Chapter 77
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: Thrown into Rehearsal
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“Did everyone enjoy their lunch?”
Lunch boxes had been provided midway through practice.
I’d only been sitting there, but rolling my eyes around so intently had worked up an appetite that I filled up nicely.
As the four from Cheongyeom Arts High were finishing up and resting, Director Jang Jun-ho approached.
“Alright, shall we throw you in now?”
It was a sudden suggestion from Director Jang Jun-ho.
Huh? Weren’t we just here to observe today?
“No need to panic. You’ll be holding scripts anyway since it’s still early. That said, no mercy starting next week.”
The kids’ faces were full of bewilderment.
Director Jang Jun-ho let out a hearty laugh to reassure them.
At the same time, he casually assigned homework: memorize the script perfectly by next week.
As expected from a seasoned director.
Of course, someone who’d handled sly, cunning actors wouldn’t break a sweat with a bunch of seventeen-year-olds.
“Ready?”
“Yes!”
Everyone answered boldly amid the tension.
It was tense, sure, but their faces were filled with anticipation and confidence.
Director Jang Jun-ho looked pleased with our spirit, nodding in satisfaction.
“Then Moon Woo-hyuk and Lee Cheong-ha, join that team over there. Lee Do-hyun and Song Ha-na, each of you go to that team.”
Moon Woo-hyuk and Lee Cheong-ha were partners in the play.
Moon Woo-hyuk played ‘Lee Hyun-woo,’ the son of Chairman Lee—the key figure at 777 Pyeongchang-dong—and Lady Jung, his beloved fiancée.
Lee Cheong-ha’s ‘Jung Hee-seon’ was set as ‘Lee Hyun-woo’s fiancée.
That meant they had a lot of scenes together and would naturally rehearse as a pair.
Meanwhile, the new characters assigned to me and Song Ha-na weren’t paired up.
We split off separately to practice with the pros.
“Hello. I’m Lee Do-hyun.”
Following Director Jang Jun-ho’s instructions, I joined one of the teams.
Two actors and one staff member were in the middle of practice there.
“Oh, hey. Nice to meet you. I’m Kim Min-chang.”
“Whoa, kid. You’re handsome, huh? Seventeen, right?”
“Yes. I’m a first-year high school student.”
“Nice. The best time. The best time. I’m Park Jung-hwan. Let’s do our best.”
Thankfully, the actors welcomed me warmly.
Maybe because I was just a kid who hadn’t even debuted yet, but there wasn’t a hint of seniority hazing.
Back before my regression, I’d joined teams and dealt with all sorts of bullshit attitudes, so this atmosphere felt refreshingly new.
Being young does have its perks.
“What should we start with?”
“Since we’re doing lines with scripts today anyway, want me to just run through the blocking first?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
Practicing with a high schooler probably wasn’t routine for them either.
Still, these nice guys were making an effort to accommodate me.
I matched their consideration by listening intently and working through the blocking with them.
As we practiced together, the actors exchanged glances.
We knew they were from Cheongyeom Arts High, but weren’t they freshmen?
“Whoa, this kid’s sharp. He memorized it all already?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t he get top grades at school or something?”
It wasn’t a major role, so the blocking wasn’t hard to pick up.
Their praise felt a bit over the top.
But it was true I was number one, so I stayed quiet.
“What? For real?”
When I didn’t respond, Park Jung-hwan’s eyes widened as he asked again.
“Haha… yes.”
I gave an awkward laugh and answered.
It was a fact; I couldn’t deny it.
Being number one felt good, but saying it out of my own mouth was embarrassing as hell.
Not like I’d been top of the class my whole life or anything.
“Man, we get to practice with Cheongyeom’s top student.”
“Right? What an honor.”
The two actors were genuinely surprised, teasing me in a playful way.
They seemed to find the bashful seventeen-year-old cute.
Should I just keep playing the adorable card?
It was way more comfortable than I expected.
Truth be told, last night while flipping through the script, I’d spent more time brainstorming how to handle any hazing than actually practicing.
Minus the embarrassment, this was much easier.
“Then let’s take ten minutes, and after that, run the blocking we just did with lines.”
“Yes, got it.”
“Must be that number one smarts. He’s so eager and polite too.”
Actors Kim Min-chang and Park Jung-hwan chuckled as they stepped out of the rehearsal room for a bit.
Left alone, I double-checked the blocking, then sat against the wall.
This feeling had been a while.
Being in this big rehearsal room like this reminded me of way back when I’d sync up with fellow actors.
What were they all up to now?
What were those people doing when I was seventeen?
Were they all dreaming of becoming actors in the future?
Why was this hitting me?
Maybe because I was with pros.
Old memories kept flooding in whenever I had a spare moment.
I shook my head to clear the thoughts and used the break to watch the others practice.
Moon Woo-hyuk was holding his own pretty professionally.
Guess hanging around pros under his dad had paid off.
Lee Cheong-ha looked nervous acting in front of these strangers for the first time.
Song Ha-na was trying to keep a straight face but clearly excited.
You could tell she was itching to show off how good she was.
Watching the Cheongyeom kids flounder brought a natural smile to my face.
“Taking a good break?”
I jumped up when Kim Min-chang and Park Jung-hwan returned.
“Shall we try lines now?”
“Yes.”
I recalled the blocking from earlier and moved to the starting mark.
“Hang on, hang on. Grab your script.”
Park Jung-hwan picked up the script I’d left on my spot.
He must’ve thought I forgot it.
“Oh, it’s fine.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll try without it. Might help your practice more that way.”
Park Jung-hwan and Kim Min-chang blinked at each other at my words.
Then they looked back at me.
“You memorized it all? Already?”
How many times had I heard that today?
Had I shown off too much?
My memorization skills, honed over years on set in my past life, had only gotten sharper since regressing to seventeen.
It had always been my strong suit, but now it felt even easier.
Too late to worry; I wanted to put real effort into this practice.
“Yes. I got it yesterday ahead of time…”
I could predict their reaction by now.
“Heh. No wonder he’s number one.”
“Alright, go for it.”
The two switched to serious expressions, like they were actually looking forward to it.
Just memorizing lines and their eyes change—actors really are actors.
I’d meant to do it casually, but now it felt high-stakes.
Plus, Park Jung-hwan was the lead actor for my character ‘Choi Mok-soo’ in the actual show.
Whatever. Just do it.
I shook off distractions, got into position, and immersed myself in the emotions.
Kim Min-chang, playing the counterpart to ‘Choi Mok-soo’ in the scene, settled in too.
Other teams were practicing at the same time, so it was noisy, but they’d account for that.
Step-
I moved according to the blocking.
No tape marks or props, but I had it memorized, so no issue.
I stopped precisely on mark and delivered the first line.
“Empty your heart. Holding onto it isn’t true forgiveness.”
The line, tone, and emotion poured out—not from a seventeen-year-old boy, but fully immersed as ‘Choi Mok-soo.’
Kim Min-chang, acting opposite, looked a bit startled mid-performance.
But he quickly regained composure and continued.
“That’d make revenge nonexistent in the world.”
He pushed hard with a forceful tone.
It fit the director’s intent, but in that moment, Kim Min-chang amped it up like he wanted to test this kid.
And then,
“…Revenge is like walking into hellfire of your own accord. Don’t do it.”
I met Kim Min-chang’s aggressive acting with a low, steady voice, calm and unflinching.
Above all, I didn’t dodge his intense gaze.
The two of us stared each other down for a long moment.
“…….”
What? Why no line?
It was Kim Min-chang’s turn.
But instead of delivering, he just glared.
Did I mess up?
No, blocking, lines, eye contact—all perfect.
“Whoa, this kid’s no joke.”
Kim Min-chang broke his immersed expression with a big nod of approval.
“Your voice dropped so suddenly—it gave me chills.”
“Yeah, exactly. Why’s it so natural? Like he’s been in the musical scene for over a decade.”
I got what they meant.
The role Director Jang Jun-ho gave me was ‘Choi Mok-soo,’ the mentor figure trying to impart wisdom to the protagonist Kim Tae-san.
Kim Min-chang probably thought a seventeen-year-old lacked the gravitas.
Physically, yeah, I couldn’t deny that.
So I didn’t force some fake maturity into my voice.
I just delivered Choi Mok-soo in the most natural tone I could manage, without any disconnect.
Still, they’re sharp.
Picking up on my decade-plus experience right away.
And the praise was generous—probably because I’m a high schooler?
I’d almost missed my cue on his strong line just now, but I’d covered it well.
That stare, though— if I’d had a script, I’d have hidden behind it.
“Sorry, sorry. Let’s go again. Full run-through this time.”
Kim Min-chang got back into position.
And so, we started the practice properly again.
***
‘Hmm. Not bad for day one.’
Two hours had passed since the Cheongyeom kids joined.
The actors, deep in practice, were now taking a group break.
Director Jang Jun-ho felt quietly pleased seeing how well the Cheongyeom kids were adapting on their first day.
The actors seemed impressed by the four’s skills, beyond expectations.
We figured minor roles meant less intensity, but nope.
Kim Min-chang and Park Jung-hwan, practicing with me, were full of fire.
Thanks to them, I’d been practicing nonstop for two hours straight.
I was leaning against the wall, chugging a fizzy drink Kim Min-chang had given me.
“Sing! Sing! Sing!”
“The director was raving about you—give us a song!”
Lee Cheong-ha was in the middle, surrounded by rowdy actors messing around.
She looked pretty flustered by the sudden spotlight.
Facing pro actors she’d never met, all eyes on her like that—
Her expression said it all about her state of mind.
She didn’t seem in any shape to sing right now.
Senior musical actors asking juniors to sing was common.
It could be seen as hazing, but in a room full of big personalities, it wasn’t weird.
Just not something Lee Cheong-ha was used to.
She might develop stage fright at this rate.
No good.
‘Why’s she just standing there like an idiot. Embarrassing.’
Song Ha-na was frowning at Lee Cheong-ha’s deer-in-headlights look.
‘It’s not that big a deal—shouldn’t they drop it if she doesn’t?’
Surprisingly, her irritation wasn’t aimed at Lee Cheong-ha.
“Ugh, seriously. This won’t do.”
Whatever the feeling was, she was certain she needed to pull Lee Cheong-ha out of that mob.
Just as Song Ha-na was about to step in, I saw Do-hyun striding over with wide steps.
“Hey, you…”
Do-hyun’s unpredictable moves sometimes—what was he planning? She reached to grab him.
Then she spotted the fizzy drink bottle in his hand.
‘No way, is he gonna splash her…?’
Song Ha-na was horrified.
Her heart dropped, fearing a disaster, but it was too late to stop him.
Do-hyun was already next to Lee Cheong-ha.
“Seniors.”
Moon Woo-hyuk, spotting it, watched anxiously too.
Song Ha-na swallowed hard.
Tense moment.
But then,
“Mind if I sing a song?”
Do-hyun appeared with a relaxed smile, and the actors were thrown off.