OATCG 19

Chapter 19

Five people applied for the male lead…

Jihwan stared at the list of members who had applied for the role of Heejae.

It had been a long time since so many people had competed for the male lead. After Doyoung left, he’d worried that Cheongsong might lose its momentum—but it seemed that his absence hadn’t brought only negative effects.

Everyone must have been holding themselves back.

Just how badly did they want to play the lead, to rush in at a chance like this?

But…

That kid, Sunwoo…

He never imagined he’d see that name here.

How long had it even been since Sunwoo started acting? Two months? Maybe not even that long.

And he was already aiming for a lead role…

So you were born with the ego of a protagonist too, huh.

Jihwan understood.

Personally, he believed that actors were divided from the very beginning—those meant to be leads, and those meant to be supporting roles.

It wasn’t just about looks.

Even if someone didn’t fit the conventional image of a handsome or beautiful lead, there were people born with that presence.

A magnetic pull that seized the audience’s gaze.

There was no doubt Sunwoo had that pull.

Just looking at his Seungdo in Confession—he had completely captivated countless viewers.

Didn’t he already have fans?

Still, it’s going to be tough.

Especially after seeing Jaewon’s acting.

It was hard to believe he hadn’t gone through some kind of extreme training somewhere instead of working construction during the last quarter. His acting had improved dramatically compared to what Jihwan remembered.

A member so obsessed with acting that “practice addict” didn’t even begin to cover it.

People used to say that if Doyoung hadn’t existed, Jaewon would have been Cheongsong’s star.

That was how overwhelming his skill set was.

No matter how good Sunwoo was, he wasn’t yet at the level to truly compete with Jaewon for a lead role.

That was Jihwan’s judgment.

But—

“All I have to do is jump… and die… then I can go back, right?”

“Then Yebin… she can live, right?”

This kid…

Jihwan couldn’t help but be shocked when he actually saw Sunwoo perform.

He had improved. Again.

Of course, improvement through practice was natural—but Sunwoo’s growth wasn’t something that could be brushed off as just practice.

His breath support was solid, and his voice rang out cleanly atop it.

And packed into that voice was Heejae’s emotion—pressed down, condensed, and released.

His desperate, self-sacrificing devotion felt like it carved itself into the chest.

Was this really the same Sunwoo he’d seen not long ago?

It felt like his entire weight class had jumped several levels.

Before, you could still tell he was new to acting.

Now—

Who would believe he hasn’t even been acting for a year?

Of course, a big reason for the visible change was vocal training.

Watching Sunwoo, Hyeseong smiled contentedly and rubbed under his nose with a finger.

“See? Told you the ‘gwak-gwak-gwak’ training method worked.”

“Shh. Be quiet, oppa.”

Sunwoo had always been top-tier in Cheongsong when it came to understanding and expressing a character’s emotional arc.

What he’d lacked was the raw energy to project those emotions outward.

Now that vocal training had filled in that gap, his growth was impossible to miss.

For a brief moment, even the other members found themselves thinking—

At this level… maybe he could compete with Jaewon?

Jihwan was no exception.

When he first sat down, he never imagined he’d seriously consider Sunwoo’s Heejae.

But now, he couldn’t stop imagining it.

He wondered how audiences would react if they saw that Heejae.

That was why, when the results were announced, hesitation lingered on Jihwan’s face.

However—

“You all did well. I can tell at a glance how hard you prepared. But you know this already—there’s only one person we can cast as Heejae.”

“And that person is…”

“Congratulations. Song Jaewon. You’ll be the lead this quarter.”

There was no twist.

As applause and cheers erupted around him, Jaewon quietly bowed his head in thanks.

Sunwoo clapped along with everyone else.

He lost.

He’d expected it—but it still felt strange.

His heart ached faintly, like he’d just been dumped.

…I’ll accept it.

There was nothing to complain about.

He just wasn’t good enough yet.

Then he’d practice more. Hone himself further.

What mattered was that he was growing—that he was steadily learning more about acting.

If he kept this up, wouldn’t he become a good actor someday?

With that thought, he clapped earnestly.

Then—

“However.”

Jihwan spoke again.

Sunwoo felt Jihwan’s gaze land on him, and his expression stiffened.

What was this? What could he possibly have to say now?

“Kim Sunwoo.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Your acting was good. Too good to just end things here. So… I have a proposal.”

“…A proposal?”

Jihwan hesitated for a moment, still deep in thought.

Then—

“Would you consider becoming Heejae’s understudy?”

“!”

The room exploded into shock.

An understudy? Really?

People murmured in disbelief. Has anything like this ever happened before?

Sunwoo was just as stunned.

An understudy?

Me?

…Wait.

What is an understudy?

* * *

An understudy.

A substitute actor who prepares the role in case the main actor can’t perform.

Like a relief pitcher.

Except unlike baseball, you never actually step onto the mound unless the starter gets injured.

Anyway—did Sunwoo accept?

“Sunwoo, you praying every day for Jaewon to catch the flu now?”

“Haha… of course not.”

Of course he accepted.

There was no reason not to.

It wasn’t like refusing would give him anything else to do.

At first, he worried that being an understudy would mean doing nothing unless Jaewon got sick.

But it turned out the role was busier than expected.

Every time the cast rehearsed scenes involving Heejae, they asked Sunwoo to run lines with them.

Jaewon only had one body, while everyone needed to practice opposite Heejae.

And Sunwoo turned out to be a pretty great substitute.

It was good for him, too.

His body had been itching to act.

Even if it was like this, acting with others was more than enough.

Among the members rehearsing with Sunwoo were Minhee and Hyeseong.

They’d passed auditions for Yebin and the Fairy, respectively.

“Why don’t you just become a professional understudy? It’s comfortable practicing with you.”

Minhee grinned as she teased him.

Hyeseong clicked his tongue.

“There you go again, teasing Sunwoo.”

“What? What’s wrong with being an understudy? Is our Sunwoo ashamed?”

“…Pfft.”

Minhee’s deadpan comeback and Yechans barely suppressed laughter made the situation all the more painful.

Sunwoo raised his voice, trying to sound dignified.

“You can tease me all you want—I’m not bothered.”

“Oooh~.”

“I mean it. Normally I wouldn’t even have a chance to step on stage. Just having the possibility of becoming the lead is enough.”

“Heee~.”

“And practicing with my seniors like this is plenty fun.”

“Oho~ is that so?”

No, really—I’m not bothered.

Anyway, despite the teasing, the rehearsals were genuinely enjoyable.

Back when he played Seungdo, he’d only interacted with the priest.

Now he could act opposite all kinds of characters.

And that wasn’t all he gained from being an understudy.

“Thanks. You’ve really taken some pressure off me.”

“N-No, it’s nothing. I’m doing this because I want to.”

He finally had a chance to grow closer to Jaewon.

He’d wanted to befriend him from the start—not just because of his passion for acting while working construction, but also because he was the only one who’d ever challenged Doyoung.

The problem was that Jaewon was surprisingly introverted.

But being an understudy gave Sunwoo the perfect excuse.

“You’re pulling back emotionally here? Why?”

“I think it fits better if he’s exhausted. Heejae’s already died multiple times to go back to the past. No matter how much he loves Yebin, love alone can’t sustain that kind of pain.”

“…That makes sense. Emphasizing the exhaustion would make his refusal to give up even more tragic.”

“Yes, exactly!”

They often talked like this—how to create a better Heejae.

Not just about acting, either.

There was small talk too.

“Why did you challenge Doyoung, anyway?”

“Yeah. Honestly… you could’ve chosen a role you were guaranteed to get.”

“…I could say the same to you. You didn’t need to aim for the lead.”

“Uh…”

“Probably the same reason.”

Jaewon answered casually.

“I thought if I didn’t challenge him, I’d become the kind of person who backs down whenever things get hard. Wasn’t that you too?”

“…I don’t know. I just wanted to try.”

“I think that’s good. You know the saying—knock, and the door will open.”

It was a good saying.

Yeah.

Knock.

Until it opens.

Hearing that, Sunwoo felt steadier.

After being teased so much, he’d wondered if challenging the lead had been reckless.

But now it was clear.

It didn’t matter if no one acknowledged it.

He knew he was growing.

He knew his Heejae was good.

Sure, not being on stage hurt—but he could use even this as fuel for growth.

Still, it would be a lie to say it wasn’t emotionally hard.

When the cast finally opened Until You Live without him—

When the curtain call came, and applause thundered from the audience—

That lonely feeling…

None of that applause is for me, he thought, pathetically.

So he buried himself in practice.

Acting was the only time he could forget everything else.

But the more he practiced, the stronger the hunger grew.

He wanted to perform.

He wanted to show his Heejae to an audience.

But it was impossible.

Unless Jaewon actually got sick…

And honestly, imagining that Captain America–looking guy collapsing was absurd.

…But then, a month later, near the end of the run—

“Cough, cough… I’m sorry, Director…”

“You’re built like a beast, and this is what takes you down? A cold?”

“I… I can still go on stage…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can barely speak.”

Unfortunately—Captain America, aka Jaewon, caught a cold.

A bad one. Severe throat inflammation.

“Didn’t think this would really happen… Sunwoo, it’s your turn.”

“Me?”

“You’re the understudy. You can do it, right?”

The chance he’d almost given up on appeared.

Sunwoo stood frozen for a moment, then hurriedly nodded.

It was heartbreaking that Jaewon was sick—but someone had to fill the gap.

“I can… I can do it. I’ll do it!”

“Good. You’re going on stage tonight.”

“Yes! Understood!”

Sunwoo answered loudly.

Jaewon looked at him and muttered weakly—

“…Aren’t you smiling a little too much?”