Life is Easier If You're Handsome novel Chapter 110

The extras' roles were straightforward. From their very designation as "extras," their characters were equally clear-cut.

“Servant 1, trampled and killed.”

Kim Hansu, an extra, recalled his assigned role and glanced sideways.

Shnk!

There lay his "wife," writhing in agony after having her arm severed. Though it was only a scripted relationship, seeing her convulsing filled him with a strange sense of shared pain.

"It’s just a prop," he reminded himself, but it still felt unnervingly real.

Kim Hansu was an experienced extra, having played a variety of roles on numerous sets. He knew well how harmless the prop swords typically were—sharp-looking toys designed for safety.

But why did this one feel like a real blade?

In Kim Donghu’s hands, the prop sword emanated a chilling edge. His gaze—sharp as if it belonged to someone who’d taken lives before—pressed down on Kim Hansu, suffocating him like a deep sea’s weight. For a fleeting moment, Kim Hansu truly believed that Donghu held the power to decide his life or death.

Then, all at once—

Clack.

The crushing tension lifted.

Like a drowning man abruptly released, Kim Hansu instinctively gasped for air, raising his head.

“Huuuh...!”

Before him stood Kim Donghu, his face spotless and composed, wearing an unsettling smile.

“Well, it seems only right that a parent should see their child off. Isn’t that what the heavens dictate?”

Donghu—no, Yi Taeseong—tilted his head in mock amusement, gesturing with his eyes. Following his gaze, Hansu’s character saw his "child," brutally mangled and drenched in blood.

“...!”

A gasp of horror escaped him as the camera panned over the gruesome scene. The air seemed to freeze.

“I’ll miss the firewood you used to bring me.”

Taeseong reached out, gently covering the servant’s eyes. From an angle perfectly crafted by the director, the blade traced a deliberate arc across the servant's neck.

“Cut! Excellent!”

The director, Yoon Sungbin, couldn’t hide his amazement as he called the scene to an end. Internally, he applauded.

"Is he really this good?"

Though he had heard of Kim Donghu’s talent through industry rumors and seen his performances in movies and dramas, this exceeded all expectations.

From the first script reading, Yoon Sungbin had sensed something extraordinary about him. But to command such presence, dominating even seasoned actors and extras on set? That was an entirely different level.

At just seventeen years old, Kim Donghu was far from his prime. He had so much room to grow.

"What is he, a little over 180 cm tall?"

Yet his appearance was nearly flawless, radiating a maturity that belied his age. No amount of praise could fully capture how striking he looked.

In his costume—a pristine white dopo with a single sword at his hip—he embodied the wayward young master. The loose knot of his hair added a touch of reckless abandon, amplifying the contrast between his aristocratic face and his character’s unhinged cruelty.

The result? An arresting imbalance that created an almost overwhelming allure.

"He’ll wreak havoc on theater audiences," Yoon Sungbin mused, already envisioning the impact of this performance on the big screen.

Despite the impeccable first take, the director requested reshoots, seeking even better shots. Remarkably, Kim Donghu didn’t produce a single NG, his performance consistent and precise each time.

The issue wasn’t with Donghu but with the extras. Though they were doing well, the disparity was stark. Kim Donghu seemed like someone who’d stepped straight out of the Joseon era, while the rest looked like modern time-travelers awkwardly transported back.

What was more astonishing, however, was that Donghu’s acting improved with every take. It felt as if Yi Taeseong was emerging more vividly with each scene.

“...That is a prop sword, right?” one crew member whispered.

“Yes, I’ve checked it multiple times—it’s definitely a prop,” replied another, sounding uncertain.

Yet Donghu’s movements were so precise, so intense, that it was easy to believe the blade was real.

By the time they finished multiple retakes, the sun had begun to set.

“The light’s fading fast.”

“Yeah, we won’t get the same effect without natural light.”

“Let’s call it a day after one last take.”

As the crew prepared for the final scene, the sky transformed. A rich, glowing sunset blanketed the set, painting everything in vivid hues of orange and red.

"Huh? Wait—what?"

The shift was so sudden it felt surreal. The director instinctively ordered a small fire to be lit near the filming location.

The fire’s embers, catching the golden light of the sunset, scattered like petals across the scene.

"Feeling peckish as the day wanes, I thought a piece of candy might lift my spirits."

The camera rolled. As if possessed by the moment, Kim Donghu launched into an improvised monologue. No longer Kim Donghu, Yi Taeseong fully took over.

The firelight and the sunset cast a crimson glow over Donghu’s white dopo, making it appear soaked in blood. His loosened topknot unraveled further as he dispatched the servants with chilling ease. Pausing, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, exuding both exhaustion and disdain.

“...”

Director Yoon Sungbin bit back a gasp. His instinct was to cheer but he restrained himself, transfixed by the scene unfolding before him.

In the eerie harmony of light, ash, and blood, Yi Taeseong—the debauched young master of noble lineage, and the epitome of corruption—stood vividly alive.

As the sun set and filming wrapped up for the day, Seokho-hyung wasted no time rushing over to me.

“Donghu, seriously, great job out there!”

He clapped me on the shoulder, his admiration practically overflowing.

“Man, how is it that you didn’t mess up even once after all those takes? Not a single NG!”

“Hyung, come on, not here. Everyone can hear you,” I replied, glancing around.

“Oh, right. Maybe I went overboard? Honestly, I wouldn’t mind letting them hear a little...”