Aura of a Genius Actor

༺ His Death Will Become Part of History ༻

“When did you notice?”

“From the very beginning, of course.”

Beneath the striking appearance distinct from his father’s, the young man’s fair skin stood out against his deep blue robe. All of these combined with his noble aura and his complex gaze made it hard to believe that they shared the same blood. 

He wore an inscrutable look, making it impossible to discern his true intentions.

‘So he had grown up like this.’

Jeong Mong-ju lamented.

He had thought the young man had matured brilliantly during the military retreat at Wihwado and had let his guard down when Lee Seong-Gye was brought back from Byeokran Island. 

Considering him to be a remarkably astute and active strategist for his twenty-six years, Jeong Mong-ju had been on high alert and even took personal charge of this operation. 

But now, he realized that he hadn’t been vigilant enough.

“How did you know? Did you have a spy?”

“No. I simply grew up learning and thinking like you, Master. I just had to think—what would you have done in this situation? And the answer was clear.”

Lee Bang-won spoke casually, sipping his cold tea. The garden was quiet, and only the intermittent groans of the kneeling assassins broke the silence in the otherwise tranquil evening. 

It was an oddly peaceful evening, almost surreal given the circumstances.

“Father doesn’t know yet.”

At that, Jeong Mong-ju’s eyebrows shot up. 

He wondered if Lee Seong-Gye had finally made up his mind, but it was apparently Bang-won’s unilateral and reckless decision. 

“Why?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I covet what Master has.”

Their eyes met, and Bang-won’s gaze penetrated deeply, unsettling not just Jeong Mong-ju, but also Yoon Hansung.

Being an actor, Yoon often found himself lost in his roles. However, his true self would assert itself in critical moments, especially when he was confronted with such in-depth performances which always stimulated his own acting.

Controlling his reaction, he asked again.

“So, you set a trap on purpose?”

“Just say that you’ll join hands with me right now. All of this can be kept a secret, and I’ll let everyone go.”

“I refuse.”

Jeong Mong-ju answered immediately and without a hint of hesitation.

Clench—

Bang-won gritted his teeth—it was another rejection.

With a suppressed sigh of anger, he gave an order.

“Cut them down.”

Swish—

At his order, four heads seemed to fly.

It was just for show since the special effects weren’t edited in yet, but it looked as if the heads and bodies were actually severed for both Hansung and Yoomyeong. They were that immersed in the scene.

Four bodies lay scattered in the garden, their blood turning the light green lawn a deep red.

Then, Bang-won asked again, his gaze intense yet calm.

“Have you changed your mind?”

Despite witnessing this, Jeong Mong-ju, who had already made his decision, remained unfazed.

“It won’t change.” 

“You once said that the time when the king’s power is weakest is the best moment to shift to a minister-centered government.”

“I did say that.”

“Essentially, you meant that you don’t really care about the ancestral shrines and royal rites, right?” 

“If it makes no difference either way, there’s no need for change.” 

“Why? You’ve always used ‘any means’ for your goals. Why not use ‘the next dynasty’ and ‘me’ as your tools?”

“Bang-won.”

Jeong Mong-ju’s soft voice as he called his name softly made Bang-won flinch. It was the voice his ‘Master’ hadn’t used for a long time.

“Yes, Master.”

“I will give you my final lesson.”

With a calm gaze, Jeong Mong-ju calmly spoke of ‘the final lesson.’ 

Bang-won felt a jolt in his heart as he intently watched his Master’s lips move, as if he was suddenly back to being the 12-year-old Bang-won.

“Everyone has their own ‘goals’ and ‘standards’. Everyone has a different idea of how far they’re willing to go to achieve their goals, and mine is quite flexible. And I suppose you are the same.”

“…Yes, Master.”

“But…”

There was a firmness in his voice, like the resolve of a man prepared for death, speaking his final words without fear of the end. It was dignity that suggested he would smile even if his heart were pierced at this moment.

Yoomyeong, both as himself and as Bang-won, watched in awe. 

It was clear that Hansung, the actor, had crossed a significant boundary in his career as of today.

“If someone changes their standards and goals not by their own will but under the coercion of others, it’s not a ‘means’ anymore but ‘collusion’. The moment you engage in collusion, you lose the ability to discern whether you’re on the right path. Compromise after compromise, and all that’s left is a blurry goal and mere remnants.”

His voice grew, echoing off the walls opposite Bang-won.

“From that moment onwards, you’re no longer a politician, but just a tyrant.”

“…”

“If you’re going to play with thousands of lives, at least don’t twist your goals and standards to suit your whims. That’s the least respect you owe to those who follow you and those lives depending on you.”

This was their graduation ceremony.

Bang-won remained silent for a while, then glanced outside. The setting sun had turned the blood-stained garden even redder.

He then spoke a sijo in a somewhat desperate tone:

“How does it matter here or there?

If the tangled vines on Mount Mansu bind us together,

Then let us also be intertwined and enjoy it for a hundred years.” 

Director Son had envisioned this scene with Bang-won reciting the sijo with ambition and vigor, fitting for the climax of a character like Lee Bang-won. 

But Yoomyeong recited it with a sense of clinging desperation instead, like a lover aware of the impending separation and clinging to him like a lover trying one last time. 

This tone, rather than diminishing, intensified the emotion Bang-won harbored for Jeong Mong-ju, making Director Son nod in admiration.

Then, Jeong Mong-ju, his face flushed by the setting sun, recited a responding sijo with the same resolute and strong attitude he had when he recited the poem in front of Zhu Yuanzhang, hungry and exhausted:

“Even if I die and die again a hundred times,

And my bones turn to dust, whether my soul exists or not,

My single-hearted loyalty to my lord will never fade.” 

Jeong Mong-ju’s response was surprisingly calm, as if he didn’t sense his impending death.

Thus, the atmosphere seemed like the victor was the defeated, and the defeated, the victor.

…And in reality, it was indeed like that.

Finally, Bang-won spoke in a resigned tone.

“Is the ‘lord’ you speak of not this dynasty, but rather your own goals and standards, and the greater good for the people?” 

“Poetry belongs to the reader. If it sounds that way to you, then so be it.” 

With a sigh, Bang-won shed his lingering regrets. His firm facade returned, and he spoke as a politician.

“I greatly coveted ‘you’. You are similar to me. You are a talented scholar born at the end of an era, and I am a hero born at the beginning of a chaotic one. Sambong is also a great talent, but he is my father’s man and too rebellious for my taste. I wished you could be there in ‘my era’ to come…”

There was a change in address from ‘Master’ to ‘you’.

“You’ve taught me too much. Will this be the day I’ll have to keep a secret for the rest of my life? Haha.”

“Take care.”

Jeong Mong-ju stood up, stepping through the blood-soaked garden and marking the end of this scene. His dignified stride seemed to leave bloodied footprints behind. 

Bang-won watched his back for a long while before issuing an order. 

“Follow him and kill him.”

“Yes.”

“But make it on a busy street where everyone can see.” 

Si-heon, who was leading the warriors, asked. 

“Not an assassination, but on a main road?”

“Yes. I want the whole world to know of his death, so my father can’t erase my achievements. Make it as tragic as possible in the busiest place.”

“I will carry out your orders.”

“…And thus, his death will become part of history.”

Tick— 

The audience couldn’t look away although the camera’s light had already turned blue, unable to break away from the powerful scene.

“C… cut—”

*

After watching that day’s filming, Director Son hugged Hansung and Yoomyeong, repeatedly expressing his gratitude.

Aside from minor details, there were no changes to the emotional arc, setting a smooth course for the month-long shoot. 

There were many scenes to shoot around Lee Seong-Gye’s house besides the ‘tea conversation’ scene, such as scenes where Jeong Mong-ju’s men lie in ambush around the house, waiting for Mong-ju’s signal, and the meaningful look in Lee Bang-won’s eyes as he pretended not to notice. 

As they filmed these scenes, autumn crept in.

“Is today your last scene, hyung?”

“Yes. I’ve been preparing to die all this time, and now I’m finally going to.” 

Filming that same day repeated for a month. 

That one day, occupying about a third of the movie, held a significant part of the film’s weight. And then there was Jeong Mong-ju’s death.

Hansung mounted his horse. 

Anticipating what was to come, he spurred his horse forward without hesitation. With evidence of Lee Seong-Gye’s assassination attempt in Bang-won’s hands, there was no other way.

If he was to be eliminated anyway and if the Goryeo dynasty were to fall, then he would walk his last path with integrity. 

It was a resolve that touched the hearts of the viewers.

Thus, the star of an era fell.

*

The last scene Yoomyeong filmed was in the first year of King Taejong’s reign. 

Dressed in middle-aged makeup and royal robes, Taejong visited his family home and walked through the garden. 

The garden looked pristine and lush with greenery, as if nothing had ever happened there. 

There, Taejong reminisced about a certain person.

“History will remember me as the victor, but in reality, it’s no different from losing. Now that I’ve finally ascended to this position… it’s a shame that your wisdom and your resourcefulness are not by my side.”

And then, the screen blacks out.

The following text was to be inserted on the black screen:

[In the first year of his reign, King Taejong Lee Bang-won posthumously appointed Jeong Mong-ju as Prime Minister and granted him the title of ‘Prince of the Court’. This act is sometimes interpreted as a means to glorify the ideology of loyalty and stabilize the current royal authority.

However, the truth of history is something no one can know. Was it Taejong’s personal longing, or his desire to fulfill his wish of making him his ‘first prime minister’ in this way?

We still don’t know the answer to that.]

“We’ve finished filming.”

Wow!

After the final take, the director announced the end of the shooting. The staff erupted in cheers, and Hansung, whose filming had already finished but had stayed on set, approached Yoomyeong and offered a handshake.

For the first time, Hansung and Yoomyeong, who was dressed as the middle-aged King Taejong, looked like friends. They shook hands and patted each other on the back.

Indeed, this project held great significance for both actors.

*

“Great work.”

“Thank you.”

The next day, Yoomyeong headed to the company. 

Despite having been told by Yu-seok to take a break for a few days and then drop by the office, Yoomyeong couldn’t shake off his excitement and felt the need to go somewhere.

It had been that intense for him. 

Having lived every day as Lee Bang-won especially in the last month, he felt like Bang-won’s momentum had not yet completely disappeared even though he was quite skilled in immersing and detaching from his roles. 

“How was it? Ho-chul wouldn’t stop praising you, so I became curious.”

“You should’ve visited the set.”

“I hate getting spoiled when watching movies.”

Yu-seok was a huge movie buff, and he was eagerly anticipating the performance of the actor from his ‘hobby,’, especially after having seen Director Son’s script in advance. Spoiling such a film was out of the question.

“You have to rest this time. No exceptions!” 

“Well… I was also thinking of taking a break… I’m still feeling the aftereffects of the role.”

“That’s a good idea. How long do you want to rest? Three months? Six? You’ll need to do some dubbing or additional shooting and participate in promotional activities for the film, but you can take as much time as you need apart from that.” 

“Uh… I think two weeks should be enough…”

“What?”

Yu-seok asked, incredulous.

“…Then, three weeks? A month is too long.”

Yoomyeong’s eagerness for new projects hadn’t lessened, although it wasn’t as frantic as before. Miho might have said ‘Let’s wait and see’, but he still felt that his ‘expiration date’ as an actor was thirty, and he wanted to do at least one more project before then. 

But this time, Yu-seok was firm.

“That’s not enough. If you’re really bored, then there’s something I’d like you to do.”

“What is it?”

“A fan signing event.”

Just then, Yu-seok made an unexpected suggestion.

FOOTNOTES

* Poems:

   – What if by Lee Bang-won (하여가)

   – Faithful Heart by Jeong Mong-ju (단심가)

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