OATCG 09

chapter – 09

Cheongsong’s auditions are always held openly so the troupe members can watch.

Because of that, the seats in Cheongsong Theater were filled to the brim with company members. They were here to see.

It wasn’t because they wanted to see who would be cast as Seung-do.

If that were the only reason, nowhere near this many people would have shown up.

Everyone had gathered because the new recruit decided to audition — and they were curious about his acting.

That kid must be really nervous.

Looking over the audience packed with troupe members, Eun-seok clicked his tongue inwardly.

Rumors about Kim Sun-woo had already spread all through Cheongsong.

A born acting genius with zero experience.

Eun-seok hadn’t seen him himself, but apparently at his first initiation performance, he’d shown surprisingly deep acting — even went toe-to-toe with Seo Jin-wook, they said.

Honestly, it was hard to believe.

How good could some kid with no acting experience really be?

No — I should watch without bias.

Eun-seok shook his head.

If he were just there as a spectator like everyone else, it wouldn’t matter so much.

But today, he wasn’t here to watch. He was here as a judge.

He’d originally played the role of Seung-do, and among Cheongsong’s members, he had one of the longest careers — so there wasn’t anyone more suited to judge.

Other than… well.

“Hello, Do-young!”

“Oh — Do-young oppa!”

Cha Do-young. If anyone else came close, it was him.

Do-young greeted the members who said hello, then walked over slowly.

The judges’ seats were in the very front row.

He sat one seat away from Eun-seok, and Eun-seok gave him an awkward smile.

“Ah, Do-young. Hey.”

“…”

“Still mad…?”

“Let’s just focus on judging.”

“R-right…”

Eun-seok drooped a little.

Ever since he’d announced he was quitting the performance because of the film offer, Do-young had been like this.

He’d expected it. Do-young had never liked people who put the troupe second for one reason or another.

Director or not — dropping out of the troupe’s schedule because of a movie must have felt like betrayal.

He’s right to be upset, I guess.

Eun-seok had nothing to say in his defense.

He watched Do-young nervously.

He wanted to apologize, but he felt like apologizing would only make him angrier — so he couldn’t get the words out…

“What the — there’s a lot of people here!”

Ji-hwan appeared.

Seeing the theater completely filled, he let out a half-amused laugh. Eun-seok quickly waved.

“Director! Welcome!”

“What’s this? Why are you greeting me so nicely today?”

Ji-hwan smirked. Eun-seok rolled his eyes, subtly motioning toward Do-young.

Understanding immediately, Ji-hwan sat down between the two as if nothing were wrong, and joked lightly.

“Ahem. So… why are there so many people? We’re only casting one role.”

“They’re more interested in the bait than the dish.”

“The bait?”

“Yes. Kim Sun-woo. That kid.”

“Ah, so they still don’t trust him, huh?”

“Well… more like they’re just curious.”

Trailing off, Eun-seok asked carefully:

“What do you think of him? Is he any good?”

“Hm? You still haven’t seen him act?”

“No. Just heard the rumors. Haven’t even seen his face yet. But if he’s never acted before… is it okay for him to audition?”

“That’s only because you haven’t seen him.”

The one who answered was Do-young.

“If you’d seen him act, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

Eun-seok’s brows rose.

He was already surprised Do-young broke his sulk long enough to reply — but the evaluation shocked him more.

Do-young was notoriously strict with acting critiques.

“…Now I’m really curious.”

“Don’t get too hyped. Like you said, he’s still a rookie.”

Even while Ji-hwan added that little disclaimer, his eyes gleamed.

He remembered clearly the days he’d coached Sun-woo. In just a week, the kid absorbed everything he taught — and beyond that…

That expressiveness.

Sun-woo’s expressiveness left others in the dust.

He could dive faster — and deeper — than most method actors.

And on top of that—

He’s surprisingly cautious.

Sun-woo wasn’t reckless.

He didn’t overestimate himself, either.

So the fact he’d applied for the audition meant he was confident he could handle it.

Of course, Eun-seok, who barely knew Sun-woo, still looked confused.

He just couldn’t picture it.

And it wasn’t only him — everyone in the audience wore expressions filled with question marks.

Even if he was a “genius,” could he really handle such a big supporting role already?

Meanwhile—

“Seo Jin-wook here. I’ll begin.”

And of all people, his scene partner was Seo Jin-wook.

No one denied Seo Jin-wook’s acting talent.

“…I’m going to kill someone.”

His performance was clean.

Those empty, hollow eyes — that chilling expression like he might stab someone any second.

His sharp features worked completely in his favor.

He really is good.

Eun-seok admitted it.

Seo Jin-wook’s acting was strong not just in Cheongsong, but anywhere.

“I’m going to kill the man who killed my family. How will you punish this sin?”

This — along with his constant rumors — was the reason he was still in Cheongsong.

And because of him, that lingering question only grew larger in everyone’s minds.

Could Sun-woo really beat that?

Sure, last time he’d managed to hold his own — but could that kind of luck repeat itself against Jin-wook at full force?

“Hello. I’m Kim Sun-woo.”

Could his acting turn all those question marks into exclamation points?

Oh — he’s handsome.

Well, at least in Eun-seok’s head, one exclamation mark popped up immediately.

It was his first time really looking at Sun-woo.

Fair skin, delicate lines — almost tofu-soft. His features were faint, but even so, he was pretty good-looking.

If he can actually act, he could carry a lead role.

If the rumors about his skill were true… he’d be a huge help selling tickets.

Maybe even build a solid fanbase.

But looks aren’t what matters most for Seung-do.

Acting is.

“Ready to go right away?”

Ji-hwan asked.

Sun-woo nodded calmly.

“Yes. Shall I start?”

“Go ahead. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes and sank in.

No hint of nerves.

Just calm.

Seeing that serenity, Eun-seok’s gaze sharpened.

“…I’m going to kill someone.”

Sun-woo began.

And in that instant, Eun-seok felt like the air itself changed.

The humidity, the temperature, even the smell — everything shifted.

Sun-woo’s presence.

It swallowed the space whole — like the atmosphere itself had transformed.

…Oh?

Eun-seok’s eyes widened.

He’d expected something, since Do-young had vouched for him — but this?

This atmosphere was unreal.

You couldn’t look away.

You were forced into the scene.

“I’m going to kill the man who killed my family. How will you punish this sin?”

Staring into nothing, Sun-woo spoke slowly.

The acting was shockingly dense. Every word dripped raw emotion — a man who could think of nothing but revenge, chewing every syllable before spitting it out.

He hadn’t even raised his voice — but just looking into those empty eyes made goosebumps crawl up your arms.

And then—

“How… will you punish me?”

…Huh?

Eun-seok’s eyes widened again.

It wasn’t just him. Ji-hwan, Do-young — everyone watching drew a sharp breath.

What kind of character is Seung-do?

A man who loses everything and races toward ruin.

So this confession was supposed to be a challenge to the priest. Can you really call what I’m about to do a sin?

No — I don’t think so.

It was a declaration of war.

But…

Look at those eyes.

Eyes that seemed ready to spill tears — eyes full of pain.

Those eyes were…

…begging?

For what?

Do-young wondered — and immediately understood.

Sun-woo’s Seung-do wanted the priest to stop him.

He wanted to be punished harshly — to be told to stop. To be saved from the endless fall.

His declaration wasn’t a threat.

It was a plea: So please, stop me.

He’d never seen Seung-do portrayed like that.

And yet it didn’t feel strange at all. Instead, it felt so natural that he wondered why no one had ever done it before.

Eun-seok and Ji-hwan understood too. Their eyes darkened.

Ji-hwan let out a silent laugh.

…I almost threw this kid out?

He was certain.

For the first time since meeting Do-young — he felt that certainty again.

This kid was the real thing. One day, he’d move on to much bigger stages.

The scene ended.

Sun-woo still looked a little dazed, as if he were trapped in the lingering echoes of what he’d just performed.

In the end, Eun-seok couldn’t hold back.

“Sun-woo — what was that? How did you even think to interpret Seung-do like that?”

He didn’t even try to hide his excitement.

He couldn’t. As someone who’d played Seung-do himself — he’d never imagined this version existed.

But Sun-woo’s answer was ridiculous.

“If I were Seung-do, I think that’s how I’d feel. I think I’d want someone to stop me.”

In short: It just felt right.

Eun-seok clicked his tongue. He dragged all that out from pure instinct?

Fine — say the analysis itself could somehow be figured out.

But embodying that interpretation — seamlessly — was another level entirely.

And Sun-woo had done it as if he’d lived with the character for years.

Since Do-young, he’d never thought he’d feel this again…

He’s a monster.

Eun-seok’s lips trembled.

Just what kind of kid was he?