She said it was a sweet deal, and it really was one…
Lee Jeonghye’s drive was incredible.
It had only been a few days since she said she would contact him soon, yet his manager had already come bearing the news.
“Rowoon, don’t freak out, okay? Guess what your hyung brought you. You got a casting call for Hwanbirok.”
His surprise lasted only a moment.
Once his manager told him the whole story, it all made sense.
Author Lee sounded so confident. So there was a reason for it.
“Rowoon, if you nail this role, no one’s going to be able to say you only got lucky anymore.”
For some reason, his manager looked even more triumphant than Rowoon himself.
Of course, even without his manager saying that, Rowoon had absolutely no intention of turning down the role.
It certainly wasn’t because dazzling golden light was rippling across the first draft of the script his manager had brought him.
Nor was it because he had checked the result shown by his Judging Eye.
It was simply…
It looks like it’ll be fun.
Perhaps acting itself had become enjoyable to him.
Before, he had acted in order to survive.
Now… it feels more like I genuinely want to do it.
Before he died, there had been one thing he regretted.
He wanted to stand onstage one more time.
He had only realized it immediately before his death, leaving him no choice but to dwell on his regret and lingering attachment.
Thinking back on it now, even when his group had failed spectacularly, he had still been unable to let go of being an idol, of music, or of the stage.
That’s why I stupidly let myself get used.
He had made excuses to himself, saying it was simply because that was the only thing he knew how to do.
But at the moment of his death, Rowoon had been forced to admit it.
The regret and attachment that still remained inside him.
And now Rowoon had been given another stage.
It might take a slightly different form, but it was still a stage where everyone acknowledged his existence.
A stage where he could see affection directed toward him, rather than toward someone he was replacing.
A stage that allowed him to feel that he was alive and breathing.
That kind of stage.
“Rowoon, you seem kind of different.”
“Huh?”
“No, no. I don’t mean that in a bad way. How should I put it? Your… atmosphere feels a little different.”
His manager tilted his head and continued.
“Honestly, after you lost your memory, you were so mild that I was a little worried. But now… I don’t know. I feel like I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“I’ve started wanting to do well. In a lot of ways.”
A life without regrets.
Rowoon finally felt as though he knew what path he should choose.
“That’s it. That’s exactly the attitude you need. Rowoon, hyung’s already looking forward to this.”
They had not even signed the contract yet, but his manager’s eyes were shining as though Rowoon had already struck gold.
Someone who was unconditionally on his side.
That, too, had been something absent from his previous life.
So many things had already changed in this life.
And yet he was still only at the stage of taking his first steps.
There were still countless roads ahead of him.
“Me too. I’m looking forward to it too.”
How much recognition could his acting earn once he stood on that stage?
How many people might understand, accept, empathize with, and love the countless characters he would bring to life?
Rowoon was already beginning to look forward to finding out.
Because it was a project so many people had been eagerly awaiting, everything moved quickly.
It was almost to the point where you could go to sleep and wake up the next day to a flood of new updates.
Just a few days earlier, articles had already announced that actors under consideration for various roles, including the protagonist, had officially joined the project.
[Hwanse Biwonrok Actor ‘Seo Wooju’ Confirmed to Join… The Smell of a Hit Is Already in the Air]
[A Feast of Stars Gathering One After Another for Hwanse Biwonrok… When Will It Air?]
[No Stopping It! Hwanbirok Rises as the Most Anticipated Drama of the Second Half of the Year!]
Lee Jeonghye’s skill had played no small part in how quickly everything was progressing.
How did Rowoon know?
“The actors who read our Jeonghye’s script agreed right there on the spot. A few of them seemed burdened by it at first, but once you put the script in their hands and told them to read it, every single one of them said they wanted in.”
He knew because Iho, grinning so broadly that the corners of his mouth practically reached his ears, would not stop bragging about it.
“Iho. Please stop. You’re embarrassing me in front of Rowoon…”
“Why? It’s not like I’m making things up. I’m only telling the truth. I spent all those years unable to be honest, so didn’t I promise that from now on I’d always tell you the truth, Jeonghye?”
Lee Jeonghye tried to stop Iho from beside him, but Iho remained steadfast.
All the embarrassment belonged to Lee Jeonghye.
Rowoon was glad to see that the two of them seemed to be getting along well.
“I thought it was really entertaining too. It had a different kind of appeal from the novel.”
Rowoon completely agreed with Iho.
After reading the script, he could easily understand why actors who had initially hesitated over whether to participate had decided to join.
And there was a reason for that.
In a way, adapting an existing work is a double-edged sword.
Since the IP had already succeeded in the market, a decent level of commercial success was almost guaranteed.
But that did not mean there was no risk at all.
There are adaptations of hugely successful originals that still fail.
Viewers could be merciless.
No matter how good the ingredients were, if the finished product was bad, they would turn away without hesitation.
There was a reason people joked that “being boring is a crime, while being entertaining absolves all sins.”
And the more successful the original is, the greater the risk can become.
The higher the expectations, the greater the backlash.
There was a very real chance people would criticize it by saying it would have been better not to adapt it at all.
A novel could be entertaining, only for the pacing to become so drawn out in a drama that it turned boring.
Or the adaptation could cut away too much in an attempt to prevent the story from dragging, leaving the narrative bland and riddled with holes.
Risks lurked everywhere.
Naturally, disappointing fans of the original was another major danger.
But Hwanbirok is different.
The biggest factor was that Lee Jeonghye, the original author herself, was participating in the scriptwriting.
It might not sound like such an enormous difference, but in practice, the gap was surprisingly large.
“I’m being serious when I say I agree with Iho. If it weren’t for you, Author Lee, I don’t think everyone would have decided so quickly.”
After receiving the casting offer, Rowoon had analyzed several original works alongside their drama adaptations and had experienced that difference firsthand.
Lee Jeonghye’s script had almost none of the dissonance that often occurred when novels or webtoons were adapted for the screen.
The characters came vividly to life.
At the same time, adapted story elements, character settings, and new material enriched the drama even further.
And on top of that, it had a solid sense of entertainment capable of drawing in both existing fans and complete newcomers.
“Right? Lee Rowoon, I knew you’d understand immediately. There’s a reason our Jeonghye stepped up to do it herself. Some half-baked fool would only ruin it if they got their hands on it.”
Iho praised Rowoon for having a good eye.
“Honestly, you two… You’re embarrassing me. All right, enough of that. We didn’t meet today to talk about this.”
Apparently embarrassed by the endless doting praise, Lee Jeonghye quickly changed the subject.
She glanced at her wrist to check the time.
“They should be here soon.”
That was right.
The three of them were not the only people scheduled to meet there.
There was a reason Rowoon had come all the way out to this quiet area on the outskirts of Seoul.
He had an appointment with the PD in overall charge of directing Hwanse Biwonrok.
The reason things had suddenly progressed this far was simple.
Come to think of it, Rowoon, would you like to meet the PD?
A few days earlier,
Lee Jeonghye had contacted him with that question.
Although Rowoon had already formally signed his contract through his agency, he had never met the PD.
That was because Rowoon’s casting had been anything but conventional.
Usually, actors were cast at the discretion of the production company or PD, or through an audition.
Rowoon, however, had been exceptionally cast directly after being personally chosen by Lee Jeonghye.
I’ll be seeing him constantly once filming begins anyway, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to introduce myself beforehand.
Because he had been cast without going through the PD, there was always the possibility the man had already taken a dislike to him.
One of the things Rowoon had learned in his previous life was that there were quite a few authoritarian PDs.
As for how he knew… he would rather not have known.
But after appearing on music shows a few times, you inevitably learned.
If you had to wait several hours after finishing a performance just to greet someone, it became impossible not to notice.
It might be better to use this opportunity to get acquainted with him.
They would be working together for the next several months.
If possible, maintaining a good relationship would be best.
And Lee Jeonghye had conveniently given him the perfect opportunity.
Sounds good. How about the day after tomorrow?
The moment Rowoon agreed, bulldozer-like Lee Jeonghye had once again arranged the meeting without hesitation.
Today was the day of the appointment that had been set at breakneck speed.
And then…
“Oh my. Am I late? You’re all here already.”
Right on time, the door slid open and a slight man entered.
He was PD Jo Juncheol, the man serving as overall director of Hwanse Biwonrok.
PD Jo Juncheol.
He was an industry veteran who had produced several hits in the past.
If he had one weakness, it was that the projects he had overseen over the last few years had performed poorly.
Still, experience did not simply disappear.
The mere fact that he had staked his claim on Hwanse Biwonrok long ago made it easy to see that his eye for projects was considerable.
He had experience.
He had name recognition.
He could easily have acted pompous and thrown his weight around.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you! Author Lee praised you so much that I couldn’t help getting curious. I’ve been dying to meet you. It’s a pleasure.”
Surprisingly, PD Jo Juncheol greeted Rowoon warmly and politely.
That’s a relief. He doesn’t seem particularly upset.
Rowoon inwardly sighed with relief and took the PD’s outstretched hand.
But then…
[Lie]
…Huh?
Something strange appeared before his eyes.
Then, almost immediately, it dissolved and vanished.
Did I… see that wrong?
While Rowoon was still puzzled, the PD took the lead in the conversation and created a warm, friendly atmosphere.
But Rowoon could not bring himself to blend into that cheerful mood at all.
For one simple reason.
“By the way, Author Lee’s eye really is exceptional, as always. When she told me she already had someone in mind for Haemuk, I wondered who it could possibly be. But if Lee Rowoon is taking the role, then I have nothing to worry about.”
[Lie]
“Hahaha! Upset? Not at all. Isn’t it only natural to cast the person who best fits the role?”
[Lie]
“Of course! Since you’ve trusted me with the project, I’ll have to do my best. Don’t worry. With the author herself writing the script, I can’t tell you how relieved I was! Hahaha!”
[Lie]
It was because every time PD Jo Juncheol opened his mouth, that notification window reading [Lie] kept popping up before Rowoon’s eyes.
T/N:
- Hwanbirok (환비록) is the shortened title used in the story for Hwanse Biwonrok (환세비원록).
- “Chronicles of the Secret Garden in an Illusory World“
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