Aura of a Genius Actor Chapter 49

Chapter 49 - The Hearing

 ༺ The Hearing ༻

 

  “I heard about it somewhere… I thought it might be interesting.”

 

  “What’s the title?”

 

  “It’s called <Showbiz Studies>, and I think the audition announcement has either been released or will be released soon.” 

 

  <Showbiz Studies>

 

  A 16-episode mini-series produced by KBK and aired at the end of 2004.

 

  It centered around the entertainment industry. 

 

  The story was about the romance between the female lead, a rookie manager and an aspiring actress. She became the road manager for a top actor, who was also the male lead, and the story told of her journey of adjusting to the entertainment industry.

 

  It was currently being aired as of July 2004, following the popularity of <Lovers in Paris>. It was one of the dramas featuring a ‘strong female lead,’ and while it wasn’t a big hit, it was a moderately successful drama. Yoomyeong remembered watching it with great enjoyment.  

 

  Since the characters were actors, the drama somewhat delved into the world of acting. It was quite thrilling to watch an actor portraying an ‘actor who acts well’. And…

 

  ‘The character’s name was Bohyung, wasn’t it…?’

 

  That was the very reason Yoomyeong picked this drama.

 

  There was a supporting character that was quite distinctive and interesting, but it was regrettable that the actor couldn’t bring the role to life. At that time, Yoomyeong, who was in his early years in a theater troupe, imagined how he would play that role and practiced acting quite a bit. 

 

  I think I read an article saying they cast the role of Bohyung through an audition… 

 

  “I’ll ask my manager.”

 

  Hansung sent a text.

 

  That was how dramas worked.

 

  The main roles were usually filled by well-known actors. 

 

  For supporting roles and below, some were cast directly, but casting directors often went through profiles from agencies and scouted at universities to curate a list of actors that fit the image. During that process, they often held auditions.

 

  Occasionally, there were open call auditions, but those usually happened when there was ample prep time on the pre-production arrangements. For dramas on tight schedules, most decisions were made within the pool of the casting director or the external casting agency due to broadcast and production timelines. 

 

  In other words, the person the auditionee needed to woo was the casting director. 

 

  “Oh, it really does exist?”

 

  “Really? Can I get the casting director’s contact info?”

 

  “Personal contact info?”

 

  “An email will do.”

 

  “That shouldn’t be hard.”

 

  ‘As expected, it was around this time.’ 

 

  Of course, sending his profile to a casting director didn’t guarantee that he’d hear back from them or that the role he wanted wasn’t already assigned. 

 

  But it was worth a shot.

 

  Yoomyeong held onto the email address Hansung gave him.

 

  *

 

  Click— 

 

  “Okay, good pose—”

 

  “Try a sadder expression. You don’t necessarily need to strike a pose; just act naturally.”

 

  Click— Click— Click—

 

  Yoomyeong was in the personal studio of photographer Kang Min Gyo.

 

  Min Gyo, who once worked as a photographer for the fashion brand <Rococo>, gladly volunteered to take photos for free at the request of Yoomyeong, who wanted to have his profile photo taken.

 

  His outfit was simple: jeans, bare feet, and a plain white shirt.

 

  “Wow. You killed that one—”

 

  However, the lively gaze of the actor captivated the camera.

 

  “Okay— Good job!”

 

  “You worked harder, brother. Thank you.” 

 

  The photoshoot was wrapped up in just 30 minutes.

 

  There’s usually an interval for the body to relax until I can get a proper shot, but this guy went right in from the first shot… 

 

  Min Gyo admired the finished photos. 

 

  There were no B-cuts. (*B-cut: Photographs are usually divided into A-cuts, which were usable, and B-cuts, which were discarded.)

 

  RRRR—

 

  “Oh, brother, I need to take this call.”

 

  “Sure. I’ll be selecting some photos for printing.”

 

  It was Director Ki Do-han. 

 

  He seemed to be living in the editing room these days. What could it be about? 

 

  “Hello, Director.”

 

  [Hey, Yoomyeong, how have you been?]

 

  “Good. How’s the editing going?”

 

  [It’s progressing well. Don’t worry about it. What are you up to these days?]

 

  “I’m taking a break and looking for my next project.” 

 

  [Any thoughts on your next project or movie? One of my juniors is making an independent film and he mentioned that he’s looking for a lead actor with good acting skills, so I thought of you.] 

 

  While a leading role might be a good opportunity, Yoomyeong didn’t intend to keep doing art films forever.

 

  He was already eyeing another project.

 

  “Thank you for considering me! But I have a role I’d like to try, and I’m preparing for its audition.”

 

  [Ah… I see. Have you prepared your profile yet?]

 

  “Yes. Director Choi took a video of my performance when we had some downtime during filming, and I’m getting my profile photos taken right now.”

 

  [You seem fully prepared. I believe in you, but if things don’t work out, please contact me. From the looks of the script, finding the right actor won’t be easy.]

 

  “Understood, Director. Thanks for keeping me in mind!”

 

  People were starting to look for him from all around. 

 

  That was a good sign.

 

  If he doesn’t make the cut for this audition, Yoomyeong planned to widen his net. He planned to visit various production companies to distribute his profile, and there was also the alternative plan of finding an agency. 

 

  But for now, he wanted to wholeheartedly pursue the role he wanted to play. 

 

  ‘By the way, when is that guy coming back…?’

 

  Miho’s absence made Yoomyeong feel a bit gloomy.

 

  The spirit fox didn’t often interfere with Yoomyeong’s decisions and mostly watched quietly or offered occasional advice, but it felt weird without its presence when it had been by his side for over a year.

 

  ‘A summons from the Celestial Realm…’  

 

  *

 

  {Sin Spirit Hye-ho (The true name of the Spirit Fox) must wear the restraints before entering the Celestial Realm.} 

 

  In a place where ash-colored clouds stretched to the end of the horizon, a grand gate stood alone. 

 

  The Celestial Realm.

 

  The guardian of the gate, Yacha. The one-horned goblin with red fur and a blue body glared with bulging eyes and snarled. 

 

  The appearance of the opposing Spirit Fox was unfamiliar.

 

  {I am a child of the Heavenly Emperor, and my purpose for visiting is only to clarify suspicious circumstances. Gatekeeper Yacha, maintain your manners!} 

 

  As the booming voice resonated, the ash-colored clouds swirled away, clearing up. 

 

  Standing tall in front of the massive gate, the figure who was reprimanding Yacha… 

 

  Was a beautiful woman with silver hair that cascaded down to her knees.

 

  She looked as if she could be a celestial nymph. Her skin was so clear it was almost translucent, and her perfectly placed features seemed to attest to a noble lineage like no other.

 

  Her eyes were sharp and elongated. A proud nose bridge elegantly sloped down just above her enticingly red lips that parted to say,

 

  {You bastard!} 

 

  Taken aback by the stern reprimand, gatekeeper Yacha quickly flipped through the ledger.

 

  Indeed, it read: [Scheduled Visitor – Hyeho (Benevolent Fox): Hearing for an explanation on the issue of a suspected unfair contract].

 

  Lately, most of the lesser spirits being summoned to the Celestial Realm had committed offenses. The goblin’s careless words became a spark.

 

  The gatekeeper swiftly opened the door, bowing his head.

 

  {I… I apologize.} 

 

  Moreover, a child of the Heavenly Emperor — was this the one who had been the subject of countless rumors?

 

  {Just saying you’re sorry won’t do.}

 

  {Please… please spare me just this once.} 

 

  {Hand over one of your horns.}

 

  {That… that’s…}

 

  {The gatekeeper was negligent and was handling his work carelessly. Should I file a complaint?}  

 

  {No… No, my lady. Here it is.}

 

  With a teary expression, Yacha detached one of his horns and handed it over.

 

  After all, the horns would grow back quickly. For Yacha, who considered his horns a matter of pride, the only sadness was the drop in his stature until they regrew. 

 

  Whoosh— 

 

  The horn transformed into a silvery essence and was absorbed by Hye-ho.

 

  {Is the location at the Hall of Righteous Prayers?} 

 

  {Yes, that’s correct.}

 

  {Go and report.}

 

  Yacha scampered away, leaving hastily.

 

  In contrast to the sight of the lone gate amidst the ash-colored clouds, passing through the door revealed a realm fragrant with the scent of peaches carried by the breeze.

 

  The spirit fox, or rather, Hye-ho, began to walk towards the hall. 

 

  *

 

  {That one claims to be the child of the Heavenly Emperor…?} 

 

  {Indeed, like mother like daughter… she looks so much like Hwaho (Flower Fox).} 

 

  Whispers from a few shallow-minded immortals filled the air, but Hye-ho pretended not to notice. 

 

  There was no need to worsen an already unfavorable situation by reacting to such gossip.

 

  Inside the hall was nothing but endless darkness. 

 

  Floating in the center of that void was Hye-ho, surrounded by spheres of lights steadily growing brighter.

 

  The ten spheres of light, each of a different color, were the Celestial Judges, the guardians of the strict laws of the celestial realm.

 

  {Defendant Hye-ho, listen.}

 

  {I am listening.}

 

  {You have been summoned for the verification of the fairness of the life contract number 1538720 signed on human date 20181023. If not sufficiently justified, there may be sanctions and punishments for the unfair contract.}

 

  {I understand.}

 

  In celestial trials and hearings, there was no right to an attorney or the right to remain silent.

 

  This was because there was essentially no situation that could be hidden. 

 

  The only thing that could be obscured was logic. 

 

  {The celestial realm’s judicial officials have identified several suspicious parts in this contract. As you know, [Giving Presence] is typically a benefit you provide, not a compensation you receive. Despite this, why does the contract recognize [Giving Presence] as a ‘compensation received’? Is it because your ultimate goal is ‘Existential Usurpation’?}

 

  Existential Usurpation.

 

  When an entity receives a greater amount of presence than its inherent one, ‘Existential Usurpation’ becomes possible.

 

  It was similar to a hostile M&A concept where one can exercise ownership if they own more than 50% of the shares.

 

  Naturally, it was rare for a human being, especially those who aspire to be an actor, to have a presence of less than 50. Thus, it wasn’t something easily attempted.

 

  It was something Hye-ho could only attempt because she met a rare human with a mere presence of 29. 

 

  And it was also possible because Hye-ho’s capability was so exceptional that she could transfer that much presence. 

 

  {Yes, that’s correct.}

 

  She readily admitted to the first inquiry. 

 

  After all, the laws of the celestial realm only questioned the fairness of a deal and not the intention of the deal itself.

 

  {The first issue that needs clarification is whether there was ample disclosure about the risks ‘B’ could face if ‘your intention’ succeeds.}

 

  {I’ve repeatedly clarified that receiving my presence is the ‘price’, and that this contract benefits not only ‘B’ but also ‘A’, which is me.} 

 

  — You’ve already decided to ‘receive my presence’ and ‘return to the past’, haven’t you?”

 

  — No, it’s also a good thing for me.

 

  — Thank you for what? We’re both getting what we want.

 

  Indeed, that was the case. 

 

  Hye-ho never said the deal was solely beneficial to ‘B’, Shin Yoomyeong.

 

  Though, if asked whether she had manipulated it to seem that way… she couldn’t deny it.

 

  {I paid such a heavy price and reaped just that much benefit because of the possibility of that ‘misunderstanding’. Considering that ‘B’ gained huge benefits from the transaction and yet did not actively check the price he had to pay, I argue that this deal is within the bounds of fairness.}

 

  {That’s true… Going against time is an enormous paradox. The price paid is indeed vast compared to what was received.}

 

  {What she lost was the tenth tail, bestowed directly by the Heavenly Emperor…}  

 

  {Why would she give up something so precious…?}  

 

  The nine lights heatedly exchanged opinions.

 

  The fundamental law governing the celestial realm was the natural order.

 

  If one went against it, they had to pay the price. 

 

  The tenth tail Hye-ho gave up was a powerful force that was able to withstand the backlash from violating the natural order just once. It was an ability no ordinary spirit could possess and was irreplaceable once used.

 

  Yet, all she demanded in return was for the single human to receive her presence. And it wasn’t even an immediate usurpation; she gave them the choice between receiving 25 to 50 presence.

 

  What could possibly be the reason for such a foolish deal…?

 

  Everyone was filled with curiosity, but the purpose of the hearing was only to judge the ‘fairness’ of the deal.

 

  {Alright. You didn’t lie about the risks, and you provided a benefit far beyond the agreed price. The judges agree that the deal, albeit narrowly, maintains its fairness.}

 

  One issue was settled.

 

  {Now, regarding the recent modification in the contract, why did you hand over the control of your presence and only add a mere value of 3 presence? This may be sanctioned as a contract unilaterally favoring ‘B’.}

 

  {Well… as time went on, I grew fond of him. Besides, the story he’s weaving is quite entertaining… so I wanted to give him another chance.}

 

  The word ‘affection’ caused the celestials to stir in confusion, their lights flickering.

 

  {However, I thought he was already close to the limit for Existential Usurpation, so I judged it wouldn’t be an unfair contract even if he only received a presence of 3 in exchange for control. My intention in giving that presence to him was to at least match his presence.} 

 

  Hearing those words, the elder celestial judge inquired in a curious tone. 

 

  {And then?}

 

  {Rather than that, let me ask you. Why on earth did the “human’s” presence increase in just one year, and by more than what could be expected?”} 

 

 

 

 

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Aura of a Genius Actor

Aura of a Genius Actor

Score 9.99
Status: Completed Native Language: Korean
[Winner of the 5th Korea Web Novel Contest] He cast his very being into a life of acting, only to go unrecognized.   But now, his life begins anew

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