NIS Agent Reincarnated as a Genius Actor

“Ah, Joo-hyung.”

“It’s funny how we’re classmates, yet this is the first time I’m seeing you on campus. Haha.”

Yeon-woo laughed at Kim Joo-hyung’s comment.

“That’s true. But how did you recognize me?”

Yeon-woo tilted his head, puzzled that Kim Joo-hyung had recognized him despite the cap and mask he was wearing.

“You don’t know?”

“Huh?”

“Wearing a cap and mask doesn’t hide your aura. Even from a hundred meters away, anyone can tell you’re an actor with that commanding presence and proportions.”

When Kim Joo-hyung pointed behind him with his chin, Yeon-woo noticed students in the distance, whispering and glancing in his direction.

“Oh, really…”

Although his disguise wasn’t perfect, Yeon-woo had thought no one on campus would recognize him. Apparently, he was mistaken.

“By the way, I see the poster for the ‘University Theater Festival’ is up.”

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of it before. Did they always have something like this?”

“It’s been a tradition for at least ten years, I think.”

Yeon-woo nodded at Kim Joo-hyung’s words. Given that the festival had only been around for a decade, it made sense that Yeon-woo, who had finished his campus life over 20 years ago, wouldn’t know about it.

“I’m thinking of participating too. I need to pass the preliminaries first, though.”

“Huh?”

Yeon-woo was surprised by Kim Joo-hyung’s unexpected revelation and asked again. Kim Joo-hyung’s face turned slightly red as he continued, a bit embarrassed.

“You know, last year when Yu-han delivered lunch. Watching you two perform on stage ignited something in me.”

Yeon-woo nodded, recalling the impromptu performance of ‘Deandor’ they had put on. Then he tilted his head again.

“…So, acting?”

Yeon-woo knew Kim Joo-hyung liked acting, but he couldn’t quite picture him actually performing. Seeing this, Kim Joo-hyung quickly waved his hands.

“No, no, not acting. Um… I’ve been writing a bit. A screenplay, actually.”

Hearing this, Yeon-woo thought of writer Kim Jin-joo, who had been inspired by his idea and was fervently typing away in the meeting room for ‘White Blood’.

“Joo-hyung, I didn’t know you had such a talent.”

“Hey, it’s not really a talent. I just tried it out.”

“Then how about we go to a café and talk?”

“Aren’t you busy?”

Yeon-woo smiled warmly at Kim Joo-hyung’s question.

“I’m not busy at all. The movie is finished, and now I just need to prepare for re-enrollment. Since we met, I might as well learn from you.”

There were many things Yeon-woo needed to learn, such as how to register for classes online. Even though the campus was familiar, the curriculum and times had changed significantly, leaving him with a lot to catch up on.

Yeon-woo and Kim Joo-hyung sat in a campus café next to the College of Business Administration.

“Do you have the screenplay with you? I’m quite curious.”

“Ah, I’m embarrassed to show it. The seniors in the theater club said it was terrible.”

Yeon-woo nodded.

“There’s a theater club on campus?”

“Yeah, it’s mostly a hobby for everyone, but the rules are stricter than you’d think.”

Hesitating, Kim Joo-hyung pulled a bound screenplay out of his bag.

“Oh, you even had it bound?”

“I was going to show it to the seniors. They harshly criticized it, though.”

Scratching the back of his head, Kim Joo-hyung handed the screenplay to Yeon-woo. Seeing him so dejected, it was clear he had received quite a bit of harsh feedback.

Yeon-woo began reading the screenplay.

“It might not be interesting, but the genre is mystery and detective.”

Yeon-woo nodded quietly as he continued reading. After a while, he looked up.

“…It’s good.”

“Hey, thanks for saying that, even if you don’t mean it.”

Yeon-woo wasn’t just being polite. The screenplay was quite solid, and he could visualize the stage setup just from reading it.

“I’m serious. You have talent, Joo-hyung.”

“What? Really? That can’t be… Everyone said it was bad.”

Seeing Yeon-woo’s serious expression, Kim Joo-hyung also became serious.

“Are any empty classrooms open?”

“Empty classrooms? Classes haven’t started yet, but the classrooms in the College of Business Administration should be open.”

Hearing this, Yeon-woo stood up.

“Let’s go. I’ll show you.”

“Huh? Show me what?”

Yeon-woo intended to show the disheartened genius that his work was truly brilliant. Kim Joo-hyung followed Yeon-woo, tilting his head in curiosity.

“How do you know this back route?”

Yeon-woo naturally walked briskly along the shortcut from the café to the College of Business Administration, with Kim Joo-hyung trailing behind. They climbed to the second floor, and Yeon-woo opened the door to lecture room 203, which had a fairly high podium.

“This place should be suitable.”

“Huh? Suitable for what?”

“Your work. I’ll act out a part of it.”

Kim Joo-hyung’s eyes widened at Yeon-woo’s words.

“No way, really?!”

Seeing Kim Joo-hyung’s reaction, Yeon-woo grinned and stepped onto the podium.

“Writer Kim Joo-hyung, sit here in the front.”

“Wow, amazing!”

Excited, Kim Joo-hyung eagerly sat in the front row of the lecture room. Yeon-woo read through the script, waving his hands a few times as if planning something, then nodded and began to speak.

“I’ll perform a scene.”

With eyes sparkling with anticipation, Kim Joo-hyung watched as Yeon-woo began his stage performance. In an instant, Yeon-woo’s expression turned icy, his brows furrowing, and one corner of his mouth lifting.

“People, you see, are born with their own colors. Some are fiery red, while others are cynically blue.”

Yeon-woo lightly spread his arms. His voice took on a chilling, staccato rhythm.

“What color do you see me as? People like me are a bit unique. I’m black.”

His furrowed brows and eerie smile returned to a neutral, emotionless expression. Watching Yeon-woo’s voice and facial expressions change so freely, Kim Joo-hyung felt goosebumps rise on his arms.

“People who are black are a bit unique. They have an instinct to hide their blackness. They constantly seek out people who tell them they are gray. And when a few of them start gathering, it becomes troublesome.”

On stage, an invisible aura seemed to emanate from Ryu Yeon-woo. Then, Yeon-woo strode forward confidently.

“Whoa.”

Despite having written the script himself, Kim Joo-hyung felt his heart race at the raw intensity emanating from the stage. Suddenly, Yeon-woo’s face returned to its usual calm demeanor.

“So, what do you think? This is your script.”

It was unmistakably his. Every line of dialogue, every described expression, was exactly as he had written it.

“Yeah, it is.”

In that moment, Kim Joo-hyung realized something profound. A script could either be coal or a diamond, depending on who performed it. Just as carbon can become coal or diamond depending on the environment and conditions it undergoes, a script’s value could vary greatly based on the actor’s interpretation. The actor ‘Ryu Yeon-woo’ standing before him was undoubtedly someone who could turn it into a diamond.

‘If I become a playwright, could I experience this often?’

The combination of letters he had written seemed to come alive vividly before his eyes.

“Yeon-woo, I’ve enjoyed all the movies and dramas you’ve been in, but I really hope you do a play someday.”

This was a sincere comment from a fan, even more than from a friend. There was an overwhelming feeling that came from witnessing live acting.

Yeon-woo smiled at Kim Joo-hyung’s words. Yeon-woo had been a long-time fan of theater since his previous life.

“Then let’s do it. Your work is good. Let’s use it.”

“Yeah, definitely… huh?”

Kim Joo-hyung, who had been nodding and looking forward to Yeon-woo’s theater activities, suddenly realized something strange and widened his eyes.

“What?!”

Yeon-woo chuckled. He wasn’t just saying it in passing. He genuinely saw value in this work.

“Let’s lay the groundwork this semester. I have a series scheduled for filming, but once that’s done, let’s aim to stage the play by the end of this year or early next year.”

It was a realistic plan. Yeon-woo thought of his acting mentor, Jung Cheol-min. There was a small theater he operated in Daejeon, and if they needed to stage the play in Seoul, there were plenty of connections and infrastructure to make it happen.

There were actors and instructors affiliated with the academy, and now that Yeon-woo’s name had gained more recognition, he could handle such matters without needing their help. However, for the amateur Kim Joo-hyung, the rapid progression of his script felt overwhelming, leaving him bewildered.

“So, you really want to stage this… for real? Come on, don’t joke around.”

“Didn’t you ever think about performing this script?”

“Huh? Well, it’s not that I didn’t…”

Of course, every theater script is written with the intention of being performed. Kim Joo-hyung was also secretly curious about how his script would come to life on stage.

“Polish it up a bit more. Let’s have some fun and put on a play together.”

Seeing Yeon-woo smile as he handed back the bound script, Kim Joo-hyung felt a surge of determination.

“Alright! I’ll pour my soul into perfecting this, even if it costs me my grades this semester!”

“…Huh? You still need to study, though.”

Yeon-woo broke into a sweat, seeing Kim Joo-hyung more fired up than he had anticipated.

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***

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Two months had passed since Yeon-woo started his university life. Though he focused on his studies during the semester, it was challenging to maintain top grades like he did in high school, especially among the nation’s brightest students.

“Hyung, how do you keep up with all the coursework while managing your schedule?”

After class, a group of first-year students gathered around Yeon-woo’s seat. Some had entered the university after taking a gap year or two, but most were a year younger than Yeon-woo.

“I’m more amazed that Professor Kim Taekyung likes Yeon-woo oppa.”

“Well, he’s such a famous actor. Even Professor Kim, with his tough personality, can’t help but be impressed.”

Yoo Soo-jin shook her head at that comment.

“I heard from the seniors that he used to say bad things about oppa when he first enrolled. Even during class.”

“Really? Did you know about that, hyung?”

Yeon-woo smiled warmly and shook his head.

“No, he’s a kind-hearted person. If anyone here likes bands, try talking to him first. He loves rock bands.”

“What? Rock bands? He looks like someone who wouldn’t bleed even if you pricked him.”

As Yeon-woo packed up and stood, the juniors around him followed suit.

“Senior, do you have any lunch plans?”

“Hey, that’s obvious. If you have lunch with Yeon-woo hyung, someone will take a picture and post it on our school forum, calling you a fox trying to get close to him.”

“Well, then let’s all eat together.”

As they noisily exited the classroom, Kim Min-soo, Yeon-woo’s manager, approached them at the door.

“Yeon-woo.”

“Oh, Min-soo hyung. Guys, we’ll have to have lunch another time.”

“Aww, okay.”

After saying goodbye to the juniors, Yeon-woo walked over to Min-soo.

“What’s up, hyung? Did I have a schedule today?”

“It’s not a schedule. The set has been completed.”

“Really? It’s finally done.”

Yeon-woo’s eyes sparkled. The set for his next project, ‘White Blood’, had been under construction ever since the script was finalized. He was eager to see if it matched the vision he had while reading the script.

“What about the directors and writers?”

“They left about an hour ago, so they should be arriving soon.”

“Then let’s hurry and get going.”

Yeon-woo got into Min-soo’s car, which was parked in front of the College of Business Administration. The car then headed towards Microcosm in Paju, where the set had been built.