Audition
An endless expanse of blank white space stretched out before her.
In truth, it was the inside of her own head.
The moment she heard the requirement, her mind had gone completely blank.
What do I do? Should I just try it myself?
But how?
She had come relying on nothing but a single special privilege. She hadn't practiced. She hadn't even properly looked into what acting actually was.
If I'd known it would be like this, I should've practiced a little.
It was the first regret she had felt since reincarnating.
"Thirty seconds remaining."
Even as she wallowed in regret, time kept moving.
I completely blew the first button already…
The disappointment sat heavy.
"Twenty seconds remaining."
The judge kept announcing the time left.
Wait. Time?
Something clicked for Ara.
They said they'd give me time to prepare, right? So then…?
"Ten seconds remaining."
No more time to think.
Ara quickly pulled out the phone she had tucked away. The judges made no move to stop her.
Psychopath!
The character that had jumped to the top of the list the moment she heard the word.
Right. If they won't give me a script, I'll just find one myself.
This counted as preparation too, in its own way.
With near-superhuman speed, she tore through the internet—
Target discovered.
Got it!
Synchronization complete.
"Time's up. Please begin."
At a timing that could only be called miraculous, she managed to activate the privilege.
A psychopath character sharing her senses.
JOKER
……
In an instant, her expression vanished.
As if every bit of the fidgeting and fluster from moments before had been an act.
A silence so terrible it stole the breath arrived without warning. And within that silence, yellow-glowing eyes fixed on the judges seated before her.
Those eyes were dry — stripped of any emotion, any interest.
Gulp—
"……"
In the silence, the sound of someone swallowing was all that managed to reach the ear.
"……"
Ara simply stared at them in silence.
Now what?
Internally, she was in full emergency mode.
I barely managed the synchronization, sure.
But once again — the lines were self-serve.
I can't just say whatever, either.
Thinking hard, a particular scene of the Joker suddenly came to mind.
Ah! With this one, I don't even need lines, do I?
Conveniently, the audition room had a full-length mirror.
Ara walked over with soft, catlike steps and stood before it.
Perfect.
Her back was nearly turned at an angle, but every face of the judges beyond the mirror was clearly visible.
One hand, which had been resting below her torso, rose toward her face.
Heh—
One corner of her mouth lifted.
There was a dissonance to it — as if she were sneering, and yet not. No intention lived in that mouth. Only the fingertips led the way, and the edge of her lip simply found the path and locked into its decided place.
Now the other side.
The opposite side received the same treatment — a finger touching the lip.
Did it go up a little too much?
It looked slightly asymmetrical. She lowered the fixed corner of her mouth a fraction.
Done.
A beautiful smile took shape, revealing a faint glimpse of teeth.
The lower half of the face was perfect. But the eyes remained.
She lowered the outer corners and finely adjusted the size of each eye, guided precisely by her fingertips. The other side, made completely identical. Like a decalcomania.
Oops.
A slight error was nothing a correction couldn't fix. Even the direction of the eyebrows.
Done!
At last, it was complete.
The most ideal, dazzlingly beautiful smile she could imagine. A face that offered the other person endless reassurance.
Now she turned and presented the finished face to the judges head-on.
Well. Saying nothing at all would be weird, though. Can't be helped.
With that frozen smile fixed on the judges, she opened her mouth.
I'm already screwed anyway, so I might as well greet them properly. Right?
As the saying goes, nobody hates a person who greets well.
The judges' faces held nothing in particular. Perfect blankness.
I'm done for. Totally done for.
And so, just like every other participant, Ara walked out to the waiting room with a hollow feeling in her chest. Of course, none of it showed on the surface.
"Whew! Finally over."
Kim Eun-bi let out a bright, relieved sigh.
"Good work, Writer Kim. You too, PD."
"You worked hard as well, Director."
It had been a short, improvised audition, but with nearly a hundred and fifty people to evaluate, the mental toll had been considerable.
"PD, the audition footage was all recorded, right?"
"Yes."
Given the number of participants, they had obtained consent in advance and filmed the auditions.
"Show me that one participant. Right now." "Number 123, correct?"
"Yes. I need to see it again. What about you, Writer?"
"I'd rather not watch……."
They began reviewing the recorded footage once more.
Wow……. She's incredibly pretty.
A beauty rare even in this industry.
What kind of performance is she going to show us?
"Please act as a psychopath. We'll give you one minute to prepare."
At Ha Il-gwon's instruction, she looked just as flustered as every other participant. Moreover, unlike the others, she wasn't making any gestures at all.
A bust…….
She must've applied purely on her looks.
Too much panic. This doesn't even reach amateur level. What a waste of that face.
Around the ten-second mark, she pulled out her phone.
Now, of all times?
And then the short preparation time was over.
Sssaaaah—
If sound could be heard, it might have been something like that.
She transformed in an instant. Those eyes that had lost interest in everything.
……
Her expression was deleted, and the restless atmosphere settled. The judges unconsciously grew careful even about exhaling — as if trying not to be noticed by a well-fed predator.
She glanced at the judges for a moment, then moved soundlessly toward the mirror. There was clearly no sound, no presence at all — and yet, paradoxically, her existence dominated the space completely. The image of a predator that had fully established its territory.
Looking into the mirror, her hand rose.
Hah……!
Wh-what is she…
Her expression…
She began assembling her face piece by piece using her hands. Was that even possible in the first place? Crafting an expression purely by the will of one's fingertips?
Perhaps it was because they were watching through the mirror. Watching a face being assembled zone by zone, one part after another, was deeply uncanny. One side a radiant smile, the other a cold blankness. It delivered the uncanny valley straight to the judges.
Gulp—
Dry throats swallowed hard.
The uncanny valley stacked layer upon layer until at last it formed a beautiful canyon and came toward them. A beautiful, benevolent smile free of any hostility. The kind of face that made you want to entrust your body and mind completely. And that was precisely why they barely managed to swallow back the rising nausea.
They had witnessed the process, after all.
There was no emotion in that expression. Only artificially constructed, freezing mercy.
A voice of ice-cold warmth. Like a desert where not a single blade of grass could grow. The heat haze rising in daylight becomes a mirage and deceives you — so of course you forget the brutal cold of the night.
She finished her performance just like that, returned to her original expression, and walked out.
A single line of dialogue. Nothing more than a trivial greeting.
But the meaning within it? A warning, perhaps. Or mere idle curiosity.
Whatever the meaning, they hid. They simply did their best in the role of prey.
"……"
The PD and the director were both at a loss for words.
"See, that's why I said not to watch it again."
"Hey. I thought it'd be fine the second time."
"Still, it's much better through the camera."
"That's true."
"Alright! Shall we decide?"
Kim Eun-bi shifted the mood.
"Honestly, I can't think of anyone but participant number 123. Actress Gil Ara."
Everyone agreed with her words.
"The visuals, of course — but her acting was incredible too."
"I agree. The performance we saw live was truly extraordinary. But when acting is too realistic and excessive, it can make viewers uncomfortable. Like it or not, that inevitably affects the ratings."
"That's what the recording was for, wasn't it? Fortunately, through the camera, that unsettling quality seemed somewhat diluted. Now the real question is—"
"Was that even really acting…?"
"……"
"……"
No one rushed to answer Kim Eun-bi's words.
"Wh-what if she's actually a p-psychopath……."
It was an absurd thing to say. But having seen that performance, it was hard to dismiss the thought entirely without a lingering unease.
The three of them pondered for a moment, but it wasn't particularly productive time.
"Still, what can we do about it."
"Huh?"
"We're the ones who made the request. She simply answered it."
"I understand your concern, Writer. But she delivered a perfect performance, so the right thing is for us to applaud. Agreed?"
"Yes. Understood. I think I was being a bit sensitive. I ended up casting weird suspicions on an innocent person for no reason. So it's decided, then?"
"Still, it never hurts to be careful, just in case."
Hearing the director, the other two nodded.
"Then let's go with number 123. We'll start arranging a group meeting soon."
"Understood."
"Wow, these people were seriously skilled."
Ara was at home watching the production presentation for Forest of Crime.
"No wonder. There were so many people."
The lack of reaction to her expression work made sense — they had seen countless performances.
"So of course a beginner's acting wouldn't satisfy them. I'd feel the same."
Still, she had gained something from this failure.
"I need to practice acting."
Sensory Sharing wasn't invincible. It had zero resistance to improvisation — ad-libs. Delivering the lines was ultimately up to her. The privilege was nothing more than an assistant that helped draw out emotions a little more easily.
"Since I've started anyway, I might as well work hard at it."
Ara began searching the internet for other auditions. As the saying goes, a building doesn't collapse if the foundation is solid. So she'd lower the scale a bit and start with bit parts.
Actors Wanted! Looking for actors to join Beginning (working title)!
Theater troupe seeking actors.
Independence fighter short film. Seeking female independence army soldiers for The Night the Scops Owl Cries.
Looking around, there really was a wide variety of things. Ara tried calling the phone numbers listed.
"We're sorry."
"We're only looking for people with experience."
"Without any experience at all, it probably won't work out. We're sorry."
And so she tasted rejection from every single one.
"Oh, look at these people."
The tips of her clenched fingers turned red.
"Seriously. If everyone only hires people with experience, where are newcomers like me supposed to build any?"
Society, faced the moment she turned twenty, was far too harsh.
That night.
After a continuous string of rejections, a thoroughly corrupted Ara was playing games.
"No! Ah!"
"Where the hell did our jungle go?!"
She had died alone, but she was blaming the team for no reason.
"Ah."
She was furious. She barely restrained the urge to keyboard-smash.
The chat war grew increasingly heated, and eventually they started asking after Ara's parents.
But Ara was not one to lose at this.
The ultimate counter.
Make it solemn. Taste some guilt.
But there was something she had overlooked.
Those wearing the mask of anonymity were demons beyond imagination.
Ara learned one more thing.
That fact-checking violence actually hurt far too much. That when you got truly angry, tears came out.
Having force-quit the game, Ara wiped her flowing tears and headed for bed.
Bzzzt—
"Hello……."
"Ah. Ms. Gil Ara? Hello. We are……."
Click—
"Ha……."
As if her mood wasn't foul enough already, now even a voice phishing call.
Bzzzt—
The same number called again.
"Ha, hello. I don't have any money. So stop calling."
Just as she was about to hang up—
"Excuse me?"
The other party made a sound of complete confusion. Only then did Ara feel like she might have made a mistake.
"I'm sorry. I thought it was voice phishing."
"There seems to have been a misunderstanding. Let me introduce myself first. I'm Choi Moon-soo, casting director for Forest of Crime."
"Ah. Forest of Crime?"
"Yes. You auditioned this morning, correct?"
"Yes."
She had. And she had completely bombed it.
"I'm calling because you passed."
"What?"
"I said you passed."
"Ah……."
Having finally grasped the situation, Ara—
"You bastard, this is voice phishing!"
"Huh? Excuse me?"
"I'm hanging up!"
"Wai—"
Click—
"You think I'd fall for that?"
Scumbags who preyed on people's desperation, deceived them, and plundered them. And common sense — the audition had finished that morning, and the results were out the same day? With that many people auditioning? Even if that were true, who calls this late at night? Did they eat their manners for dinner?
Therefore: scam voice phishing. Case closed.
She must have signed up for random things all over the place because of the auditions, and somehow her phone number had gotten sold off.
Bzzzt—
"Wow. Persistent to the end."
Ara switched her phone to silent, tossed it aside, and went to sleep.