“Anyway, the Grim Reaper in this show is like that. As the story goes on, he awakens more and more human feelings and stirs tension between the heroine and the hero. I guarantee viewers won’t be able to help loving him. How could they not fall for someone so clumsy yet learning to walk, step by shaky step? That’s why you’re perfect for the part, Yeonwoo!”
“I can’t say I really feel that, though.”
“Then just take a camera test once, even if it’s on a whim! I’ve got very high standards, you know? I’m pushing this because I see your potential, but if you’re bad I can’t cast you no matter how much I like you. So treat it like a gamble and try it.”
Writer Min’s bulldozer momentum made everyone crane their necks, peeking this way in curiosity.
“Are we doing a camera test?”
Kwon Seonghyun had already strolled over, looking back and forth between Yeonwoo and Writer Min with interest.
“Seonghyun, talk her out of this. I’ve never acted a day in my life—why all of a sudden…”
“Why not give it a shot?”
“No way, Brutus—you too?”
“It won’t cost you anything, right?”
His bright smile was positively refreshing.
“It always bothers me that you’re off to the side. When I’m filming, I can’t keep an eye on you. Besides, wouldn’t it be fun to act together?”
Ding!
Right on cue, a notice popped over Seonghyun’s head.
[Harvestable lifespan: +30 days]
Trust a top actor to think big—look at that swagger, tossing out thirty-day chunks of lifespan in a single swing.
“Acting, huh.” An unexpected scenario. He had stepped into this field only as an onlooker; never had he thought he would stand in front of the camera himself.
“Well, all right.”
Yeonwoo nodded.
I am absolutely not agreeing because I want that lifespan. It’s purely to keep Seonghyun from tanking his project and saddling me with a penalty.
They would give up once they saw him. He had no acting background and was practically an ordinary civilian.
Whatever makes them so sure—after they watch, they’ll think differently.
Instead of arguing, showing them once and ending it was wiser. Seeing is believing.
“Set up the camera and mike! Only the main cam moves—it’s just a test! Don’t forget lighting!”
Director Heo shot to his feet, called the junior crew, and had the rig assembled.
Writer Min approached, eyes sparkling.
“How much of the story do you know?”
“More or less all of it.”
“Huh? All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Good heavens.”
Why the surprise?
“Writer-nim, Yeonwoo probably memorized the lines too, not just the story.”
“Really, Yeonwoo?”
“Well… yes.”
“How is that possible?”
“…?”
How indeed… He read it and it stuck; what else was he supposed to do?
Side-effect of all that rote learning drilled into me since childhood.
Becoming a shaman requires a fair bit of study. Receiving a spirit is only the start—at least, so Mother Kang Yeonhwa insisted.
—To serve the spirits, you must learn to keep body and mind pure. And to use the power they grant, you must master the right way to wield it.
Saying that, she tossed a Thousand-Character Classic at young Yeonwoo.
—Memorize it all first. It’s the foundation of spells and talismans. When your power grows stronger you’ll use it without written characters, but for now you need every word. There’ll be a test. Miss one, you lose 100 won of allowance per mistake.
And that wasn’t all.
—To inherit the spirit and soul of our ancestors, the teachings of the sages are vital. Memorize every single one.
Not satisfied with the Thousand-Character Classic, she flung Lesser Learning and the Classic of Filial Piety at him. It didn’t stop there—The Great Learning, the Analects, Mencius, the Doctrine of the Mean, the Book of Songs, the Book of Documents, the Book of Changes…
—Study broadly. Knowledge is power. Don’t neglect other faiths’ learning. Truth converges at the summit; it will help you.
She piled on Buddhist sutras and a Bible thick as a brick.
—There’ll be a test on those, too. Miss them and your allowance gets cut.
Back then Yeonwoo had been giving clueless advice to visitors at his mother’s shrine, pocketing petty profit. When she discovered it, she’d angrily cut off every money stream but a meager 4,000 won a month. Since allowance was on the line, he had no choice but to memorize. In other words, it was a survival skill.
That’s why I got fast at learning by heart… though I’ve forgotten most of it now.
The point is: a drama script was easy enough to memorize.
“Ah, I’m adding more Reaper lines—can you learn those right away?”
Eyes shining, Writer Min handed him a freshly printed script.
“I expanded it a lot. Just thinking of you sparked inspiration… the role’s bigger now. But that means more lines—is that all right?”
Sure enough, the Reaper’s greatly reduced scenes had been restored.
“Could we try Scene 7?”
Scene 7 was where the Reaper comes to find the heroine. He traces the glitch in the ledger, finally locates her, and tries to drag her back—only for the hero to stop him.
The first clash between Kim Taehun and the Reaper…
Taehun, growing fond of Seo Yejin, and the duty-bound Reaper collide head-on.
The scene Deok-chun ruined. Where the Reaper’s icy charisma must match Taehun’s fierce presence…
—Y-o-u d-a-r-e t-o i-n-t-e-r-f-e-r…!
Thanks to Deokchun’s delivery worse than a grade-school recital, the Reaper had ended up glaring and exiting. Rumor said Writer Min had cursed Deokchun and rewrote that part.
In the revised script, the scene had grown much larger.
“You’ll see it’s different. The amount’s up, but since we’re just checking the feel, you don’t need everything memorized now. The main story hasn’t changed, so hitting the general tone is—”
“It’s fine.”
“Eh?”
“I memorized it all.”
Writer Min’s eyes rounded.
“All of it? Already?”
“Yes. The rest stayed the same, so I just had to review the new parts.”
“There weren’t exactly few new parts. You really know it?”
“Well, yes…”
“Writer Min, we’ll know once we try, right?”
Director Heo, who had been murmuring “Huh, wow,” slipped in.
“That’s a good idea. Yeonwoo, ready now? Need time to set your emotions—”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Truly?”
“I told you, Writer-nim. Yeonwoo isn’t ordinary.”
Kwon Seonghyun joined the talk.
“I’ll take the opposing role, if that’s okay.”
“You, Seonghyun? For a camera test?”
“If Yeonwoo gets the part, we’ll act together. Think of it as a head-start.”
“Fine with me, but…”
“Thank you for letting me.”
Seonghyun flashed a bright grin and strode up.
“Everything ready?”
“Yes.”
“Then Scene 7, on Writer-nim’s cue.”
He positioned himself opposite Yeonwoo—the first face-to-face clash.
“All right, then!”
Clap! Instead of a slate, Writer Min slapped her hands.
“You—what are you?”
The cheerful Seonghyun had vanished; in his place stood Kim Taehun, third-generation chaebol. Arrogant, undefeated, living a streak of success. Seeing spirits never shook his iron nerves. Only one thing did: Seo Yejin. Anyone trying to take her sparked raw hostility.
“And what are you?”
To his question, a level, chilly voice seeped out. The Reaper’s captured arm stayed motionless, only the eyes sliding toward Taehun.
“What kind of being are you that you can see me and dare touch me?”
Eyes mineral-cold, feelings pared to the bone.
“You’ve seen plenty of ghosts, yet you’re unusual. Even caught, you’re fine. Do you hold some rank?”
“That is none of your concern.”
The emotion that had seemed nonexistent flared like a white flame.
“We’ll see. That woman is my woman, so I won’t let you touch her.”
One corner of Taehun’s mouth lifted. The Reaper’s brow twitched. The icy sheet of midwinter began to crack.
“A mere human dares obstruct the work of the Afterlife…?”
Low, but loaded with contempt. How laughable you are—his barely curving lips showed it plainly.
“You seem talented, so I’ll overlook this once. Meddling in the Afterlife will only hasten your death.”
“You really do make simple words hard. Didn’t you hear? Don’t lay a hand on my woman.”
Taehun growled.
“Ha.”
The Reaper let out a short laugh—emotionless, dry, incredulous. Regaining his cool, he shook Taehun’s arm off with ease. Swish. His gaze merely brushed past.
“…I told you. You’re not taking her.”
Taehun’s lips twisted into a savage grin. He flicked his hand; the Reaper’s stride toward Yejin froze. His target vanished in an instant.
“You—you dare… hinder me?”
The Reaper’s head slowly turned. Flames blazed white in his eyes.
“Can you bear the karma of blocking the Afterlife? Ready to burn in hellfire? If I find your name in the ledger, you will cease to exist. Still you interfere?”
“You talk too much. I’ll protect my woman—what’s it to you?”
If looks could kill, Taehun would have been shredded a hundred times. The Reaper’s fury was cold yet fierce, noble pride damming emotion until the insult of a lowly being pierced it. That subtle tension highlighted his supernatural presence.
“Stop with the threats and find it yourself. Mighty Reaper, can’t you locate something that simple? Tied up by a petty human trick—aren’t you all hype?”
“This is the last time you flaunt such paltry tricks. Whatever ruse you pulled, you’ll regret your choice. The laws of the Afterlife are unyielding. You will pay the price.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Go ahead and try.”
Two prides crashed. No one raised a voice, yet tiny shifts of expression, speed of words, shades of tone and gaze made the clash keen as blades.
And—
“Cut!”
The director’s call rang out.
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