Chapter 76
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Tryout Casting and First Rehearsal
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After it was decided that all four members of the quartet from Cheongyeom Arts High would perform in the tryout for the musical, the group headed down to the audience seats.
Jang Jun-ho introduced the rest of the judges.
“Alright, shall we start from here? This is our sound director.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Seo Ji-eun.”
Seo Ji-eun shook hands with everyone, her gentle smile putting them at ease.
“And here’s our musical’s lead—everyone knows him, right?”
Anyone dreaming of becoming a musical actor would know him, of course.
Choi Chang-dong.
He was an actor frequently cast in major musicals.
He didn’t appear much in mainstream media, so he wasn’t well-known to the general public.
Still, with his signature stability and clear vocal style, he was one of the most beloved actors among directors.
There were truckloads of musical fans who followed only Choi Chang-dong’s shows.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Choi Chang-dong.”
Choi Chang-dong also went around shaking hands with each of them.
It had been a while.
The Korean Art Hall had been a while too, but so had Choi Chang-dong.
One of the actors I’d shared a stage with before.
Of course, he might not remember my name since I’d been in a near-extra ensemble role.
Opportunities to stand on big musical stages weren’t plentiful back then.
To think I’d be sharing a stage with an actor who’d be hard to even glimpse 16 years from now, already.
Life really is worth living twice.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
Jang Jun-ho spoke up as if there was still more to announce.
The kids froze and turned their attention to him.
“About a hundred audience members will come on performance day. They’ll be notified in advance that Cheongyeom Arts High students are participating.”
Tryouts could run anywhere from a single day to a full week.
They often invited press for a press call or brought in audiences for final feedback before the main run.
For a blockbuster like ‘Pyeongchang-dong 777,’ it was standard for the main cast to perform the tryout themselves.
Since the show was already well-known, it was mostly about checking chemistry between leads and the director, and gathering feedback.
A tremendous opportunity.
And only Cheongyeom could get high schoolers on a stage like that.
Just one day out of the week-long tryout.
A single day, but for high schoolers who weren’t even understudies, it’d be nearly impossible without the Cheongyeom Foundation backing it.
So, notifying the audience ahead was only natural.
I’d expected as much, so I just nodded silently.
“Th-then, when can we start rehearsing with the pro actors?”
Lee Cheong-ha asked, her face beaming with excitement.
She wasn’t usually the type to ask a lot of questions, so this was unexpected.
She must be thrilled about landing the casting today.
“Starting tomorrow. As announced before the audition, we’ll have three weeks of rehearsals, every day.”
“Wow…….”
No one in the room looked intimidated by the idea of daily practice.
“I heard tryouts are also used for promo—does that apply to us?”
“Depends on you guys. The show will be recorded, and clips might be used for promotion. Of course, if the quality’s low, no dice.”
After that, they covered tomorrow’s rehearsal details and handed out full scripts for the show, wrapping up the day.
Everyone exchanged goodbyes and headed to the waiting room when I heard a voice calling from behind.
“Lee Do-hyun?”
“Yes?”
It was sound director Seo Ji-eun.
“Let’s work together sometime. Definitely!”
Suddenly? I nearly blurted out, but held it back.
Caught off guard by the abrupt comment, I froze mid-step toward the waiting room and looked at her.
Seo Ji-eun grinned at my awkward stance and waved.
“I fell for your voice, Do-hyun. Investing early. Emotional investment.”
“Haha……. Thank you.”
Emotional investment. First time hearing that one.
Not a bad feeling, though.
“Call me anytime—it’d be an honor. Well, I’ll be going now.”
I bowed slightly to Seo Ji-eun and headed to the waiting room.
Once the four had left, only the three judges remained in the theater.
Choi Chang-dong sidled up to Seo Ji-eun, who was gazing warmly toward the waiting room.
“You’re totally smitten with Lee Do-hyun. Show me some of that love too.”
“Oh please. Anyone hearing you might think I don’t adore you, Choi Chang-dong. In that spirit—samgyeopsal tonight?”
“What’s that got to do with... We’ve got practice tomorrow—what samgyeopsal?”
“Geez.”
As if to say suit yourself, Seo Ji-eun waved her hand dismissively, but Choi Chang-dong quickly followed up.
“Tuna. Let’s do tuna.”
Actors gonna actor—no surprise Choi Chang-dong wasn’t your average guy either.
***
The next day, the four Cheongyeom freshmen gathered for their first rehearsal with the Pyeongchang-dong 777 team.
They weren’t at The Korean Art Hall today.
It was the team’s dedicated large rehearsal studio nearby, as announced.
The Korean Art Hall was a nonstop performance venue, truly dedicated to the arts.
Before Pyeongchang-dong 777 went up, another show was running on the same stage.
That meant stage rehearsal time was more limited than expected.
That was another reason actors took tryouts so seriously, separate from full rehearsals.
“Wow. This is better than our school studio.”
Upon arriving, Lee Cheong-ha looked around in awe.
A team like Pyeongchang-dong 777 naturally had a superior rehearsal space to a high school’s.
But her comment made sense.
Cheongyeom’s studios weren’t typical high school fare to begin with.
Someone who’d bounced between dingy basement rooms used by small troupes could say that confidently.
“Right? We’re gonna get spoiled.”
Lately, they’d been using the school studio, The Korean Art Hall’s space, and Song Ha-na’s private one.
All top-tier spots that could make your standards skyrocket.
Meanwhile, others had wildly different reactions.
“Not bad.”
“Floor’s clean, at least?”
Song Ha-na and Moon Woo-hyuk sounded casual, but they seemed satisfied enough.
The studio had state-of-the-art mics, speakers, and gear.
I was watching them gawk around the massive space—seventeen-year-old vibes—when my eyes met Song Ha-na’s.
Ah, what now.
I shrank back under her sharpened gaze.
Not scared, of course.
Just startled.
“You don’t mean…….”
Moon Woo-hyuk turned to me too, eyes widening as he asked.
Ah, their stares locked on my script.
I’d gotten excited last night about rehearsing with pros and flipped through it a bit.
I subtly tucked away the battered script, just like the one Yoon Jong-hoon had given me.
“You memorized it all again?”
“Not all, but... somewhat?”
Why’s everyone so obsessed with my script?
“Whoa. Do-hyun, you memorized that whole thing?”
No, not the whole thing, I said.
Moon Woo-hyuk and Lee Cheong-ha looked ready to pounce.
“Look at Mr. Lead here, the star has arrived.”
Moon Woo-hyuk teased, but his eyes stayed glued to me.
...Hurry up and start rehearsing already.
The door swung open.
“You’re all early.”
In walked Jang Jun-ho, director and visionary of this musical.
“Hello, Director.”
The four stopped talking and bowed in unison.
Behind Jang Jun-ho came the actors and some staff.
“Oh? You’re those kids?”
“Huh? Didn’t they say 17? Why are they so tall?”
“Mind your manners around them, guys. Got it?”
The actors chuckled endearingly at the poised quartet, tossing comments as they entered.
Somehow, it felt awkward.
Some actors looked younger than my pre-regression self.
Getting cute treatment from them just made it more embarrassing.
Post-regression, I’d been adapting well to high schooler life.
Or so I thought.
Seeing pro actors like my old peers stirred up weird nostalgia.
Craving soju.
No. Pull it together.
Lee Do-hyun. You’re a 17-year-old high schooler. Got this insane opportunity—don’t waste emotions on age.
I shook my head to refocus when Jang Jun-ho approached.
“Good work coming out. Let’s do great today.”
Jang Jun-ho shook hands with the kids.
Then added,
“Greet big. But no need to sync up like that. Makes me feel like a gang boss.”
Different vibe from the audition.
A faint smile on his lips, playful tone—he must’ve sensed their tension.
Veteran director, alright.
In this crowd, he exuded the most relaxed yet commanding presence.
“You are the boss. Our boss!”
“Boss Jang!”
Some actors shouted excitedly at his words.
Smack—Jang Jun-ho, who’d joked with them lightly, turned back to us.
“For now, sit here and observe the actors’ blocking and how rehearsals work. Jumping in cold will just distract everyone.”
“Yes.”
Jang Jun-ho said that much and headed to the actors.
The four sat in a row on the bench against the stage-side wall, waiting.
“Is sitting like this really all we do……?”
Lee Cheong-ha said, her face a mix of awkwardness and embarrassment.
She’d expected to jump right in, so just sitting felt off.
“They said observe from your seats, so that’s probably it?”
As I spoke, I pulled out a notepad and pen from my pocket.
The other three, knowing exactly what that meant, gave me looks like here we go again.
“What’re you writing now?”
“Just... director’s notes, actors’ blocking. Whatever comes up.”
My real reason for this tryout wasn’t showy stage acting.
It was getting up close with pros.
Our roles were small, and we’d only perform one day out of the week.
During prep, I might wield the pen more than act.
The actors’ rehearsal began right in front of us.
Warm-ups first, then basic vocal exercises.
Then breaking off for scene discussions and run-throughs.
More to note than I thought.
I closely watched actors split by scene, scribbling furiously.
Gonna get a blister.
My hand and neck aching, I rolled my head around and glanced sideways.
“Wow. They’re so good. Even in practice, you can follow each one’s story.”
Lee Cheong-ha stared unblinking at the actors.
“Is it okay to go that big with movements?”
“Probably just for practice. On stage, even big moves shrink unconsciously sometimes.”
“True. Even pros do that?”
Moon Woo-hyuk and Song Ha-na kept their eyes glued, chattering nonstop about the rehearsal.
Seeing them, I couldn’t help but smirk.
They were just as fired up—minus the notepad and pen.
They only rag on me for it.
I gripped my pen tight again.
Determined not to miss a single detail of this long-awaited pro experience.