Chapter 19

Chapter 19

“...Um, Director.”

Jung Jaeseung kept holding his hand with no sign of letting go.

“Actor Park. Where did you bring Taesik from?”

“...I just analyzed the script thoroughly.”

A smile of certainty spread across Jung Jaeseung’s face.

The production company representative belatedly flinched and shouted.

“Did you just say he passed? Right here? Immediately?”

“Don’t make me say it twice.”

“No, there’s a procedure...! We still need an internal meeting and a report to the investors...”

“Have your meeting. The conclusion’s already decided.”

The casting director stared blankly at the list in her hands.

A list where names had been crossed out, replaced, then crossed out again and again.

...As of today, it was over.

Meanwhile, in the waiting room.

The actors were still gathered around the monitor.

“...What did I just watch?”

“Director Jung Jaeseung walked over personally and grabbed his hand.”

“He passed right there on set? I mean, even if he was the last one...”

But the complaints didn’t continue.

The performance Park Songhu had just shown.

Everyone could accept it.

“...”

Oh Junghan looked down at his own script, marked in five colors of highlighter.

The traces of months spent analyzing it.

A hollow laugh escaped him.

“I lost.”

“...Sunbae?”

“I said I lost. Fair and square.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and added.

“That man brought Taesik with him. We brought acting.”

“...”

One actor clicked his tongue in amazement.

“When this hits the news, it’s going to explode.”

Park Songhu had delivered a remarkable performance in <​Hwain>, but that had only been a cameo.

It wasn’t enough to completely erase the label of controversial bad actor.

And now this casting... was basically a bomb.

“Explode? This is bigger than that. It’s Director Jung Jaeseung’s new film. The one delayed for three years because he couldn’t find the right actor.”

Oh Junghan stopped at the door and looked back at the monitor one last time.

Onscreen, Park Songhu was still sitting in the folding chair.

‘...Guess his looks weren’t what I should’ve been jealous of.’

And that night, at home.

“I’m back...”

“How’d it go.”

“...I passed.”

The sound of typing stopped abruptly.

“...What?”

“They said I passed. Right there on the spot.”

Park Songhu started to spring up, noticed Louis, and ended up frozen halfway.

Unable to stand, he leaned his upper body forward awkwardly and asked.

“Director Jung Jaeseung? On set?”

“Yes...”

“...”

The time it took for one cup of coffee to cool.

That was exactly how long he had been allowed in that room.

In the same room, with the same director, his younger brother had apparently had his hand grabbed and held.

Park Songhu’s eyes trembled.

“...You did well.”

He hid the emotion behind the words, tossed them out indifferently, and looked back at the laptop.

Park Songmin’s eyes slowly widened.

‘Praise actually came out of hyung’s mouth...’

Meanwhile, in the CEO’s office at JH Entertainment.

“He passed?”

Baek Hoseon flinched at Han Seungryeol’s report.

“...Jung Jaeseung’s audition?”

“And he passed right there on site.”

‘Hah. How does something like this happen.’

<​The Weight of Ash> had long since become something of a joke in the industry.

Apparently it had collapsed again, apparently another actor had been rejected, maybe Jung Jaeseung was enjoying himself by now, true to his reputation as an eccentric.

And at the end of it all, the name Park Songhu had finally been stamped there.

Headlines appeared in Baek Hoseon’s head automatically.

[Jung Jaeseung’s New Project, Adrift for Three Years, Finally Finds Its Lead]

Scandal, hiatus, variety-show comeback, cameo sensation, and now a master director’s pick.

The narrative was complete.

You couldn’t buy a comeback curve like this with money.

“When does the article go out?”

“After the contract is signed. The director says he’ll decide the exact timing.”

Baek Hoseon clenched a fist.

“Also, if advertisers contact us now, put all of them on hold. His fee will change once that article drops. Signing anything now would be a loss.”

Han Seungryeol wrote it down in his notebook, then added.

“And the production company sent us a file.”

“A file?”

“The audition video. Director’s orders.”

At the same time, in the third-floor hallway.

“Hey, did you hear? <​The Weight of Ash>.”

“Shh, keep your voice down. Article isn’t out yet. It’s embargoed.”

“If it’s embargoed, how does everyone know already?”

“What secret survives in this industry? How many actors were at that audition yesterday?”

“Let’s go practice... suddenly I feel motivated.”

And that afternoon, in the conference room.

The blinds were lowered, and a video appeared on the screen.

Play.

A man sitting in a chair stared silently at the bag of bread on his knees.

“...Why is he just sitting there?”

“Did they send us the wrong video?”

Once he opened the bag and started chewing the bread, the voices stopped.

[...]

The person onscreen definitely had Park Songhu’s face.

And yet Baek Hoseon felt as though he were looking at someone for the first time.

This was not the Park Songhu he knew.

Not the face from billboards, not the face from award ceremonies, not the face that had talked back to him in meeting rooms... all of it was gone.

There was simply a man exhausted and lethargic after a long life of isolation.

Bread crumbs rolled from his knee to the floor.

Park Songhu picked them up.

“...That neat freak Park Songhu?”

“He looks completely immersed.”

Baek Hoseon let out a hollow laugh.

‘Park Songhu.’

It felt like only yesterday he had been wondering whether to loosen the reins on him.

Now the nature of the question had changed.

‘How far should I push this guy?’

Should he take this chance to make Park Songhu JH Entertainment’s flagship actor?

***

The appearance contract was finalized, and a preliminary meeting with the production company was scheduled.

The first thing Jung Jaeseung said at that meeting was unexpected.

“Don’t force yourself to lose weight.”

“...What?”

“Taesik isn’t thin because he starves.”

Park Songmin copied the statement directly into his character sheet once he got home.

[Eating habits: One meal a day. That one meal is ramen or a convenience-store lunchbox. The swelling never completely goes away.]

“Slurp!”

He even ate ramen for real.

“Hey, you’re a celebrity now. Stop eating stuff like ramen and manage yourself.”

“Tsk tsk. Spoken like an ignorant man.”

“...? Come here.”

“G-Good night!”

“Brush your teeth before bed, you lunatic.”

And so the day of the script reading arrived.

A production-company conference room in Sangam-dong.

A long table had been set up, with nameplates, bottled water, and scripts at every seat.

The actors were seated in role order.

The moment he sat down, there was a rustle beside him.

A little girl with twin pigtails sat there.

Her feet barely reached the floor.

“Hello! I’m Seo Dain!”

Park Songmin tried to answer.

But the moment he actually tried to speak, his throat closed.

His face stiffened.

In the end, he only nodded once.

“...”

Seo Dain’s expression wilted.

The corners of her mouth fell.

‘N-No! That’s not what I meant!’

Park Songmin screamed internally.

‘I’m not scary! I’m just nervous right now!’

The words wouldn’t come out.

If he spoke now, he felt like his voice would sound strange, and then things would get even more awkward.

Then there was another rustle beside him.

Seo Dain was taking out a bag of gummies.

Bear-shaped gummies.

As she opened the bag, she glanced over.

Then very slightly pushed the bag toward him.

‘...!’

So cute!

She was eight.

Just sitting among adults at that age was impressive enough, and now she was offering him gummies too.

Park Songmin reached out and picked one up.

He put it in his mouth and nodded once.

Seo Dain’s face blossomed into a bright smile.

“Tastes good, right?”

“Yeah. It’s good.”

“Hehe.”

...Way too cute!

Park Songmin had always been weak to cute things.

Just like how he lost all reason around Louis.

Even after being betrayed... whenever Louis approached him all aloof and casual, Park Songmin’s expression immediately melted.

“All right, we’ll begin.”

Before long, the conference room went quiet.

Introductions went around in role order.

Then it was Park Songmin’s turn.

“...I’m Park Songhu, playing Kim Taesik. I look forward to working with you.”

Soon, Im Seongjin, who was playing Site Foreman Park across from him, spoke.

“I’m Im Seongjin, playing Mr. Park.”

Then he added another sentence.

“...I’ve been with this project for three years. I’ve watched it almost collapse twice.”

A few people laughed.

It hadn’t been meant as a joke.

Im Seongjin continued with a serious expression.

“I hope things go smoothly this time. No incidents.”

His gaze turned across the table.

Park Songmin didn’t understand what he meant.

The reading began.

The script supervisor read the stage direction.

“Scene 1. Dawn, outside a labor dispatch office. Taesik stands at the end of the line.”

Kim Taesik’s first line came.

“...Yes.”

The atmosphere in the conference room sank heavily.

The adaptation writer flinched and looked over.

‘...Huh?’

It was the same word, “Yes,” but it sounded different from another actor’s “Yes.”

He didn’t raise the ending, and he didn’t push the sound toward the other person.

The voice simply fell in front of him.

It was different from ordinary actor projection.

He mumbled like someone who had grown used to talking to himself in an empty home.

“Hey, you.”

It was Im Seongjin’s turn.

“We need to get all this up today. You know that, right?”

“...Yes.”

“They say it’s task-and-go if we do well today. Let’s save time on lunch and finish early, okay?”

Task-and-go.

Construction-site slang meaning you could leave early once your assigned workload was finished.

“...That’s a little. I didn’t eat breakfast.”

“...”

Im Seongjin stopped turning the page and raised a hand.

“Hold on.”

The reading stopped.

“About the tone you’re using to take my lines.”

Im Seongjin looked across the table.

“Your voice really isn’t reaching me. At a reading, we need to hear each other.”

“...”

“I know it’s been a while since you’ve done this, so maybe that’s why, but I’d appreciate it if you adjusted.”

The air in the conference room grew awkward.

The criticism itself wasn’t wrong.

Cold sweat ran down Park Songmin’s back.

‘...Did I get it wrong?’

No.

This was the Kim Taesik he had interpreted.

Then Jung Jaeseung looked up from his script.

“Keep it.”

“...Director?”

“Taesik doesn’t project his voice. That’s right.”

Im Seongjin closed his mouth.

Then lowered his head.

“...Understood.”

The reading resumed.

Scene 34.

The scene where Taesik encounters the girl.

“...Food.”

“...”

“Did you eat?”

“No, not yet...”

Seo Dain’s voice trembled.

A long silence.

There was no dialogue written in the script either.

But Park Songmin filled that silence with things that weren’t words.

“...”

Pity, or perhaps recognition.

Those emotions were fully contained in his gaze and breath.

Inhale, exhale, then start to inhale again and stop.

What came next was something he barely managed to say after searching for the words.

“...Let’s eat.”

Someone sniffled at the back of the conference room.

It was the script supervisor.

The person responsible for reading the stage directions had missed the next one.

“Ah, s-sorry.”

What was so special about the words let’s eat that they struck the chest this hard?

Before long, Seo Dain’s eyes had filled with tears too.

Because the eight-year-old scene partner had felt those complicated emotions directly on her skin.

“...”

Park Songmin quietly pushed his water bottle toward her.

Seo Dain carefully accepted it.

‘...I thought he was scary.’

A little later.

Jung Jaeseung closed the script and said.

“Good work. Let’s gather once more before filming begins.”

Then he added.

“...I don’t think we need to see Taesik again. Ah, but of course, come to the cast dinner.”

A few people laughed.

Everyone in the room knew what remained behind that laughter wasn’t laughter.

‘Hoo. Survived again today, Park Songmin.’

When Park Songmin gathered his things and stepped into the hallway, voices came from near the water dispenser.

“Dain.”

“Ah, yes?”

Seo Dain stood there holding a paper cup.

Facing Im Seongjin.

“You were sitting next to him earlier, right?”

“Yes! I sat next to him.”

“Keep some distance on set. Don’t stick around him.”

Park Songmin slowed.

“...Why?”

“Search why he took a break last year... no, don’t search it. You might get shocked. Anyway, I’m only saying this because you’re still young.”

Park Songmin stopped dead.

His toes tingled.

Then Im Seongjin turned his head.

When their eyes met, rather than looking flustered, he walked over as though the timing worked out perfectly.

“Ah, Actor Park. Good timing. I had something I wanted to say to you.”

“...”

Im Seongjin crushed the paper cup and dropped it in the trash.

“This project took three years.”

His tone itself was polite.

“So don’t do that kind of thing on this set.”

“...What kind of thing?”

Im Seongjin shrugged.

“Talking back to the director. Taking things out on the staff. Getting irritated because you’ve been waiting too long.”

Park Songmin’s mind went blank.

“You acted well today. But acting well isn’t the only thing that matters on a set.”

Im Seongjin checked his watch.

“Everyone’s meeting Thursday, right? Then try to be a little... no, I’m not asking you to grovel. Just be friendlier.”

“...”

“You were cold to Dain today too. Don’t do that.”

Then he turned away.

The hallway went quiet.

Park Songmin remained there with a blank expression.

Honestly... he felt wronged.

He hadn’t caused last year’s scandal.

But he couldn’t exactly say it wasn’t him either.

And most importantly, he hadn’t deliberately been cold to Dain!

Seo Dain was still standing in front of the water dispenser.

Holding the paper cup, sneaking glances his way.

Park Songmin took one step toward her... then turned away again.

‘...Maybe I shouldn’t go over.’

That felt the worst of all.

***

Beep, beep, beep...

The door lock opened more slowly than usual.

“I’m back...”

Louis came all the way to the entrance to greet him and meowed.

“How was the reading?”

“...I did well.”

“Then why does your face look like that?”

“...What’s wrong with my face?”

“Go look in a mirror.”

“...”

Park Songmin silently went into his room.

When Park Songhu called him for dinner, he came out, but didn’t even finish half his food.

“Something happen?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

Park Songhu let out a long sigh.

‘Something must have happened at the script reading.’

And it seemed like he didn’t want to say anything because he was afraid of worrying him.

‘What am I supposed to do in a situation like this?’

Park Songhu, hopeless at expressing concern toward his younger brother, thought for a long while before making a decision.

He gave the gentlest smile he could manage.

“If you don’t tell me, you’re dead.”

“...!”

“Three.”

“...?!”

“Two.”

“N-No, seriously, it’s nothing.”

“One.”

“Actor Im Seongjin!”

Park Songhu’s eyebrow twitched.

“Who?”

“...Actor Im Seongjin. The one playing Mr. Park.”

Only then did Park Songmin confess everything that had happened today.

“...So I felt kind of wronged. That wasn’t me, it was my older brother with the rotten personality who...”

Park Songhu snapped the laptop shut.

“Eek!”

Park Songmin instinctively raised his arms to defend himself, but unexpectedly, his brother was calm.

“Yeah. I did that.”

When the article came out.

Some of it had been unfair, some of it hadn’t.

Either way, it was something he had created.

He could admit that much.

‘But why the fuck is Park Songmin sitting there taking the abuse for it?’

Park Songmin had done nothing today.

He had been warned in advance over things he hadn’t even done.

More than anything, Park Songhu couldn’t tolerate telling an eight-year-old girl not to stay near him as though he were some dangerous piece of trash.

“He wants somewhere to dump three years of frustration, so he’s dumping it on me. When’s the cast dinner?”

“...Thursday.”

“I’ll go.”

“...What?!”

Park Songhu rolled his neck once.

“The real me is going to that dinner.”

The Genius Actor Is Hiding Twins