Chapter 436: Beast (5)

Translator: Santos

 

“I just thought of another prank.”

Should he stop this monster, this clown? Could he even leave him unchecked? No doubt, this guy was going to do something. He’d done it before, and there would only be more bodies like these lying around. As Robert Franklin, Chris Hartnett stared at the Joker with growing turmoil.

Then it hit him.

*Ah.*

He was still acting.

And along with that realization came another one.

*Damn, I’m actually experiencing this.*

He’d forgotten he was in the middle of a performance, that the Joker in front of him wasn’t a genuine threat to the real world. He’d gotten so absorbed in the role that he’d felt real fear watching this Joker laugh, filling the alleyway with his chilling laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha! Hahaha!”

Woo-jin’s Joker laughed as he took a drag from his cigarette, and the camera capturing him slowly pulled back, eventually framing both him and Chris. Director Ahn Ga-bok watched the scene unfold on the monitor.

*Both of them have forgotten it’s an act.*

Even the director was engrossed, no longer merely a bystander. He wasn’t in control but an observer, witnessing the unsettling growth of a monstrous character right in front of him. What was appearing on the monitor was far beyond simple acting.

It was like filming reality itself.

And behind him, Producer Nora Foster was frozen.

“...”

She wasn’t thinking or saying anything. Her hand covered her mouth, and she was completely still—so still she didn’t even realize how tense she was. What was she watching? She knew *Piero: Birth of a Villain*’s script inside and out, so she was sure the scene was as the script described.

The setting, the characters, the tension, the mood—it was all identical.

But one thing was completely different: the actors’ performances. Even though the camera angles matched the script exactly, the impact and intensity of what she was witnessing were on a whole different level.

*Is it because it’s so unpredictable?*

This complete lack of predictability only amplified Nora’s shock. What surprised her even more was that despite the actors’ free, untamed performances, the scene’s flow still matched the script.

*Did they coordinate all of this beforehand?*

No, they hadn’t had time for that. So how were they so perfectly in sync?

Nora remained frozen, and none of the Columbia Studios executives surrounding her moved either.

“...”

“...”

“...”

They were too busy watching. The cinematic universe’s early villain was unleashed before their eyes, and they couldn’t look away.

Suddenly, the Joker, or rather Woo-jin, stopped laughing and spat out his cigarette.

“Haa—”

With both hands, Woo-jin slicked back his blood-red hair. His gaze drifted somewhere ambiguous between sky and earth, as if lost in thought. His wide, red-painted lips opened.

“Robert, what kind of things do you capture with that camera?”

“...I don’t know. Anything that gets people’s attention, I guess.”

“Disregard, contempt, oppression, discrimination, prejudice, scorn, violence. Those kinds of things?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“The world’s boring nowadays, Robert.”

Woo-jin’s lips twitched as he raised his voice, building to a fevered pitch.

“Everyone ignores everyone else.”

His voice grew louder, as if channeling rage and madness.

“Yet everyone hates everyone! They oppress, scorn, discriminate if someone’s beneath them, and if they’re better, they’re prejudiced! If someone’s different, they attack them! If someone’s the same, they still attack!”

Woo-jin’s twisted face suddenly softened, becoming eerily calm.

“But they all say the same thing. ‘Endure. Just endure.’ Outwardly, that is. No one cares what’s inside.”

Woo-jin nudged one of the lifeless bodies with his foot.

“Who’s going to care about these?”

He turned his gaze to Chris on his right.

“Robert. You only followed me because of my looks and my face. If it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t care, would you?”

“...”

“Oh, what a shame. I was enjoying myself.”

With sudden vigor, Woo-jin drew the silver gun from his waistband, turning to face Chris.

“I told you I thought of another prank, didn’t I? Here it is.”

Woo-jin pressed the gun to Chris’s forehead, and Chris was visibly startled.

“W-w-wait! Come on, man… maybe a different prank?”

“Listen, Robert. I’m not giving you a suggestion here. I’m giving you an order.”

“A-an order?”

“Yeah. To become a pathetic mess groveling on the floor.”

Sensing he was in deep trouble, Chris began backing away, inch by inch, creating some distance from the gun pointed at his head. The scene wasn’t in the script; the two actors were freely improvising.

Raising his shaking hands to chest level, Chris forced a nervous smile.

“H-hey, pal. This is a joke, right?”

“Yes, it’s a joke.”

“Oh—no, please. Please!”

“Hm?”

“Please! Oh, God, save me!”

“...”

Woo-jin, with his pale face and red brows raised, stepped closer to Chris and raised his hand, pointing a finger toward the sky.

“The guy up there? He’s not your god—he’s a bystander. I’m your god right now. Got it?”

“Yes! You’re God. Please, just spare me!”

“Hm…”

Woo-jin’s twisted grin stretched even wider as he shoved the gun into Chris’s mouth.

“Actually, I’m no god. Just a fickle demon.”

“...Ugh!”

Woo-jin pulled the trigger, and the click echoed in Chris’s ears. No bang, just the sound of an empty chamber.

*Click. Click. Click.*

The gun was empty. Smiling, Woo-jin withdrew the gun from Chris’s mouth.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m just fickle.”

Woo-jin slid the silver gun back into his waistband, pulled out a card from his red jacket pocket, and slipped it into Chris’s jeans.

“See you again, handsome reporter.”

With that, Woo-jin sprinted out of the alley, the camera following his retreat. Another camera zoomed in on Chris’s face, capturing the look of relief and tension as he sat sprawled on the ground.

*Swish.*

Chris slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the card Woo-jin had left. The camera shared his perspective.

On the card was an illustration of a clown and the word:

**“Joker”**

Written in bold letters, along with a number scrawled in red on the back.

“A… phone number?”

It was the Joker’s business card.

A moment later, Chris Hartnett, as Robert Franklin, took a deep breath to gather himself and delivered his final line, which brought the scene to an end. The camera zoomed in on his hand holding the Joker’s card.

“...”

A silence fell over the entire set, a stillness reserved for extra takes. The hundreds of crew members turned their eyes to Director Ahn Ga-bok.

Finally—

“...Cut.”

Ahn Ga-bok’s voice broke the silence, and the scene was declared.

“OK.”

Ignoring the quiet rustling around him, Director Ahn walked straight to the actors, calling Woo-jin and Chris over with a pleased smile.

“That was phenomenal. No, it was beyond that. Your creative improvisation, the freedom in your movements—it made the scene so much richer than it originally was. This is why I stay in directing. Your performance was far beyond what I could’ve imagined.”

It was a rare and genuine compliment. Ahn Ga-bok had felt chills the entire time he was watching the monitor. When scenes come to life beyond the director’s imagination, it brings an indescribable thrill to any filmmaker.

*But moments like these are rare treasures.*

Plenty of directors go their whole careers without experiencing such perfect synergy between the script, actors, and director. Here, the actors’ skills had brought everything together seamlessly.

Ahn Ga-bok looked at Woo-jin, who had already shrugged off the Joker’s manic presence and returned to his usual calm self.

*Chris was fantastic too, but Woo-jin truly carried the rhythm of the entire scene.*

Woo-jin’s screen presence was overwhelming. His eerie makeup and strange costume added to the effect, but the explosive force that captivated everyone’s attention came from his performance alone.

*What could this monster possibly lack?*

Ahn Ga-bok’s smile widened as he gave Woo-jin a thumbs-up.

“That was outstanding. Take a moment to rest, and let’s try the next shot. How about you cross one leg when you’re looking down at Chris?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

After a bit of discussion about the scene, Ahn Ga-bok stepped back. Chris glanced over at Woo-jin, who was getting some touch-ups from the makeup team. The overwhelming energy Woo-jin had projected seemed to have faded.

Chris let out a small sigh and chuckled to himself.

*A challenger? A rival? I didn’t do a thing. I was completely outmatched.*

It felt embarrassing. The fierce challenge he had presented seemed so meaningless now.

*From start to finish, I couldn’t keep up. I was just dragged along by Kang Woo-jin.*

This was also a first. It wasn’t even a matter of defeat; he didn’t feel anger.

This was simply…

*A difference in skill.*

It was the stark contrast between acting and witnessing a “real” force come to life.

Chris spoke to Woo-jin.

“I was just being pulled along by you the whole

 time.”

Woo-jin looked at Chris, expression neutral, but internally, he was a bit concerned.

*Is he feeling down? Should I give him some encouragement?*

Woo-jin answered in a low tone.

“No, without Robert there to respond, the Joker would have burned out in this scene.”

“Haha, really? I always thought you were cold, but you know how to comfort people, too.”

“Of course. But this isn’t comfort—it’s the truth.”

Chris, feeling slightly moved, ran his hand through his hair and refocused.

“I’ll have to stay sharp to keep the Joker burning like that.”

Chris squared his shoulders with determination, though Woo-jin internally cringed a bit.

*This guy really is a bit much.*

Meanwhile, Director Ahn Ga-bok returned to the monitors, exchanging a few words with the key staff. He made eye contact with Nora Foster, the producer. They shared a brief, wordless exchange before Nora spoke, her voice carrying a note of awe.

“I made a mistake… I nearly missed out on that scene.”

Stepping closer, she added to Ahn Ga-bok.

“I knew about Kang Woo-jin’s explosive talent, but I never imagined he’d take the Joker to such heights.”

Ahn Ga-bok recalled Woo-jin’s performance in *Leech* and chuckled.

“As crazy as it sounds, he’s not a finished product. He’s still growing. The difference between his skill in *Leech* and now is obvious.”

Nora nodded in agreement, her gaze fixed on Woo-jin from across the set.

“He’s remarkable and terrifying. It’s unsettling. I think that’s why I was a bit afraid of him, even though I knew he’d do well.”

“I understand. Safety versus risk. As a director, I’ve struggled with that balance often in Korea.”

“Director.”

Nora locked eyes with Ahn Ga-bok.

“I promise not to interfere further.”

With determination, she declared,

“Bring the Joker to life in the freest way possible.”

As she moved toward the Columbia executives, she spoke softly with a smile.

“Let’s go. There’s no need to stay any longer. If anyone has complaints after watching that last scene, speak up now.”

The executives were silent.

“...”

“...”

No one had anything to say.

The next morning, at Columbia Studios’ headquarters, a medium-sized meeting room was filled with executives seated around a U-shaped table. Across from them sat Kang Woo-jin, his face calm, a hint of coldness in his expression, with Choi Sung-geon seated beside him. A bald executive handed Woo-jin a tablet and a file.

“This is the project planned to follow *Piero: Birth of a Villain*. It’s the second installment in the cinematic universe, and since the first film introduces the villain, the next will bring forth the hero.”

The executive continued.

“Mr. Kang Woo-jin, we’d like to offer you a role as the Joker in the second and third films.”

It was a massive deal to continue the Joker’s arc in the planned cinematic universe with two sequels. Woo-jin looked at the bald executive calmly and gave a simple response.

“I’ll need to see the scripts first.”