“I’m done.”
Phew. Out of habit, I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and returned to my seat. After hopping back onto the chair, I waited for the judges’ reactions.
All five seemed to snap out of a daze at my words. I focused on Jessica, the woman sitting in the middle. Compared to the other four, her expression wasn’t purely astonishment. It was almost as though she’d expected this all along—there was even a faint smile on her face.
Instead of surprise, she looked relieved, like she’d just confirmed something she’d anticipated.
What was that about?
If this had been the Oscar Troupe, and she was Oscar Pitt or Shakespeare, I’d have asked her straight away what that expression meant. But it didn’t seem appropriate to ask here. Maybe I’d ask later if we ended up talking one-on-one. I tucked the thought away in my mind. Meanwhile, the judges whispered among themselves.
“…or maybe…”
“…possibly, but we can… ask if…”
They lowered their voices, probably so I wouldn’t hear. I couldn’t make out the words. Sheesh, manners. I almost frowned, not liking it.
But no—I told myself to calm down. Right now, I’m not some guaranteed cast member, nor do I have the reputation of the “Golden Mask.” I’m just someone auditioning, so I decided to be patient a little longer.
“Ahem, Siwoo?”
It seemed they’d finished discussing. Jessica, seated in the center, spoke on behalf of the panel.
“Yes?”
I tilted my head, as if asking what she needed.
“About the acting you just showed us—could you explain why you chose to interpret the grandson’s role that way?”
“Hmm, you mean the reason for my interpretation?”
“Right. I’d love to hear what made you see the grandson’s character that way.”
Nice, a real audition-type question. And speaking in English was so much more comfortable than fishing for the right Korean words. Jessica looked a bit surprised that I used a term like “interpretation,” but at least she wasn’t grilling me about how a kid could speak English so well.
“I think the boy would feel very uneasy. Based on his lines, he’s been tossed around by irresponsible adults. So he’d try to seem cheerful on the surface, but he’s still a child, right? He can’t fully hide that anxiety. Plus…”
I went on about my reasoning at length. After listening quietly, Jessica gave me a concise summary:
“So… you wanted to show that the child is anxious and constantly checking people’s reactions, right?”
“Absolutely, yes.”
It must have matched what she expected from my performance. Even if I hadn’t explained, someone who understood acting would probably guess my intent. Judging by Jessica’s satisfied smile, she’d recognized it already. She was likely just verifying whether I was genuinely thinking along those lines. Understandable, since a five-year-old who thinks this way is rare.
“Okay… you had a choice of three scenes from the script. Why did you pick this one?”
Ah, so Jessica’s not the only judge here.
This question came from one of the Korean judges who’d remained quiet until now, apparently the oldest among them. I pursed my lips thoughtfully. The audition script offered three possible scenes—why did I pick this one?
“It best shows the grandson’s dual nature.”
He asked in Korean, and I answered in English. Even though I’d practiced Korean diligently, I’m more confident in English. Besides, the real person in charge here seemed to be Jessica, and I could tell she didn’t want a translated version of my words.
It worked out fine, anyway. The man sitting next to Jessica, hair tied at the back, translated my English answers into Korean so everyone else could understand.
“Dual nature? That’s a first.”
“True. The other two scenes either show the grandson happy, or escaping his sad reality… The emotions are more one-note.”
The judges nodded, apparently convinced. Great.
“Wait… I see something unusual in your background.”
A new question. Now the man right next to Jessica spoke up. This one could be interesting.
“I see here that you recently performed at a troupe called Bi-Sang-Cheol-tto 777. How was that experience? It says you did a show directed by Kang Yong-hwi. How did you end up on stage there?”
Huh? He knows about Kang Yong-hwi?
He didn’t sound like he was just making small talk. Surprised by the reference to my dear director, I asked,
“Wow, you know Director Kang?”
Because the question was off-topic from script interpretation, I answered in Korean this time. The man nodded with a smile, as if he found me adorable, and explained:
“I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier. I’m Cho I-soo, the co-director of this show. I’ve been active on Broadway, but I’m well aware of Kang Yong-hwi’s reputation in Korea. I came here about a year ago, watched his show, and spoke to him personally.”
“Woah…”
So this Cho I-soo is also a director. I’d guessed he was in production, but it turns out he directs. I nodded, thinking I’d have to ask Kang Yong-hwi about him when I got back to the troupe.
He had to be referring to the show . That means the child role—Youngsoo. So I answered:
“It had a part for a kid named Youngsoo! Director Kang noticed my ad-lib performance and asked if I wanted to try. I said sure.”
Even now, I recall how that moment overwhelmed me with gratitude—that he’d somehow sensed my longing to be on stage and asked me if I wanted the part.
“How many times did you perform?”
“Twelve! It ran for a month. We practiced before that, too.”
While I answered, Cho I-soo was translating for Jessica, which slowed down the process. Not a huge deal, but waiting around did feel a bit boring.
Meanwhile, I wondered, “Should I speak Korean or English?” Because the show is presumably in Korean. (I’m basically taking it for granted I’ll get the part, ignoring the possibility of failing.)
Once Cho I-soo relayed my words to Jessica, he followed up:
“You said you rehearsed for a month; how was that? Were you physically okay? The lead director is curious.”
“I… I went to the troupe every day! But it was fun watching other actors rehearse, and I could ask the director all sorts of stuff.”
“Sounds like you must be pretty robust, then, Siwoo.”
The judges smiled kindly, but I realized a bit late that I didn’t emphasize how physically demanding it could be for a five-year-old. The audition panel might worry about my stamina.
“Um, physically, I’m fine! I guess my vocal projection is still lacking, though. I’m working to improve it. My belly tenses up sometimes, but day by day, my pronunciation’s improving, so I’m okay.”
I’d thrown that in to sound more mature. However, the judges just widened their eyes at me.
…Did I say something wrong?
“…What kind of five-year-old is this self-aware…?”
“He’s better at it than you, sunbae.”
“What’d he say?”
“Um, nothing. Just that Siwoo is really sharp. Hahaha.”
The Korean judges shook their heads, repeating my words to themselves.
Meanwhile, Jessica, hearing Cho I-soo’s translation, lifted both hands in surprise.
“Wow, that’s amazing. Thinking like a pro already? I want him even more.”
“Jessica, we’re still in the middle of an audition.”
Did she just admit she wants me? My eyes narrowed at Jessica in amusement, and she burst into laughter.
“Forgive me, I-soo. This is the first time I’ve seen a kid like him. Even I know my own reaction is glitched right now.”
“Well, it’s good you know,” he replied with a wry smile, gazing at me.
Guess I might have oversold it.
“All right, last question.”
“Yes?”
Phew. Good thing Jessica spoke up. I’d been replaying my last Korean sentence in my head, worried I’d said something weird.
“Siwoo, about the Round 1 audition video: did you do it with the RUN character in mind? And about that script you performed—‘Noname,’ I think you called it?”
“Mm, I wrote that.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard, but I can’t believe it. Did you really write lines of that caliber?”
“Yes. It’s not a big deal.”
The judges gaped at my casual reply.
“A five-year-old wrote that?”
“Siwoo, what kind of life have you lived? You’ve really felt all those emotions in only five years?”
Though understandable, their questions felt unsatisfying. Why did they assume a five-year-old was incapable of such thoughts? In the show, the protagonist is only seven and still goes through all that. I sighed inwardly. Adults often assume a child doesn’t notice or understand a lot. But that’s far from true. Kids sense and think about many things, even if they can’t articulate them well.
As a former nine-year-old in my last life, I knew this better than anyone. Even though I’d grown up with certain comforts, my parents never truly cared for me—it was just the staff’s job. Until I discovered theater by chance, I was just the quiet, resigned youngest son of a duke. But inside, I was always thinking.
Now, in my second go at childhood, I knew well: adults underestimate kids’ awareness. Yet children often forgive them wholeheartedly, wanting to trust them again.
So I said, “I’m five, so I know what a five-year-old feels.”
I was an actor, after all, and it’s my job to express what I feel so the audience can see it.
“And sharing that with the audience is what I want to do—and what I need to do.”
Jessica and the rest of the judges stared, taken aback. My voice might be childish, but the resolve behind it was as solid as any adult actor’s. For a moment, the audition room fell silent.
Finally, Jessica broke into a contented smile and delivered a single line:
“Let’s run.”
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