TV. Anyway, do you know him?”
He seemed about to probe further, so I cut him off with a quick question. He gave a dazed nod.
“Wow, so TV really does educate…”
Ignoring his mumbled comment, I went on:
“When I read those plays, my head feels like it’s on fire. But I’m happy.”
“Haha. You feel that too? There’s even a study that says reading Shakespeare warms up certain parts of your brain… Wait a minute, Siwoo, are you really five?”
He asked again, and I couldn’t help but sigh.
“Huuh, yes, I’m five!”
“O-okay.”
I recalled how Shakespeare once said he’d get overheated when talking with me, too. We could pull all-nighters chatting and still be fine. It seems modern research shows his writing really does energize the brain. If only he knew how famous he’d become in this era, Shakespeare would’ve been delighted.
I gently tapped Moon Hee-seong’s knee, noting his dazed expression.
“Let’s talk more about acting.”
“Oh—right.”
After that, we launched into a spirited discussion, almost as if I’d met Shakespeare again. My brain was buzzing with excitement.
“Ugh…”
“Haah…”
A large meeting room.
The many people seated around it all heaved deep sighs, as if the floor might cave in.
This was the Grand Conference Hall at the “Gwanghwamun Cultural Center” in Jongno, Seoul. Half of the attendees were foreigners from the U.S., and the other half were Korean.
They had gathered to plan the Korean staging of the American animation “RUN,” a massive show to be performed at a 3,000-seat theater. These were top professionals recognized in both the U.S. and Korean theater worlds.
And yet, despite their impressive résumés, they collectively looked as if a storm cloud was hanging over them.
One staff member, scratching his head, timidly raised a hand.
“Given where we’re at… how about holding an open audition? That might settle the controversy. Maybe put a limit on age—”
Before he could finish, an ominous voice echoed through the room.
“Audition…?”
The blonde woman who’d had her head lowered suddenly lifted it. She was the overall director of this big production, a top Broadway creator—Jessica Brown. The moment her eyes sparkled, the atmosphere changed.
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