The Next Day
Kim Tae-gon, the team leader, relayed to Woojin the details of the long phone call he'd had the night before with someone from UTA.
"There's a project cranking up at the end of the year. Three lead roles, and one of them's set as Asian."
A film directed by Eric Christopher Hoon, one of the directors recognized for his directing prowess in Hollywood. The title was Ray of Sunshine. An expression referring to someone who always brings joy and cheer, making those around them happy. A title brimming with the power of positivity. He hadn't even seen the script yet, but the vibe from the title alone felt pretty good.
"Oh, the title sounds great."
"They said the script isn't finalized yet, so they can't send the full thing. They just gave a rough outline of the story."
Kim Tae-gon continued in a low voice.
"It's a human drama, and the core is the story of three teenagers building their lives together."
Teenagers. That stormy age when traumas and wounds form easily, ones you can't freely open up about to others. It could be school stress, friendships, or family issues. Anyway, each would carry their own inner burdens. The film depicts how these three, bound together under the name of 'friendship,' overcome them.
"The role UTA matched you with is Ellen Kim—a Korean-American character. Think it's pronounced Ellen Kim?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Okay. Anyway, she's eighteen in the story. A high school sophomore."
Wow, eighteen?! A teen role. He never dreamed it'd be a full ten years younger than his actual age.
"...You think it'll work?"
"What?"
"A high school student role—I'm not sure if it'll suit me."
Kim Tae-gon let out a 'pfft' of laughter at Woojin's words. He waved it off with an incredulous look.
"Of course it'll suit you! Back in Wanted, you and Choi Kyu-bo were exactly ten years apart, right?"
"Yeah. I was twenty-five, and he was thirty-five in the story."
"Exactly! If you nailed playing ten years older perfectly, what's ten years younger? And..."
Kim Tae-gon grinned and whispered.
"Don't worry, Woojin. You've got that baby face."
"Huh?"
"Seriously. Even being generous, you look early twenties at most."
"Whoa, no way!"
Woojin denied it vehemently, while Kim Tae-gon nodded just as emphatically.
"For real! Your usual image is so innocent and youthful. That's why I was shocked back then too—how did this kid pull off Choi Kyu-bo?"
"...?"
"That vibe doesn't hit until mid-thirties at least!"
Kim Tae-gon joked.
"You hiding your age or something? Haha!"
Woojin flinched inwardly.
"Ahaha... You're praising my acting, right? Thanks, I appreciate it."
Woojin played it off as naturally as he could. Kim Tae-gon burst into hearty laughter.
- RRRRR.
Right on cue, Kim Tae-gon's phone rang.
"Woojin, give me a sec."
"Sure, go ahead."
Kim Tae-gon stepped out briefly. Only after he left did Woojin exhale.
"Phew..."
Wow, that really caught him off guard. Now that his past self had become the present 'him,' and the current Baek Woojin was 'him'—even so, hearing words that evoked the original Baek Woojin, the secret only he knew, sometimes caused a momentary brain freeze.
The promise to his past self, that if given a chance, he'd stake his life on acting alone. And the promise to the old woman who gave him this new life as an actor—he poured every effort into keeping them. But deep down, a corner of his heart remained... unsettled, somehow.
Thanks to the diary, he'd come this far, and gratefully, he hadn't given up acting. Otherwise, he'd have quit after that 500th failed audition. Yet here he was, enjoying luck far beyond his station, despite vowing to quit. Had he stolen someone else's opportunity by regressing into this spot? And so on. A whirlwind of thoughts suddenly assailed him.
That was how acting was for Woojin: something he wanted to do until he died. And at the same time, something he had to do. Something he had to pour everything into, fiercely, every moment.
So, now that his short vacation—where he could think of nothing—was over, this place felt like a battlefield to him. From the moment he returned to Korea and stopped by the company building, Woojin had steeled himself like this. It was only natural for endless thoughts to swirl.
"Aigoo, I thought the phone barrage was over and I could breathe... "
Hm? Kim Tae-gon returned, grumbling playfully, then froze at the sight of Woojin deep in thought, hands cupped over his mouth.
"......"
Utterly motionless, lost in concentration. It was the face Woojin made when dissecting a script obsessively. Seeing it after two months felt fresh. That expression before even getting the script? A true acting maniac.
"Woojin."
Kim Tae-gon cautiously broke the actor's focus.
"......"
"Woojin?"
"Ah, yes."
"What're you thinking about?"
"Oh, nothing. Just... "
Woojin mumbled vaguely. Kim Tae-gon patted his shoulder and sat down.
"Yeah, lots to think about. Let's wrap this up."
"Okay."
Kim Tae-gon continued.
"To sum up: UTA made an offer, but it doesn't mean you're cast yet. That's just how their system works."
"Got it. Means I have to audition."
"Right. The most UTA can do is guarantee the audition slot. The rest is on you."
In Hollywood, Woojin was still a rookie actor—or maybe just an aspiring one.
"They said all the nice things: audition schedule, actor support, best efforts for future auditions, etc. But the nuance..."
"Yeah."
"'We're interested in your actor, hence this amazing offer, and...'"
"And?"
"'Prove yourself now that we've given you this shot!'—that vibe."
Kim Tae-gon scratched his head.
Prove it, huh. Interesting.
"That's why the CEO was a bit concerned yesterday. You're already killing it in Korea—no need for that treatment. But it's your call."
"I get their side. Even if they saw my work through Lily, Korean projects alone aren't enough."
Kim Tae-gon nodded. Reflecting on it, this UTA deal was Woojin's own achievement too.
"If Burnt and Hidden Marks had made Cannes, it'd be different. Timing's a shame. If editing had been faster..."
"It's fine. Cannes might've clashed with those precious West End connections. Venice is August anyway. I think this timing's perfect."
Woojin smiled meaningfully, his eyes flashing. Kim Tae-gon flinched again.
"It's been ages since my last audition—I'm excited."
"...You'd already decided."
"Yeah, from the moment you told me. No matter the terms, I'm doing it."
Woojin beamed. Kim Tae-gon saw it: Woojin's face smiling, but his fists clenched tight. 'Prove it? If that's what you want, watch me.'
In Kim Tae-gon's eyes, it was just one actor charging fearlessly into the battlefield of fierce challenge. Because it was Woojin, who'd always backed his choices with results. Somehow, his heart felt lighter.
* * *
After confirming Woojin's will again, Flower Entertainment moved swiftly. While coordinating busily with UTA, they also promptly passed on domestic scripts sending love calls to Woojin.
Detailed schedules were still being ironed out, but the Ray of Sunshine audition was expected no earlier than early next year. With no official schedule except Venice in August, Woojin declared, "I want to jump right into a project," unleashing his acting fervor and vowing a return to 'full-throttle mode.'
Rumor had it Jun-an was even happier than Woojin himself.
"Woojin, check this out. What do you think?"
"One sec."
The scripts delivered to the agency in boxes. Too many to speed-read, so Jun-an rolled up his sleeves.
"Whoa, every time another film's done, the incoming scripts double..."
Even combining those after Red Petal and Burnt and Hidden Marks felt like half this amount. Word of his return to Korea had spread fast—offers kept coming mid-review.
"They're all desperate to snag you."
Jun-an whistled.
"Grateful, that's all. Who am I to..."
"Hey, if I were them, I'd cast you first if the budget and schedule fit. Word's out: touch of Woojin guarantees a hit."
"Thanks to you putting me on all those planes, hyung, I haven't lost my confidence."
Woojin smiled without lifting his eyes from the script. Speed-reading yet missing not a single word. Gratitude for their efforts repaid with sincere reading—that was basic courtesy.
How much time passed?
- Thud.
Woojin closed the last script, sighing deeply as he leaned back. Jun-an, who'd dozed off on the desk, jolted awake at the sound and clapped.
"Done!"
Woojin finally stretched. A week-long marathon to meticulously review dozens of scripts.
"It... worked."
"Including indie features, that's why there were so many."
Offers from indies had surged post-Burnt and Hidden Marks.
"So, any that grab you?"
"Yeah, a few..."
He'd narrowed it to three: two dramas, one film. All fun scripts, solid projects, but...
"Ah, but..."
"What, Woojin? Something off?"
Why, exactly?
"The scripts are great, but... why don't they pull me in? Why can't I get excited?"
He definitely wanted to act, dive into projects—yet his heart wouldn't move.
"......"
Woojin pondered briefly. Then it hit him.
"Hyung, I think this time... it's not screen acting."
He whispered to Jun-an.
"I want to do stage acting."