By Zephyria 
Or sometimes it went like this: ‘A president who seized power through a coup is devastating a city where a pro-democracy movement emerged. A journalist tries to pass through a checkpoint to infiltrate the city. I am a guard at the checkpoint. Our eyes meet. As a soldier, I shouldn’t let them through. If it’s discovered that I let them pass, I could die. I swallow hard and agonize. I don’t say a single word, but viewers hold their breath with me.’
Most acting required from image bit players involved suddenly getting angry or crying hysterically. For this reason, image bit players often had to grab someone they’d never met by the collar or sob loudly without even properly seeing the script.
This role was like that too. Lee A-gon was cast as the second son of a noble family who witnesses his brother’s death and runs out into the street.
With the cue, the supporting actors fell down in front of the cart containing the son’s body and wept. Lee A-gon stood blankly behind them.
After the director waved his hand to call cut, he asked, “You there, the second son actor? Hey? Your brother just came back dead. Would you be happy or sad? Why are you standing there with a hungry expression?”
Lee A-gon stepped back with a troubled face. Park Hae-jun apologized instead, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“He says he’s the manager.” The supervisor who was watching answered.
“Huh,” The director laughed. “Even extras have managers these days? Well. Anyway, let’s go again.”
“Scene number 17, take two, ready! Action!”
Again, the extras prostrated themselves and cried. But Lee A-gon, who was supposed to cry with them, still stood motionless.
What’s wrong with him? While Park Hae-jun worried from a distance, suddenly tears began falling down Lee A-gon’s cheeks.
Drip, drip.
Sadness and pain rippled across his face. The muscles around his mouth twitched subtly and his eyes deepened.
It was nuanced acting. Facing the death of a brother he had never even seen, Lee A-gon was portraying longing, anger, and sadness like splotches of color on a canvas.
“Wow.” Park Hae-jun couldn’t help but admire this delicate performance.
The director seemed interested in Lee A-gon too, watching him with intense eyes. After calling cut, he whispered something to the supervisor. Soon, the supervisor beckoned to Lee A-gon.
“Come out.”
Lee A-gon was cut from the image role.
“That’s how image roles are. You have to suddenly get angry, cry, or laugh. Since they don’t even give you a proper script, you do it without knowing what’s going on. Of course it’s difficult when you have to suddenly grab someone by the collar or sob as soon as you see them.”
The filming was over. The actress who played the dead son’s mother comforted Lee A-gon. She hadn’t seen Lee A-gon’s performance because she was filming a scene where she cried face-down. She thought Lee A-gon was cut because he couldn’t act well, so she consoled him.
“Don’t give up and keep working hard. You’re handsome, so if you persist, good days will come.”
“Thank you.”
Park Hae-jun bowed deeply. The mother role actress gave Park Hae-jun a look that said “why are you thanking me?” before disappearing.
“She’s a nice person, right?”
Park Hae-jun said, watching her walk away. She really was nice for telling Lee A-gon he was handsome.
But her advice wasn’t very helpful. Lee A-gon hadn’t failed at acting. Rather, he was cut because he acted too well.
Just now, Lee A-gon had performed not as an image actor but as a lead actor. Such nuanced acting was reserved for lead actors who get close-up shots for several minutes. What the director wanted was for him to burst into loud tears and then run out in anger. Of course he’d get cut for suddenly creating his own narrative.
Six in the morning. The shoot was over. The staff dispersed with tired faces and the extras boarded the bus. The Field Director said they would be paid quickly since they had filled in on short notice. Park Hae-jun was truly happy to hear this.
∞ ∞ ∞
After earning money by playing bit parts a few times, Park Hae-jun decided to seriously try to get auditions. He was confident that Lee A-gon would get cast if he just had a chance to audition.
That was true. If only he could get to the audition.
The problem started there.
Lee A-gon couldn’t even make it to the audition.
Park Hae-jun began taking Lee A-gon on profile tours. Sinsa, Jamwon, Gangnam, Hongdae, Sangam, Yongsan. They visited any production company that had posted casting calls.
At production companies, there was usually a box placed in front of the door. This was called a profile box, and all they had to do was leave their profile there and leave. After the casting call deadline, an assistant director in charge of casting would go through the profiles and contact people for auditions. This was the purpose of the profile tour.
Occasionally while on the tour, they would meet industry people. With incredibly good luck, it might be someone important like a director of photography, but usually it was just regular staff.
“This is rookie actor Lee A-gon, please treat him well!”
Whenever they met such people, Park Hae-jun would push Lee A-gon forward and greet them loudly.
Then the person would look at Lee A-gon and Park Hae-jun in confusion and ask, “Who are you?”
“I’m rookie actor Lee A-gon’s manager!”
When he would proudly announce this again, the person would smirk. They seemed to find it absurd that an unknown actor who was just doing profile tours would have a manager.
But that was fine. If Park Hae-jun could imprint Lee A-gon’s name more firmly by being laughed at, he was willing to get down on his knees.
Park Hae-jun also kept an eye on TV drama casting calls. However, dramas were more difficult than films because they required previous acting footage to be attached with the profile.
Lee A-gon had acted in two works. He had even played significant roles in both. But they couldn’t attach acting footage. One was too old to meet the requirements, and the other hadn’t aired yet.
With a glimmer of hope, Park Hae-jun humbly asked the production team of “Every End of The World” if they could provide a file even though it hadn’t aired yet, but he didn’t even get a response.
After about a month of just distributing profiles, they finally got a call. They rushed over with excitement, but Lee A-gon was rejected at the audition. Or more precisely, he couldn’t even audition.
Lee A-gon was eliminated as soon as he entered the audition venue.
“Your impression is stronger than your photo. You’re too tall. You won’t balance with our actor. Your visual style is too different, that’s what I mean. You understand?”
Lee A-gon’s height was specified as 189 cm in his profile. Actually, he was 193 cm, but they had reduced it by 4 cm because he looked too tall.
Had he been rejected just because of a 4 cm difference?
Later, Park Hae-jun looked up the casting news for this film and found that the confirmed lead actor’s height was listed as 185 cm in his profile. It was clearly a lie to anyone who saw him. He looked similar to or shorter than Park Hae-jun, who was 183 cm.
May arrived. Park Hae-jun, who had been anxious about the returning maintenance bill, could finally relax thanks to Lee A-gon’s appearance fee from “Every End of The World.” There was more good news. A second audition had been scheduled.
They went to the audition with high hopes, but he was rejected again. The reason was that his impression was too strong. And that was the same thing they had heard at the first audition.
Park Hae-jun thought carefully. Strong impression. Powerful features. Could that be a roundabout way of saying he was ugly? It’s true my kid isn’t handsome, but that doesn’t mean only good-looking actors get to act.
Park Hae-jun examined Lee A-gon’s face carefully. Lee A-gon looked like a vampire who had appeared in the 21st century. Beyond handsome or ugly, that was his impression.
Extremely pale skin contrasted with pitch-black eyes. Glossy black straight hair that looked moist. When he frowned, he looked dangerous; when he cried, he looked pure. No matter how you looked at it, he was far from the adjective “strong.” No, if anything, he looked pure, definitely not strong-featured…
Just then, a casting call caught his eye. “Looking for a talented actor in his twenties for a supporting role in a commercial feature film. Fee to be negotiated individually. Recruiting 1 person. Handsome male actor in his twenties, height 185 cm or taller.”
The moment he saw it, he knew this was it. The “handsome” part was a bit concerning, but male actors over 185 cm were rare in Korea, and Lee A-gon was definitely tall.
Before putting the profile in the box, Park Hae-jun gently rubbed the surface of the paper to remove any possible dust.
When he put down the profile, he found himself praying. Please let my Lee A-gon get this audition. Though he didn’t know who he was praying to, he truly felt desperate.
“Hyung, will I get in this time?”
“I don’t know.”
From past experience, Lee A-gon had lost confidence. Park Hae-jun, who had been optimistic without reason, had also lost confidence after the experiences of the past two months. One percent of one percent. It really was a path as narrow as the eye of a needle.
“If I get rejected again, maybe I should just get that Computer Literacy Level 2…”
“Don’t even start with that Computer Literacy talk.”
Park Hae-jun turned his back, cutting off Lee A-gon’s nonsense as he tried to subtly bring up the certificate again.
While going down the stairs, a tall man with poor posture passed by them. Park Hae-jun didn’t think much of it. He assumed the man was also an actor coming to drop off his profile.
By the time they trudged down to the second floor, the man they had passed earlier appeared again. His steps down the stairs were urgent, as if he had something important to do. As the man passed by, Park Hae-jun, who was stepping aside to avoid bumping into him, suddenly grabbed his arm.
“Excuse me.”