Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: The Verdict
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Kim Seonwoo was a gloomy character.
Like a personification sculpted from the word "void."
I thought it didn't suit any of the characters Seonwoo had portrayed so far.
The roles Seonwoo had played up until now might have seemed drab and dark... but they also possessed an irresistibly captivating sparkle, dazzling enough to make your eyes hurt.
But Kim Seonwoo was different.
No trace of emotion could be felt from him. Not even the slightest hint of weariness.
He was utterly, completely empty.
But why?
Why did looking at this man—so perfectly hollow, the very embodiment of emptiness—make my heart throb with this oppressive pressure?
'It doesn't feel like acting.'
Yeah.
No matter how brilliant the performance, moments like that always creep in.
Wow, he's a great actor...
That just means you're constantly aware the other person is acting.
But watching Seonwoo's performance now... you couldn't help but wonder if this was really acting at all.
The figure standing there wasn't some mere role—it was the real "Kim Seonwoo."
It was unexpected.
She had thought Seonwoo was an actor rich in color. The brighter and more vivid the hue of his roles, the more he shone.
But that assessment seemed wrong.
Compared to all the characters he'd played before, this one could only be described as dim and murky... and yet right now, Seonwoo was radiating a presence more intense than ever.
As if this was the garb that truly fit him.
—I'm... about to jump off Mapo Bridge right now, but I hate to trouble the paramedics.
Kim Seonwoo, on the phone with 119, climbs straight onto the bridge railing.
His face atop the railing remains utterly expressionless.
No hesitation, no ennui, no boredom, no sadness—not even fear.
'...This is weird.'
Yeah. It's weird.
Can suicide really be this devoid of emotion?
But what was even weirder was how that bizarre emotional thread somehow rang true.
It felt like Kim Seonwoo's emotions were transmitting directly to her.
Not yearning for death, not fearing life—yet still choosing to end it. That irony... somehow made sense.
Why?
How could she understand it?
Before the question could be answered, Kim Seonwoo finally jumped.
His point of view plunges into the water, gradually darkening into a fade-out.
With that, all ten stories had concluded.
"...Suffocating."
"Tell me about it..."
But before they could catch their breath, the scene cut away.
A shot of Seonwoo blankly opening his eyes in a stark white room.
Seonwoo looks around.
Having fallen into the Han River, he's suddenly in this bizarre space—looking dazed and confused, he stays frozen in place for a long moment.
Only after slowly surveying the room, which contains nothing but a bed and a bathroom, does Seonwoo finally rise.
No dialogue, not even a brief exclamation. Yet his presence lingers. A weight that envelops Seonwoo himself.
Dayeon and Dasol held their breath in unison, as if by some unspoken agreement.
Immersion pulled her in despite herself.
Her vision filled to the brim with Seonwoo's expressions, his breaths, his gestures.
'This feels just like...'
It was the moment that thought—Doyoung—flashed through Dayeon's mind.
Seonwoo steps out of the room.
And what awaits him is utter pandemonium.
All the characters who'd appeared before Seonwoo are gathered in a vast white plaza, kicking up a storm of chaos.
—Fuck, where the hell is this place! You all in cahoots or what!
—Calm down! We don't know what's going on either!
—Sob, n-no, I wanna go home. Mommy...!
Emotions erupt like wildfire.
Yet amid it all, Seonwoo simply stands and watches. As if the panic has nothing whatsoever to do with him.
And then,
—Announcement.
The broadcast booms out.
—This program, One Room, is a survival game that continues until only a single survivor remains.
—From now on, you must select one dropout each day.
—Tonight, before midnight strikes, return to your rooms and cast your votes.
—If no one votes, everyone is eliminated.
—Good luck.
It was an unnatural voice.
Distorted audio quality, like some bargain-bin AI.
But the content was even more alienating.
—Votes? Dropout? What the fuck is this bullshit?
—Um, excuse me! Whoever's watching, we don't know what's going on, but please let us out right now!
—You think yapping like that will get them to let us go? These kidnappers gonna just send us home 'cause we asked nicely?
......So that survival game thing... you don't think it actually means life and death, right?
—N-no way. In the 21st century? Come on...
—Y-yeah, that doesn't make sense!
Voices denying reality erupt from all sides.
The camera pans across faces, starting from Hyeongbin, lighting up each one... lingers on Yeonwoo's face, twisted in an amused smirk... then abruptly fades to black.
And,
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ << One Room >>
"......Whoa."
"Ah......"
As the title card rose—signaling the end of episode 1 and the drama's launch—Dasol and Dayeon finally let out a long, pent-up sigh.
The lingering impact was heavier than expected; they couldn't string words together until the audience applause began to fade.
"This is way beyond what I imagined. Didn't think it'd be this fun."
"Feels like the first drama like this I've ever seen."
"Makes sense. Super experimental. Anyway..."
Dayeon let out a chuckle.
"Seonwoo was insane, right? Acting like some grand master."
"...Ahem. Y-yeah?"
"Even back with the mute role, I thought he was good... but this? Skill growing this fast possible?"
"Hm, less like his skill leveled up this time and more like..."
Dasol trailed off.
She wasn't sure if it was the right way to put it. But in the end, she had to voice it.
"Like he found his personal color? Something like that."
"Personal color, huh..."
Dayeon nodded.
She hadn't analyzed Seonwoo's acting as intently as Dasol had, but even she could tell this performance was on a completely different trajectory from before.
A sense of much greater depth.
Not so much acting as fully assimilating into the role...
"Maybe he'll end up a specialist in roles like that down the line."
"That... could be."
Dasol wanted to disagree but nodded anyway.
It was acting so compelling even a director like her had to salivate. Emptiness dripping from every expression, every inflection...
'...Still, Seonwoo pulls off vibrant roles so well too.'
But Dasol couldn't dwell on it.
The judging was already underway.
Im Beom gripped the mic.
—......Everyone, truly incredible.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ What would it feel like on the day your long-dreamed debut finally arrived...?
A question every actor has asked themselves at least once.
And in this moment, the contestants of I Am an Actor finally had their answer.
"......Guh."
Amid the torrent of applause and cheers from the audience, Hyeseong wipes away tears.
Minhee pats his back reassuringly, but even her own eyes are rimmed red.
Jinwook hangs his head low; Moonhyeon covers his face with his hands; Justin gapes, seemingly at a loss.
Jaewon still seems trapped in the afterglow, staring blankly at the end credits scrolling on the screen.
The only one maintaining composure is Yeonwoo, with his faint smile.
And,
'What about me?'
Seonwoo figured his own expression was just as serene as Yeonwoo's.
It'd be a lie to say the drama hadn't tugged at him emotionally, but it hadn't set his feelings roiling out of control either.
What was it? Calmer than he'd expected, maybe.
But then.
Minhee, glancing his way, slyly slips him a handkerchief from her pocket.
"Wipe."
"......Pardon?"
"Stop crying and wipe it off. Cameras are getting it all."
"I'm not cry—"
It was the moment he was about to say it.
Seonwoo finally noticed something trailing down his cheek.
Tears.
"...Ah."
As he dabbed them away with Minhee's handkerchief, he thought to himself.
Thought he was fine, thought it wasn't tear-worthy... when had they started flowing?
Minhee forced a smile, her lips trembling faintly.
"Jealous."
"Of what?"
"I wanna cry too but can't. Makeup."
"...Looks a bit smudged around your eyes already?"
"I know. Ugh, screw it—just cry?"
Seonwoo gave a faint smile at her conflicted expression.
And that was the moment.
"......Everyone, truly incredible."
Im Beom raised his voice, mic in hand.
Too far to see clearly, but his eyes looked misty somehow.
Had he cried? Unlikely, everyone thought—but Im Beom continued softly.
"Sorry. This should be a time to celebrate your efforts, but we have to judge today."
Im Beom met each contestant's gaze one by one.
"But that's precisely why I had to say this: No matter who gets eliminated today, to me, there are no losers among you. You were all winners. All protagonists."
"And it's not just Mr. Im Beom who feels that way. All us judges do."
"Exactly. Today, you were actors first—before being audition contestants."
The judges spoke in unison.
No empty platitudes. They'd spent the entire One Room in awe.
'Beyond expectations.'
Sung Jun-il's gaze grew solemn.
They'd watched their acting up close all along. They'd had some expectations for the drama too.
Not terrible, but surely plenty of rough edges.
But...
"Watching the drama, there came a point where I forgot I had to judge. I just got lost in it."
Literally above and beyond.
A work that made you forget—or even resent—the need to critique.
However,
"But we're here to assign scores regardless, and today two of you must bring your journeys to a close."
"Note that today's judging will follow the order of your appearances in the drama."
"Alright, then... let's begin the judging."
Everyone swallowed hard at the judges' words.
No more cumulative scores. One slip, and you could be out.
Plus,
'What place did I get?'
Curiosity burned. Everyone believed they'd given their all in this mission.
Wondering exactly how it'd be rated.
First up: Hyeongbin.
His score totaled 85.
Judges: 78; Audience: 7.
"Amateurish yet charming acting." That judge's comment was probably the most accurate summation.
Setting skill aside, Hyeongbin as a firefighter... shone irresistibly on screen.
Next: Minhee.
"You might wonder why bring this up in a judging seat, but it must be said: Minhee, you're sparklingly pretty. And that's an indispensable trait for a heroine. Makes me want to see you in more roles, more ways."
Basking in Yumiyeon's praise once more, Minhee's score was high.
Total 90. Judges 81, audience 9.
Next: Hyeseong.
The frontrunner everyone expected to top the scores.
And he delivered.
"Hyeseong was perfect."
Judges: a whopping 86.
Audience: 8. Total 94—the highest so far.
'...No one's topping that.'
And that hunch held true.
"Jinwook has that raw appeal. What he needs to figure out now is how to make it fully his own."
Jinwook: total 88.
Judges 82, audience 6.
"Jaewon has such clean energy. Zero burden on the viewer. I hope he hones this as his signature weapon."
Jaewon: total 91.
Judges 83, audience 8.
"Exactly the level expected. For better or worse."
Jieun: total 85.
Judges 77, audience 8.
"Moonhyeon... shows just how brightly life experience can illuminate acting. The pity is he doesn't fully explode when he should."
Moonhyeon: total 84.
Judges 77, audience 7.
"Heard Justin struggles with Korean, but it doesn't show in his acting at all. No sense of linguistic shortfall in his lines... you can tell he worked hard."
Justin: total 81.
Judges 75, audience 6.
No one had dethroned Hyeseong yet.
Just as everyone vaguely assumed he'd take first...
"...Yeonwoo's acting sent shivers down my spine."
Yeonwoo's judging began.
Im Beom spoke first.
"I said it once before: Yeonwoo needs to find his own 'jo.'"
"...Yes, you did."
"Felt it in the last mission, but today? I'm convinced."
Yeonwoo has found his jo.
His own color.
That was Im Beom's assessment.
But Yeonwoo's expression suggested the words didn't move him deeply. Still wearing that faint smile—but Seonwoo could tell.
Because the sky-blue aura surrounding her... hadn't wavered a bit.
'She won't welcome that.'
Especially hearing he'd found his "jo" in a psychopath role, of all things.
To Yeonwoo, it might ring like "Psychopath suits you perfectly" or "You can never be normal."
But Seonwoo understood why Im Beom said it.
Yeonwoo as the psychopath... didn't feel like an amateur at all. A veteran's poise from countless roles.
So,
"Time to announce scores."
"Judges score: Yeonwoo, 86."
"Audience score... 9."
"Total: 95."
"Congratulations. Yeonwoo takes first."
No surprise from Seonwoo at the top ranking.
He'd thought it deserved no less.
Seonwoo glanced at Yeonwoo's complexion.
Even if from a psycho role, first place should bring some joy, right?
But he froze solid.
'...What the hell?'
Yeonwoo was still smiling.
Beaming with joy, eyes glistening with emotion.
Her expression was flawless.
But the sky-blue aura around her... whipped wildly like a flame caught in a gale. Teetering on the brink of snuffing out, spreading chaos.
'Angry...?'
He couldn't tell.
But he could sense she was desperately holding her performance together.
That an overwhelming storm of emotion raged inside her, enough to shatter her persona.
But he couldn't keep fixating on her.
The judges' eyes had turned to him.
Sung Jun-il winked as he spoke.
"As for Seonwoo... so much to say today."
It was his turn.