Chapter 78
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Boldly Claiming the Stage
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16 years on the musical theater scene.
To survive in this world by rolling with the punches, skill alone wasn’t enough.
Think you can make it just by honing your musical chops?
That’s nothing but pie in the sky, naive kid stuff.
Reading the room with seniors, the director, the staff, scrambling for any opportunity...
Put it all together, and it’s just survival skills.
Techniques I’d picked up over 16 years of pounding the pavement and throwing myself into the fray.
Not my favorite style, and I never really profited from it.
But this kind of situation? Routine.
“Mind if I do one song?”
Just this once more, save me, Lee Cheong-ha.
Never thought I’d be pulling this out after turning back into a seventeen-year-old.
The actors stared at me, dumbfounded by my bold declaration.
Yeah, grown adults picking on high school kids.
“Normally, the opening back at our school is always my gig.”
To pro actors, whether I popped up out of nowhere or not probably didn’t matter.
They’d just find it cute, this seventeen-year-old kid brazenly trying to take control of the vibe.
Ever heard the saying age is a bully?
“Right? You handle the opening?”
“Man, kids these days are fearless.”
“Give us a killer number!”
Since I’ve regressed to seventeen, might as well play that bully age to my advantage.
“Then I’ll belt out a real showstopper.”
Amid the cheering seniors crowding around, I cleared my throat.
Not my usual style of song, either.
There’s a certain kind that always lands in a spot like this.
I grabbed the fizzy drink they’d handed me to wet my throat, holding it like a mic, and launched into it.
“A world that’s no easy ride— love that’s even tougher—”
A song perfect for firing up the room.
Lee Cheong-ha watched Do-hyun, mouth agape, then scolded herself.
‘You idiot, Lee Cheong-ha. Again.’
She squeezed her eyes shut as the rich melody filled the air.
Then she stepped up beside Do-hyun and raised her voice.
“Who said it’s easy— messing with a guy’s heart—”
Lee Cheong-ha’s voice chimed in from right next to me.
Their duet filled the practice room.
“Nice!”
The actors whistled and clapped along enthusiastically, keeping the beat.
Some even goofed around with their fellow castmates, swaying to a mock blues.
Seeing Lee Cheong-ha clutching her hands tight, shivering as she sang along, I couldn’t help but grin.
“Ha, jeez.”
Song Ha-na and Moon Woo-hyuk watched the pair, utterly floored, letting out disbelieving chuckles.
“Pfft.”
Jang Jun-ho, catching the scene, struggled to stifle his laughter.
‘That guy’s even funnier than I thought.’
***
The first day’s practice wrapped up around evening.
All the actors cleared out, leaving the spacious practice room with just the four from Cheongyeom Arts High and Jang Jun-ho.
“How was it today? Manageable?”
Jang Jun-ho lined the kids up and asked.
“Fun!”
“Doable.”
“Not even a blip on my radar.”
“Very informative.”
Same question, wildly different answers.
How did they end up with such a mismatched crew?
Jang Jun-ho found the whole thing hilarious.
Knew I picked right with these four.
“You guys are seriously inspiring me in all sorts of ways.”
“Inspiring? If it’s inspiration, I’m getting zero...”
“Huh...?”
“Nothing.”
Song Ha-na froze up, shaking her head stiffly.
Lee Cheong-ha, who’d overheard loud and clear from beside her, shot her a shocked look.
“Ha-na. What did you just...”
“Ignore it.”
“What did you say?”
“I said ignore it.”
As Lee Cheong-ha and Moon Woo-hyuk pressed her one after another, her cheeks flushed beet red.
I slid in last, casually asking the trembling Song Ha-na.
“Song Ha-na, what was that just...”
“Ah! Ignore it!”
***
After practice, Song Ha-na and Moon Woo-hyuk hopped into the car that came to pick them up and left.
Cheong-ha and I headed to the subway station together.
“Thinking of walking to Sadang Station. Didn’t get my workout in today.”
Both our buses home stopped at Sadang Station.
Normally we’d take one from More Korean Art Hall and transfer, but today I felt like walking.
I’d skipped my morning workout to make early practice, too.
“Hm. Guess I’ll walk too.”
Lee Cheong-ha hesitated a bit at the decent distance but soon agreed.
The two of us started walking in companionable silence.
As we strolled wordlessly for a bit, Lee Cheong-ha beside me spoke up.
“Ugh, seriously. I must’ve looked like such an idiot again today.”
I asked casually, as if it were no big deal, eyeing her dejected tone.
“You good now?”
The actors had pushed a high schooler too hard—that was on them.
It’d sorted itself out, so no issue.
As long as Lee Cheong-ha’s stage fright didn’t flare up.
“Yeah. Thanks. I’m always leaning on you. Someday I want to return the favor.”
“Feel free in moments like this. When I’m in a pinch, I’ll SOS you right away—so don’t play dumb then.”
“Of course!”
Lee Cheong-ha’s eyes sparkled with sincerity as she shot back indignantly.
I chuckled at her earnestness.
“This show’s got a way bigger stage, way more intimidating. I’m nervous, so you must be shaking even more.”
Honestly, I was worried.
Great that she’d snagged the role over Song Ha-na.
But even if Lee Cheong-ha had improved a ton, performing for judges like in comprehensive evals was different from a real audience.
Especially on the More Korean Art Hall stage, which was pretty massive.
Back 16 years ago, just auditioning there had my hands trembling from the sheer pressure.
Standing there acting for a full house of regular folks? Even the boldest would quake.
So why no response?
Lee Cheong-ha didn’t answer.
Had my words bummed her out more? I glanced over.
Her expression...
It wasn’t her usual downcast or worried look.
What was the word? Radiant? Alive with energy?
“Honestly, saying I’m not nervous would be a lie.”
Finally, Lee Cheong-ha spoke, her face lit up with excitement.
I listened quietly, waiting to hear what she’d say.
What could she possibly want to share, barely past conquering her stage fright, with that expression?
“I know I showed my idiot side again today, so maybe I don’t have room to talk...”
Lee Cheong-ha stopped walking and looked me straight in the eye.
“But I’m more excited than scared. About how my singing, my acting, will land with an audience that doesn’t even know me.”
Her eyes sparkled.
Just like today, no one knew when stage fright might strike again.
That’s the nature of phobias.
You think you’ve beaten it, but it can pop up anytime—that’s why everyone dreads them.
Was that why it felt like someone had smacked me upside the head?
“Knowing there are people out there who want my voice... my songs... it’s surreal.”
I’d underestimated her. Lee Cheong-ha.
How had she changed so fast?
It couldn’t just be beating out Song Ha-na for the casting.
It was the words from yesterday’s tryout audition. From Jang Jun-ho and the veteran actors, the sound director.
Perfect for Jung Hee-seon.
That clear tone really shines.
Praise for the song Lee Cheong-ha sang, for her voice.
She, who’d only ever gotten nitpicked by classmates: Know your place. As if you’re some great singer.
A single phrase from those three judges had filled her with ‘expectation’ over ‘worry,’ outweighing the weight of the major role.
“Up till now, knowing you liked my voice was enough, Do-hyun. Guess I’m getting greedy now, too.”
“You’ve every right to be. Your voice deserves it.”
A surge of pride had me petting Lee Cheong-ha’s head before I knew it.
“I’m looking forward to it, too. Your voice echoing through More Korean Art Hall.”
Must be how it feels when your niece comes home first in school exams.
Lee Cheong-ha whipped her head away fast, leaving my hand in midair, but it didn’t matter.
She’s growing up. Growing up.
Lee Cheong-ha strode ahead briskly.
I followed.
“...Truth be told, for this stage, I wanted to share it as your partner, Do-hyun.”
Lee Cheong-ha, a step ahead, spoke up again.
Ah, that made me a bit sheepish.
“Sorry to disappoint. My bad for bombing out.”
I tossed it back playfully.
“Haha.”
Lee Cheong-ha turned with a big grin.
“So that means you gotta work extra hard, Do-hyun. Before your noona chews you out.”
Her bright smile and words lifted my spirits.
This could be lethal to your average seventeen-year-old guy.
She’d never called herself ‘noona’ since we’d dropped formal speech.
Must be riding high from nailing the audition today.
“Eyes front when you walk. Dangerous.”
“Pfft.”
Lee Cheong-ha, who’d been watching me, pouted primly and turned away.
“No shared stage scenes, but we’re still in the same show, right?”
I said it calmly to her.
Instead of replying right away, Lee Cheong-ha smiled faintly.
Then, with that smile lingering, she nodded slightly.
“Yeah. True. We’re still first-years, so plenty of chances to share stages down the line.”
She used to be so obvious about wanting to perform with me.
Now that side of her had all but vanished.
Guess being a year older makes you mature faster.
Kinda felt a twinge of disappointment, though.
***
In the office of Moon Kang-hyun, chairman of the KH Foundation.
He’d just flown back from an overseas business trip today but headed straight there instead of resting.
Without so much as glancing back at his trailing secretary, Moon Kang-hyun sat and checked the work log.
Casually, he asked.
“Nothing major while I was out?”
“The Korean Musical Association...”
He got briefed on the piled-up work from his few days away.
“Okay. Good job, Secretary Kim.”
Only after a long back-and-forth did the report wrap.
“No other oddities.”
“Before you arrived, Moon Woo-hyuk stopped by.”
He hadn’t summoned him, but he’d come on his own?
That qualified as odd.
“Moon Woo-hyuk?”
“Yes. Said he had something to discuss.”
Moon Woo-hyuk never visited the office uncalled.
What’s going on? Moon Kang-hyun eyed his secretary curiously.
“He passed the tryout audition at 777 Pyeongchang-dong.”
Moon Kang-hyun’s eyes lit up with mild surprise.
So he’d beaten Lee Do-hyun?
“And Lee Do-hyun?”
His tone grew urgent, uncharacteristic of his usual even keel.
The intense gaze he fixed on his secretary barely hid his impatience.
“Well...”
The secretary pieced together what Moon Woo-hyuk had said and what he’d heard from contacts.
Not the role originally slated for the Cheongyeom Arts High student—but another one.
“Heh.”
Moon Kang-hyun crossed his legs and chuckled after hearing the full story.
“So that’s how it went. Flips the comprehensive eval narrative on its head.”
He still remembered the comprehensive evaluation.
Pleased with the outcome after so long, Moon Kang-hyun stroked his chin.
As expected, Lee Do-hyun seemed to be spurring Moon Woo-hyuk on—stoking his curiosity.
Lee Do-hyun...
“And this.”
The secretary handed over a thick envelope of fine material.
It bore the Cheongyeom Arts High emblem on the front.
Moon Kang-hyun opened it and pulled out the documents. At the top, in bold letters: [Master Class Cooperation Request].