He Only Plays Villains 94: Uncle's Affection (3)
It was just a deliberate push to heighten the early tension for a good rehearsal, but it had unintentionally crushed his opponent's momentum.
Yoon Jin-won flubbed his lines right from the start.
He blanked on his dialogue in an instant, stammering without a word.
The lens's power didn't even have a chance to draw him into Jeong Seo-hoon's aura before the cut was called.
"S-sorry. Just let me look at the script one more time."
"It happens when your mind goes blank. Even I forget my own name sometimes when I'm too startled. Take a break and read it easy."
"Thank you!"
Yoon Jin-won plopped down in his chair and buried his nose in the script.
He'd memorized it inside and out already—forgetting lines wasn't something that happened often.
But just now...
He's too scary.
His heart was still pounding, his stomach churning.
Those words about barely holding back the urge to strangle him to death lingered in his mind.
Yoon Jin-won cursed his own fragile spirit.
His fears weren't limited to horror genres.
He was terrified of needles, and of people hating him.
That's why he acted extra bright and bubbly on set—to avoid anyone disliking him.
If he ever overheard whispers of negativity about himself, his heart would sink.
In bad cases, it even triggered arrhythmia-like symptoms.
Acting was usually fine. They all know it's just acting anyway.
He knew Jeong Seo-hoon's earlier words had been laced with playful acting.
But the more he dwelled on it, the more he wondered if it was really just acting—and his heart raced anew.
Which was why he'd messed up the moment they started the main scene.
"Cut."
"Cut. Again."
"Cut. Let's take a short break."
"Cut. Focus a bit more."
"Cut..."
With each cut, Yoon Jin-won's shoulders hunched tighter. If he could, he'd crawl into a hole and hide.
Jeong Seo-hoon, the PD, and the assistant director looked calm, as if it was no big deal...
They're definitely cursing me out inside. Ugh, what do I do?
Imagining the finger-pointing beneath their serene faces made his heart pound even harder.
"Nephew."
The atmosphere shifted the instant Jeong Seo-hoon spoke.
His voice was so thick with rust, it barely seemed like the same person.
Before he could marvel at the seamless mood switch, his pulse raced ahead.
"How could you reject this uncle's gift so coldly?"
And those eyes.
Yoon Jin-won felt suffocated by the sheer venom overflowing from them.
He knew it was acting, but his timid heart—terrified of hatred—kept screaming.
This had never happened with anyone else. Why only with him?
"Don't worry. It won't hurt much. Curse me. Resent the late king who died too soon."
The moment those hands gripped his throat, an absurd thought flashed through his mind.
What if this man really strangled him to death?
How could anyone not think that, staring into those murder-filled eyes!
Hnnngh...
As the fingers tightened slightly on his neck, Yoon Jin-won fainted, going limp.
"Oh no. PD, Yoon Jin-won collapsed."
"What?"
The startled PD rushed over, and his manager mom quickly fetched a wet cloth for his forehead.
"Aigoo, Jin-won-ah. What if you faint again because you can't handle it?"
"Ma'am, does Yoon usually faint a lot?"
"Truth is... the kid's so skittish, he startles easily and faints pretty often. Once, something fell on his head from a tree—it was a cockroach—and he passed out."
"Uh, sorry, but even I'd faint from that. I still scream every time I see one."
Yoon Jin-won came to shortly after.
Surrounded by concerned faces, he was mortified and apologetic, not knowing what to do.
"Sorry. I'm so sorry."
"No worries."
Jang Seung-won waved it off.
"I've synced with Seo-hoon before, so I get it—standing in front of the camera with him is no joke. I collapsed once too, and that was real, not acting."
"R-really?"
"You know that scene in Illegal where Yoo Jeong-ah forces a kiss? She was so scared she bit Seo-hoon's lip by accident. But it looked so good on camera, they kept it like it was directed."
"Whoa! I didn't know that behind-the-scenes story!"
The quick-witted assistant director chimed in to back him up—a kindness to keep Yoon from feeling too down.
"Thank you! I'll try even harder! PD!"
"...Still, fainting today means no more pushing. We've got time, so let's wrap for now."
***
Before parting, Jang Seung-won invited him to dinner.
Jeong Seo-hoon accepted readily, and they headed to his regular spot in Shinsa-dong.
"How've you been lately?"
"Better now."
Jeong Seo-hoon answered flatly, and Jang Seung-won eyed him with a hint of pity.
"You're not just acting okay, are you?"
"No."
"Maybe it's because I've watched actors perform for over twenty years, but why does it feel like you're putting on an 'okay' act right now?"
"Guess my acting isn't convincing enough."
Jang Seung-won paused, then chuckled as if punched.
"You always have this way of disarming people with casual lines."
He kept eating, nonchalant.
"I mentioned it to Writer Kim, and she was worried. Even talked about tweaking the later script."
"She said the same to me. I told her I'd rather not."
"I'm greedy for direction too, but not at the cost of an actor's mental health for ratings. Writer Kim feels the same."
"Feels like you're saying this not just out of worry for me."
"Haha, so perceptive... But yeah, I am worried about you. If you say you're fine, I trust that. You're a megastar—fretting over every little thing would just hurt your pride, right?"
Jeong Seo-hoon set down his chopsticks and met Jang Seung-won's gaze squarely.
"Thinking of recasting?"
"If it's necessary."
"Not a full replacement, I hope."
"Of course not. He gets deposed and dies two years later. We can say the stress and age changed his face in that time."
The boy king, exiled to the military, meets his end in Yeongwol, Gangwon-do.
It meant they could swap actors just for that final scene.
"Yoon Jin-won is young but talented and hardworking. I'd rather not replace him at the end if possible. But if ambition in acting or directing ruins a young actor, better to swap. It's just one scene anyway."
"Yoon would pour his heart into that one scene more than any other."
"True. It's the moment the boy king leaves the strongest impression on viewers. Death does that."
No drinks were ordered.
Jang Seung-won focused on his meal.
"We'll push as far as we can. If it doesn't work, get another actor for that scene. You're his partner—if you think it's not happening, tell me later. I'll take the blame as the director."
"Got it."
"Haha, I figured you'd say 'keep practicing and he'll get it.' You're sneakily pragmatic too."
"Not every outfit fits perfectly. Better to shed the ill-fitting ones early."
"And this is just an old man's worry..."
Jang Seung-won hesitated, then spoke.
"Feel free to brush it off as meddling."
"Go ahead."
"Whatever your next project, try a bright, upbeat role sometime. Doesn't have to be a hero—just something light and fun."
"..."
"Just old-man talk. Getting typecast as a pure villain isn't always great. A breather wouldn't hurt..."
Jang Seung-won laughed it off awkwardly to diffuse the mood.
***
A bright, upbeat character image.
On the ride home in the van, Jeong Seo-hoon mulled over Jang Seung-won's parting words.
They sounded like advice for broadening his image, but there was likely concern too—that he'd internalize roles too deeply and get hurt.
Acting demanded a strong sense of self.
Worrying about mental scars could bruise pride instead.
That's why Jang had couched it carefully.
Lee Jin-wook, Kim Chan, the Grand Prince—they overlap deeply with Rashid's life... no, my experiences.
The pleasure killer Lee Jin-wook, roaming solo, mirrored an ordinary soldier following orders.
Kim Chan, leading the charge, resembled a lieutenant mopping up stragglers with his platoon.
The Grand Prince, butchering kin and spilling blood for the throne, echoed a brigadier general promoted through mountains of corpses.
The camera lens watching me has a specific intent.
The roles he took in reality tracked Rashid the war hero's promotions.
Coincidence? Or engineered?
Suddenly, Rashid's final operation surfaced.
His comrades' last supper on meager rations. The hand pressing the detonation button trembled faintly again.
Even in a role unrelated to Rashid, would the lens still empower me?
That was why Jang's gentle advice didn't sway him.
The lens had first immersed him in war hero memories, now crafting atmospheres for the Grand Prince.
His reason for acting? To glimpse those longed-for scenes again.
What do I truly want—to be an actor, or one mimicking Rashid's life?
That night, Jeong Seo-hoon pondered long but found no answer.
***
Taejong's Garden limped along at 2% ratings, barely mentioned in the press anymore.
Haegeuk sailed smoothly, sets always buzzing with cheer.
But after official shoots wrapped and cast and crew left, the real work began.
"Cut."
"Cut."
"Cut. Short break..."
Yoon Jin-won nailed official takes with few mistakes, nailing the bright boy king.
But rehearsing his strangling death by uncle? Torture.
Not the acting itself, but fear of flubbing under Jeong Seo-hoon's intensity.
Four days in, no progress. If there was even a little, I'd push harder.
Clinging to failure was stubborn—and cruel to a young actor.
Good we practiced early. If we'd gone to principal photography blind...
Schedule crunch without a last-minute swap would force script rewrites—a tragedy.
Just imagining it made his scalp crawl.
"Sorry..."
Yoon Jin-won was pale as a ghost.
He'd probably caught on by now.
No improvement meant his death scene finale could go to another actor.
Plenty of time? Could backfire.
"PD."
"Yes, Seo-hoon? Break?"
"No. What if we do a proper rehearsal in full costume?"
"Costume?"
These were private acting lessons, so both wore casual clothes.
"Change of pace. Full period garb might help. Repetition's just tensing him more."
Jang Seung-won felt a spark of anticipation.
Even in their own rehearsals, Jeong had donned full Grand Prince attire.
No proof, but maybe it'd deliver that impact again.
"Sounds good. You two, change and come back."
---