I wear a mask and smile.
But why am I smiling?
I've forgotten where the truth lies. Who am I, and the expression on my face right now— is it real, or fake?
Fake.
And yet, it is also real.
Because I change masks hundreds of times a day. It is an illusion I created myself, a ghost born from my own hands. To feel a sense of belonging, I have no choice but to tell lies whose original intent has long since faded.
The world does not turn its back.
A society suppressed under order is not something fantastical, but neither is it entirely hopeless. Still, if you look closely, it becomes absurd to the point of ridicule.
There is no romance—only chaos.
Ah, I'm tired.
But why do you keep provoking me?
This state of forcing myself to conform feels unbearably barren. Is this really my true emotion? Where did my genuine feelings go? They've drifted so far away that even their shape and scent have disappeared.
Subtle contempt is unpleasant, but I ignore it.
Silent persecution spreads everywhere, but I accept it.
Petty discrimination crosses the line, but I shut my ears.
Excessive prejudice repeats itself, but I grow used to it.
Sharp disdain cuts deep, but I endure it.
...What is this?
Screw it.
This is why the terrifying clown was born.
Yes.
That's me.
·
·
·
·
Director Ahn Ga-bok had been immersed in the Pierrot screenplay for hours. As if the lingering excitement refused to fade, he set down the synopsis he had just finished reading and let out a quiet laugh.
"...Unbelievable. No… maybe 'astonishing' is the right word."
At first, he had only intended to skim through it briefly, but before he knew it, he had read the entire script in one sitting. It was that captivating. He had been completely drawn in, unable to contain his excitement the entire time.
'From afar, it looks like a comedy, but up close, it's a tragedy.'
The protagonist of Pierrot, the clown, transformed into something beyond the bounds of "ordinary," becoming a monster. Yet society and the people within it did not see him as a monster—only as something insignificant, like a bug.
It was the birth of a hero in an age of chaos, disguised as the awakening of a villain.
A turning point. A transformation.
Ahn Ga-bok felt that this very moment was exactly that.
'How many emotions would need to be revealed, and how many hidden? And what are all these masks? If Kang Woojin were to take this on—'
After finishing the script, he couldn't get Kang Woojin out of his mind. But at the same time, even if Woojin were to refuse the role, Ahn Ga-bok's passion and ambition would not fade. The Pierrot screenplay itself—especially its dark humor—had completely captivated him.
Its striking contrast and harsh reality felt vividly alive.
But—
"...Can I really handle this project?"
Being drawn to a script and directing it were entirely different matters. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over him. Even with his wealth of experience, could he truly take on something this overwhelming?
Even a seasoned director could not easily predict the outcome.
And unlike Ahn Ga-bok, who had only won the Palme d'Or after making a hundred films, Kang Woojin had taken a completely different path.
"If that kid heard this, he'd probably laugh at me."
He thought again of Kang Woojin, who had won Best Actor at Cannes in just two years.
'If I can't do it, I can find another great director. But this… this needs someone like Kang Woojin—someone monstrous—to truly shine. Whether I act as a messenger for this piece or take the director's chair… I shouldn't decide too hastily.'
He flipped the first page of the Pierrot script open again.
Now, he was ready to truly analyze it.
──────────
A few days later, November 4th. Los Angeles.
It was afternoon.
In the heart of Hollywood—more precisely, within one of the "Big Five" distributors, Columbia Studios—stood a massive studio complex that resembled a theme park. With over thirty sound stages labeled "Stage" and various themed filming locations, even areas without active shoots were crowded with tourists.
Inside the main building of Columbia Studios, numerous discussions about film production and planning were taking place at that very moment.
Given its status as one of Hollywood's largest distributors and production companies, it was only natural.
Of course, Pierrot was no exception.
Inside a spacious conference room, a mix of familiar and unfamiliar foreign faces had gathered around a long rectangular table. There were about a dozen people. Among them were four familiar figures, including the bald man with glasses who had recently met with Ahn Ga-bok, as well as executives from Columbia Studios.
The meeting appeared to be nearing its end. The participants had shifted from serious discussion to lighter conversation.
"So, has Director Ahn contacted us yet?"
At the question from a pot-bellied executive, a nearby staff member shook his head.
"Not yet."
The executive crossed his arms and let out a faint scoff.
"Hmm, he's taking longer than expected to decide."
Another executive chimed in.
"Well, he's probably thinking it through carefully. It's not just the language barrier—the filmmaking systems in Hollywood and Korea are completely different. It's not a decision he can make lightly. And it hasn't been long since Leech won the Palme d'Or."
"Still, if it takes too long, we may need to consider alternatives. Time is money, after all."
"Of course. But we agreed on a deadline, so let's wait a bit longer."
"Do you think he's finished reading the Pierrot script?"
"He said he'd read it right away, so he probably has."
At that moment, the bald man with glasses—who had spoken the most with Ahn Ga-bok—sat nearby, stroking his chin.
"I really hope Director Ahn takes this project. If he declines, it'll be a significant loss."
In truth, appointing Ahn Ga-bok as the director of Pierrot had already been discussed and agreed upon by the production company, executive producers, and key stakeholders. No one opposed the idea. Even if someone had raised concerns, it wouldn't have mattered much. Hollywood's production system was strictly divided by departments.
Once the distributor and production company chose a director, that decision was final.
As discussions with producers continued, other teams rarely voiced strong objections about director selection. In fact, it might be more accurate to say they simply didn't concern themselves with it.
As the conversation about Ahn Ga-bok continued, one executive shifted the topic.
"Director Ahn also mentioned Kang Woojin, didn't he? He seemed eager to cast him."
"That makes sense. They created the most talked-about film at Cannes this year together. And Kang Woojin was the centerpiece of Leech."
"Hmm, his performance in Leech… it was unreal. Both incredibly realistic and almost fantastical."
"We only saw it on screen, but Director Ahn saw it up close. There's no way he wouldn't have been captivated."
The topic had shifted fully to Kang Woojin, and the bald man joined in.
"To deliver such chilling performances, he must have endured immense hardship. He probably spent an enormous amount of time analyzing the role—enough to nearly break himself. Otherwise, it wouldn't be possible to achieve something that feels beyond method acting, like the character stepped into reality."
"I agree. It's hard to even imagine how much time he invested in Leech. Aside from eating and using the bathroom, he must have devoted nearly every waking moment to it. No—he might have given everything."
"But this project is different from Leech. We don't know how much preparation time Director Ahn will give him, but for Pierrot, he'll need to develop and present the character within a limited timeframe. The same goes for all the actors."
They were referring to auditions and screen tests.
"Every actor will be given equal opportunity to showcase their best within the allotted time. That's the difference between Leech and Pierrot. Of course, Kang Woojin is valuable, but it's not enough to eliminate that gap entirely."
"He's already on our casting list, but there's some risk. It would be his first experience in Hollywood, after all."
"And unlike Leech, he'll be under pressure from intense competition and limited time. That could shake him."
The evaluation of Kang Woojin was neither overly harsh nor overly generous. His recognition had skyrocketed thanks to Cannes and his collaboration with Miley Cara, but Hollywood was still unfamiliar territory for him.
Likewise, Hollywood had yet to truly experience Kang Woojin.
And Hollywood was notoriously strict when it came to casting.
But one thing was certain.
"Even so, there's no doubt that Kang Woojin is an incredibly compelling actor."
His presence in Hollywood had risen to the point where he could stand shoulder to shoulder with countless established actors.
After several dozen minutes, the group began to stand, signaling the end of the long meeting.
Just then—
"Hmm?"
The bald executive paused. His phone began to ring. After taking the call briefly, a smile spread across his face. Lowering the phone, he spoke firmly.
"Director Ahn has decided to take on Pierrot."
──────────
Meanwhile, in Korea.
Unlike the afternoon in Los Angeles, it was morning.
Around 9 a.m., Kang Woojin was inside a large filming studio in Seoul. Dozens of cameras, lights, and staff filled the space. In front of a set bearing the Netflix logo and the title Beneficial Evil, Woojin sat alone.
He was dressed in a navy suit, his hair and makeup perfectly done.
All eyes—every camera, every staff member—were focused solely on him.
The reason was simple. Kang Woojin was about to film a promotional introduction video for Beneficial Evil. These videos, which would air before teasers and trailers, were being pre-recorded. The schedule included both a solo video and a group video featuring the entire main and supporting cast.
At the moment, it was clearly his solo shoot.
Woojin sat on a prop chair placed at the center of the studio while staff made final adjustments to his makeup.
"..."
Outwardly, he sat with his eyes closed, maintaining a solemn expression.
But inside—
'Damn it, why do I suddenly want tteokbokki? And sundae too. Dipping sundae in tteokbokki sauce with a shot of soju… that'd be insane—'
It wasn't surprising. With his packed schedule, Kang Woojin often missed meals. The staff did their best to take care of him, but in the chaos, forgetting to eat was inevitable. Still, when he craved something badly enough, he always made sure to eat it no matter what.
At that moment—
A man approached.
Director Song Man-woo, wearing his cap low, was overseeing the entire studio. As he approached, the staff stepped back. After briefly explaining the storyboard, he spoke.
"After lunch, we'll go straight into filming Beneficial Evil, so you don't need to push yourself too hard here. Just deliver the set lines naturally. I'll handle the rest in editing."
"Understood, PD-nim. I'll do it as usual."
Suddenly, Song Man-woo lowered his voice.
"By the way, Woojin-ssi… when are you planning to officially announce that situation with Miley Cara? As of this morning, rumors are spreading rapidly overseas, and provocative articles are already flooding in here too. It's getting serious. If we leave it like this, things could boil over."
In other words, if things escalated further, it could damage Woojin's image.
Woojin responded with a blank expression.
"I was thinking it's about time to reveal it anyway."
──────────
A few hours later.
Kang Woojin was on his way from Seoul to Yeoncheon in Gyeonggi Province, where a massive set for Beneficial Evil had been built.
It was just before filming.
A sharp knife rested in his hand.
Sss—
Jang Yeonwoo had been summoned.
The staff once again murmured in awe.
"Every time I see Woojin-ssi transform before filming, I get chills."
"Right? He's so calm normally, but once the camera rolls, it's like he gets struck by lightning and becomes a completely different person."
"It feels even more intense than Profiler Hanryang. His emotional shifts are faster now. He was already incredible back then, but now it feels like Jang Yeonwoo actually exists in real life."
Even the word "instant" no longer did it justice.
The process of becoming the character had not only shortened—it had intensified.
And with the "freedom of the role," his transformation had become even more fluid and natural.
"Ready—action!!"
Pierrot would be no different.