The appearance of a new god of acting.
He’d been through it once before, but his heart still trembled.
What kind of god would it be this time?
Han Seongtae didn’t even know for sure what the existing gods truly were.
A new god would be no different.
Who was the great figure behind the title “eternal youth”?
It wasn’t easy to compress that into a single person.
‘Setting that aside, can I even do a musical?’
Han Seongtae knew himself well.
He wasn’t someone who sang well.
And he hadn’t stood on a musical stage many times, either.
It was different from the dramas and films where he’d acted, even if only in bit parts.
A musical is acting, but it’s a completely different stage infused with music.
It’s similar to a play, yet different.
‘From the start, I was never that good at singing.’
He hadn’t sung at all as an adult.
Back in college, he’d sung briefly for a musical. Just that.
Even then, Han Seongtae knew his singing ability was average.
The only reason someone mediocre at both acting and singing could hang around the acting scene was a single thing.
Looks.
At least his looks were decent.
Even that lost its meaning as he got older, though.
[‘The One of A Thousand Faces’ gazes quietly at you.]
[‘The One Who Defined His Era’ tells you there’s no reason to be scared already.]
Messages from the gods appeared.
They urged Han Seongtae to step forward.
‘Right. I’m not the same as in my previous life.’
It was different from the start.
Even if his singing was average, there were parts he could carry through acting.
[Time of Revolution.]
He looked at the musical’s theme written on the blackboard.
It was one of the famous works in Korean musicals.
A story of independence, filled with Korea’s sorrows.
It was a show most musical actors passed through at least once.
More than the music, the actors’ acting ability mattered above all.
Han Seongtae had sought it out a few times himself.
He’d thought of joining someday if the chance arose.
Of course, in his previous life, no more chances came to him.
“Seongtae.”
“…Huh?”
“Don’t you have an opinion? If you do, say it.”
The class representative standing on the platform spoke to Han Seongtae, who’d been quietly lost in thought.
At his words, the classmates in the room also turned their eyes to Han Seongtae.
“Seongtae, is there a role you want? You can say so if there is.”
Under everyone’s gaze in the class, Han Seongtae awkwardly looked around.
What did they want from him?
“I…”
He turned his head and looked at the blackboard.
On the blackboard where “Time of Revolution” was written, the roles’ names were listed beneath.
If they were going to do a musical, he’d have to take one of those.
‘If I’m going to do it anyway…’
Han Seongtae let out a faint breath.
[‘The Founder of Jeet Kune Do’ informs you that roles are seized.]
[‘The One of A Thousand Faces’ awaits your choice.]
[‘The One Who Made Laughter in Tragedy’ wonders what choice you’ll make.]
Under the gazes of the gods of acting and his classmates, he slowly opened his mouth.
“Can I take the role of the martyr?”
If he was going to do a musical, Han Seongtae wanted to do it properly.
Even if he wasn’t confident in singing, a small certainty was growing that he could act well.
A gentle smile perched at the corner of his mouth as he clenched his fist.
“Hey, what wind suddenly blew through you?”
At the voice beside him, Han Seongtae turned his head and found Kim Minseok looking at him with a curious expression.
Seeing his surprised face, Han Seongtae tilted his head.
“What do you mean?”
“You weren’t that interested in musicals before.”
“Ah, when I thought about it, I didn’t want to do nothing. Since I’m doing it anyway, I wanted to try doing it right.”
At Kim Minseok’s words, Han Seongtae nodded as if he understood.
As recently as yesterday, Han Seongtae hadn’t shown any interest in musicals.
‘I didn’t know either.’
Under Kim Minseok’s gaze, Han Seongtae gave a hazy smile.
To be honest, he was still a little worried.
Acting, he could somehow handle with practice.
‘But singing skills are hard to shift in a short time.’
Han Seongtae didn’t know for sure whether he sang well or not.
‘I also didn’t expect they’d give me the lead so easily.’
When Han Seongtae said he wanted the role of the martyr, the entire class didn’t show much objection to his words.
As if it were only natural that he take the lead, they wrote Han Seongtae’s name next to the martyr.
“You got the martyr you wanted, so what’s with that face?”
“How was I supposed to know it’d come that easily? I thought there would at least be other candidates.”
“…Does that make sense? You’re filming a drama right now, too. The response is good. If not you, then who?”
Kim Minseok spoke as if it were absurd, and at that, Han Seongtae gave an awkward laugh.
“I’m worried about the singing, too. It’s not like I’ve properly learned to sing. I don’t even know if I sing well.”
“Then let’s go check right now.”
At Han Seongtae’s grumbling, Kim Minseok waved it off as no big deal and pointed somewhere.
Following his hand, he looked up and saw a sign that read Coin Karaoke.
“You want to go to karaoke…?”
“Yeah. What better way to check your level than singing at karaoke?”
“It’s not wrong, but…”
He hadn’t expected him to suggest karaoke out of the blue.
“Let’s go while you’re thinking about it.”
Kim Minseok grabbed Han Seongtae’s arm and pulled him toward the coin karaoke.
Jingle.
With the sound of the door opening, a voice from inside greeted them to come in.
“Two people?”
“Yes.”
“You can go to room 8 over there.”
Maybe because it was a karaoke next to Korea University, there were a ton of people.
There were even people waiting to sing, so he was just grateful they could go in right away.
“What are you going to sing?”
Click, click.
As Kim Minseok entered songs with the remote, he asked.
He looked so practiced at it that Han Seongtae blinked.
“Ah, me… I come alone sometimes when I’m stressed. Shouting it out makes me feel better.”
Come to think of it, he remembered that Kim Minseok had once asked him to go to karaoke together.
Back then, he’d been obsessed with acting and hadn’t gone.
“You can search song titles here and reserve what you want to sing. I’ll go first.”
“Okay.”
Watching Kim Minseok grab the mic, Han Seongtae nodded.
The song Kim Minseok chose was Buzz’s “Understand What I’m Saying.”
‘What should I sing?’
With the accompaniment starting and Kim Minseok singing behind him, Han Seongtae pondered what to sing.
He didn’t go to karaoke often, so he didn’t have anything he could call a go-to song.
[‘The One Who Defined His Era’ is curious about your singing ability.]
[‘The One Who Made Laughter in Tragedy’ searches for a song he used to sing often.]
[‘The One of A Thousand Faces’ reminisces that he used to be a good singer back in the day.]
As soon as he stepped into the karaoke room, messages from the gods popped up at high speed, making Han Seongtae let out a dry laugh.
He was the one who’d be singing, yet it was the gods of acting who were showing the interest.
‘It’d be better to pick something from a musical, right.’
From the songs he could sing, Han Seongtae looked for a musical number.
One song came out at the end of that search.
‘A beggar’s monologue—The Beggar’s Monologue.’
Like Time of Revolution, it was a number from a musical about revolution.
It carried the wail of a man who served more than ten years in prison for stealing bread.
‘Here it is.’
Maybe because it was so famous, he’d barely typed a few letters and the title appeared right away.
“You’re going to sing this? Are you sure you haven’t sung much before?”
“I’ve seen a few musicals.”
There was one thing Han Seongtae didn’t know.
The song he’d picked was one even musical actors found hard to sing easily.
It wasn’t simply a matter of vocal ability.
“A beggar’s monologue—The Beggar’s Monologue” demanded emotion beyond vocal technique.
[‘The Actor of Eternal Youth’ is watching you.]
Among the gods’ messages, one caught his eye.
Dwoong, doong!
At the same time, the accompaniment of the song he’d selected filled the room.
Han Seongtae slowly closed his eyes and opened them.
Stealing and running away,
Have I fallen this far? Is it already too late?
He sang.
Kim Minseok’s voice trembled slightly as he watched Han Seongtae.
Han Seongtae was acting.
Not as the person “Han Seongtae,” but as “the beggar who stole bread to protect his nephew,” he sang.
Is there another life I could live?
No matter how I reach out, I can’t see the light.
The beggar screamed.
He despaired at a situation that wouldn’t change no matter how hard he tried.
Does something like hope even exist?
Is there meaning to living like this?
He brooded and he grieved.
In frustration and despair, the beggar struggled and clawed to grasp the light somehow.
There will be no more miserable beggar.
I will live a new life.
He let out the final lyric.
“Hoo…”
He opened his closed eyes, suppressing the swirling emotions.
—Wow, you’re really good.
With the compliment on the screen, a score of 87 popped up.
A score that could hardly be called high.
“Hey, what are you…?”
But Kim Minseok’s face as he looked at him was filled with shock.
Seo Harin is an idol trainee.
She still hadn’t debuted after over six years, but the fact remained: she was a trainee.
‘What is this?’
In front of her stood Han Seongtae.
The set of “Haru.”
He was singing while holding the Bluetooth microphone that Kim Minseok had brought.
The song Han Seongtae was singing was “A beggar’s monologue—The Beggar’s Monologue.”
‘He’s not exceptionally good at singing, but…’
Because she’d trained professionally in singing, she knew the gap between an ordinary person and a singer.
Han Seongtae’s singing was “good for a civilian level.”
Even so, Seo Harin couldn’t shake the thought that his song was better than when she sang it herself.
I will live again.
Now I will be different.
When Han Seongtae’s song ended, Seo Harin let out a mirthless laugh.
When Kim Minseok had said Han Seongtae sang well and pushed him to sing, she hadn’t thought much of it.
But the moment she heard him, Seo Harin couldn’t help but see him differently.
‘He said he was preparing for a musical, didn’t he?’
Looking at Han Seongtae, Seo Harin wore a curious expression.
“Mr. Seongtae, you could be a singer.”
“It’s not to that extent.”
At her words, Han Seongtae gave an awkward smile.
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