“Th-thank you very much.”
A cute goodbye from contestant #36.
After Han Siwoo left, Jessica burst out laughing.
“Isn’t it amazing? Look, all of you were saying it’d be impossible to use such a young child actor in Korea, weren’t you?”
Cho I-soo gently translated Jessica’s words into Korean for the judges. None of them could refute her now, so they just cleared their throats.
“Seeing him in person, it’s even more impressive. I’m eager to talk to him again.”
“Jessica, you’ve already made up your mind?”
“I-soo, you too, don’t deny it. Is there really going to be a kid that tops him, whether we see them today or tomorrow? I doubt it. With talent like that, we could take him straight to Broadway… He might put the kids I’ve raised in danger.”
She said this with a smile, and Cho I-soo’s eyes went wide. Many of the big-name stars Jessica had discovered on Broadway were found as children—young talents she helped mold.
Comparing those stars to this child was quite a statement.
Recalling Siwoo’s performance, Cho I-soo agreed it was special. But Jessica’s reaction seemed even stronger than that.
He hesitated, then asked. “Jessica, I do think that kid’s acting was incredible. But… you seem to be talking about him like he’s on par with adult actors on Broadway. Am I wrong?”
“Aha, I-soo… you really do know me by now, don’t you?”
“…That’s not the point here.”
After all, he’s just five years old. What exactly did she see in him to rate him this highly? He wasn’t trying to argue—he just wanted to know what he might have missed.
As if reading his mind, Jessica gave a faint smile and went on.
“Come on, I-soo. You didn’t catch that?”
“What?”
With Jessica smiling mischievously, he let out a sigh. She liked to tease him, being a fellow director. The other Korean judges, meanwhile, were left out of the loop as they spoke in fast-paced English, simply observing them blankly. Originally, they hadn’t brought a separate interpreter because Cho I-soo was fluent enough to handle it. But now, with these two rattling off quickly, no one else could join in.
“What are they saying?”
“Not sure. Something about Han Siwoo, I guess… Mr. Im, can you follow along?”
“…They’re talking so fast, I can’t catch it.”
So much for putting ‘studied abroad’ on one’s resume. The section chief clicked his tongue, and Im lowered his head. Realistically, a six-month study program is hardly enough for these near-native-level conversations.
Jessica paid the curious onlookers no heed and continued:
“That answer he gave. Wasn’t it impressive? Remember Jerry, when I worked with him?”
“Jerry… you mean…”
Cho I-soo frowned. Jerry was the second child actor Jessica cast for the grandson role after she staged RUN on Broadway. He was eight at the time—one year older than the original character. Even so, he was small enough to meet Jessica’s requirement for a faithful portrayal of the original child. Jessica was pretty tough on him. She wanted him to fully experience the boy’s situation so he’d understand the role. The staff called it too harsh—almost child abuse—and it never happened in practice, but Jessica insisted if a kid was properly informed and guided, they could understand such emotions.
She argued, “You’re all too hung up on him being seven. We’re not staging an everyday seven-year-old. At least try to help him grasp what that means. Adult actors do it with no problem, so why is it ‘abuse’ to ask it of a child?”
“Jessica, it depends on what you’re asking him to do.”
“This is work, I-soo. It’s not that I want the kid to feel real despair—just to imagine how it might feel and build on that. Ugh, never mind. If we can’t do that, I guess Jerry will just continue as he is.”
In the end, Jessica compromised with everyone’s concerns.
Now, Cho I-soo recalled contestant #36’s response: that even a young child understands more than adults think. That was exactly what Jessica had always wanted to hear.
“If this were a real person in that situation, they couldn’t possibly be all smiles. Sure, there are limits to how much we can persuade and inform a child, but we mustn’t give up just because it’s difficult.”
She looked very satisfied. She cheered the fact that here was a child actor who had already grasped it without her needing to teach him, the kind of thing Jerry had never fully managed. Back then, Jessica constantly found Jerry’s emotional depth lacking—but being a brilliant director, she compensated with skillful lighting and detail work, guiding him closely to complete the production.
“Isn’t it exciting, I-soo? I bet I could talk to Siwoo all night and not get tired of it.”
“Jessica, that would also be child abuse.”
“Aah, I wish Siwoo would hurry up and grow into an adult.”
“Then we wouldn’t be able to cast him, right?”
He deadpanned. Checking the time, he said:
“Anyway, are we done here? We still have another day of auditions. Let’s wrap it up.”
Han Siwoo was the last auditionee today. Because they had to consider the kids’ stamina, the second round was split over two days. Jessica specifically scheduled Siwoo as the final of day one so she could take her time watching him.
“Fine. But shouldn’t we come to a proper conclusion before we finish?”
“Naturally.”
Cho I-soo translated Jessica’s next words for the Korean panel:
“Now that you’ve seen the performances, how do you feel? Do you still oppose casting someone so young?”
The three Korean judges exchanged uneasy glances, hesitating to speak. In truth, they had been leaning toward one or two of the older kids, about ten years old. If they had to obey the strict age limit, they’d reasoned it would be safer to cast someone as old as possible. But that was before they saw the final contestant—a five-year-old named Han Siwoo. His outstanding performance left them speechless. Recalling the older kids’ performances, the memory already felt faint because his had been so impactful.
“No one’s saying anything. So, shall I assume we’re all thinking of the same actor?”
“You mean contestant #36?”
“Yes. Why, do you still think he’s too young?”
Jessica wore a triumphant smile. The Korean judges kept their mouths shut. They had seen Siwoo’s talent; resisting now would be futile. The usual practice is to cast an older child for a young role. At least he’s an early-in-the-year birth, which makes him a bit more physically developed. Still, they couldn’t help worrying about any potential issues—but none dared speak up, seeing Jessica’s smirk. If they protested, she’d demand someone better, and… no such child existed.
They quietly gave in, hoping this precocious kid’s talents would shine onstage without mishap.
A peaceful weekend in September.
“And then that jerk—er, that guy basically scammed my sister Na-young by—”
It was evening, and Dad had closed the chicken shop early, so all three of us were gathered on the sofa at home. I was explaining the plot of my favorite drama with excitement.
Right then:
“Hey! Everyone home?!”
Uncle stormed in, out of breath, after going out early that morning.
“Huh?”
“Dong-wook, what’s up?”
Without answering, Uncle sprinted into his room. What on earth? I glared at his retreating figure for stealing Mom and Dad’s attention from my drama.
Soon he came back, lugging a laptop, which he set on the living-room floor.
“Check this out! Hurry.”
“But I’m watching my drama—”
“Siwoo, trust me, this is more important!”
Something more important than my drama? I doubted it, but I was a bit curious. So Mom, Dad, and I gathered around him.
“Well? What is it?”
“Look here, there’s a news article about Siwoo!”
[“Rainbow Pictures’ ‘RUN’ to premiere at Gwanghwamun Cultural Center—bold casting choice…”]
Oh?
Intrigued, Uncle clicked on the headline. A subheading popped up:
[“The lead in Rainbow Pictures’ new production ‘RUN’ is a five-year-old boy. Who is Han Siwoo?”]
“Wow, it’s really about our Siwoo.”
Mom’s eyes sparkled, amazed to see my name in a news article. I set down the remote and turned off the TV.
“Look, look. And the reporter is Lee Ga-eun!”
“Lee Ga-eun?”
“Who’s that?”
“She’s a famous journalist in the theater world. It might not be widely known outside the scene, but for anyone even slightly interested in theater, she’s a big deal. She doesn’t usually write about newcomers.”
Uncle explained passionately, even spitting a bit. Mom and Dad brightened.
“Wow, so she’s that big a name?”
“Our Siwoo’s amazing, huh?”
“Ahem.”
I didn’t totally follow, but apparently it meant my name was in some important publication. Feeling proud, I put my hands on my hips at center stage. Being cast as the five-year-old lead in a big show like RUN was definitely newsworthy. And they sure work fast—I only got the official call about my casting yesterday.
“That’s it. I gotta print this out tomorrow. We can scrap Siwoo’s article in a little book.”
“Dong-wook.”
When Uncle got all worked up, Mom quietly called his name. Yup, I expected her to say something.
“Huh? Don’t stop me. I’m buying a scrapbook too.”
“No—make that two prints. I want my own.”
“Oh… okay.”
Mom, what?
Seeing her serious face, I just nodded. Sure, she must want a copy of her son’s lovely article.
Meanwhile, Dad, reading intently, grew more and more somber.
“Uh… Siwoo, maybe you shouldn’t read this. Any further than this, I mean.”
Huh? Dad, what are you talking about? I was totally planning to give it a full read before bed!
Clutching my cheeks, I froze at the terrifying statement.
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