Chapter: 39
Ten years ago, the genius child actor who made quite a stir: Joo Seoyeon.
“Her acting skills are undoubtedly there. But performing on stage is a different story,” thought Jo Do-yul, the director, as he prepared to evaluate her performance, pen in hand over a notebook.
In front of him laid the recording of her free audition from the first round.
From the video alone, it was clear that she was an actress.
She delivered her lines while looking straight at the camera.
In the footage, Hong Jeong-hee bore her unique interpretation, neither excessive nor lacking—just the perfect blend.
Thus, despite having some worrisome elements, she had passed the first round.
“Where’s the script?”
“Looks like she memorized all of it.”
“Hmm.”
Seoyeon’s script lay on the chair beside her.
While it’s great if you can memorize your lines, it’s not a requirement.
Many actors held their scripts during auditions, so while a good impression could be made, it wouldn’t score additional points.
In fact, messing up while acting without the script could be even more problematic.
“Okay, what should I showcase?”
The scene assigned to Hong Jeong-hee was from Act 3, Scene 6, richly depicting her character’s sinister qualities.
It started from Bae Seong-hak and Song Min-seo’s budding romance scene, watched secretly from Hong Jeong-hee’s perspective.
It was crucial, a foreshadowing of the crisis to come in Act 4.
If Seoyeon didn’t properly present Hong Jeong-hee here, the character’s arc would fall flat next act.
“Will she do well?”
“But she’s taking a break for ten years.”
“Acting in dramas and on stage aren’t the same, are they?”
Aside from Seoyeon‘s ten-year hiatus, she only had her experience from “The Sun Hidden by the Moon” as her acting resume.
From the experience standpoint, there were bound to be shortcomings.
However…
“She has an aura.”
That captivating aura.
A natural talent on full display.
All eyes were upon her when she began, “Huh.”
Seoyeon’s performance commenced with a quiet utterance.
“Lies.”
With a downcast smile, her next words sent chills down Do-yul’s spine.
“What’s this?”
Was it because she was performing so well?
No, it was simply how her voice cut through with clarity.
“What’s going on?”
Didn’t she say this was her first time in theater?
Looking ahead, the genius child actor Joo Seoyeon was nowhere to be found.
Her posture had changed.
Her long hair flowed forward, giving off a shadowy vibe.
The beauty of that lovely face had been replaced by something darker.
“Why, why is she smiling at that kind of girl? She’s never shown me that side!”
What’s the difference between acting in dramas and in theater?
That’s the way of expression.
Dramas take a more emotional tone; delicate performances matter.
You can zoom in on an actor’s face to capture emotions.
Commonly referred to as ‘naturalistic acting,’ it’s about infusing daily expressions with feelings.
But what of theater?
“Could it be? Huh, no way! Surely, I’m being fooled. That kid, she is definitely seducing my naïve brother. Yes!”
Seoyeon dramatically clutched her chest, swaying unsteadily as if struggling to keep her balance in a dark alley.
She didn’t pause her dialogue as her physicality carried on.
Acting in theater relies greatly on bodily expressions.
Exaggerated movements, both similar to and different from film and drama, are the norm.
Unlike the close-ups that showcase emotions on the face, stage acting delivers feelings through the body.
Hands, arms, legs, and every little quiver.
The lines of Hong Jeong-hee flowed, her voice quivered, yet the articulation remained pristine.
Proof she knew how to project her voice.
The quality of her vocal delivery was already different from the first time she spoke.
A cracked, eerie woman’s voice.
“Oh my, madness.”
The actors who came in with Seoyeon could only stare wide-eyed at her performance.
Her exaggerated gestures were anything but awkward.
In fact, watching it all felt like witnessing a true performance on stage; no one could deny that she was indeed Hong Jeong-hee.
“Should I go watch too? Huh, if I wear this school uniform, my brother couldn’t just throw me out.”
That line wasn’t in the script, but it fit seamlessly.
Seoyeon’s uniform contrasted with the collegiate attire of Hong Jeong-hee, who was slightly over twenty.
Naturally, such an outfit was a miss for an adult playing a teenager.
Yet it effortlessly highlighted Hong Jeong-hee’s deviousness.
“Was that intentional?”
Or was it improvised?
It’s her first time on stage.
But the proof of her inexperience was in the blocking.
Blocking refers to moving paths while performing.
For someone who has never stood on a stage, Seoyeon obviously lacked in that area.
Still, she seemed aware of it.
She envisioned the path, hiding in the alley while observing and stumbling along as Hong Jeong-hee.
Her blocking felt a bit offbeat, yet that very awkwardness added to the authenticity of her performance.
It threw you off, mirroring Hong Jeong-hee’s unstable psyche.
What about her gaze?
While the audience reads emotions through the actor’s body, they also want to see their face.
Recognizing this, Seoyeon directed her view toward a few judges discreetly.
“Just, just a moment, please. Brother. I-I will definitely…”
She curled her body and turned with short steps, as if to exit the stage.
Thus, Seoyeon’s portrayal of Hong Jeong-hee came to an end.
“……”
A strange silence engulfed the room.
Do-yul reflected on whether he’d been mistaken. Did she really lack stage experience?
Yeah, perhaps she did, but her skills and talent shone brighter than that deficiency.
It was acting that was unmistakably the work of a genius.
Sure, her blocking was lacking, her eye contact a bit shaky.
But with a bit of guidance, she’d master it quickly.
“Seoyeon, may I ask how old you are?”
“I’m seventeen.”
“You’re a first-year high school student?”
“Yes.”
Her calm response was totally different from the Hong Jeong-hee she just portrayed.
The dimmed light returned to her.
“Hmm.”
Do-yul glanced at his paper.
He’d unknowingly scribbled down his thoughts.
“First off…”
“This feels like it’s wrapped up, doesn’t it?”
Those glances spoke volumes.
Among the actors they had seen today, she was indeed most fitting for Hong Jeong-hee.
The faces of the other waiting actors told a similar story.
Actors overshadowed by another actor’s performance often don’t deliver their best.
Tap, tap.
With his pen tapping the table, Do-yul nodded.
“That was truly remarkable acting. Normally, I would have a few more questions to ask.”
She had already demonstrated all he wanted to know through her performance.
What did she think of Hong Jeong-hee?
And why was she wearing a school uniform?
“That’s acting that’s definitely hard to believe she’s seventeen. Did you keep acting during your break?”
“I attended an acting academy.”
“An acting academy? Ah, where exactly…?”
As the other judges asked questions, Seoyeon calmly responded, appearing almost devoid of emotion.
One might think that, but considering her earlier performance, that notion could not be true.
After all, Joo Seoyeon had built her reputation on emotional performances.
“So, then…”
With all the questions over, Seoyeon returned to her spot.
Meanwhile, the next actor’s face paled as they were called up.
“…What a pity.”
Seoyeon brushed her palm against her face.
She thought she had done well, and the judges’ reactions seemed positive too.
Would it have been better if she had unleashed more emotion?
Though she had practiced many times and heard feedback from instructors and fellow actors, doubt still crept in.
Since she had never performed in front of an audience, this fear lingered.
Especially since she had never seen a play in her past life.
“I did try to mislead my movements as best I could.”
While everyone was impressed by her performance, Seoyeon still recalled several aspects she could improve upon.
She wanted to infuse even more emotion.
Though if she had attempted something deeper or gone for method acting, the mistakes could’ve multiplied.
Mimicking emotion on a surface level could certainly suffice for stage acting.
Yet still, she found herself dissatisfied.
“I wonder… what’s next?”
Seoyeon felt the tension mounting.
While everyone was in awe of her performance, she cast a sidelong glance at the girl who had quietly remained in her seat.
Pyo Ji-woo.
She had been fixated on Bae Seong-hak.
While everyone else sought to command attention, Ji-woo never once diverted her gaze from Seoyeon’s performance.
And at that moment, Ji-woo briefly turned her eyes toward Seoyeon.
“…Why is she smiling?”
An eerie, unsettling smile donned her face.
Ji-woo sat there grinning, her eyes reflecting determination.
A fierce resolve echoed in her gaze: she wouldn’t let this role slip by.
“Alright then, lastly, Pyo Ji-woo.”
“Yes.”
The somber atmosphere shifted around as the director called her name.
Wobbling.
She appeared to be channeling Hong Jeong-hee just in her walk.
“I will begin my performance now.”
After a few preliminary questions, Ji-woo commenced her act.
The back-and-forth was unremarkable, an ordinary exchange.
Yet, no one in the room noticed the odd tension she was carrying.
Not even the person directly affected, Min Seo-ho.
But one person took note: Seoyeon.
She recognized Ji-woo not from theater or films, but from the “news.”
“Huh… lies.”
Her body hunched over, wavy hair falling like wet seaweed over her face.
The eyes revealed a glinting madness within.
“!!!”
In that moment, the actor playing Bae Seong-hak, Min Seo-ho, felt the chills creep over him.
Her gaze sharpened, locking on him.
Was it because he was playing Bae Seong-hak?
“Method acting!”
Do-yul tensed up.
In an instant, Ji-woo’s aura shifted.
An oppressive darkness seemed to coalesce around her.
The character of Hong Jeong-hee was an archetype familiar in real life, which only made her portrayal more unsettling.
The fear she evoked was palpable.
While Seoyeon‘s performance zeroed in on that eerie quality, Ji-woo exuded discomfort.
Her expression conveyed the revulsion of actually engaging with the real Hong Jeong-hee.
A sentiment of wanting to escape, of rejecting that fear.
“I need to find a way. To remove that girl… that detestable girl.”
Seoyeon clenched her fists tight, watching Ji-woo’s acting.
“Yes, this is it.”
It truly felt like facing Hong Jeong-hee in the flesh.
Method acting?
One could certainly argue that.
“This performance… it’s what guided her back into the film industry.”
That frenzy everyone praises?
It was real.
Ji-woo had become the actress connecting Min Seo-ho to Hong Jeong-hee, a stalker disguised beneath the radar.
And the skills? Those were authentic too.
Her eye contact and blocking easily outshone Seoyeon’s.
Well, naturally—this wasn’t Ji-woo’s first stage act.
Driven solely by the desire to act by Min Seo-ho’s side, she’d been in several plays already.
Of course, reviews for those weren’t stellar; she didn’t truly invest in those acts.
But this time was different.
Hong Jeong-hee represented Ji-woo’s genuine intentions.
If everything else had been practice, this was her true objective.
“…That’s a wrap.”
When Ji-woo’s acting reached its end, the room froze in an entirely different manner.
An unexpected dark horse emerged.
The near-maniacal performance Ji-woo just exhibited had everyone contemplating.
“Huh.”
With a self-satisfied grin, Ji-woo cherished the moment.
The judges wore expressions of deep consideration.
“I’m a better fit for this role. Don’t you think? I am Hong Jeong-hee.”
Ji-woo knew that fact well.
This role was a gift from the heavens.
A fate bestowed upon her, drawing connections between Min Seo-ho and herself.
Thus, even a child actor, formerly regarded as brilliant, wouldn’t stand a chance against her.
With that in mind, Ji-woo indulged in observing the “great child actor.”
“…!”
Joo Seoyeon.
In a moment where mere sight of the girl left anyone breathless.
Ji-woo found herself momentarily frozen.
Seoyeon, expressionless, gazed right back at her.
Outside the spotlight, shadows danced.
In the depths, those subtly glowing crimson eyes bore down on Ji-woo.
A silent longing, an unwavering resolve of a true rival.
That passionate emotion paralyzed Ji-woo.
“Hm, this…”
As Ji-woo turned away, she heard Do-yul’s voice behind her.
“The two need to showcase one more scene together.”
The judges whispered among themselves.
Though their voices were soft, proximity allowed Ji-woo to catch every word.
Hearing that, she gazed at Seoyeon.
The formerly expressionless Seoyeon now twisted her mouth into a smirk.
A mockery.
Her smile reflected back Ji-woo’s earlier gleam of triumph.
With an expression resembling disdain, Ji-woo bit her lower lip.
This insufferable little girl was clearly planning to take away what was rightfully hers.
Ji-woo always presumed success was in the bag; why did it feel like a new threat had emerged?
“Oh, so they want to play that game, huh?”
The stare-off continued, pills of tension piling high.
Neither party willing to concede an inch.
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