Originally, the audition was driven mostly by Director Kim’s stubborn pride.
“That film is doomed. Nobody’s accepting it.”
That was what everyone said, clicking their tongues.
Director Kim gritted his teeth.
If it fails, fine – but I won’t live a miserable life, not without putting up a fight!
He wasn’t a fool. He knew just how brutal the path ahead might be.
A director the public has tossed aside – how successful can his movie be?
Yet…
Was it coincidence? Ever since then, things seemed to fall into place… or is it just my imagination?
Right after he “lucked out” at the audition, picking up some undiscovered gem… a sudden investor latched onto the previously shunned project.
And it’s even a major corporation!
He didn’t know why a corporation of that stature was backing him, but that wasn’t all.
Recently, Gu Il-hwan reached out to him.
Is this a dream?
Who was Gu Il-hwan?
Starting from his youth, he’d more or less dominated the big screen with his rock-solid acting. He had at least five “ten-million-ticket” hits. He is now older and considered a middle-aged actor. After his last role, he’d earned the title of “Nation’s Dad.”
That “Nation’s ___” moniker wasn’t just handed out. It required strong recognition and wide public affection.
In Gu Il-hwan’s case, a poignant family hardship had surfaced, further solidifying him as the “Nation’s Dad.”
I thought he might be effectively retired, since he hadn’t worked lately… but now he’s back?
If Gu Il-hwan starred in his film, just the news of his comeback alone guaranteed them a baseline audience.
Even after that, Director Kim received more welcome inquiries – as if guided by an unseen hand. Everything advanced smoothly, like a boat in a strong tailwind.
“Rowoon, the script reading is set for next Friday.”
“That soon?”
“Director Kim’s known for working at a breakneck pace. By his standards, this isn’t even that quick.”
They’d only gotten word a few days ago that the casting was finished for all roles. Then yesterday, Rowoon received the completed screenplay.
He still remembered seeing his name printed boldly across the thick script booklet – and how he’d sat there a long while, silently tracing his fingers over that name.
“Hyung, have you heard who I’ll be acting opposite?”
“Director Kim didn’t tell you?”
“Hmm… Are you upset, hyung?”
“…No? I’m not upset. Me, upset about something? Bah, I’m not the kind of guy who’d sulk over the star I handle privately calling only the director and not me. Doesn’t bother me one bit, you see.”
He totally seemed bothered.
“Of course not! I know how much you do for me. Director Kim’s just being extra polite, that’s all.”
“…Huh, now I almost feel bad for Director Kim.”
For some reason, the manager clicked his tongue.
“About your co-star – presumably the female lead? They haven’t revealed it yet. Probably they want to keep it a surprise. We’ll see at the read-through, I guess. Why, is there something worrying you?”
“Ah, I just wanted to shape my image around whoever it is. If I knew who the other character is, it’d be easier to get a grasp of how they’ll interact. I’m still lacking a lot, so I’m anxious… Why’re you looking at me like that?”
Rowoon was idly tapping the script, now slightly curled at the edges from so much rereading. His manager stared at him with watery eyes.
“No… I’m just moved. That this day finally came…”
He discreetly brushed an index finger across his tearless eyes and continued:
“Why be anxious? Not many people read the entire script so thoroughly right after receiving it. Rowoon, seriously, you must’ve memorized it all by now, right?”
“It’s not like I’m working that hard… Everyone does this…”
“Who memorizes over a hundred pages in a single day? You’re talking nonsense, kiddo.”
“And I’m still so lacking, it’s nerve-wracking if I don’t push myself…”
As Rowoon trailed off, the manager thumped his own chest with a fist the size of a pot lid.
“Rowoon-ah, everything changed for the better except one thing: your confidence.”
“…Huh?”
“Admittedly, you used to act all high-and-mighty without any skill or effort. That was an issue. But at least you had confidence back then.”
Though it was baseless confidence, ironically that had been its own problem. The manager sighed:
“I’m not saying this just ’cause I handle you, but your acting’s really good now. It doesn’t even look like the same Rowoon who used to produce cringe performances. People would think you’re a different man.”
That was the truth, but Rowoon couldn’t say so.
“Aish, there’s no way to prove this to you. Guess you’ll figure it out in due time.”
Likely he meant Rowoon should go out, face real challenges on set, and discover reality. Rowoon didn’t know what exactly, but he intended to keep practicing. I have to rely on practice, no matter what.
Anxiety arises from feeling incomplete.
Before he got possessed, Rowoon’s old life was always anxious, too – whenever the group started gaining traction, the company forced them out for constant schedules.
-In times like this, we need more practice to cement our spot. That was Rowoon’s viewpoint, but the higher-ups disagreed.
And so, Gwae-ion…
Imploded.
Even if the members hadn’t each set off bombs in their own way, Rowoon would always have felt uneasy. Because their singing and dancing remained sloppy, lacking enough training time. Even if he sacrificed sleep, it wasn’t enough.
To truly shine, you needed that matched level of effort.
So I’ll keep practicing until the read-through.
He’d memorized the script already, but that wasn’t enough for him. He reread the text multiple times, imprinting each word on his brain. Because it’s not just reading; it’s gleaning the subtext, the emotions and narratives each scene tries to convey, weaving those subtle gaps between lines into his performance.
“We only have about a week ’til the read-through, so it’s kind of tight. I’ve booked styling and grooming. We can’t just show up undone. Last time, the audition was rushed – but this time, we should prep.”
“Hyung, there’s no time. I can’t do that.”
“Huh? You can’t do what?”
“I need practice. Way more script analysis.”
“But you already memorized it. Why keep reading it?” asked the manager, recalling how Rowoon used to barely glance at scripts. Now he’d not only memorized every page – he seemed to want more?
Even the manager was stunned, thinking “He’s changed so much – is it okay to change this drastically?” Noting the circles under Rowoon’s eyes, the manager asked:
“Rowoon, did you pull an all-nighter?”
“I didn’t plan to. It’s just… the script is so interesting.”
“…?”
The manager found it paradoxical, but Rowoon was sincere. The performance he began just to avoid death had become something he genuinely enjoyed. Between that sense of duty, the gratitude to Director Kim, and the relief of having a positive environment, he couldn’t help devoting himself wholeheartedly. Hence the dark circles from reading the script repeatedly.
Completely perplexed, the manager watched him recite his plan:
“Also, hyung, when I film myself, I see that my portrayal’s still shallow. I need more practice. The boss said I could get an acting coach, right? Is that possible soon?”
After all, next Friday was only a week away – time was running out.
Watching Rowoon mumble about that, the manager had the same thought again:
Our boy is so different now…
But he didn’t hate it. If anything, it was surreal yet strangely satisfying:
“Sure. I’ll find a coach for you.”
“Find a coach? Ha,” Rowoon said with a laugh, and the manager felt a sense of proud disbelief.
He remembered the polar opposite conversation in the past, when just handing Rowoon a script had been torture. Now, Rowoon was basically begging for more.
Vowing to support him fully, the manager weighed how best to do so. Meanwhile, Rowoon was busy preparing.
And soon enough, that script reading date loomed closer.
They arrived before a towering building in the heart of Seoul.
“Go ahead first. I’ll bring the coffee.
Having gotten out of the car, the manager waved Rowoon on.
“I can come along.”
“No need. You go check out the vibe. Make a good first impression.”
Any other time, the manager would’ve insisted on staying with Rowoon. But after seeing him study lines all night, the manager seemed to be letting him go alone, perhaps to show trust:
“Sigh, guess this is that ‘empty nest syndrome’? he joked.
With a teddy-bear build, wiping an invisible tear from his eye, he parted ways.
So Rowoon found himself alone, entering the building. The interior was bright and imposing.
I’m not used to going anywhere without my manager anymore…
Not long ago, he’d done everything solo, but only a month of care had left him oddly dependent.
So this is what having people around is like.
He paused, lost in thought, until someone stepped up to wait for the elevator beside him.
Sensing their presence, Rowoon instinctively turned his head.
“…?”
Uh… Excuse me? Are you glaring at me…?
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