In the silence, the atmosphere grew tense as everyone’s gaze began to shift toward the high school girl exuding an unusual aura. With long black hair and strikingly fair skin, at first, she seemed like just another candidate relying solely on looks to pass the audition. However...

‘Who is she? She seems experienced.’
‘What is she doing? Is this acting?’

The calm base expression on her face was accompanied by an underlying current of emotion. Bad acting is often described as robotic, with no change in expression, but subtle changes can make that robotic performance appear as “understated and natural.” This delicate nuance often demonstrates the difference.

Naturally, this was the kind of display you’d expect from seasoned actors, making it a strikingly unusual sight for a high school student to exhibit such poise.

‘She’s definitely experienced.’

Perhaps she was a former child actor who had been active somewhere. It’s not uncommon to have appeared in small dramas and thus remain unknown to many.

‘But...’

Despite being wary of the high school girl, the actors in the room felt a sense of relief. Her performance style differed from traditional theater acting.

Clatter.

At that moment, the previously closed door burst open with a loud noise. All eyes turned in that direction, including Seoyeon’s, as she was calmly preparing for her audition.

At the entrance of the waiting room filled with actors, a woman was panting heavily, clutching the door handle. Her hair was a wavy brown, her eyes drooped in exhaustion, and she had a slight, slender frame. She looked to be in her early twenties, but the most notable feature was her haggard appearance.

For an actor, she had a strangely distinctive look.

‘Who is she?’
‘Another auditionee?’

Her attire was peculiar, similar to Seoyeon's. A fashion disaster, maybe? She wore mismatched jeans and a checkered shirt as if she had borrowed a college guy’s outfit.

Whether or not it suited the role for today was irrelevant—her outfit exuded a peculiar discomfort.

‘That must be her.’

Seoyeon narrowed her eyes at the staggering woman. She seemed indifferent to the stares around her, choosing an empty seat to settle into. There wasn’t even a script in her hand. It was as if she had stumbled into the wrong place.

“Uh, this is the audition room,” one actor said hesitantly, approaching her with concern. The woman’s eyes moved slowly, in an unnerving way that made the actor recoil.

There was an aura about her that deviated from the norm.

“I know.”

Her words were clipped. She offered no further explanation, but there was no need for any more. It was enough to stifle any further conversation.

‘……That’s right. It’s her.’

It was just like what I saw in the news. The “character” from this play that Seoyeon had recognized belonged to this woman.

She was later cast in a film following this play and became a significant figure for several reasons.

‘Pyo Ji-woo.’

She could have been a star—a woman with the worst kind of talent: a fanatic stalker. She was the adversary Seoyeon needed to overcome this time.

“How about it? Anyone catch your eye?”

Jo Do-yul, the play’s director, looked around at the other judges as he spoke. The panel included Jo Do-yul, the director, the assistant director, the stage manager, other production staff, and two actors participating in the play.

“It seems popular, probably thanks to writer Lee Min-hee’s reputation.”

“Of course. The script is already well-acknowledged.”

Close Your Eyes was a play that had made a significant hit in Daehak-ro three years ago. The success was enough to warrant a fresh cast and crew for its re-run, indicating its anticipated success.

“The role of Hong Jeong-hee is crucial this time.”

“Certainly. She’s the character that changes the entire tone of the play.”

The play mainly revolves around the male protagonist, idol Bae Seong-hak, and a hearing-impaired woman, Song Min-seo. The plot primarily follows their romance, with no significant crises until the arrival of Hong Jeong-hee, who serves as a catalyst for a dramatic shift in the narrative.

“Casting the wrong Hong Jeong-hee could ruin the entire play.”

“Right. Villain roles aren’t easy to pull off….”

“That creepiness has to come through. If it’s off, it’s glaringly off. But if done right, it can leave a significant impact.”

Thus, it’s a role that many actors vie for. Despite the limited screen time, it carries enormous presence in the play.

Hence, there were a staggering 500 applicants for this role, and only a tenth of them advanced to this second-round audition.

“If there’s someone interesting, Bae Young-hyun?”

“Ah, he’s a decent actor. Proven skills, and he’s still fresh off the stage.”

Each judge mentioned the names of actors they were interested in. Among them, one mentioned a particularly unique candidate.

“Joo Seoyeon. ……You’ve seen her profile, right?”

“Oh.”

Everyone nodded. Of course, they had. It was an unexpected encounter with an unexpected individual.

“The child actor from the hit drama ten years ago. I never thought I’d see her here.”

“I was surprised too. I watched that drama myself. I remember thinking, ‘Wow, this kid can act,’ and I applauded.”

“……Really? I didn’t watch The Sun That Hides the Moon.”

“What? What were you watching if not that?”

“Action King……”

“Wow, a rare find. Didn’t expect to meet a viewer of the rare Action King here.”

“That’s harsh, honestly.”

Those who had seen Joo Seoyeon’s profile exchanged such words. In The Sun That Hides the Moon, she had reached the pinnacle of acting as a child actress in the role of “Princess Yeonhwa.” She also won the Youth Actor Award that year.

She achieved the peak of her career as a child actor in just one year, only to disappear for the next decade. That person was Joo Seoyeon.

“Why theater?”

“Many actors come back through theater. Some use it as rehabilitation before returning to film or TV….”

Despite these comments, their expressions were uncertain. Joo Seoyeon—based on her notoriety alone, she was a big catch.

“Does she suit the play, though?”

“With looks like hers, hmm. Her only experience is one drama shoot, and she has no theater background.”

“Does she know that stage acting is different from screen acting?”

“She’s a bit young too. As a high school student, makeup can compensate, but…”

This was possible because Seoyeon was a female. Generally, women stop growing in their late teens, so there isn’t much difference compared to adult actresses.

“It’s really a conundrum.”

“Too valuable to pass up, but something doesn’t quite fit.”

Although they didn’t say it aloud, they questioned how well an actor returning after ten years could perform. Ten years ago, her portrayal of Princess Yeonhwa impressed everyone, but that was a child actor’s performance.

Now was the time to compare her to adult actors. Her experience was lacking, and it was uncertain whether her first performance in ten years would be at the level of the past “Princess Yeonhwa.”

The acting she displayed in her free-acting video was flawless, which led to a unanimous decision to pass her through the first round.

However, stage acting and on-screen acting can differ.

“Actually, I’m more interested in someone else than Joo Seoyeon.”

“Oh, I think I know who you mean.”

As their eyes met, the judges, almost without exception, uttered a name.

“Pyo Ji-woo, right?”

The free-acting video submitted for the first round had delivered a shocking performance. It was raw but fitting for the role of Hong Jeong-hee.

“I’d love for her to play Hong Jeong-hee this time. What do you think, Min Seo-ho?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, it’s the role that will be most closely linked to Song Min-seo in a different sense, isn’t it?”

“Ah, right.”

Min Seo-ho spoke as he checked his phone. He wasn’t doing anything else—just revisiting Pyo Ji-woo’s free-acting video from the first audition.

‘How strange.’

Watching it, Min Seo-ho squinted.

‘I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before.’

Was it someone he’d met in a club? He shook his head at the thought.

“I think she might not fit, but we’ll have to see.”

“Really? Well, it’s always best to see for ourselves.”

Jo Do-yul said as he checked his watch. It was about time to start the auditions.

For the role of Hong Jeong-hee, the antagonist who would drive the play’s success.

Seven o’clock in the evening.

The audition began late in the day. Seoyeon slowly surveyed her surroundings.

The tension in the air was incomparable to her time as a child actor. Back then, it was mainly a battle between parents.

However, everyone here was serious. They were here to survive and succeed in the industry, with no room for compromise. The intensity was on a whole other level.

‘This audition feels different from the ones I’ve been to before.’

Seoyeon thought to herself, calmly closing her eyes. The auditions took place with five candidates entering the set at a time.

This meant performing in front of others. If she hadn’t experienced the auditions for The Sun That Hides the Moon, she might have been flustered.

Even though that was ten years ago.

‘I’m calm.’
‘This feels familiar.’

The actors glanced at Seoyeon.

For those who frequently auditioned, this was a familiar situation.

But wasn’t Seoyeon still a high school student? The fact that she showed no signs of nervousness suggested either a wealth of experience or an inherently strong heart.

Either way, it was an essential trait for an actor.

‘Who could she be?’

Amidst the curiosity surrounding Seoyeon…

“Next, Ha Si-eun, Hwang Young-hee, and……”

The names of the next candidates for the audition were called.

“Joo Seoyeon.”

Slowly, Seoyeon’s eyes flickered at the sound of her name. Joo Seoyeon. Upon hearing that name, several actors reacted.

“Joo Seoyeon? Not that child actor, is it?”

“No way.”

“But judging by the looks and age…”

The Sun That Hides the Moon was a drama that defined its era. Joo Seoyeon’s performance as a child actor in the series was unforgettable.

Most actors present were young during its airing, yet they vividly remembered the impressive performance.

“And, Pyo Ji-woo.”

Following Seoyeon, Pyo Ji-woo was also called for the audition. She stood up with a detached expression, seemingly indifferent to the interest Seoyeon had garnered.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jo Do-yul, directing Close Your Eyes and acting as a judge today.”

Entering the audition room, eight judges were seated.

Seoyeon glanced at Bae Seong-hak’s actor, Min Seo-ho, among them.

‘That’s him.’

The controversial figure. Soon, he would empathize with Bae Seong-hak’s character in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

‘And.’

Seoyeon’s gaze shifted to the woman who had entered with her. Pyo Ji-woo.

“Now, who should go first….”

The judges’ eyes roved around the room, mainly settling on two people.

Joo Seoyeon and Pyo Ji-woo.

“Joo Seoyeon, please come forward.”

The first to perform. Being the first always carries a weight, and auditions were no exception.

‘The child prodigy from ten years ago.’

Her dazzling appearance caught everyone’s attention. Could she deliver a performance as impressive as she had in the past?

The judges decided to watch quietly and see if she still had what it took.