Chapter 4: I Told You He’s a Genius (1)

Have you ever heard the line that says a person’s heart is like a reed?

That’s right.

I was a reed.

“I really came…”

The resolve I’d made that night became meaningless far too quickly—I’d arrived at the audition a full thirty minutes earlier than the scheduled time.

Maybe I really shouldn’t have come.

As I hovered restlessly in front of the building, someone suddenly shouted my name.

“Jeon Yeohu?!”

“…Jung Yunwoo?”

Jung Yunwoo.

My classmate from the Acting Department at Korea Arts University.

Good personality, great acting, and wildly popular.

And, annoyingly enough, the same guy who had appeared far too often in my dreams.

Which was exactly why I usually avoided him whenever he was around.

‘Nothing good ever comes from getting involved with someone I’ve seen in my dreams.’

Yunwoo, completely unfazed by my lukewarm greeting, flashed a bright smile and casually draped an arm over my shoulder.

“You got the audition offer too? Which role? That student role?”

“Yeah.”

“Figures. With your skill, it’d be weird if they didn’t notice. Let’s go in. If you’re seated ten minutes early, it leaves a good impression.”

When a handsome bastard smiles, it feels like flower petals are flying all over the sky.

Achoo.

“Why are you suddenly waving your hands around like that?”

“I’m allergic to pollen.”

“Huh? There aren’t any flowers around.”

“…There’s a kind like that.”

“Sure. I already knew you were a weird one. Let’s hurry up and go in.”

Inside the audition venue, aside from Yunwoo and me, there were a few other actors.

But only… about three.

I wasn’t sure whether only actors contacted by the casting manager were invited, or if this time slot just had fewer people.

Park Mintae wasn’t visible in the waiting room.

He was probably seated as one of the judges.

Given that the first round was being held at Cha Agency’s building, they were likely filtering agency-picked actors once more before sending them on to the second round.

Yunwoo took a seat on the sofa in the very center along the wall, then patted the empty spot beside him.

“Hey, Jeon Yeohu.”

There was no real way to refuse, so I sat next to him and pulled out my script.

“You memorize it all?”

I nodded. For a rookie, thoroughly memorizing the script was the bare minimum.

“Same here. But there’s one assigned performance and one free performance, right? Man, I’m nervous. This is my third audition. I keep getting cut at the final round.”

“You got cut at the final?”

Jung Yunwoo?

Was there really someone better-looking and better at acting than him?

Or did the judges just have no eyes?

What a harsh reality.

“Yeah. Why?”

“No reason. Just thought the judges’ eyes might be broken. Do your best. You’ll make it someday.”

“What?”

Yeah. Whether the ending is good or bad, you will become an actor someday.

If my dreams are right.

At my blunt attempt at encouragement, Yunwoo laughed so loudly it felt like the audition hall would collapse.

“Don’t people usually say, ‘You’ll definitely make it this time’?”

“We’re not close enough for me to cheer you on that hard.”

And besides, with me auditioning alongside you, there’s no way you’ll pass.

I’m the one who will.

…If you asked me where that confidence came from, honestly, I wouldn’t know either.

One way or another, I would pass.

And after passing, even if I gave it up and the opportunity went to someone else—

Right now, more than the result, I was simply enjoying this situation: being able to show someone my acting at 100%, without hiding my face.

The pounding of my heart—was it tension from crossing a line I’d set for myself for the first time, or was it anticipation?

“We’ll now begin the first-round auditions. When your name is called, please enter. Until then, remain seated and wait. First up—Jung Yunwoo?”

“Yes.”

“You may enter the audition room.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll go first, then.”

After Yunwoo left, I reread the script Park Mintae had given me.

People often say actors project their own emotions into a script, but I’d never once felt that way.

The sadness I felt through the script wasn’t mine—it belonged to the character. All I did was show what that person would plausibly do.

That’s why it was enjoyable.

The privilege of fully feeling someone else’s emotions.

Not empathy, but emotional transference.

It wasn’t something you could easily experience in everyday life.

Could I really give up acting—even if it meant giving up a doorway into entirely new worlds?

“Yeohu… sir!”

“Ah—yes.”

While I was absorbed in the script, a staff member in the waiting room grabbed my shoulder and shook me, making me look up in a hurry.

She scanned me with a worried expression.

“I called you several times, but you didn’t answer. You’re sweating a lot—are you okay to audition?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Then please go in quickly. It’s your turn.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Following her guidance, I entered the audition room.

*****

“Who was the last applicant again?”

Min Sora, a judge from Cha Agency, asked as she flipped through the papers.

The face was striking enough to catch her eye immediately.

“He’s a classmate who acted in the same play as Jung Yunwoo.”

At Park Mintae’s answer, Min Sora snapped her fingers.

“Oh, right! This student—you recommended him, Mintae-nim. But bringing in two classmates? That’s unusual. You usually only bring one person per role. Did you really not want to give up either of these rookies?”

Cha Agency, a subsidiary of Yellow Studio.

The judges for the first-round auditions held there were usually directors from Cha Agency and directing PDs from Yellow Studio.

This time, there were three judges total: Team 1 Lead Park Mintae, Team 2 Lead Min Sora, and the directing PD.

“So far, don’t you think Jung Yunwoo has been the best?” the PD said, spinning his pen.

Min Sora nodded in agreement.

To be honest, she barely remembered the other actors. That alone showed how good Yunwoo’s performance had been.

His face suited the role, and his free performance was impressive as well.

As expected of a rookie brought in by Park Mintae.

Moreover, the role Yunwoo chose for his free performance was ‘a lover calmly announcing a breakup.’

‘This weekend? No… I think I’ll be tired this weekend. No, Heeseon—it’s not that I don’t care about you. …Honestly, I’m tired now too. I’m tired of setting aside time for you every weekend.’

A man who couldn’t finish his sentence, biting down hard on his lip.

Even the way he reached out into empty space and directed his gaze past the judges’ table was flawless.

With a face that could debut immediately and such solid acting, he lacked nothing.

He didn’t have an agency yet, but if he landed a role in this drama, calls would start coming in soon enough.

“Out of the twenty we’ve seen over the last two days, I don’t think anyone handled the assigned performance as well as Jung Yunwoo. Honestly, his mask is the best too.”

“I agree with the PD. But since Mintae-nim brought in two people, doesn’t that mean this Jeon Yeohu actor might be interesting too?”

Smiling, Min Sora pointed at Jeon Yeohu’s photo and looked at Park Mintae.

“Well, you’ll see. He’s a peculiar one.”

Right on cue, the door opened and Jeon Yeohu walked in.

His bangs were neatly arranged compared to when they’d met a few days ago, revealing his face more clearly.

The moment Min Sora saw him, she froze.

Even with half his face hidden by bangs in the résumé photo, she’d thought he was handsome—but in person, he was several times better.

‘Not just several times… this is…’

The PD had the exact same thought the instant he saw Jeon Yeohu.

‘Even if his acting is terrible, he’d still be worth picking.’

The PD hurriedly looked over the résumé again.

He hadn’t misread it. With a face like this, Jeon Yeohu should have had at least one significant role somewhere.

But there was nothing.

Not even a single advertisement on a video platform—something even ordinary people sometimes appeared in.

Why?

“I’m Jeon Yeohu. This is my first audition.”

“Jeon Yeohu, looks like you’ve made up your mind?”

The moment he saw Park Mintae smiling broadly, Jeon Yeohu closed his mouth briefly, rolled his eyes, then spoke again.

“I wasn’t sure, so I came.”

Park Mintae lifted one corner of his mouth and leaned back.

He already knew, without needing to see more, who the winner of this audition would be.

“That’s a relief. Then let’s start with the assigned performance.”

“Yes.”

Jeon Yeohu took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes and looked forward again, the atmosphere changed.

Amid gazes tangled with expectation, Jeon Yeohu’s acting began.

*****

Acting is the process of shaving yourself down to become someone else.

The assigned script for this audition:

A delinquent boy who used to get into trouble with his friends now sits alone beside the hospital bed of his unconscious mother, injured in an accident, muttering to himself.

‘What does it feel like—the moment you first realize that the infinite love once directed at you is actually finite?’

Jeon Yeohu slowly closed his eyes, then opened them.

The judges who had been staring at him disappeared.

Beside him was a hospital bed with a middle-aged woman lying on it, an oxygen mask attached, struggling to draw shallow, thirsty breaths.

Yes.

This woman is my mother.