TN: Gaaaahhhh! Again! Oh well! (〜^∇^)〜
A martial arts master, a prodigy, the greatest painter, a genius novelist, a first-rate chef.
A small hut deep in the mountains.
Countless stone towers encircle the site, and in the yard lie piles of mixed grains, shepherd’s purse, and kudzu roots.
Someone must have heard the rumor of a mountain spirit (山神靈) living here and come to make a wish.
“Not that I can grant any wishes…”
Kim Sagyeon, who this year reached the age of baek-su (白壽, ninety-nine years old in traditional counting), clicked his tongue.
His hair is white as snow.
It’s hard to gauge his age by appearance alone.
He looks like someone who has aged gracefully, but in his youth, he once held off over a hundred soldiers by himself.
He drove out enemy troops that invaded his country, suppressed bandits, and came down from the mountains to care for ordinary people.
“Cough!”
Those glorious days are now all in the past.
He wipes away the blood seeping from his hand and closes his eyes.
“I’ve grown old.”
He senses what’s coming— that he will soon enter eternal rest.
“I’ve lived more than enough.”
There is no fear.
He calmly organizes his belongings and leaves his home behind.
Swooooosh!
The White Dragon Falls roar mightily.
The massive waters cascade with overwhelming force.
Kim Sagyeon settles on a rock nearby, sitting cross-legged.
He doesn’t mind if the crows pick at his corpse or if it becomes nutrients for the earth; he wants to die and remain part of nature.
“I was never that learned, but I’ve lived a good life.”
Not a trace of regret or humiliation shows on his face.
He looks utterly at ease—content.
Time passes; the sun sets; the hour of the hunt arrives.
Survival in the wild is a struggle that spares no one.
“Grrrr.”
A hungry pack senses an animal weakened by old age and gathers around.
Ordinarily, they’d pounce and tear out his throat without hesitation, yet this time, they only watch from a distance—
Almost as if they’re showing respect.
As if they are waiting for the right moment.
Thank you…
His once-razor-sharp senses begin to dull.
He can’t feel his limbs at all.
All around him grows still; the world loses its scent.
Finally, his vision darkens—
“Awooooo!”
A dying howl echoes across the entire mountain.
Thus, “martial arts master” Kim Sagyeon lives out his years and dies a natural death.
Fade out.
Fade in.
Hearing returns.
Sounds grow steadily louder.
Vision brightens.
Another life begins.
Mi, Sol, Do!
A brilliant violin performance rings out in the distance.
“Yes, this is what we call the strings. Good, you’re doing well.”
A boy with a natural gift. He grows from child to youth to adult.
Gradually, the melody ripens!
“Child prodigy” Johann reveals his musical talents to the world, living as a virtuoso until his final day.
Fade out.
Fade in.
A worn palette.
Graceful brushstrokes.
A swift unfolding of life’s panorama.
“The greatest painter” Van.
Countless masterpieces flow from his fingertips!
Fade out.
Fade in.
“Genius novelist” William, who leaves an indelible mark on the history of world literature.
Fade out.
Fade in.
“First-rate chef” Pierre, who captivates humanity’s palate with his golden recipes.
Tat-tat-tat-tat!
A projector reels noisily.
Black and white turns to color.
Forest to city.
Past to present.
“Gasp!”
Would you believe it if these many different lives all belonged to one person?
Fragments flash through his mind at once.
Life and death repeating in cycles.
In the 21st century, in South Korea, a teenager named Won Myeong-woo has just remembered his past lives— and not just one or two, but many.
‘You saved my life. How could I ever repay you?’
Someone kneels, overcome with gratitude.
‘This is perfect! Could an angel’s melody sound any better? Let’s let the world hear your performance at once!’
Someone praises him.
‘Your work deserves to be treated with higher esteem.’
Someone covets his talents.
‘That brain of yours wrote this damned masterpiece? What on earth have you been exposed to all your life? This is driving me insane!’
Someone rages in envy.
‘You are sure to become a greater chef than I am. You’re on a whole different level from those amateurs who can’t even master the basics.’
Someone promises him a future.
All of it—lives he had once lived.
If there’s anything they had in common:
‘They all lived with everything they had!’
In each field, they achieved what they set out to do.
They trained, performed, painted, wrote, created—without a hint of regret.
They shed tears over lost companions, felt fear facing mighty enemies, risked their own lives to save others.
Unbelievable, indeed.
Throb!
“Ugh…”
A sharp headache gradually brings him back to the present.
He remembers who he is, where he is, and what’s happening, in order:
“Oh goodness, my son, are you all right? You’re in the hospital—do you hear me?”
He’s lying on a bed in the ER.
His father is beside him.
The clock reads 2:48 PM.
Myeong-woo swallows and asks calmly:
“…I’m still alive, right?”
“Hey! Are you trying to scare me to death? You kept going on about becoming an actor! You can’t just leave us, Myeong-woo!”
He had quit boxing temporarily for an audition, and on his first day back at the gym, he fell down the stairs—
That was the moment his memories of past lives returned.
He shakes his head slightly.
“Do you know who I am?”
Of course he does—he’s his father, Won Seung-gwon.
“And who are you, then?”
“I’m Myeong-woo. Won Myeong-woo.”
“How old are you?”
“I just turned 18.”
“What day is it today?”
“Um… I’m not sure.”
“Oh dear, oh dear… I’ll go get the doctor.”
A warm, red substance trickles down onto his eyes—blood.
For a moment, it overlaps with the sight of Kim Sagyeon’s bloody hand.
“Blood…”
“You’re scared of blood, remember? Don’t look. Close your eyes.”
Until now, Won Myeong-woo had always been squeamish about blood; he’d looked like he might faint at the sight of it.
But now—
‘This is familiar.’
He recalls hunting rabbits and butchering tigers for food. Compared to those memories, this little bit of blood is nothing at all.
He slowly makes a fist and opens it.
‘It’s like that feeling when you binge twelve movies in a row.’
Heat flares in his head, and a bit of motion sickness hits, but he doesn’t lose his sense of reality or his sense of self.
‘Rather…’
It feels as though he’s recovered missing limbs.
“How strange…”
Everything appears like a movie reel playing in front of his eyes. The camera is his two eyes, and the rises and falls of all those lives race by.
He even sees perfect “ending credits.”
In this moment, a boy who’d been stressing that his acting skills would never improve has just gained the accumulated experiences of many lifetimes.
“…Yes, the cuts have been stitched. As I said, please just take care of them.”
“There’s nothing wrong with his head, is there?”
“His consciousness is clear, no dizziness, correct?”
“Yes.”
The doctor nods after checking his symptoms.
“If any issues come up, come back. Avoid strenuous exercise for the time being.”
They say he can sit and rest for a bit. In the meantime, his relieved father calls the boxing trainer:
“Yes, it looks like he’s okay… Right, I’ll let him rest a few days until he’s healed. …You sure you’re fine?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you speaking so politely all of a sudden?”
“Oh… no real reason.”
Seung-gwon eyes him suspiciously, as if to see if he’s really all right, then finally heaves a sigh.
“I should’ve known when you first started messing around—some kid with no athletic talent wanting to box!”
Looking down at his body, Myeong-woo thinks:
‘I really don’t have much muscle.’
His perspective on this body is a complete 180 from before, thanks to Kim Sagyeon’s memories of lifelong training. By that standard, he’s woefully lacking.
“You got tangled up in your own footwork and rolled down the stairs! Seriously, who do you take after?!”
His father’s scolding feels oddly endearing.
Normally, he would have talked back. Since he’s staying quiet this time, Seung-gwon looks at him more carefully.
“Are you absolutely sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you so subdued?”
“Well…”
He’s saved by the phone in his pocket ringing:
Ding!
An alert for an upcoming audition that he’d set to notify him.
On the lock screen is a memo listing audition opportunities that he has been tracking.
There are ten lines total, nine of them marked with an X—evidence of past rejections.
“You can’t go to the audition now. There’s no way they’ll pick you when you’re bandaged up, right?”
“That’s unlike you, giving up so quickly. Don’t let it get you down. Another chance will come. Maybe hitting your head was a sign from above not to go this time.”
“Makes sense.”
It was an audition for a supporting role in a KBN mini-series—a rare, high-profile opportunity where every aspiring teen actor would surely compete.
On the surface, it looks like he has lost a golden opportunity.
‘I’m not disappointed.’
Because he knows this drama won’t be successful.
From black-and-white to color.
From forest to city.
From past to present.
In seeing such diverse landscapes flash before him, he has gained a new insight (慧眼).
He got the audition script through his acting academy, and that alone is plenty for William, the genius novelist within him to assess:
‘This screenwriter is burned out.’
The reason the audition is so popular is that both the director and the writer have big names. The director is famous, and the writer has had multiple hits in a row.
‘But that’s just a flashy shell.’
Reading only the first line reveals that the script lacks passion.
No strength, no fervor, no resolve.
The mechanical dialogue gives away the writer’s exhaustion.
The message meant to be conveyed is absent, and you can tell they hesitated ten times while writing each predictable scene.
Signs of it being half-baked appear everywhere between the lines.
Even if he were perfectly healthy, he wouldn’t have gone to the audition.
‘Now I get it.’
He realizes why he’d been so anxious before: he had neither the ability to judge a script’s quality nor the mental space to do so.
“Dad…”
He calls out to his father without thinking, his voice laden with complicated feelings.
Hearing that, Seung-gwon chokes up:
“Yes, I’m your father, Myeong-woo! Even if we’re not related by blood, we’re still family!”
Won Myeong-woo is an orphan who was adopted at age eight.
He vaguely remembers the process.
It was a loving, happy family.
They gave him everything he could have wished for—but knowing they weren’t his birth family had always felt like a thorn in his throat.
As he hit his turbulent teenage years, that thorn dug in deeper.
‘You’re not even my real dad, so who are you to boss me around?’
He was a fearful child, afraid this already fragile connection would snap, afraid of being abandoned again. That fear shook his heart.
But it was never necessary.
He now realizes:
‘We were parent and child even in a past life.’
They were bound by a bond stronger than blood.
‘If you truly believe this is what you must do, I can’t stop you. Just come back alive…’
‘We’re always on your side. You will surely become a master someday.’
‘Come home early and help out! It’s dangerous to be outside so late!’
‘We’re always rooting for you, son.’
Throughout his past lives, his family had always been there for him.
Yet in this life, because he didn’t know, he was always restless—
He longed for the glitz of show business, yearning for public adoration, clinging to it like a child.
No wonder his acting never improved.
He was a child prodigy, a genius, an expert, always reigning at the top in each era.
Compared to those achievements, his present life feels lacking.
If this went on, he’d die having never truly acted to his heart’s content.
‘But now, things will be different.’
He steadies himself, determined.
Because at this moment, he has gained a new talent—far greater than anything he has ever held before.
2 responses to “Great Actor Chapter 1”
Another new project! Good luck with it, it looks interesting~
Interesting start
love his dad