NIS Agent Reincarnated as a Genius Actor

The screen remained pitch black as grand music played.

– Beep. Beep. Beep. –

The beeping sound, mixed with the music, had been there for an indeterminate amount of time. Eventually, only the beeping remained, and the music stopped. It felt as if the sound was mimicking the heartbeat of a patient fighting for life in an emergency room. The continuous beeping created an unsettling tension among the audience, as if it might stop at any moment with a long, flatline beep.

– I am Jay Miller. I was adopted to the United States through Saint Children’s Welfare Center when I was seven. My childhood memories have mostly faded, replaced by the happy memories of growing up in a harmonious white family. –

As the narration stopped, the screen showed a close-up of a man hesitating in front of a hospital room door.

‘Wow, he really is the most handsome Asian I’ve ever seen,’ thought Neil Benson, the film student from California, captivated by the actor’s striking appearance on the screen.

The tense beeping stopped as the man slid open the hospital room door. Simultaneously, the scene transitioned from the hospital door to the glass doors of an airport departure gate.

Bold text appeared on the screen.

[6 months ago. Incheon Airport. Republic of Korea.]

“Yes, Mom. I’ve arrived.”

[Good job. Since you’re in the country where you were born, why don’t you take some time to travel while you’re working?]

“You know I didn’t really want to come here. It’s work, so I had no choice.”

[Jay, you know what I always say.]

Jay sighed deeply at his mother’s gentle admonition.

“Yes, I know. I’ll keep a good heart. It’s probably night there already, so get some sleep, Mom.”

The natural English conversation hinted that this man was American and had reluctantly returned to his homeland for work.

Jay looked around, scanning his surroundings.

Then, a voice called out to him.

“Mr. Miller?”

An Asian actor with a warm and approachable demeanor appeared on the screen, walking towards Jay. Jay extended his hand first.

“I’m Jay Miller. You’re from A-Music Company, right?”

Rubbing his hand on his suit jacket to clean it, Jung Cheol-min bowed politely and shook Jay’s hand.

– Hahaha! –

A light chuckle rippled through the screening room at Jung Cheol-min’s somewhat comical performance. In Korea, such gestures were common among sales staff to show sincerity, but to foreign eyes, it seemed a bit exaggerated.

‘The laughter threshold is lower than I thought. I wonder if the tear threshold is just as low?’

Yeon-woo briefly pondered this unexpected laughter before refocusing on the screen.

“I’m Jung Cheol-min. Since my name might be a bit difficult to pronounce, feel free to call me Manager Jung.”

“Thank you. I’ll call you Mr. Jung then. The title ‘manager’ feels a bit awkward.”

“Ah, understood. This way, please. I’ve prepared a vehicle.”

Following Mr. Jung’s guidance, they left the airport and got into a car heading towards Seoul. Inside the car, Mr. Jung spoke up.

“Do you happen to like indie music, Mr. Composer?”

Jay glanced at the driver’s seat, pondering for a moment before replying.

“I listen to all genres.”

“Ho, then how about stopping by the company and then heading to a festival together? There won’t be any album work for a month or two, so they said you could take some time to adjust.”

Jay nodded, appreciating Mr. Jung’s proactive care.

“Sounds good. I’m curious about Korean indie music, not just K-POP.”

Jay shifted his gaze back to the window. The screen displayed luxury apartments lined along the blue Han River. Although Hallyu was gradually expanding its reach, it was still largely a subculture. Many in the audience seemed to be seeing Seoul’s skyline for the first time, expressing admiration.

‘Oh, Korea is quite a developed country. These skyscrapers look just like Manhattan in New York.’

The screen alternated between the vibrant colors of the Han River, parks, and blue skies reflected in the buildings, and the monochromatic, gray bridge filled with black and white cars. The stark color contrast was followed by a shot of Jay’s calm face as he gazed out the window. Shadows from the bridge’s pillars flickered across his face, conveying his inner turmoil without a word.

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“Don’t live your life like that.”

“That’s my line. Honestly, what do you even do? Does it make sense for us to split things evenly?”

One man roughly slung off his guitar, while the other threw his drumsticks to the ground. They glared at each other, on the verge of throwing punches.

“Please, stop it, guys. I’ll take a smaller share. Once we succeed, this will be pocket change. Let’s not fight, okay?”

The man who had thrown his drumsticks shouted harshly at the woman trying to stop the fight.

“Inari noona, stop it too! It’s because you keep giving in that we end up with guys like him. You do all the composing, writing, and singing by yourself, so why should you share your share?”

“I just…”

Inari’s heart pounded, and her mind went blank. She couldn’t understand how things had come to this. The initial harmony that had brought them together was gone, leaving only an ugly ending.

Mocha Band.

They had formed in a practice room above a coffee shop called Mocha Cafe, giving the band its name without much thought. Over the past two years, the once meaningless name had become filled with memories and significance. Slowly gaining recognition through busking, Mocha Band was invited to an indie festival.

A mere five million won.

Divided among the members, it was far less than a convenience store part-time job salary. Yet, they were all red-faced and shouting over that money. Was society too harsh to sustain their passion and hearts? Or was their passion not as strong as they thought?

Inari exhaled a shaky breath amidst the rising voices.

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***

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The indie festival began, and Jay felt a mix of anticipation and slight superiority. From his perspective, collaborating with a famous agency, indie music seemed lacking in commercial appeal and quality.

“So, this is the level.”

Several bands and singer-songwriters performed, but none of the songs resonated with him. Then, a woman stepped onto the stage for the next act.

“Hello! We are Mocha Band.”

Jay tilted his head, puzzled as he watched Inari.

“She’s alone on stage, yet she calls it a band… Does Korea have a different definition of a band?”

Inari started playing a recorded sound and began strumming her guitar.

– Even if the words I understood were lies, it’s okay. After all, we are incomplete. –

“Her guitar playing is a bit clumsy. If she was going to play like that, she should have recorded the guitar too.”

Of course, he couldn’t understand the lyrics. The Korean song sounded like a French chanson to him. The song itself was quite good, but her guitar skills seemed lacking, or maybe it was just difficult to sing and play the guitar simultaneously.

– I’ll throw away those words now. I’ll empty you from my heart. –

The song ended, and with a bright smile, the self-proclaimed band member, vocalist, and guitarist bowed and exited the stage.

“She’s better than I thought.”

“That girl just now?”

Manager Jung asked, having overheard Jay’s muttering. Jay nodded.

“I couldn’t understand the lyrics at all, but her voice was quite good, wasn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know much about that, haha. But it sounded pleasant to me.”

Most of the audience felt the same, as the song lyrics weren’t translated into subtitles.

‘They deliberately didn’t translate the lyrics. The protagonist, Jay Miller, has black hair and black eyes, a Korean appearance, but he’s a foreigner within the screen. They’re trying to make us feel the same way and increase our immersion in the protagonist. It’s a small detail, but very meticulous.’

Chris, Benson’s friend, thought to himself, nodding. In LA, where his California State University was located, there were many Korean restaurants. With Korean food trending, Chris sometimes found it difficult to order due to overly translated names.

‘Fish cake? If it weren’t for my friend from Korea, I would never have tried eomuk in my life.’

Sometimes, when conveying information, paradoxically, ‘not conveying’ can deliver more.

The scene transitioned to an after-party. The director intentionally didn’t translate the Korean dialogue, allowing viewers to infer more from the visuals. Participants of the indie festival approached Jay and Manager Jung Cheol-min, pouring them drinks in small glasses and turning their heads to drink, a gesture that conveyed their desire to impress the representatives of a famous agency, even if one didn’t understand Korean drinking culture.

Viewers naturally empathized with Jay, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar Korean language and customs, just as he did. The film then briefly showed Jay’s first few days living in Korea.

[Jay, will you be okay?]

“Mr. Jung, I’m a sturdy adult man. Don’t worry too much.”

Jay chuckled, and Jung Cheol-min’s voice came through the receiver.

[Okay. But if you run into any trouble, call me immediately. If you take a red bus, you’ll leave Seoul, but you won’t leave Gyeonggi Province.]

“Got it. Red bus. Thanks.”

Today, Jay planned to leave Seoul with just his guitar to seek musical inspiration.

‘This is truly what you could call venturing into the unknown.’

Jay followed Mr. Jung’s recommendation and boarded a red intercity bus, leaving Seoul behind. He had no idea where the bus was headed, he simply took the first one that arrived.

“I guess I’m traveling before even starting work. Listening to Mom isn’t so bad.”

Jay tapped his fingers on the window frame, seemingly inspired by the passing scenery. It was clear that he had left Seoul. Neither Jay on the screen nor the audience outside it could understand the announcements, but the disappearance of skyscrapers and the appearance of fields and lush greenery made it obvious.

In the following scenes, the audience felt as if they were traveling through Korea with Jay. It felt more like watching a travel vlog on YouTube than a movie, which heightened their immersion.

‘Wow, haejangguk? I don’t know what that stew is, but I want to try it.’

‘Haha, this movie is unexpectedly funny. Who would have thought he’d get his bike stolen? I wonder if those bird sounds in the background are real or added in post-production.’

The audience found themselves salivating at Jay’s haejangguk eating scene and laughing at the sight of Jay staring in disbelief at his bike, now missing its front wheel.

By this point, the audience began to wonder about the film’s storyline and structure.

‘What message is the director trying to convey with this style? Will Jay randomly fall in love with Inari, turning this into a teen romance music film?’

Given that many of the viewers were film enthusiasts or industry professionals who had queued up early and paid for expensive tickets, they pondered the director’s intentions and message.

When the veteran actress, who played Inari’s grandmother and was also Director Park Chan-hong’s mother, appeared, the audience laughed at the language barrier scenes and eagerly anticipated the next developments.

Film student Neil Benson shared the sentiment.

‘Korean films have this unique charm where you can’t pin down the genre. I have no idea where the story will go in the latter half.’

Though the plot hadn’t progressed much, it remained intriguing. After the suburban scenes, the film’s narrative began to unfold more earnestly.

Jay, wearing an apron that seemed too cute for his broad shoulders, was getting scolded by the grandmother while mixing vegetables with red seasoning. Jay sighed deeply on screen.

Just then, Inari entered the house, holding a black plastic bag.

“Huh? Whose shoes are these?”

Inari walked into the kitchen, eyeing Jay warily.

“Who are you?”