Chapter 392: Smashed (1)

Translator: Santos

 

The moment Kang Woo-jin was called on stage by the bald-headed executive, he began summoning a different persona.

‘Next.’

Woo-jin brought forth the fully awakened *Henry Gordon*, adding in Jang Yeon-woo from *Beneficial Evil*. Combining the two heightened the madness and violence to a staggering degree. Yet, the “freedom of role” remained, and the vulnerable *Henry Gordon* had vanished entirely.

This completed an untethered, truly “no-holds-barred” *Henry Gordon*.

Would he care about the stares of others? Would he feel any fear or worry? Could anyone here possibly stop him? Not even a hail of gunfire would halt Woo-jin in his current state. Auditions? Hollywood? Acting? The role? None of it mattered now.

All he needed was a cigarette.

Standing before the judges, Woo-jin took a drag with absolute nonchalance, disregarding all etiquette or concern. Only his own will and decisions mattered.

“Hoo—”

This monster beyond awakening stared down at the bald-headed executive. He despised the look on his face. Did this squid-headed bastard just call him “Kang Woo-jin”?

Maybe he should kill him.

No. Perhaps it would be more fun to toy with him a little longer. But he should deliver a warning to this squid-headed fool.

*Thump!*

Exhaling smoke, Woo-jin shook the executive’s head as if it were a toy.

“Call me ‘Joker,’ you damn bald head.”

Woo-jin looked as if he might rip the man’s head off. Taking another long drag, he flicked the smoking butt into the executive’s coffee cup, the soft hissing sound filling the room. The executive’s thoughts froze.

“…”

He could barely comprehend what was happening. Was this even real? His eyes had already widened in shock. Nothing in his life had prepared him for a situation like this.

Above all—

‘What… what is this?’

He couldn’t even recognize the “Kang Woo-jin” before him. He was confused. Where did the act begin, and where did it end? Wasn’t he just playing the weak *Henry Gordon*? How did he suddenly become *Joker*? Or had he been *Joker* the entire time? And was this even acting?

Questions flooded his mind, and he wasn’t alone. Everyone who witnessed Woo-jin’s hand on the bald executive’s head was equally stunned.

“…”

“…”

“…”

Though none of them spoke, the shock was evident in their widened eyes, starting with Director Ahn Ga-bok seated with the judges—

‘…Is he losing control? This is… excessive.’

The lead producer and several others around exchanged worried glances.

‘What the hell is happening here?!’

‘Is he insane?! Should we stop this?!’

‘Hold on, this is dangerous!’

Even the Columbia Studio executives watching were horrified.

‘This guy’s a complete lunatic!’

The Hollywood stars were left dazed, with only Chris Hartnett managing to keep his composure. Remembering when Woo-jin had asked his name, he thought,

‘This… surpasses anything I imagined. A genuine eccentric. But… is this *Joker* acting, or…? I can’t tell.’

Meanwhile, the dozen or so crew members exchanged whispers, and Choi Sung-gon looked on, casting nervous glances.

‘Hey, Woo-jin… Is this okay? Aren’t you going too far?’

But Woo-jin had no intention of stopping. Releasing his grip on the executive’s head, he spoke in a calm voice.

“I could quit this ridiculous audition without a problem. I just came to see what you all are made of, but honestly, you’re boring me.”

With his twisted grin still in place, Woo-jin took another drag.

“Let’s all have some fun together. Ditch this dull audition. And hey, you damn bald head.”

With a crazed look, Woo-jin locked eyes with the executive and wrapped his hands around his own neck.

“Call me Kang Woo-jin one more time, and I’ll kill you.”

“…”

Then Woo-jin suddenly laughed, running a hand through his black hair.

“Just kidding. Don’t get all scared, friend.”

He spun around and spread his arms toward the audience, declaring,

“*Joker*. Isn’t it beautiful?”

His body language was filled with a strange sense of self-admiration, his expression radiating freedom. The Hollywood actors watching Woo-jin no longer saw him as a competitor.

They were merely his audience.

In truth, Woo-jin treated them as just that. The reason was simple: this wasn’t an act. The awakened *Henry Gordon*, the *Joker*, had completely taken over the stage, filling it with his presence. If this was acting, it was too real to be mere performance.

In fact, it wasn’t acting at all.

From the moment Woo-jin had set foot on the stage, he hadn’t “performed” a single line. Kang Woo-jin was *Joker*, and *Joker* was Kang Woo-jin.

“Come on, join in. Isn’t that why you came here to imitate me?”

Nice try. Sure, I was a bit impressed with how similar you were. But an imitation is only that—a mere shadow. No one can surpass the real thing. Woo-jin exhaled a long stream of smoke, casting a disdainful gaze toward the Hollywood actors in the audience.

“Have any of you ever killed someone?”

Of course not. But that was okay; you didn’t need to kill someone for an audition. At that moment—

*Swish.*

Woo-jin raised both arms, summoning his “piano” ability. He began moving his fingers in the air, his shoulders bouncing rhythmically. It was silent, yet his mind was filled with intricate piano melodies.

“Some music would be nice.”

After a moment of imaginary piano playing, Woo-jin lowered his hands and then began stomping his feet as if tap-dancing. With a clap, he spun around and took another drag from his cigarette.

“Hoo—Well, I think I’ll be going now. I saw some interesting things. Oh, and keep imitating me, spread it around.”

Kang Woo-jin—the *Joker* on stage—was breaking down every conventional barrier of the audition, shattering everyone’s perception of him. As Ahn Ga-bok watched Woo-jin’s retreating figure, he chuckled to himself.

‘There hasn’t been any “acting” on that stage since he walked up there.’

The lead producer next to him, glancing at Ahn Ga-bok, seemed to have a similar thought.

‘Was *Joker* simply here to enjoy an audition meant for him? Calling him a monster would be an understatement.’

No one saw the creature on stage as just an actor. To them, he was simply Kang Woo-jin, *Henry Gordon*, *Joker*. The boundaries of acting had blurred into oblivion.

“…”

“…”

Everyone could do nothing but stare at Woo-jin, completely paralyzed.

‘How… how do we even compete with that?’

‘Acting? How could that possibly be considered acting?’

The Hollywood actors’ faces betrayed their utter disbelief. Ultra-tier Hollywood star Chris Hartnett watched Woo-jin on stage with a newfound sense of awe.

‘My own acting feels pathetic in comparison. This is the first time I’ve ever felt pure wonder watching another actor. Haha, no, that’s not even acting.’

At that moment—

“That was fun.”

With a smirk stretching ear to ear, Woo-jin waved to the audience before suddenly—

*Swish.*

—he changed his expression, and the atmosphere shifted. It was heavier, all in a flash. Instantly, he seemed to snap back into his “crafted” persona, his face settling into an intense poker face.

“…”

He spoke to the judges with formal politeness.

“I’ll end it here.”

It was a declaration that everything they’d witnessed had been “acting.” Only then did everyone in the hall begin to snap out of their daze, one by one.

“Oh.”

“Uh…”

“Right, of course.”

They managed to regain their senses, but they were left utterly confused.

‘…Was *Joker* pretending to be Kang Woo-jin?’

The chaos was understandable. After all, they couldn’t discern which parts had been real and which had been acting.

Meanwhile, Woo-jin’s thoughts were light-hearted.

‘Yep, I think I showed them everything I wanted. Though maybe I went a bit overboard with that bald guy? Whatever, it should be fine.’

He felt perfectly at ease.

Shortly after, he’d shown every aspect of his storytelling—from the confessional, unawakened *Henry Gordon*, to the completely unhinged *Joker*. Whether he was Kang Woo-jin or *Joker*, it didn’t matter; he had unleashed his full potential on that stage.

And now—

‘Back to the persona!’

Woo-jin resumed his composed, dignified demeanor, a necessary part of him. With an indifferent expression, he walked down from the stage, moving confidently toward where Choi Sung-gon was waiting.

Interestingly, the entire hall was silent at that moment.

“…”

“…”

Even as Woo-jin approached his seat, no one dared to speak. They simply watched him slowly return to his place. When people are faced with something utterly beyond their expectations, they tend to freeze. The only exception was Director Ahn Ga-bok, who smiled with a slightly wrinkled expression.

As Woo-jin took his seat next to Choi Sung-gon, he greeted him in a composed, understated voice.

“I’m back.”

His tone was calm, almost subdued, as though he had just returned from a casual outing. Choi Sung-gon, still in shock, blinked at him.

“…Oh—uh, yeah. Right. Good job. But, Woo-jin… isn’t it strange how calm you seem?”

“Is it?” Woo-jin looked around at the silent room, noticing the many stunned eyes still fixed on him. They all seemed frozen in place, processing what they had just witnessed. He smirked a little, muttering under his breath, “Looks like they’re really staring.”

“Nothing to worry about,” he replied, casually brushing off the attention.

“Nothing to worry about… yeah, okay,” Sung-gon replied with a sigh, clearly struggling to shake off the impact of Woo-jin’s performance. Then, in a lower voice, he added, “You tore it up out there. Those Hollywood stars? I can barely even remember their performances. That first scene you did, where the character started off confessing and then slipped back into his usual persona to handle the current situation—that was just… incredible.”

But Woo-jin remained as unruffled as ever.

“Thank you.”

At that moment, the lead producer in the judges’ row finally managed to regain her composure and broke the silence.

“...Alright, let’s continue.”

She turned to the remaining profiles, her fingers trembling slightly as she flipped through the sheets, preparing to call the next actor. Despite Woo-jin’s lingering presence, the show had to go on. Her voice carried through the room, steady but strained.

“The next actor is…”

With this, she announced the name of the fourth Hollywood actor. Slowly, the Hollywood veteran rose from his seat, and as he ascended the stage, his face showed signs of deep apprehension. Watching him, Director Ahn Ga-bok gave a quiet chuckle.

‘He's shaken, no doubt. After witnessing that violent display from Woo-jin, his confidence is rattled. In fact, the two actors who went before him had it much easier by comparison. Who wouldn’t feel intimidated after seeing such an intense performance?’

The fourth actor was indeed a seasoned talent in Hollywood, yet his performance suffered noticeably. He fumbled his lines several times, visibly affected by the previous act, and though he made it through, his expression was one of deep frustration as he left the stage.

Finally, the lead producer called the name of the last actor—Chris Hartnett, the Hollywood star with whom Woo-jin had some history. Chris rose to his feet, only to stay where he was, raising a hand in the air to signal the judges.

“I’m withdrawing from the audition,” he announced calmly.

This was a first for Chris Hartnett—a true Hollywood A-lister—walking away from an audition.

Several minutes later, the chaotic *Pierrot* audition and screen test came to an end. In the sprawling parking lot outside, the door to a large, black SUV opened. Chris Hartnett’s team filed in, all silent as they took their seats. Once everyone was settled, Chris spoke up.

“Drive.”

The SUV sped out of the parking lot, the air inside tense. Chris’s manager, breaking the silence, glanced at him in disbelief.

“…Chris. After all that preparation, why did you withdraw? I mean, I get it—Woo-jin’s performance was… intense… but were you really that impressed?”

Staring out the window, Chris let out a soft laugh.

“Didn’t you see? *Joker* himself showed up in that room.”

Thinking back to the chillingly authentic performance he had just witnessed, Chris added with a wry smile:

“No matter what I would’ve done, I’d only be playing around in front of the real thing.”