Chapter 6 : The Wrong Audition

“Where’d that kid run off now?” 

The office buzzed with chaos.

A woman, eyes glued to her computer monitor, glanced up at the man’s words. 

“Oh, you mean Writer Eunha?” 

“Does she even show up to work? I barely see her face outside of meetings.” 

The man was the producer for the idol audition show Number 9. 

“I heard she’s been chasing after someone lately, practically clocking in and out at their place. That’s probably why.” 

“Who is it? What agency? Big name?”

If a trainee from a major agency joined the show, it’d instantly raise the program’s prestige—a tempting prospect. 

“Nope, just a regular person.” 

The spark of excitement fizzled out at the words “regular person.” 

“A regular person? Why bother with that?” 

Regular folks rarely survived the cutthroat competition, so why waste effort on one?

No matter how talented, they couldn’t outshine agency-polished trainees. 

“I haven’t seen them myself, but Eunha insists on bringing them in.” 

“Former trainee or something?” 

“Nope.” 

“Singer? Dancer?” 

“Nah, apparently they can’t do anything.” 

“Then tell her to stop wasting time and focus on the promo plan. Doesn’t she know K Corp’s launching a band audition show?” 

Number 9 was the network’s first audition program in three years, a fresh start after their last one tanked amid rigging scandals.

The mere association with that tainted show had already drawn a storm of hate, and they desperately needed a PR miracle to shift the narrative. 

“Oh, I know. But bands and idols target different audiences, don’t they?” 

“Different? Hardly. I heard K Corp scooped up every indie kid with a shred of buzz. Meanwhile, our latest promo article got ten comments—all negative. What are we gonna do about this?” 

The woman regretted chiming in.

She should’ve kept her mouth shut, but it was too late now. 

“Come on, we haven’t even revealed the contestants’ faces yet. Of course there’s no buzz.” 

“That’s the problem! What’s with this batch’s visuals? Not a single stunner to hook the audience. Not one!” 

She bit her tongue, tempted to snap Worry about your own face first, but the thought of her next paycheck kept her quiet. 

“Nowadays, the good-looking ones go into acting or YouTube. They don’t bother with idols anymore…” 

“And the agencies? They’re hoarding their best talents, sending us scraps. Ugh—” 

“Probably because there’s no rigging this time. They’re keeping their secret weapons under wraps.” 

With long contract terms for audition groups, agencies were loath to send their top trainees, only to watch them shine for someone else.

They’d rather push out middling ones. 

“Man, we should’ve locked in that kid from Star Entertainment. Such a missed shot.” 

“Right? They could dance, too. Pretty solid.” 

“Tell Eunha to quit chasing nobodies and go beg Star Entertainment for that kid instead.” 

The writer scoffed inwardly.

As if they’d hand them over.

The agency had been scrambling to keep that trainee under wraps. 

“Wait, I heard she’s bringing that person here today.” 

Like the old saying—speak of the tiger, and it appears—Eunha had just texted that she was bringing the kid to the station. 

“What? Tell her to cancel. Why bring someone who can’t do anything? We’ve already got enough comic relief contestants lined up.”

The “quirky but earnest” roles were already cast. 

“Hmm, maybe one more for some extra drama wouldn’t hurt?” 

“They’re almost here. Should I tell them to come up?” 

The PD mulled it over briefly before waving it off. 

“Nah, just let them tour the station and send them home.” 

“What? You’re not even gonna check them out? I heard they’re good-looking.” 

“We’ve already scoured SNS and every arts high school for pretty faces. What’s there to expect?” 

“Fair point, but…” 

He wasn’t wrong.

They’d already contacted every halfway decent prospect. 

“Bring in an unvetted nobody, and we’ll end up with some school bullying scandal or personality drama. No thanks.” 

“Got it.” 

“Oh, and we’re shooting the teaser next week, so pick out some solid kids in advance.” 

With that, he dumped more work on her and vanished.

She fired off a message to Eunha, relaying the PD’s orders. 

“But since they’re already coming, might as well take a quick look before sending them off.”

***

“It’s been a while.” 

Cradled in my owner’s arms, I’d visited this station a few times before, so it didn’t feel too foreign. 

“Ugh, seriously… Hyun, wait here for a sec.” 

“Sure, I’ll just hit the restroom real quick.” 

Eunha nodded, and I headed toward the lobby’s restroom. 

Did I make a mistake following her here?

I still had zero interest in becoming an idol, but Eunha’s promise of movie premiere tickets had lured me all the way to Seoul. 

No, she knows how I feel.

I’ve been clear about it. 

Still, I couldn’t shake the worry that I might be giving her false hope by showing up.

But this movie?

I couldn’t pass it up. 

Why’s that guy staring at me? 

As I washed my hands, a man at the sink next to me kept glancing over through the mirror.

I checked my reflection—nothing weird. 

Let’s get out of here. 

My bodyguard had warned me about strange people in Seoul, and he wasn’t kidding.

I hurried out, only to be stopped by a guy in a black cap I’d never seen before. 

“Hey! They said you were at a café, but here you are. Been looking everywhere!” 

“Huh?” 

“You’re here for the audition, right?” 

“Oh… am I?” 

So Eunha hadn’t just dragged me to the station for a tour. 

“Uh, no?” 

“Wait, you are, right?” 

Whatever.

With my nonexistent skills, I’d never pass anyway.

For Eunha’s sake, I figured I’d at least go through with it. 

“Guess so.” 

“This way, then.” 

I followed the man into the station, riding the elevator as he peppered me with questions. 

“How tall are you?” 

“183 cm.” 

“Taller than I heard. You prepped anything?” 

Prepped?

I hadn’t done a thing. 

“Nope, nothing.” 

“Got dragged here last minute, huh? No worries. Just do what they tell you.” 

What was I supposed to do?

The only song I knew was the national anthem, drilled into me as basic knowledge.

I mentally rehearsed its lyrics as we reached a door at the end of the hall. 

“Take a few deep breaths, and we’ll head in. Don’t be too nervous.” 

I wasn’t nervous.

He knocked, and a voice from inside called us in.

The room had a long desk with three people seated side by side. 

“Stand right there.” 

“Okay.” 

“Here, read this and do it.” 

A person standing nearby handed me a sheet of paper. 

Weren’t idol auditions about singing and dancing? Why a script? 

“Huh?”

I glanced at the paper, expecting song lyrics, but it was unmistakably a screenplay. 

Didn’t they say this was an idol show? 

“Uh, sorry, I don’t think I can do this.” 

“You’re not here for the audition?” 

At my words, the man in the middle shot me a piercing glare. 

“I am, but what I came for was…” 

“What, you’re saying you won’t do it because you got a supporting role instead of the lead?” 

“No, that’s not it.” 

“Then stop wasting our time and get to it. We’re all busy here.” 

I wanted to shout, so I came for an idol audition!

But the room’s heavy atmosphere and their murderous stares silenced me.

I lowered my eyes to the script. 

[Scene: An old construction site rooftop.Jaeho, battered and bruised, reaches a dead end. Seeing Sangcheol, who’s been chasing him, he shouts.]

Jaeho: Haa—haa—Why are you doing this to me?! 

Please, just stop!

I did everything you told me to!

Jaeho stumbles back, legs trembling, but there’s nowhere left to go.

Realizing he’s cornered, he glares at Sangcheol and charges. 

Jaeho: You’re right—I know. I know what you did. That’s why you’re after me, isn’t it? 

I’m not scared of you.

You act all cool and confident, but you’re just a coward, shaking in your boots every day! 

The lines weren’t long, and the scenario was familiar enough to grasp easily. 

“Read it? Let’s dive in.” 

Barely had I skimmed it when they urged me to start. 

Fine, let’s do this. 

The sooner I finished, the sooner I could leave.

I closed my eyes, recalling my owner’s words. 

“The best part of improv is getting to imagine it however you want. Isn’t that fun? You get to create the character.” 

I pictured Jaeho.

Around my age, probably a student.

If he knew Sangcheol’s weakness but still got dragged around, he’d be timid, lacking confidence.

With that framework in mind, I read the lines. 

“Haa—haa—Why are you doing this to me?!”

My ragged breaths and desperate cry snapped their heads up from the script. 

“Please, just stop! I did everything you told me to!”

Focusing on the fear and desperation, my hands shook as I gripped the paper. 

“You’re right! I know—” 

Mid-line, the door burst open with a bang, and someone shouted. 

“What’s the deal?! You call us for an audition and leave us waiting downstairs?!” 

I turned to see a man fuming. 

“What’s going on?” 

“We’re in the middle of an audition. You can’t just barge in—” 

The staff tried to usher him out, but he stood his ground. 

“Even if we’re the underdogs, if you call us, you should at least give us a shot!” 

Oh no.

Was this the guy meant to audition?

This was bad.

I might’ve just stolen someone’s chance. 

“What are you talking about? We’re seeing everyone in order. Did we miss anyone?” 

“No, we saw everyone, but… hold on, this guy doesn’t match the profile photo!” 

“Huh?” 

Now they notice?

Every eye in the room turned to me. 

“Uh, about that…” 

I opened my mouth to explain, but someone grabbed my wrist. 

“He’s with me!” 

Standing beside me was the weird guy from the restroom.