How a Loan Shark Survives as an Actor – Chapter 16

Author: Cireng

Chapter 16

After that, we continued filming using the line I had ad-libbed instead of the original script.

I had already felt it when I visited the set before, but drama filming took far longer than I had imagined.

Even if everything was perfect and a scene got approved in one take, they still had to film the same scene from different angles, which meant multiple takes were necessary.

‘Wouldn’t it be more efficient to film with several cameras at once?’

I’d been thinking that the whole time, but once I stood there as the person being filmed, I understood.

Not only did the actors’ and cameras’ movements have to avoid overlapping, but finding the best angle inevitably required multiple shoots.

The problem was how much stamina the process consumed.

‘Maybe it’s because I’m not a real actor.’

Maybe because I completely let go of myself whenever I immersed myself, but after filming the same scene over and over, I felt like I could collapse on the spot.

The moment all filming ended and I returned to the hotel, insomnia or not, I slept like the dead.

‘I underestimated this and got burned for it.’

It was a bit humiliating to be thrown around by something I’d thought was no big deal.

But at the same time, it couldn’t really be helped.

Isn’t it obvious that dealing with one difficult customer and dealing with ten difficult customers in a row consume completely different amounts of energy?

‘Honestly, acting properly once would probably be easier…’

As I pondered it, I realized there was something similar.

Theater.

Of course, I’d never properly watched a play while living as a loan shark, but even so, I could tell that theater suited the way I wanted to act more than drama filming did.

‘Should I switch over to theater entirely?’

I brought up that thought when I went to see Choi Ran, only to be met with a look that clearly said, ‘What kind of nonsense are you talking about?’

“What are you saying? Theater is way harder.”

“Really?”

“If you mess up in front of a camera, all you have to say is ‘Sorry,’ and it’s not a huge problem. The risk is much lower. Seriously… you’re the first person I’ve met who thinks theater would be easier.”

Choi Ran shook her head as if she couldn’t believe me.

“Even veteran actors who are amazing in front of cameras lose their minds when they step onto a theater stage. Instead of production staff who’ll comfort them if they make a mistake, they’re facing complete strangers who paid expensive ticket prices just for that one moment. That pressure drives people crazy.”

“Now that you mention it, that makes sense. Then do theater actors get called geniuses when they move to camera work?”

“Not necessarily.”

Choi Ran narrowed her eyes as if recalling someone.

“I once filmed with someone who was considered a huge authority in theater. You know how it is. If you act in front of a camera the same way you do on stage, it looks artificial. The projection is too loud, too. It’s hard to explain… it just doesn’t blend in.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“I get what you’re trying to say. You’re saying that doing everything in one take suits you better than stopping and starting every line. But our drama’s a romantic comedy. What can you do? People don’t usually use one-take filming in romantic comedies.”

“Then what genre does use it?”

“Probably scenes that need tension. Thrillers or genre dramas… Wait, why are you acting like a complete beginner? Even if you were bad at acting before, you’ve still got way more experience than me.”

Her suspicious look made me flinch.

But outwardly, I didn’t show it at all.

“I told you. The Yoo Seulho from before this drama is dead. I’m treating this like I’ve been reborn and starting over. I can’t even trust the knowledge I thought I had.”

“Then can you trust me?”

“If I don’t trust you, who am I supposed to trust?”

“…”

Choi Ran puffed out her lips.

I’d been seeing that expression a lot lately.

‘I do feel a little guilty, like I’m bothering a kid.’

But I really didn’t have any other option besides talking to Choi Ran.

My manager, Hyun Jingae, knew quite a bit too, but Choi Ran’s knowledge and advice as an active actor on set were on a completely different level.

The amount of useful information I’d gained from pestering her for a few days couldn’t even be compared to what I’d learned from beating information out of Hyun Jingae.

‘I’ll just treat her well in exchange for bothering her.’

Choi Ran was the type whose thoughts were so transparent you could practically see through them.

Anyone could tell how serious she was about acting.

If I approached acting with the same sincerity, I figured she wouldn’t dislike me.

‘If I want to make a lot of money, I have to use every resource available.’

And, as expected, Choi Ran gave me helpful advice.

“Just looking at the way you act right now, theater doesn’t suit you at all. Theater requires exaggeration to create immersion. But your acting feels natural. It doesn’t feel like acting.”

“Yeah. Director Jang said he liked that about me.”

“Because acting naturally in front of a camera without overdoing it isn’t easy. Whether it’s theater or drama, hard things are hard. Oh, right. The pay’s different too.”

“What? The pay’s different?”

“Of course it is. A play has a fixed audience size, while anyone with a TV can watch a drama. Plus, with dramas, the appearance fee isn’t even the biggest income source. Variety shows, commercials, and other secondary earnings are huge.”

The moment I heard that, I made up my mind.

Okay. Dramas it is.

While I was organizing everything Choi Ran had told me, an uninvited guest interrupted.

“Seulho, let’s talk about the script.”

It was Woo Junseo.

“Ran, you don’t mind if I borrow Seulho for a minute, right?”

“Nope.”

“…”

Apparently, after our last shoot together, Junseo had found it humiliating to call both Choi Ran and me “sunbae,” so he suggested everyone start speaking casually.

I didn’t have any reason to refuse.

But Choi Ran firmly responded with:

“You can speak casually. I’ll keep using honorifics.”

When Junseo said,

“Come on, let’s both speak casually. It’ll look awkward to other people.”

Choi Ran immediately replied,

“I like being awkward.”

‘It’s honestly amazing these two are doing romance scenes together.’

Anyway, after all that, Junseo seemed to feel more comfortable with me than with Choi Ran.

He started talking to me much more often, and we spent more time practicing scenes from the revised script together.

At first, his eyes had clearly said,

‘This bastard’s trying way too hard.’

But after Kang Minwoo’s role became larger, he seemed pleased with how the male lead’s character had changed.

Now he treated me comfortably, with an attitude that basically said,

‘The lead role’s mine anyway.’

‘Works for me.’

I was annoyed that he’d originally targeted Yoo Seulho as prey, but regardless, he was still the male lead I had to work with.

The better he acted, the less criticism the drama would receive, and that would improve my chances of getting cast again.

Honestly, right now, even if Woo Junseo suddenly slapped me across the face, I was confident I could smile and calm him down.

‘Because once this job is over, I’ll be the one with the leverage.’

It had been the same when I worked as a loan shark.

When someone hadn’t borrowed much money from me yet, and there was no guarantee they’d keep coming back, the customer held the power.

But eventually, there came a moment when the positions reversed.

After that, I could do whatever I wanted.

The same applied to Woo Junseo.

‘Until then, patience is the answer.’

Fortunately, Junseo’s attacks weren’t even worth enduring.

At most, he’d pick petty verbal fights.

Honestly, getting smacked by a passing cat would hurt more.

“Ran, I’m going to talk with Junseo for a bit.”

“Whatever… do what you want.”

After appeasing the sulking Choi Ran, I stood up.

As soon as I led Junseo to a corner of the set, he dropped the expression he’d been forcing and frowned.

“What the hell is wrong with her? Was she like that when she was younger too?”

“Who knows.”

“Seriously, how am I supposed to act like her boyfriend? It’s so stressful. She’s not cooperative, she’s not professional… sigh, I’m worried.”

I replied lightly to his complaints.

“You’re good at acting. Why worry about that?”

“What does it matter if I’m good? Look at the state she’s in.”

“Then act even better. Stop whining and let’s practice.”

“…You talk just as rudely as she does.”

Junseo stuck out his lower lip.

“I’m the male lead, but Choi Ran only follows you around. You treat her nicely too, but every time you look at me, it’s like you’re staring at trash. You’re totally bullying me.”

Man, he really does whine.

I couldn’t exactly treat a grown man the same way I treated Choi Ran.

I honestly wanted to smack the back of his head, but since this was a period where I needed to be patient, I gave him the answer he wanted.

“Hey, am I you? I suck at acting, remember? What am I supposed to do? The only reason my acting’s watchable is because I stay in character even when we’re not filming. I can’t switch expressions on and off as you can. I have to act like an older brother who hates his little brother all the time, or I won’t be able to keep up with you.”

“Yeah, right. If you can’t talk, don’t. Is this how you sweet-talked Choi Ran too?”

Junseo snorted and opened his script.

Thankfully, after that, the whining stopped, and we had an actual productive discussion.

What impressed me was that whenever I offered an opinion, he listened seriously instead of mocking me.

‘He’s surprisingly friendly.’

Probably because my ad-lib had changed the male lead’s character into something more to his taste.

If my increased screen time had threatened his position or gotten in his way, Woo Junseo would’ve gathered his clique immediately and done everything he could to drag me down.

‘Honestly, I’m glad about this change.’

Given my position, where I couldn’t openly treat him as an enemy, it was something to be grateful for.

And it was true that filming had become easier since the male lead started treating me favorably.

That was when it happened.

“Oh? What are you two doing over here?”

The exaggerated voice instantly shattered our concentration.

When I turned my head, I saw a man wearing a sly grin.

‘Park Sangin.’

The bastard who’d recommended Yoo Seulho as prey.

The moment Woo Junseo noticed Park Sangin, he relaxed the posture that had brought him closer to me and took a step back.

Watching that, I thought for a moment.

Then I acted.