Several applicants went in and out of the audition room before it was finally Kwak Yeonji’s turn.
“At this time, applicant Kwak Yeonji, please come in!”
At the staffer’s call, Yeonji rose from her seat.
She felt the waiting contestants’ eyes gather on her, but she pretended not to notice and stepped into the audition hall.
A dark space lit only by spotlights.
Six judges stared at her.
She had thought a first-round audition would not be difficult, yet the sight of six people sitting there made her close her eyes and exhale slowly.
“It’s fine. I can do this.”
Speaking softly so only she could hear, Yeonji walked forward.
She spoke to the character Lee So-hee in the audition script.
What would you do? What face would you make right now? How would you deal with them?
Question after question, but the So-hee inside Yeonji’s head merely sneered and gave no answer.
“Hello, I am applicant number 132, Kwak Yeonji.”
Getting no response, she looked at the judges, feeling herself shrink.
Perhaps noticing her unease, they stared back like predators studying prey.
The oldest-looking judge twirled his pen and addressed her in a bored tone.
“Ready for your free acting piece?”
“Yes, I am ready.”
“It isn’t one of those monologues that’s trendy among acting hopefuls these days, is it? If it’s that obvious, you don’t need to show us.”
“No, it is a monologue I devised myself.”
At her reply one of the six gave a small derisive laugh.
That seemed to cue the others; a few covered their mouths, hiding their snickers that nevertheless reached her eyes.
“Begin when you are ready.”
“Yes.”
Yeonji shut her eyes and cleared her throat.
With vision gone, her hearing sharpened and their chuckles cut more plainly into her ears.
But compared to the insults she had overheard outside, this was nothing.
She mentally repeated the lines, then opened her eyes.
“You’re a truly pitiful human being.”
The unexpected opening made the judges focus on her.
“I know you well. Why you act that way—no, why you can’t help but act that way. Maybe you fooled others, but I see it.”
Staring at the air as if someone stood there, she looked on with pity.
“I know why you hurt people like that. So stop. I’m saying this for your own good.”
As Yeonji sank into the role, So-hee finally took shape in her mind, answering by shouting at her.
“Get lost! For my own good? Don’t make me laugh. Someone like you—why not take care of yourself first? Look at you, can’t even squeak when juniors walk all over you.”
The scream cracked, like a dish shattering inside her skull.
Yeonji frowned slightly, listening hard.
Seeing the hazy figure she had imagined appear, she gazed at it like greeting an old friend.
“You’ll fall again. Just like Gyeong Chanhyeon dropped you at the last audition, he’ll break you again. And you still cling to worthless hope? Isn’t it time to stop? Fooled by that manager again? You’ll lose the part to Lee Seo-bin anyway—why cling so hard?”
“…”
“Think the people around you stay because they like you? They all have reasons. No one loves you for you, proud thing. If you want something, act on it. Stop hanging around sets wasting time.”
A faint smile escaped her.
“No matter what you spew, I can overcome it. Like I said, I know you.”
“Know me? Idiot.”
When So-hee finished and burst out laughing, Yeonji approached the empty air with a relaxed smile.
“It’s all right. No one is threatening you, so there’s no need to lash out. Surviving by hurting others so they won’t see your own wounds—that’s not as impressive as you think, So-hee.”
The blurry shape vanished, revealing only the judges behind it; the predators now looked mellower, surprised by what they had seen.
“That is all.”
The chilly judge spoke first.
“Interesting. A monologue conversing with the script’s character?”
Hearing the warmth in his voice, some tension left her.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Your understanding of the role is remarkable. I could not have imagined that depth from such short sides.”
The rest nodded, praising her.
“Very good. Creative, and the character insight speaks for itself.”
“If you can do this with the sides, your assigned scene should be worth seeing.”
“Then shall we have you become So-hee directly?”
She answered with a bright smile.
“Yes!”
A few days later.
I checked the shortlist.
We had screened over eight hundred applicants, yet only seventy remained.
I read the top scores: “Lee Seo-bin, Son Ye-bin, Jeon Ju-hyun…”—famous names clustered in the top ten.
But none really grabbed me.
Then an unexpected name.
[Kwak Yeonji]
Passing such a rigorous first round meant her acting must have improved.
Curious, I played her audition video.
[“Trying not to let anyone spot your weakness, you survive by hurting them first. It is not as cool as you think, So-hee.”]
“Oh… wow.”
Choosing to talk with the character could easily have gone wrong, yet it revealed something unique.
Muted yet deep emotion—subtle rather than showy.
Holding back feelings convincingly is harder than releasing them; Yeonji managed it.
Only one flaw remained: that high-pitched nasal tone.
Without it she would be perfect.
“If not for that…”
Jun-sung removed his earphones.
“Whose audition has you like this?”
“Kwak Yeonji.”
“She’s that good?”
“Done right, she’d be amazing.”
He suggested Lee Seo-bin, whose tape was technically sound but, after Yeonji, felt flat.
Voice aside, Yeonji was clearly stronger, yet betting the film on her would be a gamble.
We agreed: see them again, give feedback, decide in the later rounds—no off-record contact that could look questionable.
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