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Chapter 09
“Um… what if I get eliminated right in the first round…?”
Lee Ji-woo asked while fidgeting with his fingertips. He was dressed neatly enough to look presentable—if not quite to the level of a profile photo shoot.
Judging by his appearance alone, he didn’t look like someone who would be eliminated before the broadcast even aired, so hearing him say that felt almost like mockery. Of course, he clearly didn’t mean it that way.
“That won’t happen. Don’t worry—just go and show them what you’ve prepared.”
I wouldn’t be able to go inside the audition hall, so I planned to wait in the parking lot.
In the meantime, I had finally gotten my license and was driving instead of Kwon-hyung, but Ji-woo looked unusually anxious about even that, which was baffling.
I guess hearing that someone only a few years older than you is driving could make you uneasy…
Still, I had plenty of driving experience. I’d been driving since the days when cars didn’t have rear cameras and you had to roll the windows down by hand, so when it came to safe driving, I was even more confident than Kwon-hyung.
“Even if you do get eliminated, they’re people you’ll probably never see again after today, so don’t be too embarrassed.”
Of course, you never know how things will turn out, and the entertainment industry is especially small, so I couldn’t say that with absolute certainty.
But saying it like that seemed like it would help calm his nerves for now.
“O… okay….”
At my reassurance, Ji-woo squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.
“Do you want me to go up with you to the waiting room?”
I offered just in case, but Ji-woo immediately shook his head.
“No…! I—I’ll be fine on my own!”
He didn’t look fine at all. But it wasn’t like Ji-woo was still a little kid who barely reached my waist, and there were surely trainees even younger than him, so insisting on following him would’ve been ridiculous.
“Alright. Then don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Even if the result isn’t great, there’ll be other opportunities. It’d be a shame if you couldn’t show everything you prepared. Just do everything you’ve prepared.”
At my final words, Ji-woo nodded, his face slightly pale. I quickly picked up Munji, who had been sitting in the back seat, and held him out toward Ji-woo.
“Here. You cheer for him too.”
“Yip!”
Munji panted with his tongue out and licked Ji-woo’s cheek. Only then did some color return to Ji-woo’s face—it seemed to help him relax.
“I’ll be back….”
He gently stroked Munji’s head before heading toward the audition hall, and watching his retreating figure suddenly felt strangely surreal.
Kids from other families grow up so fast…
He’d seemed so small when I first saw him—when did he grow up so much?
Before I could dwell on it, the glass doors opened and closed, and Ji-woo disappeared from sight. From here on out, it was something he had to do on his own.
As soon as he entered the building, there was a sign indicating where audition participants should wait.
When Ji-woo opened the door to the waiting room, about twenty boys around his age were already seated inside. As Ji-woo looked around, a staff member sitting near the entrance spoke to him.
“What’s your application number?”
“Oh.”
Ji-woo fumbled as he pulled the application form Eun-young had printed for him out of his pocket. The paper, folded down to pocket size and wrinkled, made him feel a little embarrassed.
“It’s number 2505441.”
As Ji-woo read out the number, the staff member flipped through the list of participants, found it, and highlighted the line.
“Alright. Stick this on your clothes and enter when your number is called.”
What the staff member handed him was a round sticker with the number 54 printed on it.
He quietly stuck the sticker onto his chest and headed toward the chairs. That was when he felt piercing stares. It felt like all the other participants in the waiting room were looking at him.
“……”
Had they recognized him? He wanted to run away from those looks, which surely weren’t positive—contempt, rivalry, jealousy.
There was no one here who welcomed his presence. Some might resent him for showing up despite having already debuted once, while others might sneer that he was a washed-up idol not even worth competing against.
“……”
At that moment, something Eun-young had said came back to him.
“Honestly, no matter who you meet today, there’s no one here who can have a huge impact on your life, Ji-woo.”
“…?”
When Ji-woo tilted his head, not quite understanding, Eun-young smiled and added,
“It means you don’t need to be so conscious of people who can’t affect your life anyway.”
She smiled gently as she spoke.
“And if they were already successful, they wouldn’t be here in the first place. You really don’t need to be so scared. You’ll probably be the most handsome one there.”
Handsome. It was a word he hadn’t heard since childhood, and his face heated up.
Ji-woo lifted his head and looked at the mirrors lining the waiting room wall.
Pale, almost white skin; large eyes; a small nose and red lips stood out. No matter how he looked at it, aside from his height, it was hard to find anything particularly masculine about his appearance.
“……”
He remembered a staff member sneering during his idol days, saying that this kind of face was already an outdated preference.
He unconsciously hunched his shoulders and clenched his fists—then Eun-young’s words surfaced again.
“If you can’t calm down, at the very least, try remembering that Munji absolutely loves Ji-woo’s face.”
At that ridiculous joke, Ji-woo let out a small, hollow laugh.
“Animals have good judgment too. It’s scientifically proven that they prefer good-looking people. So be confident.”
He didn’t know whether that was true or not. But the moment he thought of the soft, fluffy body that nestled into his arms, the heart that had been frozen solid began to thaw little by little.
Right. This was an unavoidable hurdle if he wanted to stay with Munji. If he could just endure today—and if he was lucky enough to make it on air—
Then he could start with things like modeling for small brands. Eun-young had told him several times not to feel too pressured.
“……”
He didn’t yet know if Eun-young was someone he could trust. But he wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that not everyone who stepped forward to help and cheer for others did so with ulterior motives.
Soon, Ji-woo’s number was called.
No matter the result, just do what you prepared. With that firm resolve, he stepped forward.
The sound of his rapidly pounding heart felt like a drum roll announcing the results.
This audition involved bringing participants up one by one in front of multiple judges to ask questions or conduct tests.
It would take place over several days, so today wasn’t the only day—but since dozens of people would be evaluated in a single day, it was bound to take time.
Will he be okay…?
What if he had a panic attack? What if he froze from nerves? Worse than backfiring, what if it traumatized him so badly that he could never stand in front of a camera again?
Did I push him too hard?
Even though I thought a shock like that was necessary if he wanted to return to the entertainment industry, I also wondered if I’d made a reckless gamble without truly knowing how Ji-woo had been treated within his team.
Still… it’s something he has to overcome himself.
About two hours passed like that.
Just as I was worrying, the elevator doors opened and a familiar face walked out. The first thing I checked was Ji-woo’s expression.
…?
Thankfully, Ji-woo wasn’t crying or scowling.
Instead, he wore a subtle expression that was hard to read.
…?
He wasn’t smiling… what was that? He looked nervous, his eyes darting around, but the corners of his mouth were oddly lifted. I quickly rolled down the window and asked,
“Is it over?”
Ji-woo answered with an unusually bright expression.
“Yes…!”
Oh… did it go well? Holding onto a faint sense of hope, I asked again,
“How was it?”
Ji-woo opened the passenger door, squeezed himself into the seat, and said,
“Th-thankfully… everyone was really nice…! The atmosphere was good, and I think it went… okay….”
Only then did I understand what that strange expression had meant. He was embarrassed.
“The atmosphere was good?”
“Yes… someone recognized me… said they enjoyed the movie, and complimented my singing….”
Thinking about it, that made sense.
Even if he’d failed once, there were plenty of candidates aiming for a re-debut—and that history actually worked in his favor by showing how badly he wanted it.
On top of that, Ji-woo had once won an award as a child actor at a film festival. Among average trainees, someone with such a distinctive background would’ve been like finding a pumpkin rolling in on its own vine for the production staff.
And his vocals… well, they’re not that bad.
He couldn’t be called particularly good yet, but if the key suited him, he could push through with tone alone.
The problem was… dancing.
Just in case, I asked,
“They didn’t make you dance?”
Ji-woo glanced at me cautiously.
“No….”
“Well, that’s fine.”
That meant they passed him without even checking. There was no need to worry about him making it past the second round—if things went really well, they might even put him front and center during pre-promotion.
Though that would take even more luck.
Even if only as a child actor, a former ten-million-viewer movie star and film festival award winner appearing on an audition show was definitely something worth promoting.
As I nodded quietly, Ji-woo gathered his courage, hugged Munji tightly, and muttered in a tiny voice,
“Th-thank you….”
I shrugged.
“For what?”
Ji-woo reverted to his fidgety expression and barely managed to squeeze out a sentence.
“For… bringing me… this far….”
It was a proper answer—but it couldn’t end there.
I smiled lightly and replied,
“It’s nothing. I didn’t do anything that special.”
Still, if pulling him out of that house he’d shut himself away in was enough to warrant immediate gratitude, then there was something Ji-woo needed to do more of.
“Well, the audition’s done—shall we head to the practice room now?”
At my words, Ji-woo stared at me, eyes wide as if struck by lightning.
“What? The practice room…?”
Did he think we were going straight to the set without preparing to dance? Telling him to just show his face was only for the worst-case scenario.
If there was a chance, of course we should aim higher. Letting an opportunity slip just because he hadn’t prepared—even though he could—was unacceptable.
“Yes. Your dancing is lacking, Ji-woo. You don’t want to hear that they were disappointed during the ranking evaluation, do you?”
“…!”
Only then did confusion flood Ji-woo’s face. I smiled and added,
“So, we need to start preparing now—so you can live up to their expectations.”
“Th-that’s….”
Ji-woo looked like he’d just realized he’d been scammed and was on the verge of tears, but it was already too late.
“Oh, and the practice room allows pets, so Munji can come too. That’s good, right?”
Instead of answering, Ji-woo clung to Munji tightly with a miserable expression. His obvious behavior made me laugh
