Top Star by Luck

Chapter 28

A few days later, Director Seo Jung Woo said the following when they met again.

“You really did a great job.”

“…”

“I only passed on the minor role thinking it could be a good experience, but I never expected you to make such a big impact. I’m truly astonished by what you’ve done, Min Ki. I have nothing else to say.”

He spoke with a gentle smile.

“Well, I did think this might happen.”

Upon hearing that, Lee Min Ki had a thought.

‘Was this person planning this from the beginning?’

It had all happened rather suddenly.

A minor role had unexpectedly been assigned to him, and it had come specifically from JC, not from his trainer, Kim Ah Sung.

He had been suspicious, wondering if something strange had occurred, and it turned out that Director Seo Jung Woo was behind it.

But there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

“Thanks to you, I got a great opportunity. I really appreciate it.”

His gratitude was genuine.

Starting with a minor role, he had earned a place as a supporting actor.

He had made a strong first impression with the audience, and there wasn’t anything better than that.

“No, it’s all because of your excellent performance, Min Ki.”

Director Seo Jung Woo smiled softly as he continued.

“We did receive the script, but we thought it would be fine even if you didn’t succeed in the role. It was meant to help you gain experience. Even if the same opportunity is given, how it’s utilized is up to the individual.”

Min Ki’s success was credited to his own abilities.

“But the reason I called you today isn’t just to talk about that. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

After the small talk ended, the main topic finally came up.

“What is it you want to discuss?”

“It’s this.”

Director Seo Jung Woo slid a stack of papers across the desk.

“Please take a look.”

The bundle of papers felt quite thick.

There were over ten sheets held together by a clip.

Min Ki carefully picked it up and began leafing through the pages slowly.

And soon, he realized what it was.

‘Audition applications.’

It was a collection of scripts for various films and dramas.

Each one had a brief summary, descriptions of the roles, and lines to prepare for the auditions.

Although it wasn’t too detailed, he could get a rough idea of each project.

And the content seemed somewhat familiar to him.

‘This is great.’

Min Ki had a vast reservoir of input from all the works he had consumed.

In other words, he could remember the general storylines of whatever he had watched.

It was like looking at a cheat sheet and choosing the answers to a test.

There were even some projects that he vaguely recalled had succeeded.

By presenting these scripts, it was clear that Director Seo wanted him to choose a project to audition for.

As Min Ki went through the list, Director Seo spoke again.

“These are the projects that will start filming soon. They’re also the ones you’ll need to choose from, Min Ki. Although, just because you choose one doesn’t mean you’ll definitely get the role.”

As expected, Min Ki’s guess was right.

That’s why he needed to make a sure, careful decision.

‘You never know which project will succeed.’

Even though he could remember the future, things could change during production.

Take Campus Story for instance. It was originally set to be a mediocre drama at best, but when he joined, it had transformed into something close to a hit.

The same could happen again.

He could choose a project and make it more successful, but conversely, a project that was bound to succeed could flop because of his involvement.

‘I should trust my memory, but not rely on it too much.’

Still, he hoped to hedge his bets by picking a project that had succeeded in his past life. If he could land a decent role in one of those, that would be ideal.

‘There aren’t as many options as I thought.’

Min Ki let out a brief sigh.

‘Menooha… This was a successful film, but the role is a bit mediocre.’

Menooha was a comedy about someone on vacation experiencing strange events in a seaside village.

It had attracted over 2 million viewers nationwide and was a moderate box-office success.

But the role he would play felt ambiguous.

‘Forever Green… The role itself isn’t bad, and the story is decent. It was a talked-about film, but… for all that buzz, the film’s performance was underwhelming.’

Forever Green.

Despite its refreshing title, it was actually a crime thriller.

The film had been fairly well-received and had stayed in discussions among moviegoers for a while.

The director was a well-known figure.

In fact, Min Ki distinctly remembered enjoying the film immensely.

At one point, he had even thought it would be great to appear in one of the director’s works if he ever got the chance.

‘But since it’s a big-name director’s project, the competition will be fierce, and the box office returns weren’t as great as expected.’

It was a picaresque film, and the overly serious tone was probably what hindered its commercial success.

After all, most films that do well in theaters tend to have a bit of humor mixed in, even when the overall tone is serious.

‘No matter which one I look at, there’s something that bugs me.’

It wasn’t easy.

Knowing too much made it harder.

As Min Ki was deeply engrossed in his dilemma, flipping through the stack of papers, Director Seo finally spoke up.

“Are you struggling with the choice?”

“Ah, yes.”

Min Ki hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Director Seo, as if expecting this, said knowingly, “This is something you’ll need to get used to from now on. The thing about projects is, whether they fail or succeed, the responsibility ultimately lies with the actor. Some actors blame bad project choices for their poor careers, but…”

Director Seo scanned the synopsis pages with a disinterested look and continued.

“Actors like that tend to keep making poor project choices. Do you know why?”

It was a question.

But it wasn’t just a simple question.

It was an attempt to teach Min Ki something about being an actor.

An education on how to evaluate projects.

‘I need to answer carefully.’

Min Ki blinked a few times and then opened his mouth.

“Because having an eye for projects is also part of an actor’s skill?”

He thought he had given the perfect answer, one that made sense no matter how you looked at it.

Director Seo, however, responded with a somewhat lukewarm answer.

“You’re 10% right and 90% wrong.”

It was an awkward response.

Was that not the answer?

It seemed like a logical answer to him.

As Min Ki stood puzzled, Director Seo, looking amused, nodded and continued.

“What’s wrong is that when an actor keeps choosing bad projects, it’s because they themselves made those choices.”

“Made those choices?”

“Yes, there’s actually a formula for choosing commercially successful projects.”

Director Seo tapped the pen on the papers as he explained.

“If you pick wisely within certain boundaries—like choosing a good director, a good cast, a good production team, a solid genre, and reliable investors—you generally won’t miss the mark.”

“Ah.”

The moment he heard that, Min Ki’s mind clicked with several ideas.

Director Seo continued speaking, his tone upbeat.

“Even if you strike out with two or three projects, if you follow the success formula, at least one will hit the mark. Even if the actor doesn’t choose themselves, the agency will at least guide them to decent projects. So, why do some actors keep failing?”

“Maybe because, without realizing it, they subconsciously lean towards more obscure, unconventional choices?”

“Exactly.”

Director Seo nodded.

“You can’t completely separate an actor’s preferences from their choices. I think that’s just part of being an actor. Even if you aim for commercial success, you can’t entirely ignore your artistic inclinations.”

There was a sense of certainty in his words.

It might not be the absolute truth.

But it was something worth keeping in mind, so Min Ki asked.

“Then what’s the 10% that was right?”

“Well, this is extremely rare, but…”

Director Seo chuckled, as if about to share some kind of absurd joke.

“Sometimes, there are people who are just exceptionally unlucky.”

“…”

Min Ki felt a sudden pang in his chest.

Seeing his silence, Director Seo looked puzzled and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all.”

“To continue, there are those who, no matter what they do, seem to fail. Whether they fall forwards or backwards, they always land face-first. Those kinds of people.”

“…”

“No matter how hard they try, they just can’t succeed. But who would believe something like that? It’s just superstition. So, I don’t even consider that possibility.”

“…”

“Still, I wouldn’t want to be around those types. They say bad luck can spread like a disease.”

“…”

“If you ever meet someone like that, Min Ki, be sure to stay cautious.”

Sorry, but each word feels like an arrow piercing my chest.

As Min Ki suffered in silence, Director Seo continued speaking.

“But fortunately, you’re a lucky person, Min Ki.”

“Ahem.”

“You’ve made an excellent start as an actor. You left a great first impression with your debut work, and now you have someone as skilled as me to help you choose your next project. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Director Seo kept talking, and in the middle of his long speech, he pulled out one particular script.

“So, this is the project I recommend.”

The bundle of papers he picked up was a script Min Ki was quite familiar with.

No, familiar was an understatement.

It was something more than that.

Under the Sky.

It was a story about a young man who, weary of city life, moves to the countryside and finds healing and love there.

The genre was, of course, a drama.

“The director, who achieved success with his last work, is in charge of this one as well. Most of the actors participating are reliable, and the role doesn’t seem too demanding either.”

“The structure looks solid.”

“For a rookie actor who just made their name known, this is ideal. The distributor is experienced, so the marketing will be strong as well.”

From Director Seo’s explanation, it sounded like the epitome of safe choices.

And indeed, that level of safety was well-suited for a rookie actor like him.

After all, dramas had always been like that.

They were essentially gateways for new actors. It wasn’t too much to expect moderate success from it.

‘And it did hit a decent level of success.’

Under the Sky was a well-made project.

As Min Ki pondered its details and nodded, Director Seo added.

“The role is also quite nice. It’s the protagonist’s close friend, so while it’s a step below the lead, you can still stand out.”

The role was solid too.

However.

Min Ki remembered Under the Sky in a slightly different light.

‘The actor who took this role had insane talent.’

That’s right.

Under the Sky was a successful project.

The problem was that each role had been filled by actors who were practically an all-star lineup in terms of acting ability.

They had been some of the rising stars of the next generation, known for their exceptional talent.

Could he really compete with them in the audition and secure the role?

“Hmm…”

As Min Ki wrestled with his thoughts, Director Seo asked, “Is something bothering you?”

“No, the role is definitely good, but because it’s so good, I feel like a lot of skilled actors will be competing for it.”

“You’re probably right. This is the time when rookies are being refreshed, so a lot of people will apply.”

Director Seo nodded, acknowledging Min Ki’s valid concerns.

Then, with confidence, he declared, “That’s exactly why you should apply for it.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s natural for a good role to come with high competition. Are you always going to back down because of that? The higher the competition, the more worthwhile it is to try.”

He was saying that the high competition was actually a green light.

Right.

Theoretically, it was a completely sound argument.

“Successful actors are those who overcome competition, not those who avoid it.”

There was a kind of passion in Director Seo’s voice.

As Min Ki felt overwhelmed by that intensity, Director Seo suddenly returned to his usual calm demeanor and said, “But of course, the choice is entirely yours. Your decision is what matters most to us.”

It felt a little like he was saying, “I already know what I want you to choose.”

Telling him to make a choice, but then criticizing his concerns—there was a sense of pushing him toward a specific decision.

He understood that this was an educational moment, but it was a bit of a tiring way to teach.

‘This is giving me a headache.’

However.

All those exhausting words made Min Ki realize something important.

‘That’s right, if I think the role is good, others will too.’

The ability to judge a project was universal.

A successful project with low competition was rare.

If he waited around for the perfect project with low competition to fall into his lap, he would never grow as an actor.

The problem was focusing too much on success.

Success and competition were inseparable.

‘I need to decide whether I want social success, or if I want to succeed as an actor.’

What did he really want to be?

What kind of actor did he aspire to be?

After thinking for a moment.

‘I get it now.’

He had made a small decision.

‘I won’t disregard success, but I won’t fear competition either.’

He had found his answer.

And he would not rely solely on his memories.

It would be enough to use his knowledge to avoid projects that were bound to fail.

‘I’ll choose the project I genuinely want to be a part of, even if the competition is fierce.’

Min Ki took a deep breath and finally picked out one script.

“I’ll go with this one.”

At that moment.

“This is… unexpected.”

Director Seo flipped through the papers, his expression slightly surprised.

“This project could underperform. Are you sure about it?”

“Yes, I have a good feeling about it.”

Min Ki’s voice brimmed with confidence.

“I want to be in this film.”

“Isn’t the genre a bit too challenging for a rookie? The other actors are all extremely skilled, so you might end up getting overshadowed. Acting talent can be quite relative.”

“That’s exactly why I feel I can grow more from this.”

Min Ki, resolute in his decision, placed his hand firmly on the paper.

“I want to be in Forever Green.”

Forever Green.

The same project he had initially passed on because of its fierce competition and slightly underwhelming performance.

But it was undeniably a project he wanted to act in.

“Are you sure you won’t regret it?”

“Yes!”

His firm answer caused Director Seo to blink for a moment.

Then, with a faint smile, he said, “Do you know? New actors usually fall into two categories.”

Min Ki tilted his head, curious to hear what he would say next.

“There are those who are obsessed with box office success and pursue only safe, stable projects. And then there are those who strive to be part of quality work, no matter the risk.”

“…”

“The irony is that, in my experience, the latter tend to be more successful in the long run.”

Weren’t you just saying that unconventional actors fail?

His words seemed contradictory to what he had said earlier, but Director Seo stood up from his seat, extended his hand, and said,

“Min Ki, welcome to the world of real actors.”

The world of real actors.

As Director Seo spoke those words, there was a certain satisfaction in his eyes as he looked at Min Ki.

“Oh, right.”

Without thinking, Min Ki grabbed his outstretched hand.

At that moment, Director Seo pulled his hand away and said,

“No, I was asking for the paperwork, not a handshake.”

“Oh.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

As he left the office.

Min Ki sat alone in the room, reflecting.

‘…Did I overdo it?’

He felt like he had gotten a bit carried away in the moment.