Here for the Audition
Slipping into audition season felt right. The call came at the perfect moment. With a flicker of hope, Woo Dan-wol picked up.
"This is Woo Dan-wol."
[Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Woo Dan-wol. This is Kim Ji-yeon, the assistant PD.]
"Ah, hello. Good to hear from you, Assistant PD."
The sudden contact was unexpected. Why would a PD be calling him out of the blue? Still, Dan-wol listened calmly.
[The reason I'm calling is about the project we're currently working on...]
"Ah."
Dan-wol nodded without thinking. Aside from theater, the first acting job he'd landed after waking up in this world had been a minor drama role with no lines. Apparently the PD had tracked him down. Word that episode one would air soon followed, and then came the main point.
[Do you know the writer Ko A-rin? She's joining Netflix with her new project—]
"I'm sorry. Something's come up on my end."
[Haha. That's fine. You wouldn't necessarily know her.]
He didn't pretend to know her and risk making things awkward. He did know the platform, though. Netflix was a major OTT service; landing a role there would put his face in front of a huge audience.
[If you're not too busy...]
"I'll do it."
[Huh? Haha, you already know what I'm asking?]
"It's an audition, isn't it?"
[Yes. That's right.]
Dan-wol understood his position perfectly. In his previous life things had been different, but here he was nothing more than an unknown rookie actor. The only sensible move was to charge forward without hesitation.
"If you give me the chance, I'll give it everything I have."
He wasn't the type to miss a lifeline when it appeared—especially one that had come through connections.
[All right, the location is...]
"Yes, yes. Understood."
Tomorrow at two o'clock. After receiving the details, Dan-wol smiled and ended the call. Ri-na tilted her head at his expression.
"Good news?"
"Yeah. They invited me to an audition."
"You're still going to keep acting?"
Ri-na's face clouded over, her voice laced with worry. She was remembering how difficult things had been for him before. But the Woo Dan-wol standing in front of her now was a completely different person—different enough that she sometimes wondered if someone else had slipped into his skin. Still, what did it matter? Seeing her brother smile so brightly, Ri-na said nothing. She simply resolved to support him quietly and brag to her friends if he ever appeared on television.
The next day arrived. Dan-wol left the house with determination. Living in Seoul had its advantages—auditions were far easier to reach. Rather than nerves, anticipation filled him as he thought about putting his abilities to use. This was the true beginning of his acting career.
Acorn Is Coming. That was the oddly named production company's full title. Inside, three women were holding a meeting.
"Can we really trust this? He'll be here soon, so we'll find out soon enough."
Ko A-rin pushed hard. In this industry—especially the drama world—a writer's influence was enormous. Fans sometimes flocked to projects solely because of the writer's name. This situation was unusual. Even though the role had opened up after the initial auditions, it was rare for an unknown rookie to receive a private audition. Normally they would have just cast someone without the extra step.
Director Seo Yeon-soo voiced her doubts, but the investor present waved them aside.
"We don't have anyone else in mind anyway, right? It can't hurt to take a look."
Casting was supposed to wrap up soon so filming could begin. The first two episodes were manageable, but the main villain who appeared from episode three onward still had no actor, leaving the production in a precarious spot.
"All right. Let's see what happens."
At 1:30—thirty minutes early—Woo Dan-wol arrived, and the audition moved quickly.
"New actor Woo Dan-wol."
He bowed ninety degrees. His first impression was good—yet also not. All three women shared the same assessment. The mask passed. More than passed, actually. Visually striking looks could function as marketing, but they could also become a liability. How many actors coasted on their faces alone? They hoped, regardless of gender, that he wasn't one of them.
Only Ko A-rin, who knew his true identity, wore a meaningful expression. The corner of her mouth twitched like an excited child's.
"Take your time with the script. Let us know when you're ready."
"Understood."
Script analysis was one of the most important skills an actor could possess. Understanding the character came before embodying them. The three women had already decided to give him ample time. That was part of the audition's purpose—to gauge a performer's fundamental ability: how quickly they could analyze and internalize a role. They would also see his raw expressive talent and basic acting fundamentals. Though this was Netflix, they could still test how well he handled sudden script changes.
After about thirty minutes, Dan-wol spoke.
"So the role is Kang Min-hyeok."
"That's right."
"I'll begin."
If his performance failed to impress, the audition would end then and there. But he smiled. The script appealed to him, and the role appealed to him even more.
The moment he said he was ready, Dan-wol closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. He recalled the script now stored in his mind. He activated his ability. The fusion of his past acting experience and his new power began to flow. His performance started.
"......"
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. The judges' expressions hardened. Blank. Dan-wol wore no expression at all. Yet they felt an unsettling dissonance stirring in their minds. Something felt off. The longer they looked at him, the more they stared into his eyes and pupils, the more unease crept in. He was human—his appearance was unmistakably human—yet every instinct humans had developed over generations was sounding an alarm inside their heads.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat. A simple action, yet the change it produced was anything but simple. The mood transformed. The blank face became a smile—not a sudden jump from zero to one, but a gradual, meticulously layered shift. The moment his expression moved from neutral to smiling, time itself seemed to slow. It was the sight of something wearing a human mask gradually taking on the shape of an attractive person.
His dark, heavy eyes gained a subtle gleam. The faint smile finally allowed them to register that he was a handsome man. Then the line came.
"Given the situation, shall I at least introduce myself?"
A chill ran down the judges' spines. The monster that had radiated something distinctly inhuman only moments ago was now behaving like a person—and doing it flawlessly. This was Kang Min-hyeok's first appearance. His first line. The man who would break the protagonist, detective Lee Seo-yeon, had arrived. He was the kind of presence that could steal not only the judges' attention but the viewers' as well.
"Pass..."
Ko A-rin's single word slipped out unconsciously. No one disagreed. In fact, they all felt the same. No one else could have embodied this role the way he just had.
"You pass. Congratulations."
"Thank you!!"
The tension dissolved. The mysterious figure behind the veil was gone, replaced once more by the rookie actor Woo Dan-wol. His gentle expression returned so completely that it was hard to believe he had just delivered that performance. Everyone smiled, still slightly unsettled.
"We'll handle the contract separately. Which agency are you with?"
"I don't have one yet."
That was unexpected. Aspiring or new actors sometimes went without representation, but they had never imagined someone with this level of skill would be unattached.
"Anyway, thank you for coming in today."
"Yes. May I take the script with me? I'd like to analyze it more."
"O-of course!"
After offering his thanks, Dan-wol left the audition room. The moment he was gone, everyone wore identical expressions of realization. That performance had come after only thirty minutes of reading. In other words, it had been raw—his absolute lowest point. The more he analyzed the role, the more refined his acting would become. Director, writer, investor—different roles within the same industry, yet they all felt the same excitement. One felt a masterpiece was about to be born. Another felt their character had been perfectly realized. Another felt the project's chances of success had just skyrocketed. They were already looking forward to filming—and they were all thinking the same thing: they had to lock him down.
Meanwhile, on the train ride home, Dan-wol wore a sly smile. Clutching the script to his chest like someone guarding a precious snack, he kept glancing around warily. Two weeks passed.
The drama Woo Dan-wol had appeared in as an extra finally aired. And on the internet, unexpected reactions began to pour in.