WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Genius Writer Who Will Never Fall Again ◈
Chapter 9: Casting (1)
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A few more days had passed since the meeting with the writer.
In the meantime, Byeong-gi had developed a habit after returning home at the end of the workday.
It was nothing grand.
‘Why couldn’t I say a single thing???’
After losing an argument, he would regret it, thinking, ‘Ah! I should’ve said that back then!’
As he replayed the meeting in his head, the fear faded and belated bravado rose in its place.
Today was another such moment.
Maybe Writer Han had gotten carried away and said something rude, but why had he needed to get so serious about it?
Had Byeong-gi simply been swept up because Han had made the atmosphere unnecessarily intense?
Shouldn’t he establish the director’s authority, even now?
His worries ran deep.
Really, if one traced every concern to its ultimate cause, it came down to wounded pride.
That was right.
Min Byeong-gi, a drama PD with the inflated ego of a film director.
He was furious and miserable at the thought of taking this lying down.
‘I need to find a way! A way to get my authority back!’
Trembling, Byeong-gi thought long and hard.
Showing off storyboards and swaggering about had failed, so he needed to demonstrate his greatness somewhere else.
The first thing that came to mind was, naturally, criticizing the script.
Film directors generally had some grounding in screenwriting.
So, looking for something to criticize, Byeong-gi opened Jae-kyung’s script.
But then,
Snap!
‘Should I find another way?’
Honestly, they had hit a wall.
Byeong-gi knew with absolute certainty that he could never beat Jae-kyung when it came to writing.
‘Right. There’s nothing shameful about writing worse than someone who survives in this industry by doing nothing but writing, is there?’
Nod, nod.
Having finished rationalizing it away, he moved on to the next plan.
‘A drama is a visual medium anyway. What if I explain everything needed to bring it to the screen, then show that I can handle it all myself?’
Location scouting, set and prop design, surely those were areas a writer would know nothing about!
Just imagining handling every last detail, then saying, ‘Well, it’s nothing much,’ already made him feel better.
“Right. I can do this!”
Brimming with motivation, Byeong-gi sprang to his feet and got to work, but then...
“PD Min, bring me the set and prop design drafts in four days. Oh, and visit the outdoor locations and submit a report by the day after tomorrow.”
“Eh?”
“What do you mean, ‘eh’? You know our schedule’s tight.”
Right.
This was a fire-fighting project.
Cold sweat ran down Byeong-gi’s back.
‘C-can I make those deadlines?’
No. It seemed completely impossible.
His vision went white, and all that remained was a vague hope that someone might appear like a savior and help.
Ring!
Jae-kyung was calling.
“Y-yes! This is Min Byeong-gi!”
[Ah, Director. It’s nothing major, but there’s something I forgot to mention at our last meeting.]
“What?”
Was Han trying to keep him in check again?
Byeong-gi narrowed his eyes and glared at the phone, but it was the opposite.
[There were places I visited while researching the project. Since you’ll be scouting locations, I thought you might want to take a look. Ah, and I did some research on props as well, so I sent you an email.]
Emotion surged up.
‘Is this person an angel?’
Byeong-gi bit their lip.
Just moments ago, he had been running around trying to suppress Jae-kyung’s momentum, while Jae-kyung was helping with work that was not even his responsibility.
Byeong-gi felt endlessly small.
And Jae-kyung felt endlessly large.
“Y-you went that far...!”
Byeong-gi’s eyes grew moist.
[We’re collaborators, aren’t we? It’s nothing much.]
That casual claim that it was nothing much lodged itself deep in Byeong-gi’s chest.
“W-Writer Haaaan...!”
Min Byeong-gi, the embodiment of an ego that had tried to climb back up after the pecking order had already been established.
Now, his heart was slowly melting into the sea called Jae-kyung.
His loyalty even began to rise.
That was why the words slipped out.
“Writer Han, I think I misunderstood you...!”
[Excuse me?]
“B-before, you said things like we shouldn’t take each other’s roles or cross the line, so I thought you were the sort of person who only did his own work and expected everyone else to handle theirs. But you helped me like this...!”
Most people did not voice every thought in their heads so openly, but Byeong-gi did not know that.
He simply expressed everything he felt and built up his goodwill toward Jae-kyung.
Byeong-gi would probably never know.
[Well... yes...]
That revealing these true feelings had slightly changed the balance of carrot and stick in Jae-kyung’s mind.
[I’m glad it helped.]
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
...Perhaps it was better that Byeong-gi never knew.
* * *
There was an indispensable element in carrying out a large-scale media project like drama production.
Thorough preparation?
Massive promotion?
Or capital?
None of those.
The answer was a smooth relationship with the decision-makers.
“Wow! You two get along wonderfully. Right, Byeong-gi? What do you think of Writer Han? Quite the person, aren’t he?”
“R-right!”
“You flatter me, Chief. Director.”
“Hahaha! Writer Han, no need to be so modest! I guarantee it, our Writer Han is something special! I mean in terms of character!”
“I-I know that well too! I’ve received a lot of help! I got plenty of advice on the location scouting and set concept this time as well!”
“Hm? Writer Han went that far?”
“Yes! He was incredibly knowledgeable!”
Director Min glanced at me warmly.
Remembering what I had heard over the phone, I could not find it entirely endearing.
In truth, I had not helped with any grand intention.
I did not want pointless friction during production preparations, so I wanted to skip the petty stages. Besides, I had gone through all of this before my regression, so I had merely shared the answer sheet from my memories.
Still, perhaps that person, whose pride rose and fell faster than the chart of some garbage cryptocurrency, had been affected by it.
‘Well, he is showing goodwill.’
Wasn’t that enough?
As I considered it, Chief Go Young-chan spoke.
“...Writer Han, you really mean it. You’ve learned so much...”
“I had notes from the places I visited while researching the story. As for the prop concepts, I only mentioned things that came to mind while researching materials.”
“No, no. Writer Han, you don’t need to put yourself down like that! You deserve even more praise!”
“Ah, yes...”
Would the day ever come when I heard stories about Go Young-chan’s current workplace?
Now I was even curious what had dragged the average writer in that person’s mind down so low.
‘Though I am grateful that he thinks well of me...’
Anyway, back to the point.
Why were relationships and agreement with decision-makers important?
Because they made it easier to voice my opinion on a day like today.
“Ah, we’re here. Let’s go in. This is the audition room.”
The place Go Young-chan had brought me to was a fairly large seminar room inside the broadcasting station.
The space had been emptied out, leaving only a few cameras and lights for recording auditions and a table for the judges. It felt stark and bare.
“This is your first time judging an audition, Writer Han?”
“I know how it works. I’ve studied it and heard about it.”
“Haha! Then this will be easier. As you know, when we look at actors, we consider acting ability, appearance, and suitability for the genre. But...”
“Yes. I understand there are people higher-ups or investors want as well.”
“I’d like to protect our discretion, but there are things I can’t avoid. Still, if you share your opinion, I’ll try to accommodate it as much as possible. You’re not just anyone, Writer Han. I can pull some strings for you!”
The trust shining in those eyes had never felt more welcome than it did today.
That was why relationships mattered.
For a rookie writer and rookie director in a situation like this, the chief producer held enormous practical authority. To state my opinion to someone like that, I needed emotional goodwill strong enough to override pure logic.
‘People imposed from outside can’t be helped. As long as they don’t have serious disqualifying issues, it’ll be fine. This drama doesn’t give supporting roles much weight.’
I took my seat at the judges’ table and looked over the audition list.
First was the character of Yeongho, the protagonist.
Director Min asked me a question.
“What will you be focusing on, Writer Han?”
“First, I’d like someone with a slightly rugged look. Their diction needs to be clear when they lower their voice. But... yes, more than anything, I want an actor whose performance register fits the role. There’s a lot of nonverbal expression.”
“Ah, yes. That’s definitely important. Every actor has different registers they excel at.”
It was an important point.
People often assumed that an excellent actor could perfectly pull off any role, but the truth was the exact opposite.
Every actor had different stats.
Someone might excel at a comic register but fail at melodrama. Someone else might handle a serious register but lack lightness.
In gaming terms, it was closer to a warrior who only knew how to use a sword and an archer who only knew how to use a bow.
Of course, some actors could handle several areas. But even those actors had particular kinds of performances in which they excelled, and when selecting scripts, they tended to prefer characters that let them showcase those strengths.
This project was no different.
Yeongho, the protagonist of Geomgye Ilgun, was heavy and serious.
His reactions needed a noir-like edge, and more than that, he needed to be skilled at nonverbal expression, conveying emotion through his eyes as if pressing it down and letting it flow out.
If the character interpretation was shallow or the register did not fit, Yeongho could easily become a recklessly cocky and unpleasant character.
I wanted an actor who understood such subtle differences.
Director Min added a word.
“Ahem. I think I’ll mainly look at movement. When you see people skilled in action, you can tell right away...”
“I’m relying entirely on you for that, Director. You know far more about it than I do.”
“W-well, yes! I did study action as my specialty, after all...”
“But a drama must ultimately show whether an actor can sustain a long-form narrative. I hope you’ll take that into account.”
“Ah... I know! I understand completely! Of course! Narrative execution! Emotional arcs!”
Director Min’s eyes rolled around.
‘This should be enough.’
Melodrama was their hard counter.
His sense of tempo and action was outstanding, but his analysis of emotional arcs was weak.
...In truth, it was not that bad.
The reason their directorial debut had failed was, when it came down to it, because the writer’s script had been garbage.
But that was irrelevant now.
Humans were creatures of experience, and at this point, Director Min had just spectacularly crashed a melodrama, leaving their confidence in that area at rock bottom.
From now on, he would obsess over emotional arcs and such, fail to find an answer, and toss the decisions to me.
‘Then the question is Go Young-chan...’
I glanced over.
“You two communicate so well? And recognize each other’s strengths too...?”
Seeing those tearful eyes, I did not think I needed to worry.
I felt too uncomfortable staring any longer, so I looked away.
The timing was perfect.
“Senior! We’re starting the auditions!”
“Yeah! Let’s get to it!”
The auditions began.
* * *
I had considerable experience judging auditions.
So I knew that judging was not always dignified or romantic.
In what sense?
...If you asked, I would answer firmly.
I could not choose the caliber of applicants before interviewing them.
“Aaaah? You wanna die? Huh?!”
A skinny man in the one-seventy-centimeter range thrust his chin forward and let out a strange scream.
He scraped at his throat to force up his intensity, and I wondered if his throat might start bleeding.
Had he even looked at the script?
He invented lines that did not exist and filled them with profanity, which was simply unpleasant from the original writer’s perspective.
That man was not the only problem.
The audition room was a parade of every imaginable type of person.
“If you don’t want to die, stop right the-re-re...”
Someone adding their own chorus.
“Well, ain’t it something, all you lot gathered up here!”
Someone turning a Busan gangster into a Jeolla gangster.
“I have my principles, my lady. I shall repay the grace of being fed!”
Someone turning Yeongho, a rough fistfighter, into a well-bred young lady.
Even those were better.
At least they were acting.
There was another kind that was truly serious.
“Hello! Before I begin acting in earnest, I would like to say something first.”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“What do you think life is?”
At least five people like this appeared whenever auditions were held.
People obsessed with dramatic casting stories they had picked up from some actor’s memoir or heard secondhand, doing pointless stunts.
They were the most useless kind.
Wasn’t it obvious from the start that they were trying to get a free ride?
They should have competed honestly with their acting, not begun by looking for tricks. It was pathetic.
Maybe it would have been different if they could act well.
But their acting was so miserable that watching them was painful for me too.
Did you understand now?
This was the level even after the casting director had done the first round of filtering.
Of course, some poor selections slipped through because they could not examine every candidate closely, but that did not make it any less exhausting.
Still, fortunately, no moment lasted forever.
And there were also many applicants who acted solidly and gave good performances.
“Ugh, are we done with Yeongho’s role for now?”
“Good work, both of you.”
“No, it’s work. We should keep at it. More importantly, did anyone catch your eye, Writer Han?”
“A few people did.”
“Oh?”
The entertainment industry was remarkably small.
Acting was also a profession with an exceptionally long period of obscurity.
It was not necessarily because someone lacked talent. Work itself was so scarce that some people failed to shine even after their ability had already reached its peak.
I found several people like that in this audition.
People who would make a defining work and become known within a few years.
Some would go beyond that and become stars adored by the public.
‘I know all these names.’
One name particularly stood out.
‘Na Jin-geon.’
Though still in his late twenties, he was already a complete actor.
He had a profoundly masculine face with strong lines, as though pretty-boy looks had been tossed straight into the bin. He was 188 centimeters tall, and while his physique was not fully developed yet...
The entertainment industry in 2013 did not care that much about body quality.
A little grooming would be enough, and scar makeup would give him precisely the rugged atmosphere needed for Yeongho.
More importantly, his register was excellent.
‘As expected of his reputation.’
Even in the future, Na Jin-geon would be loved for weighty roles that used his distinctive deep voice and intense eyes.
His acting spectrum was broad enough to handle everything from a delinquent living only for today to a cold-blooded analyst.
Most importantly, he had not a single controversy.
‘A man whose only controversy is staying home and playing games.’
I could not think of one reason not to pick him.
If I had to choose the prospect I was most drawn to at this moment, I could choose him without the slightest hesitation.
Then Go Young-chan grinned.
“It looks like Writer Han has someone in mind?”
There was no reason to deny it.
“Yes. One person.”
“Tell me later. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Is that all right?”
“I’ve been in this field a long time too. It’s not as if I don’t know that the actor a writer wants is often the actor best suited to the role.”
That was welcome.
I had already been concerned because Na Jin-geon’s career was still so thin.
I made a note.
Go Young-chan stretched and spoke.
“Ugh, it’s a little daunting once we consider the supporting roles too, but let’s keep at it!”
Of course it was.
Having failed because of people once before, I had no intention of repeating the same mistake.
I turned the page.
‘Next is Hyang-dan.’
She was the female lead who would carry the show alongside the protagonist.
Her basic setting was this: an orphan raised by an elderly tavern keeper, who had regarded the tavern keeper as her mother. After the woman’s death, Hyang-dan tenaciously ran the tavern, her only inheritance.
Her connection with Yeongho began when she took in and fed him after he was dropped into Joseon. Thanks to Yeongho’s determination to repay that kindness, she inadvertently expanded her tavern amid deadly sword circles.
I needed to choose her just as carefully as Yeongho.
...No, given her number of lines, perhaps even more carefully.
I needed to focus.
It was then that I looked at the first applicant’s profile.
“...!”
My head went cold.
At that moment, the applicant opened the door.
Click!
When I raised my head, I saw a face.
A face far too familiar to me.
“H-hello! I’m applicant number 712, Ryu Cheong-a!”
Despite being stiff with nerves, she had a clear, refined face that compelled one to shower her with classical praise like beautiful and elegant.
Yet her features were too large and boldly defined to be called conventionally East Asian.
She was not especially tall, but her small face gave her excellent proportions.
Whenever she spoke, the air hanging in the room seemed to vibrate pleasantly, drawing everyone’s focus.
As soon as she appeared, Go Young-chan and Director Min changed.
Her presence naturally demanded attention.
But I could not lose myself in that atmosphere.
Of course not.
‘...I’m sorry, Writer Han.’
One of the stains on my life stood before me.
The worst woman, who had killed herself when the first week aired and destroyed the project.
“H-I’ll begin acting right away!”
“Hm? Hahaha! I like that spirit! All right, don’t be nervous. Give it a try.”
“Yes!”
My fist tightened.
The profile in my hand crumpled.
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