Chapter 63
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Not the Protagonist
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These days, Seojun's routine was always the same.
After finishing his academy classes, he would come home to do homework and workbooks. Daho hyung would visit and hand him a script. He would read it. Shake his head. Daho hyung would leave.
After An Daho left, Seojun spoke to his father with a pout. Lee Minjun lowered the volume on the television.
“When will I get to do one? A play!”
“You can take your time. You’re still young, Seojun.”
“I know, but it’s a shame because I feel like there’s a role I could play right now!”
“Really? Then how about you try making a play you like yourself, Seojun?”
“Myself?”
Seojun’s eyes widened. Myself?
Lee Minjun had been half-joking, but the idea struck a chord with Seojun.
Seojun had ample funds, famous actors he was close with, and brilliant directors at his disposal. All he needed was a good story.
Seojun blinked.
*Huh? I think I actually could…*
“Isn’t that the play you saw, Seojun?”
“Huh?”
His father’s words snapped Seojun out of his thoughts. As Seojun’s gaze turned to the television, Lee Minjun raised the volume.
[Actors Lee Seojun and Lee Jiseok Watched 'Our Town'! An Interview with the Wind Troupe!]
A short clip appeared on an entertainment news program. Kim Seon-gon, the director of the Wind Troupe, appeared on screen, with a stage larger than the small theater Seojun had visited in the background.
[How do you like the new theater?]
-Everyone is a little awkward since it’s their first time on such a large stage, but I’m sure they’ll adapt soon.
[Please tell us about the play, 'Our Town'.]
-'Our Town' is a human comic drama that unfolds through people's misunderstandings and assumptions.
[What is your next project?]
A brief interview about the play continued, and then the conversation shifted to Seojun and Lee Jiseok.
Unlike the questions about the play, a flood of questions followed, and the bright smile on Kim Seon-gon’s face momentarily darkened.
Seojun, who had been watching the television with bated breath, quickly pulled out his phone and called Lee Jiseok as soon as Kim Seon-gon was off-screen.
After a few rings, Lee Jiseok answered.
-Seojun? What’s up?
“Hyung. Did you see the TV?”
-TV? No. Why?
“The Wind Troupe was on, but the director didn’t look so good.”
The couple, wondering what was going on, quietly left the living room. It was better to leave matters like this to a veteran actor like Lee Jiseok.
At Seojun’s words, Lee Jiseok put on his earphones and searched on his laptop. If the troupe was on TV, it must have been the entertainment news. A quick search told him what was going on.
“Seojun.”
-Yes?
“Don’t worry.”
-But his expression was bad.
No one was more sensitive to another person’s expression than an actor who performed with their own.
Seojun had noticed the fatigue and weariness in Director Kim Seon-gon’s face.
-I told you before, right? That if they used our names for promotion, there would be downsides.
“Yes.”
-This is one of those downsides. Director Kim Seon-gon loves acting, and he loves his troupe’s productions just as much.
Seojun sat on the sofa, listening to Lee Jiseok.
-We saw the play in April, and it’s June now, right? For almost two months, he’s probably been hearing more questions and stories about the two of us than about their own work. The audience members might think they’re the first to ask, but imagine how tiring it must be for the person hearing it for the hundredth time over two months. And it’s not even about the play itself.
“Yeah.”
-And this was a choice Director Kim Seon-gon and the Wind Troupe made.
“A choice?”
-Yes. They wanted to succeed, even if it meant pushing our names forward instead of letting their work be the star. They love theater, but you need money to keep doing it. Art or success. In that dilemma, they chose success.
“So, how long will it be hard for them?”
At Seojun’s kind words, Lee Jiseok chuckled and said.
-Don’t worry. People’s interests change in the blink of an eye, so it won’t last long.
Lee Jiseok scrolled through the comments. Unlike the first day, which had sold out in thirty minutes, stories of sold-out shows were becoming sporadic.
The audience was likely starting to dwindle, which was probably why Director Kim Seon-gon had agreed to the broadcast interview.
He hadn’t missed the opportunity that came his way, and the interview timing was good.
The weariness had likely surfaced for a moment at the thought that ordinary people who saw the broadcast would now come to see the play, and another barrage of questions about Seojun and Lee Jiseok might follow.
Seeing as there was no mention of it on the entertainment news board, it seemed only Seojun had noticed.
‘He has sharp eyes.’
Lee Jiseok smirked and continued.
-It’s fine. The fact that they’re still staging ‘Our Town’ means they still have some energy left. If things got really tough, they would have put on a new production. After all, the play people are interested in is the one we saw.
Seojun thanked Lee Jiseok and hung up.
“The protagonist…”
The word lingered in Seojun’s mind.
He had always been the center of attention, but he knew full well what it felt like not to be the protagonist. It was a feeling that was draining, regardless of one’s love for acting.
No, it wasn’t unrelated. That situation, of not being the protagonist, slowly eats away at one’s love for acting.
When you can’t get any attention no matter what you do, when you’re constantly overshadowed by others, who can comfortably immerse themselves in acting? Could you still love it?
You blame your lack of talent, blame yourself, and eventually quit acting.
*Maybe the person who truly loves acting is the one who keeps going even in a situation like that.*
The thought suddenly occurred to him.
* * *
Seojun’s search for his next project continued.
“This one has no lines at all, but what do you think?”
At An Daho’s question, Seojun tilted his head. The child actor’s role was minor, but it had been a reasonably successful play last year. This year, it was being staged with a different cast.
“Hmm. Is there anything else?”
“Alright. Let’s keep looking.”
At Seojun’s words, An Daho immediately put the script down. He sighed inwardly.
There weren’t many plays with child actors. Would there be one among them that Seojun would like? He’d have to ask the company to search for more.
Seojun and An Daho put their heads together and diligently looked through the scripts.
Just then, *ding-dong*—the doorbell rang.
An Daho stopped Seojun from getting up and went to the intercom himself. After a brief conversation, the front door opened.
“Heesang samchon!”
Kim Heesang had come to visit. Seojun greeted him with a smile. After hugging Seojun, Kim Heesang extended a hand to the awkwardly standing An Daho.
An Daho quickly shook it.
“Hello. I’m Seojun’s uncle, Kim Heesang. You must be his manager?”
“Yes. I’m An Daho, Lee Seojun’s manager. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
“Please take good care of our Seojun.”
They met without any introduction from Seo Eunchan. After exchanging greetings, Kim Heesang familiarly sat on the living room floor, and Seojun and An Daho returned to their spots.
“So what brings you here?”
“Wondering if you had any new designs.”
“Yup! I’ll go get my sketchbook!”
Seojun gave Kim Heesang a sketchbook filled with monster drawings he had made in his spare time. As Kim Heesang slowly began to look through it, Seojun and An Daho went back to reading their scripts.
No, no, maybe.
Seojun’s drawing skills were improving day by day. Many drawings were rejected as product designs because they were too realistic.
After re-examining a few drawings that might work if simplified, he looked up and saw the two of them engrossed in their scripts.
Drawing was certainly faster to review. Having finished his task, Kim Heesang picked up one of the scripts from the pile.
“What’s this? A drama? A movie?”
“Nope, it’s a play script!”
“A play?”
Kim Heesang tilted his head and picked up the script to read. Black letters were printed on pure white paper.
Flipping through a few pages, he saw lines highlighted with a fluorescent pen. Reading through the entire script, the lines barely amounted to ten.
“This is the child actor’s part, right? It’s really short.”
“I don’t mind if it’s short. There’s just nothing interesting.”
Seojun flopped onto the table. His hands and eyes were still fixed on a script.
*Sigh, what should I do? Do I have to pick the best of the bunch here? If so, then this one and… this one.*
Kim Heesang, who had been reading the script, shrugged and picked up his phone.
“Is there nothing posted online?”
“Mmm. Mom and I looked around, but most of them have age restrictions. Daho hyung picked out the plays that didn’t have an age limit.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Team 2 and I selected plays with the highest potential for success.”
At An Daho’s words, the slumped Seojun and the phone-searching Kim Heesang turned to look at him.
Startled by their surprised gazes, An Daho fidgeted nervously.
“Is… is something not to your liking?”
“Success?”
“Success?”
At the words of Seojun and Kim Heesang, An Daho found himself kneeling without even realizing it. Cold sweat trickled down his back. He stammered out a reply.
“Ye-yes. For actor Lee Seojun’s filmography, we gathered plays with the highest probability of success. We considered every factor—good actors, renowned directors, famous writers…”
An Daho’s voice trailed off as he saw their expressions sour. Something was clearly wrong.
“I see.”
With a deflated look, Seojun stared at the scripts he had already read three times each. No wonder there were so many remakes of old plays or translations of famous foreign ones.
Seeing the listless Seojun and the flustered An Daho, Kim Heesang laughed. It seemed he didn’t know Seojun very well yet.
“Daho-ssi, what did the president say?”
“The president? He just said that since Seojun wanted to do a play, I should find a suitable script and send it over.”
He wasn’t wrong, but his explanation was lacking.
Team 2, Lee Seojun’s dedicated team, had probably been looking for a box-office hit to follow *Shadowman 1*, *The Devil*, and *Shadowman 2*. To be fair, even Kim Heesang wouldn’t have been able to suggest a project that seemed destined to fail for a filmography like that.
“I don’t care about stuff like box-office success, Daho hyung.”
An Daho looked at Seojun in surprise.
“I’d rather do a project I want to do than one that’s a guaranteed hit. So next time, please give me all the scripts I could possibly do.”
Hearing Seojun’s words, An Daho’s shoulders slumped as he replied.
“I understand. I’m sorry.”
“No! You don’t have to be sorry! It’s just that I want to play a variety of roles, regardless of success. Of course, you can filter out the ones that seem like they’ll really fail!”
“Then how about this?”
Kim Heesang interjected as the two were apologizing to each other. On the phone screen he held out, a colorful announcement was displayed. An Daho’s expression turned skeptical.
“It’s a play for child and teen actors. No adult actors at all, and it only runs during summer vacation. There’s no age restriction either.”
“I saw that one, but I didn’t think it was the kind of play Seojun should be in…”
To be honest, he had thought it wasn’t on Seojun’s ‘level.’
“Samchon, is there a script?”
At Seojun’s words, An Daho looked at him. Seojun’s eyes were sparkling. *Wait, he really doesn’t care about success?* An Daho’s eyes wavered.
“It’s posted here. It says to look at the number of lines and write the role you think you can do on the application form.”
“Samchon, print it out for me!”
“Alright.”
Kim Heesang familiarly walked over to the printer set up in a corner of the living room. Seojun stood beside him, eagerly waiting for the script to come out.
An Daho felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation.
Working in the entertainment industry, he had met many actors who were always chasing projects that seemed destined for success.
A famous actor starring was a plus; a rookie actor in the lead was a minus. A good director was a plus; a rookie director was a minus. It was the same for writers and production companies.
Cocoa Entertainment’s Team 2 was no different. Everyone thought that way, so they only sought out scripts filled with pluses. But was a play like this really okay?
*Whirrr*
The script began printing. As soon as the pages came out, Seojun started reading them one by one right where he stood.
He reached out to neatly stack the papers emerging from the printer, but his eyes never left the script.