------------------
HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
------------------
Chapter 33: Choices and Regrets
Kanna was avoiding Jung Junhyuk.
Not because she suddenly felt uncomfortable around him, nor because she was upset.
Well, actually, maybe she was a little uncomfortable.
“Hasegawa Kanna, why are you avoiding me? Just tell me already!”
As soon as he entered the cafe, Junhyuk held up a fork like a microphone and suddenly staged a press conference—definitely not the kind of vibe that would make anyone feel at ease.
“Haah…”
“That sigh means ‘The public’s tired of this, why should you care?’—is that right?”
“Put the fork away, unless you want to get stabbed.”
“Okay.”
For some reason, all the avoiding felt a bit silly now.
＊ ＊ ＊
“What role would you like to take, Kanna?”
At her manager Hamabe’s question, hesitation flickered in Kanna’s eyes.
“Ah, um…”
Usually, if offers came in at the same time, she would pick the movie role.
But this time, the difference in screen time between the movie role and the anime role was huge.
The heroine in 'D Note' gains significant importance from the middle of the story onward.
Though technically a supporting character, her presence is almost unrivaled among supporting roles.
On the other hand, what about the protagonist’s younger sibling?
More of a minor role than a supporting one—just a few brief appearances on camera before fading out.
“Ugh…”
Still, she couldn’t rush to judge based on role size alone.
Image matters to the public.
Since 'D Note' is a hot topic, it attracts a lot of attention.
If she took the heroine’s voice role, she’d not only record for the anime but also attend various related events.
That means being exposed to the public as a voice actor.
“Judging by the role’s weight alone, I’d recommend the voice acting part. But as you know, Kanna, this role is a double-edged sword. If you do too well, your image might get stuck as just a voice actress.”
Hamabe’s words made Kanna nod.
From 1st year to 3rd year in middle school—that’s what the Japanese acting world calls the ‘child actor wall.’
It’s basically the period when young actors are most likely to get forgotten by the public.
Roles are limited, and auditions put them in a vague position.
In fact, this decision might determine whether she enters the dark age of child acting.
“There are plenty of media mix works where the script flows differently from the original, so I want to lobby the original author somehow, but they’re so private that there’s nothing I can really do…”
Kanna flinched at Hamabe’s words.
Because for her, the original author was someone she could easily see at school every day.
Then suddenly, Junhyuk’s words flashed through her mind.
- You never know. If you go today, maybe there’ll be some juicy roles ready on either side.
“No way...”
In media mix projects, the original creator’s opinion carries serious weight.
Even if the creator gives a clear no-go on something obviously unreasonable, production can come to a complete halt.
Maybe Junhyuk was assigned the role because they remembered him complaining about not having work.
That thought tightened Kanna’s grip on the script, causing it to crease slightly.
“Kanna, you look a little down. Are you okay?”
“Ah, yes. Just a bit conflicted, haha...”
“Understandable. There’s not much time, but you don’t have to decide right now. Take your time and decide carefully.”
As Hamabe, the manager, started to leave, Kanna’s voice stopped him.
“H-Hamabe, what do you think? Which role do you think is better?”
Hamabe smiled gently.
“That’s for you to decide. I can only explain the pros and cons of each choice, but I can’t make the decision for you.”
“Ah, haha... right. Sorry for making it difficult...”
“No, it’s perfectly normal to feel that way. If you want to talk anything through, just call me anytime.”
Kanna smiled brightly and saw Hamabe off, but inside, a storm of emotions churned.
“What do you think, Mom?”
After a week away for a location shoot and photoshoot, Kanna told her mother, a senior industry veteran, about the current situation.
“Hmm... Neither choice is bad. But if you think about the role’s weight, I’d lean toward the voice acting.”
While hanging up some clothes, Mom answered, but Kanna shot back sharply.
“Give me a proper answer.”
“Nope. This is your job offer. When you were younger and didn’t know better, I helped filter your roles. But now, you need to learn how to choose your work yourself.”
Veins popped on Kanna’s forehead.
“How... How am I supposed to choose? This choice might decide my whole acting career... You wouldn’t get it. You never went without work from when you were a kid until you were an adult. But me? The older I get, the fewer roles I get. At shoots and at the company, the staff whisper that there’s nothing I can do about it, and laugh about it. Do they really think I can’t hear them?”
Kanna’s lips trembled. Her voice shook too.
“At school, everyone greets me with smiles, but behind my back, they mock me saying I don’t have work, so I just show up to school often. If I get too much work and skip school, they say I’m getting special treatment. They gossip that I’m making a fuss about a small shoot or that I’m barely on TV these days. What harm have I ever done?”
Panting, Kanna dashed out of her mother’s room and back to her own.
She heard her mother calling after her but didn’t care—she plugged in her earphones.
“This is so frustrating...”
The roles she’d managed to get might actually be favors from classmates.
If that were true, the thought was too embarrassing and humiliating to admit.
But even if it was, she didn’t have the confidence to turn down those casting offers.
That fact made Kanna feel even more miserable.
The next day, at lunchtime, Kanna couldn’t bring herself to walk easily toward the old school building like usual.
What if Junhyuk told her that this casting was really a favor?
Should she thank him? Or would that just be admitting she owed him something and hurt her pride?
Confused thoughts and emotions swirled in Kanna’s head.
She no longer had the confidence to sit next to Junhyuk and laugh like before.
Turning away from the old school building, Kanna walked on quietly, feeling lonely.
＊ ＊ ＊
Junhyuk took the last sip of his coffee after hearing everything Kanna said.
“First off, I didn’t say a single word about this media mix project. I didn’t even know they were offering you a role.”
“R-Really?”
At those words, Kanna’s expression brightened a little.
“It’s getting dark, so let’s go. Your place is close, right? I’ll walk you home.”
Even though it was still early evening, the shorter days had already cast darkness outside.
The two of them walked side by side outside the cafe.
A silence hung between them, which Kanna vaguely understood was Junhyuk’s way of being considerate.
“Hey, what do you think I should do?”
“About what?”
“Voice acting or acting… which should I choose?”
Among her peers, Junhyuk was the only one Kanna could talk to about personal and public matters.
He was her age but way more accomplished.
Sometimes he acted a bit suspiciously, but knowing his true identity, Kanna looked up to him like a role model.
Feeling she could trust him, she asked the question she’d asked others before.
“Between anime and movies, which should I go for?”
Just around the corner was the entrance to Kanna’s apartment.
Her voice echoed in the quiet street where no one passed by.
There was a desperate, pleading tone in her question.
Junhyuk answered—
“That’s for you to decide.”
She had hoped he wouldn’t say that, but once again, her hopes were dashed.
“Again with that...? I have to decide?”
Gritting her teeth, Kanna looked at Junhyuk, tears welling in her eyes.
“How... how am I supposed to decide?! What am I supposed to do?”
Her eyes, heavy with pain, locked onto Junhyuk’s face.
Deep down, she knew it was just an emotional outburst—
But after holding everything inside for so long, the flood of feelings finally broke free.
“They tell me to work hard on whatever role I’m given! That I just have to do the work in front of me! That I should do what I’m told! And now, they want me to choose? What am I supposed to choose?”
When she smiled brightly, they called it acting.
So she had followed those orders, doing her best to act the part.
Then they told her she had to act properly. It was confusing, but she followed their words, studying the script hard and learning to act.
She worked diligently. It was tough, but also enjoyable. She felt a sense of achievement seeing herself on screen.
So she pushed herself even more. But the moment of downfall came without warning.
She could no longer pass auditions that she might have aced before with enough practice.
The judges all repeated, like parrots quoting a scripture, that her age didn’t fit the role.
“They said if you practice hard enough, opportunities will come! If you have talent, age doesn’t matter!”
Believing those words, she practiced harder than anyone else, never skipping a day, even taking voice lessons that others neglected.
Even when she could no longer get the leading roles she used to have as a young child.
Even when she waited behind the camera for over ten hours only to shoot for a few minutes.
Even when her scenes were edited out and never seen.
She endured, foolishly believing that her time would come someday.
Silently, she endured with a smiling face.
“But now, they want me to make the most important decision of my acting career? They say it’s my problem to decide and just pass the responsibility off? It’s just an excuse so they don’t have to take any blame!”
Kanna’s eyes were soaked with tears.
Junhyuk stood a few steps ahead of her and slowly approached.
“That’s right. It’s just an excuse…”
Junhyuk said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the tears from her eyes.
“They tell you what to do, how to act—coaching you every step of the way. But when it comes down to the big decisions, they just dump it on you, scared you’ll blame them later.”
He paused for a moment, then added—
“But it’s not just that. Making choices takes real courage. It requires thought, struggle, and pain. It’s not only about what you pick—how you get to that decision matters just as much.”
He bent down on one knee and gently wiped at her eyes.
“Maybe the people around you want you to really feel that process. To understand what it means to choose.”
He chuckled softly.
“This is a story about someone I know.”
Kanna raised an eyebrow.
“...Usually that’s how people start talking about themselves.”
Junhyuk smiled faintly.
“Yeah, it’s about someone I know. That person told me they always regretted the choices they made. Then one day, they wondered—if they’d made different choices, would they have no regrets at all?”
He looked at her, as if recalling a distant memory.
“But eventually, they realized that no matter what choices they made, there would always be regret. When people go through hard times, the first thing they think about is when they made those choices. In the end, they figured maybe we don’t choose to avoid regrets—but to decide which regrets we’re willing to live with.”
Junhyuk handed the handkerchief back to Kanna after wiping away her tears.
“I’ve had regrets too. But I believe the pain and regret belong to me—because I made those choices. I agonized over them, thought them through carefully, and asked myself over and over before deciding.”
Junhyuk stood up.
“Choosing is scary, and it’s supposed to be. It takes courage. It’s normal to struggle and feel pain. That’s the weight of choice. Feeling all of that means you’re really trying. So take your time to agonize and struggle. Be frustrated and angry. And when you finally decide, this moment will become your core strength to keep you going.”
Kanna quickly swiped the handkerchief before more tears could fall.
“…Do you think I can really do this?”
Junhyuk shrugged.
“Who knows.”
She shot him a look.
“…Can’t you just lie and say yes?”
“Nope. I need a good excuse to avoid any responsibility.”
“......”
Kanna lowered the handkerchief and glared at him.
He was grinning, as usual—completely unfazed.
“Get home quick. If your parents ask why your eyes are all puffy, just say someone clocked you at school.”
“Shut up.”
She gave his leg a light kick and stormed past him.
“…Thanks.”
“Huh?”
“I said thanks! Bye!”
Mortified by how much she’d cried in front of him, Kanna didn’t look back. She pushed through the apartment doors and dashed up the stairs like her dignity depended on it.
“You’ll do great.”
Junhyuk murmured.
‘Unlike me… who gave up on the one thing I wanted most.’
Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Junhyuk let those last words hang in the air as he disappeared into the quiet night.
＊ ＊ ＊
“Wakayama-sensei.”
“Ah, yes…”
Right now, sitting across from me was a large, middle-aged man.
One look at those tired eyes and anyone could tell—this guy was definitely in the industry.
The man’s identity? Director Daito, the one in charge of the 'D Note' anime adaptation.
And here he was, dressed like he was on the run from the law—hat pulled low, mask tight over his face—meeting me in a cafe near my studio like we were staging some kind of secret handoff.
Apparently, he'd begged Matsuda to get in touch with me, and after much pleading, his message had finally reached me.
So here I was, on a weekend morning, hurriedly pulling on my own mask and cap just to match the vibe—turning an otherwise peaceful, ordinary cafe into what looked like the set of a shady undercover sting.
Director Daito scanned the cafe like a man on the run.
“I’m being chased… by them.”
And no, that wasn’t just paranoia talking. The guy was legitimately on the run.
Despite the crisp autumn air, sweat was pouring down his face. This wasn’t one of those dumb spy games he and Matsuda liked to play when they were bored.
He looked like he’d just barely shaken someone off his tail.
Then, with all the weight of someone about to drop classified intel, Daito finally spoke.
“I don’t know when they might show up again, so forgive me, but I’ll get straight to the point.”
What the hell was this serious atmosphere about? What kind of conversation was this going to be?
Without meaning to, I nodded solemnly, caught in the mood.
“Do you… have any interest in anime?”
“…Huh?”
Well, that was… not the kind of “point” I was expecting.
＊ ＊ ＊
〈Kanna — Interlude〉
“Kanna, are you really sure about this?”
At her agency’s office, Kanna sat across from her manager and gave a firm nod.
“Yes, this time…”
She said, looking her manager straight in the eyes.
“I don’t care if it’s a minor role—I want to be in a film.”
------------------
HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
------------------
