OATCG 13

Chapter – 13

It wasn’t only Dasol who felt chills from Sunwoo’s acting.

Everyone in the audience trembled as they watched him.

A strange charm — quiet, yet gripping, as if bewitching people.

Dayeon was no exception.

Who is that guy?

Dayeon had watched Confession at least ten times.

And her viewing focus had always been the same: Do-young’s acting. Only that.

To be honest… the other actors’ performances were just background props that helped make Do-young shine more.

And that wasn’t just her bias as a fan talking.

Objectively speaking, the difference in level made it impossible not to notice.

She had liked Eunseok because he was one of the few actors who didn’t fade even next to Do-young.

When Eunseok stood on stage with him, it felt like Do-young’s acting grew even more alive.

So she’d been disappointed when she heard Eunseok wouldn’t be performing today…

Who is that…?

She couldn’t help but be amazed.

First of all, his basic acting ability was excellent. From the way he walked, you could feel the dark aura of someone driven to the edge.

But that wasn’t all.

…I’ve never seen such a forlorn Seung-do before.

The Seung-do she’d seen until now had been like… a dried, brittle log.

A log whose very last spark of life had already been drained, just waiting to burn.

But this Seung-do was different.

Somehow rebellious — and yet as if he were silently begging for help.

Like a wounded cat.

She had never seen a Seung-do like this.

Unfamiliar. And yet she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

It felt like if she looked away, he would crumble like falling snowflakes.

But that didn’t feel bad.

No — it felt like only this Seung-do could truly move her heart.

Everyone else here was probably feeling the same way.

Maybe that’s why—

When Seung-do appeared during the curtain call…

“Kyaaaaah!”

“That was amazing!”

Thunderous cheers filled the theater.

Acting was fascinating.

The more Sunwoo acted in Cheongsong, the more he thought starting acting had been the best decision of his life.

Had he ever been this deeply absorbed in anything before? Even during his senior year of high school, when he’d been completely consumed by studying, it hadn’t been like this.

And there was a reason.

Acting was full of the colors Sunwoo had always longed for.

Black suit. White shirt. Black tie.

A black briefcase, white résumé paper, and lines of black letters crammed across the page…

His old world had been nothing but black and white.

But the stage — the stage was colorful.

Beautiful.

…Well, Seung-do’s color isn’t exactly pretty, though.

Sunwoo looked at Seung-do’s color orb and gave a bitter smile.

A dark, blood-red hue.

At first, he hadn’t liked it much. It wasn’t pleasant to steep himself in this color — depression, agony, simmering rage.

But now, it wasn’t like that anymore.

Because now he knew that this color was Seung-do.

The more he studied him, the more he understood him — and the more he came to genuinely care.

It must’ve been so hard for you.

He’d never dug into a character this deeply before.

The more he felt Seung-do’s hellish heart, the closer the man seemed.

And because of that, he felt even sorrier for him.

To go to a priest for help… and the only thing he could say was: How will you punish me?

How desperate must he have been — to see even punishment as hope?

There was nothing Sunwoo could do for Seung-do.

All he could do was express him — in a way the audience could understand.

Who Seung-do was.

Why he ended up doing what he did.

He worried, though.

Would these emotions really get across?

Would the audience truly understand Seung-do?

“When the play ends, you’ll know. Whether your acting reached them.”

Eunseok had said that while watching him.

“How?”

“Curtain call.”

Eunseok snapped his fingers.

“People’s hearts are honest. The more they’re moved, the louder they cheer.”

“…So if I acted well, the applause will answer me.”

“Yeah. Simple, right?”

Right. Simple.

Sunwoo steadied himself.

No need to overthink it.

Just think about Seung-do.

Paint the stage.

With Seung-do’s color.

“You’re not here to confess your sins. You’re here to announce them.”

Sunwoo lifted his head.

The priest was looking at him — bathed in brilliant golden light like the sun.

At first, that light had overwhelmed him — made him feel small.

But not anymore.

Sunwoo walked forward.

Step by step, he left Seung-do’s dark red footprints across the stage.

“…I intend to kill someone.”

But it wasn’t only darkness.

Looking at the priest, Sunwoo placed a hand on his own chest.

“Please… how will you punish me?”

He begged.

He asked to be saved.

From Sunwoo’s fingertips, a silver thread appeared — slowly stretching toward the priest.

But—

“I do not punish sins you have yet to commit.”

The priest never took the thread.

The priest’s world remained golden — while Seung-do stood alone, stained red.

Right.

“I’m back.”

Until he returned once more — and perhaps long after…

“Will you punish me now?”

And in that instant.

Just for a moment — as if Seung-do’s crimson began to swallow Do-young’s golden world—

Click!

The stage went dark.

His final scene had ended.

His heart pounded.

It didn’t feel real — that he’d just been on that stage.

So even backstage, Sunwoo just sat there blankly for a long time.

Had he really done well?

Had the audience truly understood Seung-do?

Yechaan appeared while those thoughts tangled in his mind.

“…Hyung. That was insane.”

“Huh? …What?”

“That mood at the end — seriously, it was unreal. Everyone looked mesmerized. I honestly think you might be today’s curtain-call star.”

“Haha… nah, but thanks.”

Sunwoo laughed weakly.

Then a thought struck him, and he turned to Yechaan.

“Hey, Yechaan.”

“Yeah?”

“My Seung-do… what did you think?”

“He was great!”

“No — I mean as a person. What did he make you feel?”

“Uh…”

He clearly hadn’t expected that question.

Yechaan blinked, thought seriously for a moment, then answered shortly:

“…I felt sorry for him.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. Forget the murder stuff — I just… felt really sorry for him.”

Sunwoo finally smiled.

Because that was exactly how he’d felt about Seung-do.

He’d made a pitiful man look pitiful. That alone… felt like he’d at least done the basics.

Praise about “great acting” didn’t really sink in.

Especially with Do-young right there in front of him.

Next to him, Sunwoo’s acting felt like nothing.

But for now, it was enough to be grateful for these small results.

No need to get carried away — or crushed.

Or so he thought.

“Thank you!”

“Woooooo!”

When curtain call began, the tension returned anyway.

The other actors from Confession went up one by one, greeted the crowd, and each time applause and cheers erupted.

Watching from the sidelines before, he’d never paid much attention to how loud it was.

It wasn’t his applause.

But now, things were different.

…Why is my heart beating so fast?

It pounded harder than when he’d actually been on stage.

Back then, he only had to think about Seung-do — but curtain call wasn’t Seung-do’s time.

It was Kim Sunwoo’s.

And then—

“Sunwoo. Go.”

“…Yes!”

His turn finally came.

Sunwoo forced a smile and stepped out.

Ah — his face definitely felt weird.

Character acting was one thing — but managing his own expressions was harder than he thought.

He calmed himself.

Even if the applause was weak, don’t take it to heart. First performance. As long as there’s no booing, it’s fine.

But—

“Kyaaaaaaa—!”

“You were incredible!”

“Whistle—!!”

What…?

What was happening?

He couldn’t move.

An overwhelming roar. His eardrums felt like they might burst.

All of that — for him?

“Th-thank you!”

He was so flustered he even stuttered.

He hadn’t expected cheers like this.

He bowed twice — then awkwardly walked offstage and rubbed his face with both hands.

His heart was still racing.

The cheers felt unreal — like a dream.

Had his acting… really been good?

“…Wow.”

Sunwoo stared at his trembling hands.

It still didn’t feel real. His mind was blank.

And yet — he kept smiling.

Acting…

He really was glad he’d started.