Gulp!
Someone swallowed hard. They had realized the truth.
The quality of feeling.
The depth of expression.
Even his imagination and the way he views things—Won Myeong-woo is on a different plane from the other students.
What is this? I have never felt like this while watching someone else act.
Acting lets you sense differences in thought, shows how completely an actor can sink into a role.
He has turned into a totally different person.
Everyone present could feel it.
No one felt it more sharply than Hwang Min, who had always looked down on him.
Goosebumps rose.
The students asked themselves,
Could I ever do that?
Was such acting possible for me?
The answer that came back was no.
The gap is so vast I do not even see how it works.
It was beyond analysis.
While the stunned listeners struggled, the performance continued.
“I sometimes dream of a world with no up or down, no noble or base. It looks like paradise, yet once those people lived just as we do. Amazing, isn’t it? Perhaps the world changes more easily, more quickly, than we imagine.”
Myeong-woo was proclaiming hope.
So we too can change.
“Do not try to die. Try to live.”
At that moment a single beam of light slid through the window, falling squarely on him.
Blinding.
The audience could only assume: the woman would surely sketch a new future now, sobbing her thanks for those words.
“…”
In the hush where only breathing could be heard, a presence settled deep inside every heart: the presence of the actor named Won Myeong-woo.
“…That is the end.”
All of them were frozen.
The performer himself remained perfectly calm.
“Myeong-woo, you…”
“Was it strange?”
Gong Chae-yong was first to react. He recalled the usual Myeong-woo: too raw even to call young, passion ahead of patience, smart enough to analyze with his head but unable to accept with his heart, always lacking.
Yet what had he just shown?
Who knew he could act with such seasoned weight?
He could not believe it. Flustered, he asked,
“Those lines, which work are they from?”
“I made them up on the spot.”
He offered that instead of I remembered a past life. Strictly speaking it was not a lie, so he said it boldly.
“Improv…”
Chae-yong fell silent again. Waiting for his reply, Myeong-woo clasped his hands for no reason, quietly pleased—he knew the performance had worked.
I acted exactly as I pictured.
He had replayed a past-life memory, but that was not all. If it were identical it would be dull. He had poured in extra feeling, stronger, heavier, to fill this bare rehearsal room. It was like rehearsing one line in many tones.
And that was the right answer.
He had just felt it: adding imagination to experience, reality to make-believe—that might be the actor’s craft. What face does a person wear in each moment? What thoughts flicker then? Questions that once ended in question marks now had periods. As many answers flowed out as he had lived.
“This is impossible!”
Unable to bear the whirlpool of confusion, Hwang Min shouted.
“Hey, what are you? What was all that before? Are you kidding us?”
“What do you mean?”
“You little—”
“Hwang Min.”
“Sir! You must have given him the topic first!”
“I never do that.”
“Then how—”
It made no sense. How could anyone change overnight? Under his glare, Myeong-woo smiled slightly.
“You could have done better with more time. That helped me, thanks.”
He raised his fist—exactly as expected, though he could not swing with so many watching.
“Hwang Min! Enough! Fists in front of adults? Come with me!”
Dragged away by the director, he mouthed Just you wait. It was almost cute.
Heat still lingered after they left. Mi-gyeong met his eyes.
“…So this is what you meant by working hard?”
She looked half dazed. Hye-jin said,
“You were hiding your power.”
“It isn’t that.”
“If you woke up suddenly this good, you must have saved the nation in a past life.”
“Maybe I did.”
Maybe he really had, he thought, and laughed.
“Dear, was Myeong-woo all right?”
The group studio was empty. Deputy director Yoo Deok-jeong approached Gong Chae-yong and touched his shoulder.
“Did a blow to the head awaken him…?”
“What do you mean? How was he?”
“He was good.”
That big a deal? her eyes asked.
“He was doing Method1.”
“Ha, funny.”
“No, really.”
“…What?”
“He merged completely with a character he created.”
“…Truly?”
“Truly.”
She grew grave at his serious face.
“Then why has he been so poor until now?”
“When I asked, it seems he has been practicing alone. Out in a park, where no one watched.”
“Why alone…”
“Who knows—kids that age are complicated. But today’s acting was the real him.”
That truth had come through the performance.
“He has been crouching inside himself, and we never noticed.”
What mattered now was the future. A world-class pianist may be found in a neighborhood piano school; a Miss Korea in a local salon. He felt it.
“That kid will be big.”
The birth of an extraordinary actor.
“Hey, I am not finished with you.”
On his way home, a voice stopped him: Hwang Min.
“So you enjoyed it?”
“What?”
“The others may let it slide, but not me. You deceived us! You acted like crap on purpose during rehearsals!”
Watching today’s performance Hwang had realized: this guy is a born actor. Then the lukewarm acting from before? He had held back, then laughed behind their backs. Fury boiled.
Myeong-woo simply looked at him.
“Lie.”
“What?”
“You are embarrassed, aren’t you?”
“…What did you say?”
His shoulder twitched.
“You are angry because you lost to someone you looked down on. Keep covering it and your emotions will never reach the stage.”
Hwang had never cared enough to be angry about sloppy acting; they’d barely spoken. He was just irritated at being reversed.
“Cool down by yourself. I have things to do.”
“You bastard!”
He lunged, but Myeong-woo handled him lightly. Soon Hwang flailed, exhausted, and sprawled.
“Are you done?”
“…”
“If you throw punches every time you meet an unwelcome truth, end it today.”
Defeated in body and words, Hwang sat on the ground.
“Why…”
His head was full of question marks.
“Want the answer?”
“…”
“You belittle others too easily. That means you are not seeing them clearly. Acting starts with observation. That habit is what keeps you stuck.”
Breathing grew damp; that should do. Myeong-woo added,
“You know now I have been cutting you plenty of slack. There will be no next time. Understood?”
“…”
It seemed he understood. Turning, Myeong-woo spoke.
“You hiding and watching, too.”
“Ah.”
“Who’s hiding?”
The others had lined up behind the building.
“Oh, he noticed?”
“We heard shouting and worried, hehe.”
Hwang jumped. “Since when were you watching?”
“Since you were punching the air.”
“Why watch that? So embarrassing…”
He scrubbed his eyes. They did not know what to do; the group had never been close. Silence fell until Myeong-woo said,
“Since we are all here, how about grabbing food together?”
“Food?”
“I am hungry.”
They could hardly go to a hotel, so convenience-store fare was perfect. They trooped inside.
“Cooking ramen?”
“What else.”
“I can make it taste better,” Myeong-woo said, taking the noodles from Hwang Min’s hands.
- Method acting is a way of acting where the actor tries to truly become the character by feeling what the character feels. Instead of just pretending, they draw on their own emotions and memories to make their performance more real. For example, if the character is sad, the actor might remember a sad time in their own life to help them act the scene more naturally. ↩︎
2 responses to “Great Actor Chapter 5”
Maybe, just maybe, this is the start of a beautiful rivalry-friendship.
Hope there’s more to come ?