Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Lead Role Offer
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Even so... the feeling of being somewhat understood lightened her heart a bit.
Yeah, maybe she just hadn't had the courage to face reality.
She was scared that once she took on a regular job, scraping together what little money and time she had, she wouldn't be able to fully devote herself to her work.
'My little brother's grown so mature now. I can't go whining weakly to him.
Yeah, let's give it a shot. Graduate first, land a job, then build up from there step by step.'
She resolved to pour everything she had into this graduation project under the circumstances, willing to accept some compromises.
Yoo Ha-eun's eyes sharpened with determination as she spoke.
"Hey, don't worry~. It's just one failed graduation project—it's no big deal."
It was a little disappointing, but she'd steeled her resolve. Yet her brother's reply came back.
"It hasn't failed yet."
"What... yeah, strictly speaking, you're right."
As their conversation continued, it started to feel like more than just encouragement or cheerleading.
"Tsk... there is one alternative, but... wanna hear it?"
"An al—alternative?"
Gulp.
Without realizing it, Yoo Ha-eun perked up her ears.
"...Is that really an alternative?"
My sister gave me a somewhat sour look at my proposal. It was understandable.
I was one of the biggest dunces in the history of the Film and Acting departments. And she, living in the same house and in the same major, couldn't possibly be unaware of my skills.
She slowly pieced it together to confirm she'd understood correctly.
"So, you're saying you'll play the lead?"
"Yeah."
"Using the original script before revisions?"
"Exactly."
"Hey, this was written for Bang Tae-hyuk! How's a second-year who hasn't even graduated undergrad gonna pull it off!?"
"I've got confidence I can do better than Bang Tae-hyuk."
"Fine... whatever. Even so, I can't just slot you in."
"If needed, I'll audition in front of everyone else."
At my resolute attitude, she furrowed her brow, picking her words carefully but saying little else. She seemed to need more conviction, so I added with finality.
"I'm not joking. If you're gonna compromise anyway, trust me. I won't let you down."
She agonized over it for a long while, looking tormented, then refilled her glass from the water purifier and chugged some cold water.
Gulp, gulp.
Finally, she set the glass down with a clunk and spoke.
Thud.
"Show me your acting. Just once. I don't need full certainty, but if I'm gonna push this forward, I need some basis."
There was a proper order to things. Even in this messy situation, she planned to follow at least the minimum procedures.
I closed my eyes for a moment and recalled her script. Why had her graduation film—written by the once-praised prodigy—flopped?
I'd read it multiple times right after regressing. The lines were already etched in my mind. Grasping the emotions, I delivered them.
"Children have high brand loyalty. If we can draw in the kid demographic, then even after time passes... I'm sorry. Could you give me a moment?"
I shook my head unsteadily for a beat, then continued.
"...Flies everywhere. Ugh, stop... just stop appearing. Leave me alone!"
This scene was from the film's climax. The protagonist, barely clinging to daily life, reaches her breaking point.
It was a high-difficulty scene where suppressed pain erupts in front of the people she least wants to show it to.
"Hup...!"
My sister clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Shock filled her gaze.
This should be enough. I stopped there.
"Satisfied?"
"How...? Wait, you—hold on, more importantly, right now..."
Her words tumbled out in confusion. Then, suddenly, her eyes lit up.
"Can you act the other parts like that too...?"
"Everything except that most complex final part would actually be easier."
"...Just trust me and act. I'll handle the rest."
Here she was, years older than me, still trying to protect her little brother. I almost chuckled.
"Okay. Then I'll trust you, sis?"
She seemed convinced now, so I relaxed a little.
My sister headed to her room. Faint light leaked through the closed door—she clearly wasn't sleeping yet.
I desperately craved a smoke amid the complicated feelings, but instead grabbed some dried squid from the fridge, tore off strips, and chewed them as I stepped out to the balcony.
The apartment complex sprawled below. Newlyweds played badminton; a father tossed a ball with his kid. I stared at the streetlights for a while, then swallowed a silent sigh.
'I planned not to act unless it was for class assignments...'
But I couldn't just watch my sister struggle.
She was two years older but in her fourth year with my female classmates, on the verge of graduating. This was largely my fault.
'Repeating a year was one thing, but she took a year off to work and save for tuition and the graduation film.'
If not for all the money sunk into my acting since childhood, she wouldn't have needed that leave.
She could've graduated ages ago. If I'd chosen a normal path, if I hadn't been so selfish.
She could've had all that support for herself. That's why I'd shelved my post-regression resolve for now.
'Just this once, one more time. For her, not me. But...'
Thump, thump.
My heart raced for some reason. Staring down at the darkened complex, I muttered absently.
"If it's the last time, maybe I can go all in?"
Yeah, this wasn't lingering attachment or atonement. It was my farewell performance, signaling the end of my path as an actor.
"Hey, Mom says come eat..."
Whoosh.
The door flew open.
"What happened to you?"
"...Pulled an all-nighter."
Her brother emerged, dark circles drooping to his knees. She wasn't the only one startled.
Gasp.
"Oh, you look exhausted, son?"
He seemed like the prickly Yoo Ha-jin of old. But then.
"Happens when you're young. Haha."
When spoken to, he slipped right back into his smooth-talking self. Mom tilted her head.
As she stared a bit more seriously, he flashed a grin instead, turning the concern back on her.
"What's up? Not going well?"
"Hm, no."
What was there to go well or not? The biggest headache—the lead—seemed solved based on last night.
'But was he always this good? I vaguely heard his department grades weren't great.'
It didn't make sense that he'd hidden his talent all this time. It was downright ghostly. Suddenly, Yoo Ha-jin's voice cut in.
"You told me to trust you—why the blank face? A fly's gonna get in."
"Huh? Oh, yeah."
Fair enough; now wasn't the time to dwell on that. Yoo Ha-eun scooped a big bite of rice.
If she announced her brother as the lead, arrows would fly his way. To weather that, she'd need stamina from food at least.
In the shared office run by J University alumni, the core graduation film crew—who'd hauled equipment from the department office—sighed repeatedly. Cinematographer Park Kwang-jae spoke up.
"Phew. Ha-eun said she'd bring the lead by today, right?"
Editor Yang Ji-ho replied.
"Yeah, she said she'd do a quick table read this morning and jump straight into shooting. Sigh. What a mess because of that damn Bang Tae-hyuk??"
Lighting and sound guy Shin Dong-wook chimed in.
"At least Ha-eun prepped backups ahead of time, so we can probably still shoot... but is this right?"
"Even if we simplified the role more, throwing in an actor with just one table read and no practice?"
"At least the other parts are untouched, so the rest of the cast isn't burdened."
"Mess with the lead in this film, and everything changes, doesn't it???"
There wasn't even a student handling props, schedules, budget, or staff coordination overall.
So the four production members—including Yoo Ha-eun, minus the actors—had divvied it up. Yet they endured because they believed in her.
"Agh~. Ha-eun's script was so good..."
"If Bang Tae-hyuk had gone as planned, it might've actually blown up big."
The actors arrived next. Expressions were mostly grim. Especially the two with the next-biggest roles after the lead, who vented complaints.
"So we're really bringing in one of those kids from last time?"
"None of them could even kinda match Bang Tae-hyuk sunbae..."
Having seen the final candidates in advance, they looked downcast. Rushed recruitment for an emergency hadn't yielded talent.
Mostly underclassmen there for acting experience or to pad pre-grad performance counts.
A sinking ship. No lifeboats or tubes left for the core crew who'd already committed.
Actress Baek Da-bin voiced what everyone felt.
"Ha... fuck, seriously."
The air grew heavy, shoulders sagging. Then.
"Hi~!"
Director and screenwriter Yoo Ha-eun arrived, full of energy. But everyone's question was one.
"The lead?"
"Brought 'em, of course."
Seeing her confident smile, they clung to a sliver of hope.
"No way!? Not one of those kids from before!?"
"You found a good actor!?"
"So who is it? Hired someone from outside?"
One person emerged from behind Yoo Ha-eun, enduring the stares.
"Your brother's here early too? Helping out sis—how sweet."
"You two get along so well. Jealous~. So where's our lead?"
Still beaming, Yoo Ha-eun spoke.
"This is the lead. You all know him, right? Yoo Ha-jin, my little brother."
Whoosh.
The atmosphere soured instantly.
Baek Da-bin said with a stiff face.
"Don't joke. Who is it, seriously."
"Yeah, Ha-eun unnie. Not funny."
Yoo Ha-eun finally dropped her smile.
"Not joking. It's really him."
Crash. Clatter.
A few shot up, toppling chairs.
"Hey, Yoo Ha-eun!"
"What bullshit is this!"
"Unnie! That's the department's biggest loser! His nickname's literally 'Lid' for how much he flops!?"
The actors especially growled.
"You just decided to bail now!?"
"It's already sunk, so shoving in your brother!? That's not right!"
As Yoo Ha-eun realized she couldn't brush this off and moved to explain.
"I see some sunbaes and my female classmates here too."
Yoo Ha-jin stepped forward.
"What're you butting in for, no sense!? Back off!"
Undeterred by the heated reactions, Yoo Ha-jin calmly continued.
"I get that you're shocked and pissed. But neither my sister nor I came here lightly."
"How are we supposed to know that!?"
"This isn't a prank!"
The mood didn't soften at all. Maintaining his gentle, polite demeanor, Yoo Ha-jin pulled something from his eco-bag and held it out.
"Just take one look at this and judge."
What he offered was... a script, read so many times it was tattered, post-its stuffed between pages, nearly double its original thickness. Eyes widened. Especially Yoo Ha-eun's.
'So that's why he pulled an all-nighter...!? But how does a script get that beat up in one night!?'
She couldn't hide her shock at her brother's determination—or was it killer instinct?