Life is Easier If You're Handsome-Chapter 266
“Didn’t realize my videos had this much impact.”
I never thought I’d end up experiencing something I’d only seen online in my previous life.
My video drops, then someone edits it together with community reactions.
Then someone else adds audio commentary to that.
Then streamers start reacting to those videos.
Like boiling bones to make broth over and over—
one upload sprouted dozens of branches like a massive tree.
“Well, as long as the fans are happy.”
That’s why I filmed and uploaded it in the first place.
If the fans were satisfied, that was all that mattered.
“Maybe it’s finally time for some actual rest.”
Musashi was completely done.
The Pianist only had a few day-in-the-life segments left before it wrapped too.
Which meant, until May next year, I had absolutely nothing on the schedule.
“Maybe it’s time to really enjoy myself for once.”
If I was going to take a proper break,
there were more things to do than I’d thought.
Spending time with my family, who I hadn’t properly hung out with in forever.
Catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in ages.
<Hey Sujin, wanna go on a date for old time’s sake?>
Brrrrrrrrr.
Click.
—“Y-You’re free?!”
“You picked up fast. I asked you on a date because I’m free.”
“W-Wha—are you insane?! J-Just asking me out like that...!”
“So what, do you not want to? Or should I take that as a yes and book a hotel?”
“W-Who said I d-don’t want to?! I-I mean, do what you w-want... °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° just m-make sure you reserve it!”
It was time to rekindle relationships that had cooled due to our busy schedules.
With my next boxing match scheduled for next year, I could focus on bulking up too.
After so long, I finally had time to really live it up.
***
Just as Kim Donghu was slipping into full rest mode,
Japan was exploding.
【They’re done filming Musashi and taking it to Cannes next May?!】
【A Korean playing Japan’s greatest samurai, and it’s going global?!】
【What is Japan even doing? This should’ve been stopped!】
【Why did Fujino Ren even audition for that role? Absolutely disgraceful!】
【wwwwwwwwww A national embarrassment wwwwwwwww】
【Ban every Japanese involved in Musashi from reentering the country!】
Musashi.
On paper, the project sounded flawless and massive in scale.
The problem? The lead actor was Korean.
It wasn’t even a huge deal objectively—
but to some ultra-nationalist circles, it was like the end of the world.
【Shouldn’t we be protesting at the airport or something?!】
【Protests? So we’re actually going out there?】
【We have to! We need to punish Director Kiryu!】
【But Kim Donghu’s just taking a short break in Korea right now.】
【Then it’s a temporary ceasefire!】
Of course, all of this was just online noise.
Still, even if their numbers were small, their voices were loud.
And even Director Kiryu couldn’t ignore them completely.
“This is... becoming a bit of a problem.”
“Agreed.”
It would be a lie to say he hadn’t expected any controversy—
but he hadn’t anticipated this level of backlash.
If people were going to complain no matter who played Musashi,
then shouldn’t the best man for the role play him?
And there’s no one better than Donghu.
Director Kiryu let out a regretful sigh.
“Movies can’t satisfy everyone, but I’m worried this might hurt our box office.”
“The negative sentiment is that strong?”
“Not huge, but... it’s enough to make Japanese distributors hesitant to push it aggressively.”
He calmly assessed the situation.
“Of course, they’ll still have to promote it...”
“Why’s that?”
“Because theaters in Japan have already agreed to screen Musashi. And that alone is a tourist draw.”
Plus, it wasn’t just getting a local release.
It would premiere at Cannes, enter the awards circuit, and then screen in Japan.
Wouldn’t people be curious?
A film that competed at Cannes—Musashi—
of course there’d be intrigue around how it turned out.
But the problem was—
“I was hoping for a more aggressive push.”
What Director Kiryu wanted in terms of publicity wasn’t likely under the current climate.
He was aiming for something bold. Disruptive. Unforgettable.
Big enough to plaster across building-sized billboards.
Big enough to be mentioned on variety shows and news outlets.
That was the kind of promotion Kiryu had in mind.
And to be clear—
“It’s impossible right now.”
“Yes... agreed.” freeweɓnovēl.coɱ
It was too much to ask at this stage.
But that didn’t mean they had to sit back and do nothing.
“Then we just raise the temperature.”
The most effective move in this situation?
Blast the promo on variety shows. Hit the entertainment circuits hard.
***
November 2021.
“...So they want me to appear on a Japanese variety show?”
“Yeah. They said it’s just a light talk show, nothing serious.”
I blinked at what Seokho hyung had just said.
“It's not like they’re promoting the movie six months before release... this must be because of the public backlash in Japan, right?”
“Huh? You knew?”
“I’d have to be an idiot not to. Honestly, it was impossible for this not to be controversial.”
Imagine a Japanese actor playing General Chuk Jun-kyeong,
and that being shown in Korean theaters.
It’d be weird not to hear an uproar.
In Japan, Musashi was such a revered figure, showing up in countless creative works—
of course people were going to react.
“So, they’re trying to soften my image through variety shows, right?”
“Y-Yeah, exactly. But if it’s too much—”
“No, it’s fine. That’s exactly what I should do. An actor promoting his work—what’s there to reject?”
If going on a talk show would help ease the controversy,
I’d do it ten times over.
As I was listening to which variety program it would be—
“...Also, this next one’s something Director Kiryu brought up. He said you can totally say no, but I wanted to at least ask you...”
Seokho hyung hesitated, unusually so.
That alone made me pause.
Why’s he acting like that? Right as I was wondering—
“They, uh... sent an offer for a hidden camera prank. Since you’re super famous now, y’know... yeah.”
Ah. So it’s finally come.
“It’s Japanese-style, called ‘Dokkiri’... basically a hidden camera prank show targeting celebrities. You know what that is, right?”
“You mean like... surprise scare pranks and stuff?”
“Yeah, exactly. If you say yes, they’ll spring it on you out of nowhere. No set time—just whenever.”
He added that when it happens,
he—and everyone else—will have to trick me.
He wanted to get my consent ahead of time.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
I could read the sincerity in Seokho hyung’s eyes loud and clear.
“So this is the real deal, even more than the talk show.”
A hidden camera setup to show your most human, most unguarded self.
Catching celebrities off guard to build relatability.
But of course, that kind of thing could damage your image, too.
“Let’s be honest—no one enjoys getting pranked.”
Especially in Japan, where they take this stuff seriously.
If things went wrong, I could get humiliated on national TV.
Of course, they wouldn’t go too far.
But since this was tied to Musashi’s image rehabilitation,
I had to assume the prank would be fairly high-level.
But then again—
“If I handle it well, the payoff could be just as big.”
Honestly, I felt like I could break through whatever they threw at me.
“It’s fine. I’ll do it. Let’s go for the hidden camera.”
If I don’t get scared and just smash through it—easy win.
***
Japan’s celebrity hidden camera variety program, Dokkiri.
The way they ran things was incredibly precise and methodical.
The moment someone accepted the offer, they began analyzing the target’s movement patterns.
“Kim Donghu usually uses the hotel gym in the morning... doesn’t really go out, huh?”
“Other than occasionally hanging out with Chisako, yeah, that’s about it.”
“Then let’s lure him to the studio by saying it’s a radio show.”
“Perfect.”
Once the movement patterns were mapped out and the basic plan was in place,
they moved on to discussing the type of prank to pull.
“What about a jump scare in an elevator?”
“Or a ghost popping out of the wall?”
“Wouldn’t it make sense to tailor it to Musashi?”
That last idea stuck.
“Let’s go with a ghost swordsman theme—samurai makeup, swords, chasing him down the hallway.”
“The lights suddenly go out in the corridor, then BAM—ambush time!”
“Love it.”
Since the team had worked together for a long time,
once the direction was set, things moved fast.
It took about two days to get everything ready.
They already had most of the props, so it didn’t take long.
“That’s why it’s unpredictable—no one expects a hidden camera prank to come this fast.”
That’s how they catch those priceless celebrity reactions.
“Some of the actresses even cry.”
So what kind of face would Kim Donghu make?
The staff buzzed with excitement as they coordinated over radio.
—“Kim Donghu is approaching.”
—“He’s headed toward the radio booth with Chisako.”
—“Chisako’s doing a great job guiding him—moving slowly toward the mark.”
Step... step...
Kim Donghu, completely unaware.
Chisako, somewhat aware, doing her best to act normal.
The two of them arrived casually at the radio booth door.
Thud!
The lights suddenly shut off.
“WAAAAAAAAGH!!!!”
From both ends of the hallway, samurai in full ghost makeup came charging like maniacs.
“Kyaaaaaaaa!”
Even Chisako, who knew it was coming, shrieked and collapsed.
And the one who was supposed to be shocked—
Rumble!
“I’ll hold them off with this!”
—ripped the radio booth door off its hinges.
—“Wait... is that... real?”
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