Perfect Audition
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The Jiho Acting Academy I attended was founded by a former Hallyu star.
Until five years ago, Hong Ji-ho had been churning out projects left and right, but then he suddenly halted all activities. And out of nowhere, he announced he was opening an acting academy.
To the bewildered public, Hong Ji-ho had this to say.
"I've seen my limits."
"Pardon?"
"At my current level, I could keep acting for ten or twenty years, sure. But I won't improve beyond this. Rather than endure that humiliation, it's faster to just raise someone better than me."
"...?"
It was utterly absurd, and no one understood it. Some media even suspected it was noise marketing.
But Hong Ji-ho really quit acting and opened the academy. He even set tuition at volunteer levels.
Of course, aspiring actors flocked there in droves.
Afterward, Jiho Acting Academy produced talent on par with Hong Ji-ho's fame—from bit players who popped up like cough drops in daily dramas to leads in those intense 10 p.m. slots.
Among all that talent, there was always one consistent failure.
And now, that failure was about to vanish.
"...So you're quitting after all."
"Good work. Get some rest."
"Call if anything comes up."
My classmates cheerfully celebrated my dropout notice falling through.
As I sorted the mountain of scripts piled in my locker like a hill, I methodically cleared away years of lingering attachments.
Seven years, huh.
My heart wasn't so much depressed as it was hollow.
Maybe that's just how it feels after burning it all out.
I've done enough.
Scripts filled with tiny notes and frayed edges stacked into boxes.
That damn dream might've been a signal to get my head straight, too.
Come to think of it, it might've even helped. If that cursed dream hadn't snapped me out of it, I could've gone mad with acting, flailing until I died on the streets.
If you really analyzed it, it was almost a grateful miracle—
Damn it, no, that's going too far.
I gritted my teeth and shoved the last script into the box.
Letting out a small sigh, I gazed at the one item left in my hand.
King and Sovereign
Half a day earlier, I'd gotten this audition script from Hong Ji-ho in the principal's office.
Or rather, it'd been half-forced on me.
Hong Principal's slouchy face was masterful, honed by years of acting, and I lost.
No matter how much I feared the nightmares, they couldn't compare to immediate living expenses. There was no real choice.
Hong Principal's kindness was pure, which made it all the crueler...
No helping it. Guess I'll suffer for another two weeks or so.
As I sighed and stuffed the King and Sovereign script into my bag—
The guy I least wanted to run into appeared.
"Oh, here you are, Kang Min?"
Ma Do-jun smirked and strode over, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
I scowled, but he kept grinning, oblivious.
"Quitting acting, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Good, good call. Finally know your place. Broke nobodies like you disappearing ASAP really helps keep the academy's quality up."
His favorite hobby was tracking down dropouts—whether they quit from reality checks or family issues—and mocking them one by one.
Naturally, most hated it, but with his rich family and decent-enough career, few bothered clashing with him.
Once even I, who occasionally snapped back, was gone, it'd be his world entirely.
"Whatever, call me once you're settled. Not that a loser like you will... Hm?"
He was cackling like he'd won a total victory when he spotted the script in my hand.
His face soured instantly, disgust twisting his features.
"What? You going for King and Sovereign audition?"
"Hong Principal handed it to me. Said to give it one last shot."
"What? Hong Ji-ho?"
Has this relic lost his mind—
He scowled, then bolted up and headed for the principal's office.
He didn't forget to toss a warning over his shoulder.
"Know your place and drop that audition. Don't dirty it up."
"We'll see. Looks like you're going too—anything left for you to dirty?"
"You little shit, have you lost your mind? What the hell did you just—!"
I ignored his excited rant from behind, picked up the box, and left.
Skipped the elevator for the stairs. Glanced at the floor directory and the notice board screaming "Believe and Achieve!" before heading down.
Dumped the scripts in the paper recycling bin, flattened the box, and separated it.
My seven years ended just like that.
The only thing left in my bag was the King and Sovereign script from Hong Ji-ho Principal.
Once I get past this, no more ties to acting.
What next—? I boarded the bus, pondering as I flipped open the script.
And cursed under my breath without thinking.
"Damn it all."
Now even the audition role dies at the very end?!
- Principal Hong Ji-ho. There seems to be a problem with the list you sent...
This call came to the King and Sovereign casting director that evening, after Hong Ji-ho had submitted the private audition participant list.
Hong Ji-ho happened to be mulling dinner options in his office.
"Hm, what problem?"
- You know what.
"No idea what you're on about..."
Hong Ji-ho feigned a grave tone, pondering deeply.
Either way, delivery meant jjajangmyeon from a good spot. Jjamppong broth wasn't bad either, but right now, he craved fried rice. Mixing it with jjajang changes the sweetness ratio unlike straight jjajangmyeon—
Even lost in such thoughts, his voice stayed serious—that was the gravitas of actor Hong Ji-ho.
Wasting it on this is the issue.
The vice principal sighed deeply beside him.
A few minutes passed, and the caller finally lost patience.
- I'm talking about that punk Kang Min!
"Punk?"
- ...That guy.
"'Guy' isn't quite right either, but fine."
As the caller faltered, Hong Ji-ho settled on a menu and nodded to the vice principal, who shook his head but pulled out his phone to order.
"Something wrong with Min?"
- I told you, it's a crucial role! Can't have trash like him shoehorned in!
A common misconception among industry outsiders: private auditions are laxer than public ones.
In other words, backdoor deals via connections or agencies.
Sure, it happens, but usually the opposite. Private casting means filtering mediocrity for immediate ready-to-use talent.
Producers describe desired images; scouts or academies recommend their best. Recommenders stake their names, so subpar picks tank reputations.
Casting directors hold all the power either way.
"Dunno. Picking who to send is my call, right? If it bugs you, don't contact me."
Of course, if the caller weren't former Hallyu star Hong Ji-ho.
- That's not what I mean!
"Isn't it?"
- ...Principal Hong Ji-ho.
"No need to emphasize—about 50 million Koreans know my name."
- Keep this up and...!
"And?"
- ...Kuh.
The casting director choked against Hong Ji-ho's drawl.
He bullied academies and scouts, got perks, but bowed to a Hallyu legend.
Hong Ji-ho knew it, amped the slouch; the other hid gritted teeth.
- ...Fine. Selection will be 'fair' anyway.
"Splendid."
Call ended abruptly.
Hong Ji-ho shrugged, set down his phone. The vice principal ventured cautiously.
"Wasn't that too risky?"
"Risky?"
"Honestly, Min's skills are... iffy. I get wanting to give him a last shot, but."
"Dunno. Who's overdoing it—the guy who grilled me for 10 minutes?"
"Pardon?"
Hong Ji-ho smirked at the blinking vice principal.
"If he were that bad, just glance and reject. No need to piss off a connected retiree—better odds that way."
"True, but..."
It was odd on reflection.
"So why bother?"
"......"
"Dunno, maybe 'cause some punk stormed in earlier bitching—"
The vice principal recalled the student who'd barged in hours ago, protesting why trash like Kang Min got a precious academy slot. He'd stormed out after Hong Ji-ho ignored him.
Vice principal frowned.
"Ma Do-jun?"
A so-so actor, famous for two things.
One: ultra-rich parents.
Two: sneering at inferiors.
He especially clashed with Kang Min—mostly one-sided antagonism.
"...MBS casting director taking bribes from him?"
"Dunno, maybe deeper ties. He lands roles too often for his level."
Hong Ji-ho shrugged: Rich kid perks.
Vice principal was baffled.
"If so, it's pointless anyway?"
Not a lead or major supporting—near-extra role meant casting director's word was law. This one was basically that guy's domain.
Doubtful King and Sovereign's Yu Ho-hyeon PD micromanaged it.
In short, regardless of Hong Ji-ho's push, Kang Min was doomed.
"That's on his luck. I've done my part."
Hong Ji-ho shrugged again, then tilted his head.
"And, say, yesterday seeing him gave me this weird feeling."
"Weird feeling?"
"Gut said I can't just let this kid go like this."
"...Senior, you get hosed every time on declared riichi in mahjong."
Never glanced at defense, always hitting 1/14 odds—what gut now?
"Dunno."
But Hong Ji-ho chuckled.
"Still, this gut once spotted a monster for me."
"......"
"The kind I'd never catch up to in my lifetime."
Hence babying him now—
Vice principal swallowed at the heavy tone.
Unlike his usual flaky self that made you doubt his star status, these moments overwhelmed.
Why retire—
Longtime acquaintance, yet still a mystery.
- Delivery!
"Oh, come on in!"
But it faded fast with that casual grin; vice principal just sighed long.
Hope Min doesn't embarrass himself too bad.
Meanwhile, the problematic Kang Min was groaning over the script.
127. House of the Left State Councillor/N/F
Hm.
Back in my tiny studio, flipping the script, I frowned slightly.
Naturally, my audition role wasn't Left State Councillor or Minister Choi Myeong. It was the guy with one line at the end—the guard warrior beside Choi Myeong.
Choi Myeong appeared often, so the scenes caught him decently.
But lines? Barely any.
First scene has one line; after, mostly mute.
Even the death direction was just "Guard warrior stabbed from behind and dies."
This ain't good—
I couldn't swallow a groan.
Not disappointment over few lines—I wasn't in a position to nitpick.
Real issue: mute role with many background stands, zero action directions.
Writer probably thought "just stand there."
That's the hardest part.
Actors can't be blankly expressionless.
No matter how minor, viewers see a person; to avoid looking awkward, you need reason for being there.
At least, the actor must believe it.
No proper backstory? No feel at all.
Well, Hong Ji-ho Principal did say natural flow without study is talent.
Talent to intuit position, backstory, mood, and embody reality sans directions. Beyond my reach.
Envy that talent.
...No need to take this audition seriously anyway.
Reluctant or not, I'd quit acting. No point prepping to death for a forced go.
Better ponder certifications in that time.
Guard warrior, huh.
I chuckled, setting down the script.
Plenty memories of dying as guard soldier or knight in dreams.
.......
.......
.......
"...Huh?"
Perfect Audition