“Again!”
“Again!!”
“AGAIN!”
Ryeo Wang was notorious. He didn’t stop shouting the word until he was satisfied. Daeshim PD let him do his thing because, frankly, he believed it was necessary.
Daeshim didn’t feel ashamed that the veteran actor had somehow taken over his job. He was actually thankful. Ryeo Wang had lived for 88 whole years, and he was still up and running. There was a reason why he was called the king of acting, and Daeshim respected his input.
Meanwhile, Oska felt like that this was the most embarrassing moment of his life! Somehow, Ryeo always stopped him in the middle of his sentence, so he felt like the old man’s anger was directed toward him.
“Again!” Ryeo exclaimed just as Oska opened his mouth. He didn’t even get a word out!
He let out a deep breath, making Ryeo raise one eyebrow. “Are you tired?”
Oska merely pursed his lips and didn’t respond.
“Then, get it right so we can move on.”
Shin, on the other hand, found the situation very enjoyable. It wasn’t because most of the actors, who thought they were the best, were being greatly humbled—although he enjoyed that, too—but because Ryeo Wang was giving very valuable advice.
Zeno, too, listened intently despite being on the sidelines.
“We need to get your makeup retouched,” the staff said to him.
“Can we do it here?” he asked, wanting to listen to more of Ryeo’s advice.
The makeup artist, unable to resist Zeno’s small smile, nodded and dabbed on the fake bruises and blood on his face and body.
Zeno took note of the precious advice. He was particularly fond of these lines—
“Do not act out of your own prejudice, but the characters’.”
“Your face should speak more than your words.”
“A good actor is a good observer.”
“A balance between empathy and detachment is the key to good acting.”
Somehow, listening to these enlightened him, and he was sure to apply it to his next scene.
Suddenly, he received an upgrade.
[+1 Talent and Skills. Upgraded Acting. Current Grade: A+++]
[Fame Meter: 23%]
Zeno’s brows raised in surprise. Ryeo Wang’s words were so powerful that he upgraded his talent only by listening to him!
Finally, after what felt like a thousand takes, Ryeo was finally satisfied. The other actors appeared exhausted, but it was what Daeshim was looking for—that exhaustion not from physical labor but from an emotional toll.
They continued with the next scene.
The echo of the king’s footfall still hung in the air when he lifted his head, slow and heavy.
“I have heard enough,” he said. “You show your true colors at last.”
The princes shifted uneasily, their anger momentarily choked by a creeping shame. The king sat straighter upon his throne, the ghost of his former might flashing across his weary frame.
“I spoke in haste,” he admitted, his eyes narrowing, “for I had learned of my diagnosis but hours before this council. In my weakness, I thought to speak boldly… rashly.”
The sons and grandsons leaned forward—would he take it back?
“But now,” the king said, “I see that I was right. You have proven it with your own mouths.”
A murmur rippled through the court, but none dared speak.
“The people were right to question,” he said. “My family is broken.”
The hall froze as if the very blood of the men within had turned to stone. Disbelief clouded their faces. Could it be? Was it all a test? A ploy to lay bare their hearts?
“I shall not retract my words,” the king declared. “A king does not go back on his word. Not even for family.”
A stunned silence followed, but it was soon broken by a plaintive voice.
“Grandfather…” Prince Seon pleaded, stepping forward, his voice trembling with desperation.
Oska spoke with fear, not for the king but for Ryeo Wang. He didn’t want to get called out again, and fortunately, the older actor didn’t stop.
The king raised his hand, palm outward. At once, Seon fell silent.
“You have a chance,” the king said, his gaze sweeping from son to grandson, from nephew to cousin. “Each and every one of you. Do you not see what is at stake?”
The words, so simple and unexpected, rendered them silent.
Their angry faces shifted, brightening faintly, their minds racing.
Wang Suk’s eyes sharpened. Wang Jin straightened his back. Even Wang Ryu’s sneer faltered into a calculating look. The cousins, who had nearly turned their backs, now leaned forward as though sensing an invisible gate swinging open before them.
The king saw it all and gave a scoff, sharp and humorless.
“The default choice,” he said, “remains Wang Suk. Yet that can change—at any time.”
He leaned back against the throne, a tired but satisfied look crossing his face.
“Any of you—sons, grandsons, nephews, kins of my blood—may take the crown.”
His lips curled into a grim smile.
“Do you not like that?”
The court remained silent, stunned. Hope and ambition alike danced behind their eyes, rising like smoke.
Finally, after so long, the hall was quiet.
The king laughed once, low and bitter.
“At last,” he muttered, “there is peace.”
“Cut!” Daeshim PD exclaimed, clapping. The rest of the crew followed.
“Finally,” he muttered.
“We got the best takes!” he said loudly. “Thank you, Sir Wang, for your impeccable guidance.”
The old actor waved his hand, sitting on the throne, appearing to be catching his breath.
“Do you need a break, sir?” Daeshim asked.
Ryeo shook his head. “No, let’s continue. I want to get this scene over with. I’m not tired. Are you tired?” he asked, turning to the younger actors.
They didn’t dare say they were tired in front of an 88-year-old man.
Then, Ryeo’s gaze snapped toward Zeno, already fully made up and ready. His eyes narrowed.
“I don’t want to repeat my advice again,” he muttered, remembering the ordeal of the last scene. They had spent way too much time on it. Will Zeno make him angry too?
“Ready?” Daeshim PD asked.
Zeno nodded calmly, raising an okay sign with his fingers in the air.
Daeshim let out a shaky breath. Although Zeno was a good actor, he might still be called out by Ryeo Wang.
Most of the actors, who had been scolded, looked at Zeno with a knowing look. He was next to be scolded.
“Scene 20… Take 1…”
“Let’s get this done in one take,” Zeno whispered to himself.
“Action!”