Chapter: 96
The actor Priscender Haulen, who made a name for himself with a bizarre performance where Gregor Samsa, now a bug, saves a man using his insect powers.
He was getting plenty of love calls from various theater companies.
More precisely, it was the directors eager to break into new markets following the success of the movie “The Wizard of Oz.”
“Please appear in our new ‘Metamorphosis’ film!”
“Oh, well, I don’t really know much about films….”
“All you have to do is act!”
“Um, I’ll think about it….”
To Haulen, this kind of attention was a bit overwhelming.
Things have been noisy these days with movies and videos, but to someone like Haulen, who had dedicated his life to theater, it all sounded like complete nonsense. He couldn’t make sense of it at all.
“But doesn’t it have to be me? If you need an actor for Gregor’s role, there are plenty of other actors….”
“Among them, Mr. Haulen’s acting is the best!”
“Really?”
“Yes!”
“Have you ever seen me act in person? I mean, um, in a play.”
“Oh, well, during the Capital Theater Company’s Metamorphosis in March….”
“I wasn’t the actor then.”
“Oh.”
“Please go.”
“Sure.”
And.
Above all, recently, he felt a bit tired of this “name value” business.
There are plenty of incredible actors, and anyone with the ‘pill to transform into a bug’ provided by the Homer Foundation could play Gregor’s role. Recently, there’d even been some senior actors and talented juniors who had taken the pill to take on bug parts.
Honestly… he didn’t have much talent for acting himself.
This popularity was only maintained by the “reputation” of saving people while looking like a bug, and that realization hit him hard.
“…Hah. Is this really okay?”
He thought he’d happily sell his soul to the devil if it meant he could act.
It wasn’t that he was tired of looking like a bug, it was just… this attention had become a bit of a burden. His popularity wasn’t as an actor, but as a hero.
Despite all the fame, he was still the least talented actor in the troupe, Priscender Haulen.
Even the people who came to see him didn’t expect anything impressive. No matter how clumsy his acting, people clapped and cheered, totally absorbed in the story.
So what was the point of performing?
He sighed, contemplating this. It felt like a heavy rock was sitting in his stomach.
“Hah… Am I even an actor?”
“Hmm? Good morning, Mr. Haulen.”
“Hik?!”
“It’s been a while.”
“Mr. Homer?!”
“We met at the Christmas dinner, didn’t we?”
“Oh, yes! I was honored to be invited!”
“What can I say?”
“But how did you end up here—”
“This is our foundation.”
“Oh.”
.
.
.
In the reception room of the Homer Foundation.
Somehow, he found himself in conversation with the actor Priscender Haulen, famous for his parody works…
“So, you seem to be feeling a bit… tired of acting lately.”
“Um, yes… that seems to be the case.”
To be more precise, Haulen suddenly started pouring out his feelings.
I quietly nodded along, listening to him.
“Of course, I wanted to succeed as an actor, and I still can’t imagine myself not acting, but… knowing this professional reputation I have isn’t something I achieved through my actual skills… well, how do I say it? It feels like I’m cheating. I thought actors should be evaluated based on their acting, after all.”
“I understand.”
I could sympathize with his struggle to some extent.
After all, as a plagiarist myself, I also understood the feeling of receiving undeserved recognition for something outside of one’s actual talent.
The difference was that he focused on his own “professional achievement”, while I was focused on results: the advancement of literature.
“No, um. I don’t know how this might sound, but Mr. Homer, you probably wouldn’t understand. I’m fully aware of how terrible my acting skills are. It’s shameless for an actor who can’t even handle narration to be hanging around here…”
“…”
“Haha… Sorry if I rambled on like that. I guess I was too full to vent to my fellow actors, so I ended up telling you, someone more successful than I am.”
What a brutally honest guy.
As a fake writer, I felt utterly unable to console him as he blindly chased his dreams. I tried to say some comforting words, but my lips just twitched as I fell silent again.
Any comfort I offered would just be a lie since I was someone who stole literature from my past life and sold it here.
“I wish I had a talent like yours, Mr. Homer…”
But.
I knew one method that could answer his initial questions without me being a liar.
“Mr. Haulen.”
“Yes, Mr. Homer…”
“Have you read the newly published ‘The Wizard of Oz’ yet?”
“Ah? Oh, not yet. I’ve seen the movie, but… come to think of it, I’ve been too busy reading scripts to do much reading lately…”
“Well, I think it would be great if you could give it a read when you have time. I’ll give you a copy when you leave.”
“Eh? Oh, thank you!”
I may be a fake writer, but I believe the literature I’ve translated is real, regardless of the language in which it was written.
Just like the movie ‘The Wizard of Oz’ captured the essence of the original tale in its own way, I believe that my translation of ‘The Wizard of Oz’ into this world’s language will convey the truth and emotions of the original to the readers.
I may be a fake writer, but.
I was a translator. At least regarding translation, I firmly believe I’ve always given it my all.
“Mr. Haulen.”
“Yes?”
“Whatever you do, I look forward to your wonderful acting.”
.
.
.
[“I am Oz, the great wizard,” a beast had roared.]
[“Who are you, and why do you seek me?”]
.
.
.
Friesender Haulen thought the wizard named Oz in ‘The Wizard of Oz’ resembled him perfectly.
A clown imitating a wizard with props and ventriloquism.
Just a frail old man, yet he was followed by so many.
Like that old man, Haulen was also hiding his clumsy performance behind the ‘pill that turns him into a bug’. Cowardly, clumsy, deceiving himself to meet expectations… a foolish liar.
That was simply who he was.
“Mr. Haulen! You need to get onstage soon!”
“Oh, right! Just a minute!”
He put down the book he was reading and took a pill from his bag.
The clumsy actor Haulen vanished, revealing the squirming bug, Gregor Samsa. Dozens of slippery, hairy legs wriggled in the wind like reeds.
“Hah…”
A parody play, transformation.
A slightly ridiculous play in which Gregor saves people using his bug superpowers.
A child’s absolute favorite.
As Gregor stepped onto the stage looking like a bug, cheers erupted from the audience. Most were kids, with a few parents and some adults who came by themselves.
[“One morning, Gregor Samsa awoke from uneasy dreams, finding himself transformed in his bed into a giant bug.”]
Soon, the audience quieted down as the narration continued.
In the parody play ‘Metamorphosis’, Gregor Samsa went through a whole lot of suffering. Mistaken for a monster, he’s chased by soldiers, falsely accused and pursued by the police, and some weaker souls even faint at the sight of him.
But Gregor realizes that his ‘bug powers’ can actually help people.
And so, overcoming countless challenges, he saves people.
In the end, he’s mourned by many and dies in tears.
It’s a ridiculously different story than the original.
Once the play ended, all the actors gathered on stage for a curtain call. The audience cheered and the actors bowed.
Haulen remained a bug, yet no one found it ugly.
And so, yet another play came to an end. Just like always….
The audience streamed out of the theater while actors and staff stayed behind to clean up the stage. With the help of many bug legs and Gregor’s strength, it wasn’t too hard to clear it all.
After quickly finishing the cleanup, he glanced back.
One tiny audience member remained, sneaking peeks from the seats as he watched.
“Mr. Gregor!”
“…Huh?”
“Hey! Hello!”
The little boy took a step forward and politely greeted him.
Then, with sparkling eyes, he excitedly exclaimed, “I’m your fan!”
“…Really?”
“Yes! I even know your name! Priscender Haulen?!”
“It’s Priscender Haulen,” he corrected.
“Yeah! Hehe.”
“Do you have something to say to me?”
“I want to be an actor too!”
An aspiring actor.
He remembered a time when he used to confidently declare his dreams with shining eyes.
“But I’m too terrible at acting to become one…. I want to be an actor just like you, Mr. Gregor…”
“Who says that?”
“Huh?”
“Who said you can’t act?”
“Well, the guy living in the house with the yellow roof told me! He used to be a super famous actor!”
“I see. Um, do you think you could show me your performance?”
“Yes! Hehe.”
The boy’s enthusiastic response resulted in an unexpectedly hilarious impersonation of the Scarecrow from ‘The Wizard of Oz’.
The exaggerated flailing of his arms… well, it is hard to say he was great at it.
But a proper adult wouldn’t tell a child, “You act badly,” right?
“Great acting!”
“Is it? Hehe. But my body doesn’t move the way I thought it would… and my voice kind of shook!”
“When I started acting, I was way worse than that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Since you’re still young… if you keep practicing, you’ll definitely become a better actor than I am.”
“Wow! Hehe, thank you!”
…Well, that’s true.
He had definitely been much clumsier and sillier than that before.
But over time, gradually improving…
He felt over the moon when he finally made it into the troupe.
“Hey there.”
“Yeah!”
“Can you watch my performance?”
“Huh?”
He pulled out the ‘humanizing pill’ from his bag and downed it all at once.
The child’s mouth dropped open in amazement as he transformed back into his human form.
Gently stroking the child’s head with his now-human hand, he began to perform.
Not a transformation—
This was from a role he had never played before, yet he had practiced alone by reading that script countless times.
“To be, or not to be, that is the question.”
Hamlet’s performance.
Right.
He had practiced like it was his life, even while knowing there was no way he’d ever land a lead role in that esteemed play.
“How’d you like my performance?”
“Wow! It was amazing!”
“Haha, really? Thanks!”
At that moment, his mind cleared up.
The undeserved fame, the ridiculous popularity—none of it mattered.
It wasn’t why he practiced Hamlet, knowing it would never make it to the stage.
He rehearsed Hamlet because…
He now knew he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of this child at this moment.
“If you keep practicing, you can definitely do this too.”
“Yes! I’ll practice a lot!”
He believed that, after enough practice, he’d surely act even better than he did yesterday.
He felt he was already acting better than before.
Though still clumsy compared to seasoned seniors or talented juniors, he was definitely better than yesterday.
And really? That was enough for him.
.
.
.
“Can you give me a brain?” asked the scarecrow.
“You don’t need a brain,” Oz replied. “You’re learning something every day. Babies have brains, but they don’t know much. Experience alone gives you knowledge, and the longer you live, the more experiences you gather. You don’t need a brain.”
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