Chapter 425: Joker (3)

Translator: Santos

When Kang Woo-jin transformed into the “JOKER,” his face, painted in white with messy flour and blood, had bold red eyebrows, the areas around his eyes, his nose, and thick, smirking lips in a haphazard design. The rough, clumsy makeup, far from perfect, only amplified the tension in the scene.

Facing Woo-jin head-on was Adam Dickens, the foreign cameraman with a large frame, bushy brown hair, and a backward-facing cap. Goosebumps crawled up his forearms and neck.

“What… what on earth is this?”

The scene was wildly different from the original script. Woo-jin was supposed to stop after picking up the “JOKER” card, yet this Korean actor took it further with unexpected improvisation.

“Is he not feeling any pressure?”

Ever since arriving in Hollywood, Woo-jin had been dropping one bombshell after another, drawing global attention. Hundreds of foreign crew members were fixed on him, many with mixed feelings. Yet, Woo-jin showed no sign of hesitation, delivering a fiercely creative performance, seemingly unburdened.

“Damn, he actually finished the ‘JOKER’ face with blood…”

To Adam, Woo-jin’s portrayal of the “JOKER” seemed almost childlike—a mischievous kid, freed after years of suppression, curiosity ablaze as he danced and played. His character wasn’t just trying to entertain; this set was his playground.

The problem was:

“A playground of slaughter.”

Unlike an innocent child’s playground, Woo-jin’s backdrop was marred with blood and a corpse on the floor. The combination of childlike joy and dark violence created a haunting contrast that magnified the “JOKER’s” presence on screen.

“And that tear from his left eye…”

That tear, unexpected and out of place, to Adam, felt like a silent scream. The “JOKER” was liberated, yet there was an underlying tragedy in that freedom—a character forced to become this way by the cruelty of his surroundings.

Director Ahn Ga-bok, watching Woo-jin on the monitor, felt similarly.

“That tear… it’s the last shred of Henry Gordon’s sanity, his final scream.”

Hollywood actors, including a bemused Chris Hartnett, watched in awe.

“The madness of the ‘JOKER,’ mixed with sorrow and despair… it’s pure genius. This is truly astounding acting.”

The hundreds of staff, actors, and crew were stunned by the performance.

The shock was compounded by one fact:

“Was all of this improvised?”

Woo-jin’s acting, which had captivated everyone, wasn’t in the script.

Then:

*Swish.*

Woo-jin, or rather, the “JOKER,” stared at the camera, letting the tear fall without wiping it away, before taking a step back. Adam, holding the camera, watched Woo-jin begin to take slow, backward steps, capturing him until Woo-jin’s third step.

*Scrape!*

Woo-jin’s foot slipped, and he lost his balance. Reacting quickly, Adam gave the camera a slight shake, capturing the flour and blood on the floor before focusing back on Woo-jin. Woo-jin stumbled, his wet hair swinging, and he landed face-first into the “meat” on the floor.

The classical music drowned out the noise, but Woo-jin distinctly heard the squishy sound as he hit the ground. Soft, but far from pleasant.

Woo-jin paused, face planted into the “meat” on the floor, while Adam marveled behind the camera.

“More than I expected.”

The comedic element, the stumble, was an unplanned but perfect counterpoint, breaking the tension for a brief moment before plunging back into the dark reality.

But Woo-jin, still face-down on the “meat,” was actually lamenting internally.

“Damn it, I didn’t plan this at all.”

He’d choreographed everything up until this fall, which wasn’t supposed to end with his face in a stranger’s backside. And this smell… did he just… pass gas? Without realizing it, Woo-jin gagged slightly.

He instinctively felt this would likely end up as an NG, feeling mildly guilty toward the actor lying there. But to his surprise:

*Swish.*

Adam, maintaining a serious face, zoomed in on Woo-jin as he pulled his face away from the “meat” on the floor.

“Perfect timing.”

The unexpected mishap was adding to the authenticity of the “JOKER’s” character.

With a calm demeanor, Woo-jin held his composure, thinking back to his own acting experience—he’d learned that as long as the director didn’t call for an NG, the show continued. So, he got up, brushing his wet hair back with both hands, his expression unperturbed, even as he weighed his options for a closing line.

Finally, embracing his character fully, he said,

“This damn pile of meat… reeks like ass.”

Feeling no shame in his words, he added,

“What, did you shit yourself before dying?”

Silently, he apologized to the actor lying there, then turned to the camera and gave it a small grin as if signaling an “extra” take. Director Ahn understood and finally called out:

“Cut!”

The scene wrapped up, and a little ways off, Adam commented,

“That was incredible.”

Returning to his in-character expression, Woo-jin answered simply,

“Thank you.”

The actor lying on the floor, who had been taken aback, glanced up at Woo-jin, still confused as to why his co-star had ended up in such an awkward position.

“Were you startled? I apologize,” Woo-jin said calmly.

“N-no, not at all. If it makes the scene better, it’s worth it.”

Director Ahn, who had just entered the set with other foreign staff, approached Woo-jin with a proud smile and a thumbs-up.

“Absolutely fantastic, even that final line.”

Moments later, Woo-jin was at the monitor area, reviewing the footage with the makeup team and the hefty foreign actor. The flour and blood makeup were still in place, as per Ahn’s instructions, and the makeup team had already taken several reference photos.

On screen:

> [“Did you shit yourself before dying?”]

Watching this, the actor lying on the floor nodded slowly, as if to himself, understanding why Woo-jin’s face had ended up there. He looked at Woo-jin with a bit of admiration.

“That was… something else.”

“Right?” Woo-jin thought but kept his face calm as he responded.

“Are you okay with it?”

“Of course. Like I said, if it enhances the scene, I’m all for it.”

Director Ahn, overhearing, chimed in, “As Roger said, this adds so much depth to the scene. I’m inclined to keep it—what do you think?”

Woo-jin nodded.

“No problem here.”

“Good. Let’s regroup for a brief team meeting. We’ll adjust camera movements, angles, and other elements to work with this version. In the meantime, take a break.”

Director Ahn called the key staff together to finalize adjustments.

In Hollywood, spontaneous changes to shooting plans are common. Unlike in Korea, directors here often have more flexibility to improvise or even replace entire scripted scenes if the new approach works better.

However, one person was less pleased.

“...Hmm.”

Nora Foster, the producer with the most influence on set, stood with a slight frown. Watching Woo-jin walk away, she was already wary of the dynamic he and Director Ahn might bring to the set.

“His performance was phenomenal, but… I don’t like the way this is going.”

As a seasoned Hollywood producer, she’d always upheld a “principled” approach, believing that small deviations now could lead to bigger problems later on.

For now, though, Nora decided,

“I’ll keep watching.”

Meanwhile, unaware of Nora’s scrutiny, Woo-jin exchanged brief words with the makeup team before heading to a makeshift tent area with portable chairs where Choi Sung-geon and his team waited. Choi greeted him with a smile, handing him a bottle of water.

“Your performance was amazing. You should’ve seen everyone’s reactions outside.”

The stylist and other team members chimed in, with Choi giving Woo-jin an approving look.

“That was terrifying. First kill, and you turn his blood into the ‘JOKER’s’ face? How’d you come up with that? Just watching made me break out in goosebumps.”

Woo-jin, inwardly proud of his own brilliance, gave a modest shrug.

“It was nothing.”

“Nothing? Just look around—Director Ahn and the crew were losing it!”

“Well, that’s true,” Woo-jin admitted.

“Falling face-first into his butt was a nice touch, too. And that ‘smells like shit’ line…”

Their stylist, Ye-jung Han, known for her blunt tone, added, “It didn’t come off as funny. Honestly, it was terrifying.”

Woo-jin nodded internally, thinking, “The smell was terrifying, too.”

Sung-geon nodded in agreement. “Right? Who would think to comment on the smell of a dead body? That was insane, Woo-jin.”

Woo-jin, getting used to this kind of environment, couldn’t resist a playful revelation.

“That fall? Completely unplanned. I just winged the line.”

His team paused, looking at him with wide eyes before Sung-geon laughed and shook his head.

“Humility doesn’t suit you, man.”

The next morning in New York, a crowd of foreign press gathered in front of a large hotel in the city, frantically snapping photos at the photo zone near the hotel entrance. Standing there was none other than Miley Cara, a top Hollywood actress and recently

 cast as Belle in *Beauty and the Beast*. She was attending a major charity event, not just for image but because she genuinely attended several each year.

Inside the hotel, filled with celebrities, Miley was greeting friends when a female voice called out.

“Miley.”

Turning, Miley’s expression soured slightly. It was a woman she wasn’t too fond of—Maria Armas, a Hollywood actress who had been the first to audition for the role of Belle.

Maria, who had sparred with Woo-jin in Spanish, greeted Miley.

“Hi, I figured you’d be here.”

In a tone as cold as her blonde hair, Miley replied, “You could’ve ignored me.”

“Oh, come on. We’re going to be working together soon.”

“What do you mean?”

Maria shrugged and whispered, “Though it’s not officially announced, I’ve joined *Beauty and the Beast* too.”

Miley’s initial surprise quickly turned into a smug smile.

“Really? Even after losing to me?”