OATCG 18

Chapter – 18

Before he knew it, the audition day had arrived while he was in the middle of special training.

Perhaps thanks to Minhee and Hyeseong’s constant care, Sunwoo was fortunately able to prepare for the audition without hurting his throat or running into any problems.

That wasn’t all. Because his vocalization itself had become much more solid than before, the stability of his acting also felt far better than it used to.

If it weren’t for the two of them, he might not have grown at all—he might not even have been able to audition properly.

“That’s just because you worked hard,” Minhee said, shrugging as if it were nothing in response to Sunwoo’s thanks.

“And if we’d just left you alone, you’d have ended up with vocal nodules. How could we let that slide? Seriously, guys who practice as recklessly as you are the biggest headache. You can’t take your eyes off them.”

“…I didn’t really have anything else to do besides practice.”

“Don’t talk back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Good. Just say ‘I was wrong’ like a normal person.”

Minhee’s tough tone made Sunwoo smile silently.

Watching her, Hyeseong clicked his tongue.

“Geez, Minhee, you really do make everything sound scary. Honestly, you should’ve been a soldier instead of an actor.”

“If you keep portraying me as scary, I might really become scary, oppa.”

“…O-okay. Got it.”

Hyeseong took a cautious step back, startled, then quickly turned to Sunwoo with a playful grin.

“Anyway, Sunwoo. Wanna check your throat today? Gwak gwak gwak, bak bak bak, dak dak dak!”

“…Gwak gwak gwak, bak bak bak, dak dak dak!”

“Okay, condition’s great.”

“Oppa, that training method… is it really legit?”

“It is! I fixed both my pronunciation and vocalization with this!”

Hyeseong jumped in place, looking indignant at Minhee’s skeptical stare.

Sunwoo smiled wryly.

To be honest, he’d thought the same thing at first. He’d even wondered if they were messing with him…

But strangely enough, it worked incredibly well.

His slurred pronunciation and weak breathing were completely resolved through this training.

When he delivered lines, it felt like the character’s color spread much farther than before.

The only problem was that the exercise looked ridiculous—but if it helped his acting, what couldn’t he do?

“So, how’s everyone feeling? Confident about today’s audition?” Hyeseong asked with a gentle smile as he looked around.

Minhee shrugged.

“What’s there to say? If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

“And if you fail, you’ll just drink again.”

“I never said I wouldn’t drink.”

“Yeah, yeah… What about you, Sunwoo?”

“I…”

Sunwoo hesitated for a moment.

The more he prepared for the audition, the greedier he became.

It was inevitable. The more time and emotion you pour into a role, the more your heart grows attached to it.

Rather than wanting to be the lead, it felt more accurate to say… he wanted to play Heejae.

And because of that, he also felt more anxious.

Could he really have it? Could he really do it? Those thoughts kept creeping in.

Sunwoo answered honestly.

“I’m a little scared. I keep wondering if I can really do it.”

“You can’t be like that! You can’t shrink back just because it’s a lead role!” Hyeseong waved his arms and shook his head.

“I always tell you, right? What is acting?”

“…Momentum?”

“That’s right. Even in fights, if you start believing you’ve already won, you usually do. Without momentum, even things that should work won’t!”

Sunwoo nodded. He understood what he meant.

Even during job interviews, once his confidence faltered, it was nearly impossible to recover.

Sunwoo clenched his fist.

Alright. Let’s raise the momentum.

Go in fired up.

Just as he was steeling his resolve—

“Huh? Jaewon oppa?”

Minhee’s eyes widened.

Jaewon? The name sounded familiar. As Sunwoo turned his head—

A man who looked to be around 190 centimeters tall appeared by the door.

He had the kind of appearance that would draw everyone’s eyes on the street.

Not only was he tall, but his entire body was packed with muscle—and paired with an unexpectedly pretty face, there wasn’t a single ordinary thing about him.

“Hey, Minhee. Long time no see. Hyeseong sunbae, you’re here too.”

“Hyung, I’m here too!”

“Yeah, yeah. Long time, Yechana.”

And on top of that—a deep, cavernous voice that completely defied expectations.

Sunwoo swallowed. There was something about him that naturally put others on edge. A different kind of charisma from Doyoung’s.

Only then did Sunwoo remember where he’d heard the name Jaewon before.

He was the senior Hyeseong had mentioned—the one who went back and forth between Cheongsong and construction sites each quarter while doing theater.

Jaewon looked toward Sunwoo.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Hello. I’m Kim Sunwoo. I just joined!”

“Joined? There hasn’t been a recruitment period since Yechana joined, has there?”

“Hey, quiet and sit down. But what’s with your hand? Are you hurt?”

“Ah, a steel beam fell on it at the site. I’m fine. It won’t affect my acting.”

“…A steel beam fell on you?”

He really was extraordinary in every sense.

Sunwoo subtly observed Jaewon.

So this is the biggest rival.

His intuition told him so.

Honestly, this fight felt difficult.

At a glance, Jaewon was overwhelmingly strong.

But Sunwoo recalled Eunseok sunbae’s advice.

—Focus only on your acting.

Right.

Other people’s acting was beyond his control. His job was simply to show his best.

With his resolve set, the audition soon began.

It was Sunwoo’s first time watching an official Cheongsong audition.

He carefully observed each performance.

“I—I, me? I really don’t know anything!”

Yechana delivered his usual slick, playful acting.

“…Thank you. But… I don’t think I want to live either.”

Minhee, auditioning for Yebin, transformed into a shockingly depressed character.

“Are you really confident? That you can erase all of one person’s pain?”

Hyeseong’s fairy-like performance drew spontaneous admiration.

Comical one moment, then suddenly radiating mystical pressure the next—his depth was incredible.

Seo Jinwook, of course, also auditioned.

He played a delinquent who obsessively stalked and threatened Yebin, and his synchronization with the role was flawless—almost unsettlingly so.

His acting skills were undeniably good.

If only he’d just shut up and act, he’d be a decent actor.

But now wasn’t the time to worry about Seo Jinwook.

Sunwoo focused on the stage.

Before long… it was time for the audition for the lead role, Heejae.

Five actors had applied for Heejae.

Sunwoo watched their performances.

And his impression was—

…If I do well, I might actually have a chance.

In terms of stability, they were clearly more seasoned than Sunwoo.

Their lines, gestures, expressions, eye movements—all clean and polished.

But Sunwoo had something he could put up against them.

Through the power of the Color Orbs—delicate yet intense emotional lines.

The others’ colors didn’t feel consistent yet.

Yellow, then sky blue, then deep blue—changing from moment to moment.

They hadn’t found a base color.

In simpler terms, they hadn’t fully understood or digested “Heejae.”

Which was natural.

You can’t fully grasp a character overnight. Even with two weeks, it wasn’t enough time.

But Sunwoo was different.

With the Color Orbs, he could absorb a character’s color in two minutes—no, two seconds.

He could present a far more vivid performance than anyone else.

If Ji-hwan valued that, he could win.

…But then Jaewon stepped onto the stage.

“What… what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to make you live?”

At just one line—just one—

Sunwoo let out an involuntary sound.

He understood instantly.

Why Jaewon could challenge Doyoung. Why the seniors had warned him.

He was a monster.

Jaewon already knew exactly how to portray Heejae.

While the others were still searching for the color of the role, Jaewon’s Heejae shone unmistakably clear.

Like red spider lilies, his crimson flooded the stage.

The sheer energy he possessed as an actor was overwhelming.

Sunwoo’s mouth fell open.

Had he ever filled a stage like that?

The belief that he could win vanished in an instant.

He didn’t want to admit it—but it was reality.

This was an unwinnable fight.

That man on stage was several steps ahead of him in every way.

—See? I told you it’d be hard.

It felt like someone whispered in his ear.

But Sunwoo clenched his fist.

Since he’d started acting, things had always gone his way.

Joining the troupe. Getting Seungdo’s role. Everything had been smooth.

But you can’t always win.

Sometimes you take an interview knowing you’ll fail.

Hadn’t he told everyone that the process mattered more than the result, acting all wise?

Now it was time to live by his words.

“Next, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Yes.”

Sunwoo stepped onto the stage.

It still felt like the red spider lily hue Jaewon had cast lingered in the air.

He didn’t know how much of that afterimage he could erase—but he had to try.

“Sunwoo, let’s do scene number seven.”

“Yes.”

The moment the director spoke, the Color Orbs appeared as if they’d been waiting.

Seeing them shine brightly, Sunwoo smiled.

Right. Winning or losing can wait.

For now, just act.

Show what color his Heejae carries.

Sunwoo clenched his fist.

The Color Orbs burst—

And everything about him was dyed.

Gradually, gently—

Pink.