Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Emotive Power
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Everyone has a childhood.
A time when they were small, immature, and pure in their ignorance.
A time when everything in the world was new, a time of yearning for fantasy.
I had a time like that, too.
And like most people, I needed certain fragments of the past to reminisce about those days.
For instance.
The stationery store where you could buy all sorts of trinkets with coins, the colorful chicks in front of the school, the red dragonflies flitting across the playground, or the arcade machines and the 300-won tteokbokki at the snack shop.
Why am I suddenly talking about this? Because it’s a very important story when it comes to casting a voice actor.
Memories make the person.
To be precise, the past, represented by memories, accumulates to create the person I am today.
This was an extension of that story.
The villain from a cartoon I loved as a child, Black War Tyrannomon.
What I mean is that he played a huge part in shaping the person I am today.
“I don’t listen to anyone weaker than me.”
He was a character who captivated the seventh-grade Cheon Yeon-ho with just that first impression.
How should I put it? It was like coming face to face with the dark flame dragon within me.
The ultimate villain who shattered everything in his path with overwhelming power, refusing to bow to anyone.
Wasn’t he captivating?
Of course, that alone wouldn’t have made it my most memorable recollection.
The reason he occupied such a large part of my memories was none other than the question posed by the villain’s narrative.
“Am I, too, living a pathetic life?”
In the story, Black War Tyrannomon was a character artificially created, one who questioned his own existence.
In the end, he was a character who chose his own path and opted for a sacrificial death as a complete individual.
A narrative of being born to destroy, only to die in sacrifice, and within it, the constant anguish over the question, “Who am I?”
It was the first existential question I had ever encountered in my life.
You could say it displayed a philosophical depth undeserving of a children’s cartoon.
You could also say the young me, deeply engrossed in it, was embarrassing.
But there was one undeniable fact.
That absurdly serious anguish from my youth played a huge part in making me who I am today.
Who am I? What do I live for, and what will I die for?
The worries of my youth pointed me toward a destination called a dream.
My dream was to be a game director.
I loved games, I loved the meaning they held, and I wanted others to feel the same emotions I did because of me.
Thus, the question blossomed into a dream and pushed me forward.
I became a game director, and now, having received this miraculous second chance, I was living a new life.
That’s the story of the memories that made me.
Now, to get to the main point about casting the voice actor, it was because of a realization that came to me much later.
One day, I thought.
Why did that story resonate so deeply with my younger self? Why was the narrative of that villain, which could be seen as commonplace, so intense for me?
I found the answer around the time I became an adult.
“A pleasure to meet you. Mr. Lee Su-chang, my name is Cheon Yeon-ho.”
It was his emotive power.
The emotive power of someone who packed emotion tightly into the form of language, making it palpable even through a speaker.
Beyond the static-filled, low-resolution TV screen, the magic of that voice, which made a painted character feel like a living person, was the very reason for my contemplation.
So, wouldn’t the person who plunged my younger self into such contemplation and led me to this dream be able to show that same immersion and emotive power in Hellic 3?
“It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
I bowed my head deeply.
In the reception room of Studio Rewind, before me stood a middle-aged man with an ordinary appearance and glasses.
Lee Su-chang, a veteran who had been a voice actor for 20 years.
I couldn’t contain my excitement and committed a slight breach of etiquette.
“I’m a fan. Before we begin, would it be alright if I asked for an autograph?”
*Clasp!*
I grasped the voice actor’s hand firmly.
“…Excuse me?”
…He seems flustered.
***
Lee Su-chang, age 42.
A veteran of the voice acting industry who had once built a reputation as a major network voice actor and earned a fortune.
Now, however, he was just a so-so freelance voice actor.
There was no particularly grand reason for his downfall.
No, it was actually a rather common story.
The kind of common story where success brings money, leading to a failed attempt at running one’s own business.
Su-chang was in debt.
To resolve it, he had returned to the voice acting industry, the only thing he knew how to do.
But even there, in the current industry, he belonged not to the elite few at the top but to the vast majority at the bottom.
His long hiatus had held him back.
Voice acting was a profession where even a short break from training required a long recovery period.
Having jumped back in despite that, there was bound to be a rebound effect.
Life as a voice actor to pay off his debts was grueling.
For one, he had been forgotten by the industry, so few people sought him out. And even when they did, the pay was low and the treatment poor.
If not for practical reasons, Su-chang probably would have quit voice acting.
Today was another one of those days.
The only thing better than usual was that the relief of landing a job had washed away his doubts.
That was how he’d felt until a moment ago, but that emotion had now turned to bewilderment.
“Your performance as Black War Tyrannomon was truly exceptional. In fact, even at my age, I still sometimes rewatch the episodes with that dialogue. It feels new every time I hear it. That’s how good your acting was.”
Today’s employer was a very peculiar person.
At the same time, he was an eccentric figure impossible not to know if you were in the industry.
‘…The first Korean game director to win a GOTY.’
A so-called genius who had reached the pinnacle of the global stage in his mid-twenties.
A rising star in the industry, now shedding his indie skin to take on AAA titles.
Before coming here, the Yeon-ho that Su-chang had imagined was a fastidious and authoritarian person.
The reason being, he had seen too many people achieve great success at a young age in the world of broadcasting.
He was even prepared to swallow his pride.
After all, he couldn’t just kick away a rare opportunity.
But to have such a person heap praise on him, bewilderment rose above all other feelings.
His final thought was this.
‘What a…’
…character.
In a good way.
Yeon-ho was pure and sincere.
Befitting someone who crafts fantasies, he was a person who showed glimpses of a creator’s passion rather than a businessman’s demeanor.
It was palpable, even though his expression barely changed.
One thing in particular swayed Su-chang’s heart.
His choice of words and his attitude.
“I was truly moved by your performance, Mr. Lee. So much so that I even watched a magical girl cartoon for little girls, which I normally wouldn’t, just to hear your voice. You played the demon king in *Apple Peach Spin-Spin*, right? I don’t know how this will sound, but… I truly believe there’s no one who can surpass you when it comes to playing weighty villain roles.”
‘Mr. Lee,’ performance, knowledge of the roles he had played.
It was a fundamental respect for a business partner.
But there were plenty of people in the world who didn’t do the basics.
The representative from a major game company he’d met just two months ago was like that.
“Lee Su-chang? Let’s start the script reading.”
No understanding or respect for the profession.
It wasn’t uncommon.
Step just outside the industry, and you’d find plenty of people who saw voice actors as nothing more than convenient voices to use.
For a voice actor like Su-chang, who wasn’t a star, it happened even more often.
Could the contrast really be this stark?
His respect raised Su-chang’s opinion of Yeon-ho as a person.
At the same time, it added to the pressure.
In other words, his conscience was pricked.
‘…It’s a highly anticipated game.’
Researching a job before accepting it was essential.
As such, Su-chang had done a lot of research on Hellic 3 before coming.
This game wasn’t just a domestic hit; it was a highly anticipated title drawing attention worldwide, a hot topic of discussion even now, when no information had been released.
For such a game, he couldn’t help but think that they should be using a better voice actor, someone classified as a star, not him.
It is human nature to repay kindness with kindness.
Especially in a professional relationship, repayment had to be in the form of results.
He had no confidence in that.
The long period of financial hardship and his lost standing had stolen his confidence.
Su-chang clenched his fists.
His palms were sweating.
A conflict brewed within him.
Should he prioritize the job in front of someone who thought well of him, or should he act rashly and recommend another voice actor?
If he were to recommend someone, he could suggest a pretty good person.
It was just that he couldn’t land jobs himself; he was still in good contact with his peers and juniors who were considered stars.
After a long moment, Su-chang finally came to a decision.
“…Director.”
“Ah, yes.”
After a tense breath, Su-chang continued.
“May I ask why you specifically chose me? Ah, I don’t mean that I dislike the job. It’s just… I’ve looked into it a little. I know how much anticipation this game is receiving.”
Though it was a short conversation, there was something he could tell.
Yeon-ho was a good person.
Someone with an even brighter future ahead of him.
But setting everything aside, as a senior in life, Su-chang didn’t want to become an obstacle for someone who admired him.
In voice acting, the disconnect from a miscasting was felt more keenly than in many other professions.
To take on such a big job at his current level was to risk ruining it.
“It was a good offer. In fact, from my position, it was an incredibly grateful one. But there are people who can do a better job than me. If you’d like, I can even recommend someone.”
“…”
“Childhood memories tend to be romanticized. You said you still rewatch that old cartoon, but in the end, that was my voice from over ten years ago. I can’t say I’m the same now. I took a very long break.”
Su-chang finally spat out the words that would kick away his own opportunity.
What could he do, even with regret? Even as he spoke, he thought.
*I really don’t want to stand in the way of this passionate young man.*
“Are you sure you looked thoroughly? And you still chose me?”
*What am I doing at my age?*
*I can’t even properly earn a living, yet here I am meddling.*
The belated, regret-filled thoughts soon faded.
Yeon-ho’s expression changed.
The anticipation that had been hidden beneath his blank face vanished, and his expression hardened with gravity.
*This is the end.*
The moment he lowered his head.
“…It was your emotive power.”
At Yeon-ho’s words, Su-chang snapped his head up.
And his eyes widened.
“It was your emotive power. The reason I cast you, Mr. Lee, is because your voice possessed the emotive power that breathed life into that character’s anguish.”
Yeon-ho’s voice held no doubt.
“That’s what I believe. To be able to express anguish with only your voice is an incredible feat. If it’s not you, the voice actor who can do that, then there is no one who fits the role I have in mind.”
He was as flustered as he had been the moment he first met Yeon-ho.
He had no idea how to respond to those words.
At the same time.
Funnily enough, in that moment, Su-chang wasn’t seeing the present.
He saw the distant past.
Yeon-ho’s pure goodwill and praise made Su-chang recall something he had forgotten.
“Have you received the script?”
“…Yes.”
“He won’t be different from Black War Tyrannomon. The barbarian I’m asking you to play is tormented when the path he believed in is denied. To resolve that, he constantly pushes forward. Headstrong, bound by nothing.”
What flashed through his mind were things of the past.
Before he started worrying about his unstable livelihood, the ecstasy of the moments when, as a voice actor, he breathed life into stories with his voice began to rise, clearing away the dust that had settled within Su-chang.
“You just need to express that. It doesn’t matter if your voice has changed from back then. The character you’re playing is a barbarian. It’s good if it carries the weight of years. Unlike Black War Tyrannomon, he’s a human who has weathered harsh storms. In fact, it would be a better fit.”
Su-chang had loved being a voice actor.
He loved how characters came to life the moment he lent them his voice.
He loved seeing children get lost in another world while watching those characters.
As he was reminiscing about such things, he suddenly realized.
“For me, you are the best choice, Mr. Lee. Because only you possess the emotive power that moved my heart.”
That the child who had grown up watching the performances he had poured such passion into was right here, in front of him.
“Is that a sufficient answer?”
They say you get more sentimental as you get older.
Was that why? His heart was moved by words that might have been nothing more than conventional praise.
A wave of shame washed over him.
Shame for his pathetic self.
Shame for having doubted the person who believed in him.
Su-chang couldn’t answer rashly.
Just then, Yeon-ho spoke.
“I remember so much. Especially when Black War Tyrannomon met the final boss and gave that philosophical lecture, only to be told to take it somewhere else…”
A memorable scene.
Su-chang let out a dry laugh.
Then, his voice came out.
He took a moment to compose his breath. It was the exact same tone he had used for the role back then.
“Trash must be eliminated!”
*Thud.* Yeon-ho froze.
His eyes, wide as if they would tear, and then his trembling lips, vividly conveyed the emotions he was feeling.
In that moment, Su-chang felt an unfamiliar sense of fulfillment.
The fact that someone who remembered him had carried that memory and grown up to become this person struck him deep in the heart once more.
Yeon-ho seemed to gasp in surprise, then let out a hollow laugh.
“You’re good.”
Su-chang also burst out laughing.
His face reddened with embarrassment.
“…I’m sorry. It must be my male menopause.”
“That’s great. Your emotional range must have deepened.”
He felt a tickle inside.
Su-chang extended his hand.
“…Again, I apologize for saying such strange things. If you’ll entrust this to me, I’ll do my absolute best.”
“Of course.”
Replying as he shook his hand, Yeon-ho added one more thing.
“By the way.”
“Yes?”
“Um…”
Yeon-ho seemed to hesitate, his lips twitching, before he continued.
“…Would it be possible to get an introduction to some other voice actors? I haven’t proceeded with casting anyone other than you yet.”
His tone was a little sheepish.
Su-chang laughed heartily.
“Of course. I know many talented juniors.”
The deal was sealed.
***
People cannot see themselves objectively.
Because fleeting emotions and circumstances always obscure one’s true self.
Su-chang was no different.
Among those in the voice acting profession, the people around Su-chang knew him better than he knew himself.
To be precise, they remembered the Su-chang from before he had been worn down by the years much more clearly.
“Say you’ll do it right now.”
“What?”
“I said, say you’ll do it! It’s for Mr. Su-chang!”
“No, but the rate…”
“Ah, then tell them to cut it! It’s a project with Mr. Su-chang, we have to go, no matter what!”
The star voice actors were on the move.
Because the senior they had respected and admired had reached out to them for the first time in ten years.