The First to Be Cast
After that brief, quiet comeuppance had passed, Lee Won-seok, who had been watching their faces, spoke up.
"Has any of the other casting been decided yet?"
"No. We're still drawing up the list."
"Whoa, so Su-a's the first one cast, then? That's an honor."
Productions usually locked in the leads and major supporting roles before they ever got to the child actors. That Lee Won-seok had gone out of his way to say thank you was proof of how much care they were taking with Cheon-yeong in Joseon Secret Royal Inspector.
Lee Ok-dan returned the smile and spoke with open candor.
"I write the screenplay, but Director Hong and I tend to revise quite a lot together. This time we tore apart a script that was already more than halfway finished, and the casting had to change along with it. Cheon-yeong is the only role I wrote with Su-a in mind, which is why we were able to hand over the script right away."
"Ah, is that right? Our Su-a's making her screen debut with a truly fine film, then. I'll work hard supporting her so she can give her full focus to Director Hong and Writer Lee's picture."
"I'll work hard too!"
We finished every last bit of the ice cream and formally confirmed the casting.
The casting director looked at me as if I were adorable when I started going through the contract—but about an hour later, he rose from his seat with a face gone pale.
Well. Gwon Du-il was the meticulous type himself, so I'd only chimed in now and then...
The others seemed to see it differently. Lee Ok-dan was looking at me with curious eyes, and Hong Il-beom was filling page after page of his notepad with ideas.
"Who taught you how to read a contract?"
"I looked it up in books and online and taught myself."
"With this many difficult words?"
"They're all in the dictionary."
"You've got quite the memory and comprehension, I see."
"Thank you. But are you refining Cheon-yeong based on me?"
"It's a little different. Less refining, more putting flesh on the bones."
It was a unique way of working, even looking at it a second time. Hong Il-beom would build a character from the skeleton up, then layer on an actor's personality and habits until the role had real dimension. Sometimes he even borrowed traits from an entirely different person. I had a feeling the Cheon-yeong that emerged this time would be quite different from the one in my memory.
This should be fun.
When I tried to sneak a peek at his notepad to see what kind of Cheon-yeong might come out of it, Hong Il-beom stretched his arm straight up out of reach. Then he asked, looking puzzled,
"You're not worried? The script and the character could change quite a bit."
"I think it'll be fun."
"Even if the lines end up very different from what's in the script now?"
"I memorize things fast, so it's fine."
At that, Hong Il-beom scolded me sternly.
"Simply memorizing lines and stage directions by rote and mimicking them cannot be called acting. Your own interpretation has to go into it. Just because Cheon-yeong has some of you in her doesn't mean you can do as you please. That wouldn't be Cheon-yeong."
"Oh, honey. You don't need to go that far. She's still a child who's learning."
Lee Ok-dan soothed her husband, while the casting director rolled his eyes with an uneasy look. He'd just gotten the stamp on the contract and was already worried things might fall apart. Gwon Du-il and Lee Won-seok looked at me with complicated expressions. I grinned.
"Isn't the protagonist, Yang Ho-gun, connected to the royal in-laws who attempted to assassinate King Jeongjo in the first year of his reign?"
"Wh-what?"
"In the very opening, when Yang Ho-gun pays his respects to receive King Jeongjo's secret command, the stage direction says his expression hardens. Then there's what the villain Baek-yeong says to Yang Ho-gun in Scene 35, and what Yang Ho-gun says to Kang Geon-bok in Scene 49. Looking at those moments, Yang Ho-gun has committed a crime—but not one grave enough to get him stripped of office or sent into exile. And King Jeongjo trusts him, or at least his abilities, enough to give him a critical mission. But Kang Geon-bok, one of the king's inner circle, is extremely wary of him."
"W-wait. You memorized all of that already...?"
"It's never stated outright, but looking at it historically, the only reason someone as capable as Yang Ho-gun would have been demoted is the attempted assassination of King Jeongjo. He survived because he wasn't directly involved—but he was never placed in a position of real importance. That's Yang Ho-gun's hidden backstory, isn't it?"
I rattled it all off without pausing, and Hong Il-beom's mouth fell open. I had never seen that look on his face, even before the regression.
"I'm not just reciting what I memorized, so you don't need to worry. I'll do well."
Hong Il-beom said nothing.
"When I said I memorize things fast, I meant I'm confident in my memory—so no matter how much the script changes, I won't hold up filming because I couldn't learn the lines. Please don't worry about whether I can handle it. Just bring Cheon-yeong's charm to life as much as you want."
Hong Il-beom closed his hanging jaw, and Lee Ok-dan's eyes sparkled. The casting director silently marveled, making a little motion of applause.
"I was too hasty, trying to lecture you. I'm sorry."
"That's understandable. I still have a lot to learn."
I said it as if it were nothing, and Hong Il-beom stared at me, stroking his chin.
"...I think I'll have to hold auditions for the other roles."
"What? All of a sudden?"
"Sung-hee told me what kind of actor you are, but I couldn't fully take it in until I saw you myself. It's making me think I should see the other actors in person before I pass judgment as well."
The casting director made a miserable face, but he didn't object. Hong Il-beom was a man who never reversed a decision once he had made it.
Sung-hee—that would be Ki Sung-hee, wouldn't it? They were on friendly terms, after all.
To think the connection would reach this far. I would have to thank her later.
Director Hong Il-beom deciding his lead through auditions would cause quite a stir. I didn't know who would end up as Yang Ho-gun, but Hong Il-beom was not the type to pick a lead carelessly, so their skill would be guaranteed.
Hmm. Still—having the lead actor change midway wasn't something I liked the sound of. Maybe I should put out feelers to a few decent actors?
Rumors that Director Hong Il-beom was preparing his next film had been circulating in the industry for quite some time. Given that his pre-production periods ran especially long, every entertainment company with an actor they wanted to push had been watching closely for when casting would begin.
Director Hong Il-beom and screenwriter Lee Ok-dan were a pair regarded as masters of well-made cinema, called artisans of the period drama—though their work tended to fall a little short on mass appeal. All six of their films to date had barely cleared the break-even point, but every actor who passed through their productions had visibly grown by a level. Some even called it an acting academy. Just getting cast was enough to generate buzz, you could say.
Nearly every actor, regardless of career, had been waiting for news of the casting—when, unexpectedly, a closed audition notice went up. And it was an audition notice for the lead and supporting roles, no less.
The reaction was not particularly favorable.
"Is he trying to discover a newcomer?" the president of one agency muttered, staring at the notice.
"If that were the case, they wouldn't have written 'experience irrelevant,' would they? It sounds like he's not going to weigh anyone's standing."
"Come on. Even if it is Director Hong, that's a bit much, isn't it? Want the lead role? Then even the stars can bow their heads and audition?"
"Maybe he just wants to cast based on skill...?"
"Skill, my ass. The man's always gotten attention by taking mediocre nobodies and polishing them up just enough. If you actually had talent, would you go into one of his pictures? Only the half-baked ones will flock to that audition."
Is that right? But isn't polishing mediocre talent the hardest thing of all?
The manager found it odd, but he didn't press. What he had to say next was going to get on the president's nerves.
"However... Isaac wants to go to that audition..."
"What? Why would he?"
"He says the project looks interesting."
The president pondered. He had talked the man down with his own mouth, but Director Hong Il-beom's eye was considerably high. Succeeding every time at elevating mediocre actors meant he could precisely identify the kernel of potential in middling talent and grow it properly.
But the actor the manager had just mentioned, to put it bluntly, did not have the skill to catch Director Hong Il-beom's eye.
Director Hong isn't even the type you can buy with money...
If it had been any other actor, he would have shut it down without a second thought—but this one had the looks, and the agency was pushing him at the company level, so that wasn't easy either. There was money coming in from that direction, too.
The president clicked his tongue and spoke.
"The lead's out of the question, so tell him to apply for a supporting role. If he's lucky, he might land a bit part at least."
"Understood."
"Don't tell him I said the lead was out of the question."
"Of course not."
Once the manager left, pleased that he would be able to pass along good news to his actor, the president let out a sigh.
"How long is that one going to last this time..."
It wasn't that Isaac had a bad personality, but somehow every staff member assigned to him quit within a few months. And when asked if something difficult had happened, they never answered.
Hoping that at least no strange exposé posts would go up, the president rose from his seat. He intended to go find out who would be participating in Director Hong Il-beom's film audition.