Chapter – 09
Strictly speaking, what first drew people’s attention wasn’t the actors’ performances.
It was their looks.
The stage was crowded with young, energetic men.
Some of them were even shirtless.
Their sharply defined muscles twitched as if they had just finished working out, and sweat glistened on their skin.
But above all, what stole the audience’s attention was that every single one of them was handsome.
“Ugh…!”
Not a single moan must escape.
The good daughter, Elise, covered her mouth.
At that moment, Elise had already forgotten the fact that this was a play.
To be precise, nearly everyone in the audience had.
Everyone gathered here was so distracted by the unfamiliar lighting, the actors’ good looks, and their youthful vitality that they forgot their original objective—to evaluate the play Luisa had produced.
Of course, only for a short moment.
A very short moment.
Soon, one of the spectators who earlier had mocked Luisa with feigned refinement spoke up.
“Figures—these are the men Luisa picked.”
Even as Elise heard that, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the actors on stage.
She didn’t want to miss a single line they uttered.
“Montague, eh?”
“It’s Capulet.”
“Those idiots.”
“Morons.”
But something felt strange.
This was different from the plays she knew.
Granted, she hadn’t seen many plays. The ones she knew were the kind performed in an inn’s backyard for commoners.
Even so, some of the actors she saw back then were fairly popular.
Those actors spoke kindly while making eye contact with the audience, projecting their voices with exaggerated emphasis on each word.
Like the minstrel actor who appeared earlier.
But these young actors only talked among themselves—while looking at each other.
They would occasionally glance toward the audience seats, but even then, their voices were plain and natural, not exaggerated like Elise would use when talking to strangers.
And yet, everything was perfectly audible.
Which made it feel even stranger.
It felt exactly like eavesdropping on a conversation between handsome young men chatting outside her house—a voyeuristic kind of immersion.
Before she knew it, she was being sucked into the play.
“This is exactly the Lady’s taste, isn’t it!”
Then it happened. Someone interrupted from behind again.
Elise grew angry.
While Elise silently cursed that person in her mind, another woman—clearly thinking the same—yelled out:
“Hey, be quiet! You’re ruining everyone’s focus!”
“What’s so great about this play that we need silence?!”
At that moment—
The young men on stage who had been arguing noisily, the blue-wearing Montagues and red-wearing Capulets who looked ready to fight, drew their swords.
But as the gentle-looking Benvolio Montague tried to stop them—
“It’s the Capulets—and Tybalt!”
Someone shouted from onstage.
A man dressed in red—the Capulets’ color—entered leading the Capulets onto the stage.
His sharp, slanted eyes and long, thin lips exuded a dangerous, captivating aura.
A man radiating an inexplicable arrogance—Tybalt Capulet.
“……!”
A flash of red lighting swept across him.
Red lighting.
The symbol of the Capulets.
The audience fell silent at once.
No one made a comment about Luisa’s taste this time.
And with reason—this man wasn’t the type to be called overwhelmingly handsome. He was good-looking, yes, but not the breathtaking kind.
If anything, the extras in the background might have been more handsome.
But strangely, he drew every gaze. In his red clothes with that arrogant expression, anyone could immediately tell he was a major character.
Even the red spotlight confirmed it.
With that red light, the man drew his sword and challenged the Montagues.
“Cowardly Benvolio. Draw your sword.”
A swordfight broke out between Benvolio and Tybalt.
A real swordfight.
Not the exaggerated, dance-like choreography she had seen in tavern plays—but strikes aimed at ribs, at throats.
Is this really acting?
For a brief moment, Elise wondered if she should stand up and stop them.
Particularly that Benvolio actor who had oddly captured her eyes!
Even the man earlier who had complained—“Why do we have to be quiet?”—murmured:
“Shouldn’t someone stop them?”
Despite the murmurs, the play continued.
Fortunately, the actors were unharmed, and soon the local lord appeared to break up the fight.
By now, people were close to forgetting this was a play at all.
“If anyone in Verona draws a sword again, he will be executed on the spot.”
The actor declared sternly before exiting, and once the chaos settled, sighs of relief escaped throughout the audience.
“Whew…”
But that relief did not last long.
Someone was stepping onto the stage.
He appeared at the edge of the set, leaning lazily against a market stall, his expression showing he had no interest in the earlier commotion.
Yet with just that, he captured everyone’s attention.
Unlike the other actors, his hair was loosely tousled, his face openly rebellious, merely standing still—
This one is on a completely different level.
Yes. Everything she had thought earlier about the actors being handsome—those were lies.
Elise realized:
If the word “beauty” were made into a person, this is what it would look like.
This time, Elise could not hold in her sound.
“Urk…”
Father present or not—there was nothing she could do.
Her father clicked his tongue beside her, displeased, but Elise didn’t spare him a glance.
She focused only on the fact that this man was Romeo—heir of the Montagues.
A man who wouldn’t join foolish brawls.
A man who looked like a sculpture yet carried an air of rebellion.
“Is it still so early in the morning…”
He muttered.
Romeo lifted his head as if lost in his own world.
It took everyone’s breath away.
Their reaction is far stronger than expected.
From backstage, I watched the audience and was a little stunned.
During the fight scene, some audience members actually tried to rush the stage, and when Romeo appeared, several women literally moaned.
I forgot for a moment.
People in this world had never seen acting like this.
Never seen lighting like this.
I’m the first person in this world to use spotlights.
Since no one sold such things here, I had to make them myself.
The lights used today were made from luminous ore.
Luminous ore.
In this world with no light bulbs, there existed a strange stone that emitted light.
But almost no one used it.
It was something found rarely in ancient caves, expensive and inefficient—so households used candles.
Poor fuel efficiency, that was the problem.
But I knew one place that dealt with it.
“Buying luminous ore? From me? And not some weird trinket?”
Rudy’s nighttime tavern.
In its windowless underground basement, auctions were held.
Using candles there would suffocate everyone, so they used luminous ore instead.
Rudy looked unimpressed when I said I wanted to buy some.
Compared to the other things he dealt with, luminous ore was relatively cheap.
“But go to that blacksmith you always use for your weird inventions and order a black cylinder. Add a glass panel at the front—round-shaped. And two more with colored glass. One red, one blue.”
A blacksmith.
Even as I said it, I couldn’t believe it.
Back in Korea, I could have bought one at Cheonggyecheon in an instant.
A black cylinder with a light inside and a glass lens at the front to focus the beam—
A spotlight and baby spotlight.
Yes.
That was the lighting this outdated world lacked.
Back home, “spotlights” and “baby spots” were mass-produced and sold everywhere.
“Money isn’t the issue—why should I bother with that hassle?”
Rudy grumbled, but I knew how to motivate him.
“Because I know you touched a woman you absolutely shouldn’t have. Shall I go tell her husband?”
Rudy had many weaknesses.
He would be useful to exploit in the future as well.
“No, no, I’ll go request it right now. Anything else you need?”
“Men. Lots of men with good bodies. And a few ambitious ones who care about acting or fame.”
Then came the auditions.
Older actors and minstrel-type roles could simply be taken from the troupe—no issue if their acting was more theatrical.
The minstrel needed to be pretty enough to deliver Shakespeare’s sonnets, so I picked a visually striking actor.
But the younger roles were different.
“Their first entrance must delight the audience’s eyes.”
They needed to make people admire Luisa Messena’s taste a little, gossip about it a little, yet inevitably get drawn in.
So I filled the extra male roles with handsome, well-built men.
But for Tybalt, Benvolio, and Mercutio—their faces had to fit.
I needed actors like Leo Pierce—ones whose slightly lacking acting could be overshadowed by sheer presence.
If I hadn’t understood Shakespeare’s script or had clear directing intentions, it would’ve been hard to cast.
Shakespeare’s script is so poetic that even modern directors misinterpret it.
They watch other productions and lazily copy them—then fail.
They search for actors who resemble previous interpretations.
But I was different.
I knew exactly what Tybalt, Benvolio, and Mercutio should be.
Tybalt: an arrogant Capulet who loathes Montagues more than anyone.
Benvolio: a “peacekeeper,” yet cowardly and unwilling to take sides.
Mercutio: a playful rogue, but secretly anxious and weak inside.
I found the three and trained them intensely.
“The acting was only about 80% of what I wanted.”
Though honestly, I had barely any expectations to begin with.
Tybalt’s actor had terrible memorization—he skipped lines twice.
From rehearsals, I thought the audience would complain.
But what happened?
“Tybalt is awful! …But he’s hot!”
The audience cheered for Tybalt.
Right.
This audience had no concept of evaluating method acting.
They didn’t notice his mistakes—too absorbed to see them.
They’re completely immersed.
Seeing their wide, sparkling eyes fixed forward, I clenched my fist.
It worked.
Everything I directed—exactly as intended.
A thrilling sensation shot through me.
With the stage as my weapon, I could make people laugh, cry, and gasp.
This was me.
Me, Shin Geurim.
A girl who loved theater more than anyone—and understood it.
“…Nervous?”
A voice whispered from behind.
Leo had come backstage.
While I peeked at the audience through a slit in the curtain, he watched me with a teasing expression.
As if he hadn’t been trembling earlier.
I shook my head.
“No. That’s not it.”
“……?”
“It’s intoxicating. I didn’t know I’d love it this much here too—”
I looked at Leo.
“I love it.”
Leo’s eyes flickered.
An unreadable expression crossed his face.
But I had no room to think about him.
It was time to enter.
For Luisa Messena’s Juliet to step on stage.
