Come to the Audition
Come to the audition.
"That wasn't the acting I wanted."
Director Kim Si-woon said it flatly, his face betraying nothing.
We'd met through my mother, but after the initial introductions he didn't spare her so much as a glance. Most people, when meeting a guardian, would at least toss out a little self-promotion. Not Director Kim Si-woon — he went straight to business. As a result, my mother had exchanged greetings and then sat there like a sack of barley stuffed with straw.
"On Wagle Wagle Kindergarten?"
"Yep."
"Then why did you ask to meet us? You just said my acting didn't satisfy you."
He was being so curt that I'd gotten a little prickly myself.
"What I meant was that the performance came from the kids' show, not from you."
Question marks popped up above both my mother's head and mine at the same time.
That makes no sense at all.
"Could you put that a little more simply?"
"Come to the audition."
Sitting there with his fingers laced, flashing a sly grin from beneath his hands, he looked exactly like a father scheming to shove his son into hell.
No, wait — I asked you to explain it simply, so why are we talking about auditions?
"No."
"Why not?"
"You won't even tell me what movie it is, and now you're suddenly demanding I audition for you. Is that normal?"
"Hmm. Fair enough. Then I'll tell you what film it is — but in exchange, you promise to come to the audition first."
This man is playing chicken with a kindergartner.
"Um… like Ha-jin said, please tell us what the audition is for. I've watched the movies you've made, Director, and they're all nothing but stabbings and slashed throats. Having my son appear in something like that… it doesn't sit well with me."
Kim Si-woon wouldn't deliver a crowd-pleasing blockbuster until five years from now. His filmography at this point consisted of nothing but horror and thrillers.
"This one's rated 15 and up, so there's far less slashing. The early scenes with the child actor, and the flashbacks, are all quite tame — you don't need to worry."
Having plugged my mother's mouth with that non-answer, he turned his head toward me.
"Since it's you, I'll give you three special reasons why you have to audition."
"Three reasons?"
"There'll be more later."
What is with this guy?
Aside from making great films, he's a man with several screws loose.
"First — you've earned the chance to show me your acting. I don't just ask anyone to perform for me."
He'd only just started getting noticed, but his mindset was already that of a grand master.
And yet I knew those weren't empty words. Not a single actor Kim Si-woon had ever picked had been criticized for their acting ability.
"Second — you have to show the producers. I'm certain about you. They aren't."
"Isn't that just making trouble for the Director?"
"I want to cast you, which is why I'm saying we should convince the producers together. Since I couldn't see your real acting, I don't have full confidence either — that's why I'm asking you to show us both this time."
So it connected back to the first reason.
It sounded like he'd just split one reason in two to pad the count.
"And the last reason… this is the most important one. I made a bet over your acting."
"A bet?"
"A bet?"
Excuse me — who gave you the right to bet on me?
Nobody asked me to be part of this.
"I wrote the script with actor Choi Min-ho in mind…."
Kim Si-woon had a habit of locking in his actors before writing his scripts. That was why he had a handful of performers — the ones he called his personas — who'd appeared in three or more of his films.
To secure Choi Min-ho first, he'd sent the synopsis and part of the script to the actor's agency. But then another child actor at the same agency said he wanted to play the childhood role.
"Any ordinary child actor and I'd have brushed them off, but this is Hong Jung-woo asking."
He then went on at length about just how remarkable an actor Hong Jung-woo was.
Hong Jung-woo was the late-born youngest son of Hong Kyung-il, the legendary actor who had defined an era. Given Hong Kyung-il's influence as a film producer as well, he was absolutely not a man to be dismissed.
Hold on. This year, Hong Jung-woo would be… ten years old.
He'd been appearing in dramas and films since age five, which already made him a five-year veteran. In my previous life, he was the man who dominated Chungmuro as the undisputed top actor of his generation well into his thirties.
"But come on, who do you think I am? I'm not a director who caves to fame and hands out roles."
"So you turned him down?"
"At first. But they wouldn't give up. They said they had a child actor in mind already, and asked me to let him audition against me, one on one."
"If that boy acts better than me, I'll walk away cleanly."
"It won't be an open audition. Just you and Hong Jung-woo — a private audition with exactly two people."
"Then why didn't you talk to me about it first? You decided everything on your own."
"I'm talking to you right now, aren't I? The order got shuffled — that doesn't matter, so don't worry about it."
What do you mean order doesn't matter?
"Still, springing an audition on us out of nowhere like this."
"If the word audition bothers you, think of it as an acting duel between you and Jung-woo. A challenge has been laid down — refusing would make you no man at all."
"You want to watch a six-year-old duel a ten-year-old, Director?"
"It's acting, so of course I want to. It's not like you'd be fighting with knives."
My mother, clearly unable to hold back any longer, grabbed my hand and rose from her seat.
"I don't know how good you are at making films, Director, but deciding everything without even hearing my son's opinion — I don't like that. I have no intention of putting my son in a movie made by someone like that. We'll be leaving first."
It had been a long time since I'd seen my mother this angry.
Then again, Director Kim was spectacularly high-handed.
"So you told the director off and stormed out?"
"He treated us with zero respect. If he wanted an audition, the least he could do was ask us beforehand."
Dad spoke with an amused look on his face.
"Forget all that — give me his phone number. Let me have a word with him."
"Why bother meeting him? He's a strange man who only understands his own films."
"He's Director Kim Si-woon, isn't he? I found his movies really entertaining. Even if Ha-jin doesn't end up in it, let me at least talk to him."
My mother reluctantly handed over the business card. Dad called Director Kim and set up a meeting for Saturday afternoon.
Saturday night —
Ding-dong~
"Honestly, what kind of drinking is… oh my, Director."
I woke to noise coming from outside. Cracking my door open, I found Dad and Director Kim Si-woon sprawled flat on their backs in front of the entryway.
"Hyung-nim, Ha-jin, he's really… hic… he's gotta be in the movie, I'm telling you. The kid's got real, proper, visual sense, I'm telling you."
"That'sh right, little brother, don't worry. I'll make sure he getsh the part."
The two of them, stewed to the point of turning soju into rice cakes, were calling each other hyung and little brother while negotiating my casting. My mother was watching the scene with a look of pure disbelief.
The next morning —
Having nursed his hangover with Mom's special beef-bone broth, Director Kim Si-woon formally apologized for his rudeness. Then he explained his film concept in detail and asked again for the audition. Dad, sitting beside him, had become the director's ally. Mom, looking helpless, tossed the ball to me.
"Ha-jin, what about you? Do you want to do the audition?"
Needless to say, my answer was a given.
Since it was a private audition with plenty of time allotted, and he wanted to see me perform at length, he'd sent the synopsis and part of the script in advance.
It was a horror film about a pianist who could see ghosts.
The role I'd been given was the doppelganger who appeared in the protagonist's childhood scenes and flashbacks.
The synopsis contained only the character descriptions, the setting, and the opening of the story. There was a twist that would be awkward to reveal ahead of time — it seemed he'd deliberately written only the front portion.
"Someone told me that as a newcomer you have to audition every single time you go in for a role. So work hard."
"Who told you that?"
"Mom."
"Mom said that, and yet you've never had to audition? Why is that?"
"Because I've been acting since I was three. I'm not a newcomer."
A three-year veteran already.
"They just cast me right away, so I don't need auditions."
Her voice was positively dripping with pride.
It brought to mind Yujin, arms crossed, looking down at me with all the haughty airs of a villainess.
"Oh, and Mom said that if it's Director Kim Si-woon's audition, I absolutely have to take it."
Honestly, if it weren't Kim Si-woon, I wouldn't have tolerated such a high-handed audition either. He was a director whose box office swung wildly between genres, quietly racking up plenty of duds — but when it came to judging actors, he was truly exceptional. Not one of the personas he'd worked with across multiple films had failed to be called a national treasure, a ten-million-admission star, or a master of the craft.
"This one's a private audition with only two people, so you won't have to wait nearly as long as you did back then."
"Two people? Who's the other one?"
"Hong Jung-woo."
"……."
The voice on the line suddenly fell silent.
"What's wrong?"
"I think you're an amazing actor, Ha-jin. But, um… Jung-woo oppa is also very good at acting."
Between amazing and very, which one carried more weight, exactly?
"So which is it — you're saying I'm better, or that Jung-woo hyung is better?"
"…Ha-jin, you're better."
The answer hadn't come right away. Because she'd said what she'd said, she'd picked me — but it meant Hong Jung-woo's skill was nothing to sneeze at either.
I wouldn't know about the child actor days, but the adult Hong Jung-woo I remembered was an actor of staggering range, capable of delivering a completely different performance with every single project. Especially his ability to convey emotion through nothing but his eyes and expression, without a word of dialogue, was beyond any rival.
Of course, that was in the timeline where the regressed me didn't exist.
In my past life I'd been a step behind him — I could admit that. But right now, I wasn't the least bit intimidated.
An attractive face, superb diction, acting technique that could wield even the trembling of a single facial muscle, a spectrum broad enough to inhabit any role — against anyone, in anything, I was confident I wouldn't lose.
I hung up the phone and spread open the script Director Kim had given me.
It was the scene where the young protagonist, playing the piano, sees a ghost for the first time. Starting with the confusion of not understanding what was happening, pushing through the fear, and arriving at curiosity about the unknown presence — I would have to layer one emotion after another in rapid succession.
And yet there was something strange about the script.
Normally, a script lays out the location and time after the scene number, then includes stage directions describing the situation before the characters' lines — all so the actor can read the directions, picture the scene, and deliver the dialogue accordingly.
There are no stage directions.
Nothing but bare lines of dialogue.
In other words: figure out the situation from the lines alone, then handle your eyeline, your movements, your expressions — all of it on your own.
Kim Si-woon was assuming I'd perform at roughly Hong Jung-woo's level, and he wanted to see how I would interpret the script and what I would do with it.
So this is how he grinds his actors.
Don't just do what's written — take every single line, interpret and study it yourself, and stamp it with your own color and tone. No wonder he didn't ask just anyone to act for him.
It was precisely because so few could keep up.
Looks like you're expecting quite a lot from a six-year-old, Director… good call. I'll deliver every bit of it.