Perfect Audition (3)
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Normally, in auditions, participants are discouraged from sharing anything beyond their number and name. Mentioning your background, experience, or anything else risks planting preconceptions.
Files are there to check if anyone wants to.
So most PDs or film directors prefer to judge purely on the acting.
It's a natural conclusion for the sake of a good production.
"Participant number 2, Choi Man-ho. From Postborn Academy, fourth year!"
"Number 4, Seo Dong-su. Here on the recommendation of scout Yoon Kang-cheol."
—In other words, the casting for King and Sovereign was a total shitshow.
"Yoon Kang-cheol? Isn't he from KDS?"
"Yeah. Former manager for Rocketman."
"Looks like he's pushing this guy hard. Wonder if he can snag a cameo from someone—maybe from Stellarz."
"Wouldn't Postborn, with their Wiztone connections, be better? If they could link us with anyone from there..."
"Expect the expectations. Those guys are shooting multiple projects this quarter."
The audition for Hui-yul, the guard warrior protecting Minister Choi Myeong.
It was a supporting role, but he appeared every time Choi Myeong did. Bound to catch viewers' eyes.
But acting? Not even on their radar.
The judges were too busy calculating the networking perks of whoever got cast.
"Next."
With PD Yu Ho-hyeon absent, the casting director filling in just watched idly.
Fill-in projects like this usually leaned hard on buzz over quality anyway, but this was excessive.
It's a mess.
Even the writer herself, thinking that, had no urge to call them out.
Because.
The participants are all the same.
Acting a "madman" yielded predictably similar results.
Some rolled their eyes back. Some giggled and drooled. Some cackled wildly. Others burst into sudden tears.
Nothing jarring, just... that. No freshness. It grew boring fast.
If everyone's the same, picking someone useful off-screen made a twisted kind of sense.
Not that my opinion matters anyway.
The audition dragged on in this lackluster mood.
Then came the second-to-last slot.
A young man strode in confidently.
"Participant number 50, Ma Do-jun. From Jiho Acting Academy!"
"Ho ho."
A few judges straightened up. Others' eyes gleamed with interest. A legendary actor's academy carried weight.
Baek Chae-i tilted her head in confusion amid them.
He prepared an outfit?
Number 50's clothes were bizarre—pants inside out, mismatched turtleneck. Impossible not to notice.
But audition details were shared today, right?
The casting director voiced the same doubt.
"You couldn't have known the scenario, but you're well-prepared."
"Ah, I always carry a makeup kit just in case."
"A kit?"
Ma Do-jun grinned and opened his bag. Clothes, wigs, even props like sickles, tools, prop knives. Murmurs of admiration rippled out.
The casting director clapped exaggeratedly.
"Impressive."
"Just 'always prepared,' you know."
"That's the attitude. Rare these days."
His sheepish cheek-scratch warmed the room further.
His acting only amplified it.
—Heh heh... Hee hee hee!
Ma Do-jun's approach wasn't wildly different from the others.
But the polish was leagues ahead.
The judges gave notes, then nodded, satisfied.
"Good work. Solid."
"Not flashy, but skilled."
"Provenance doesn't lie."
Near-universal praise. Less his brilliance, more the prior mediocrity lowering the bar.
Ma Do-jun beamed "Thank you" and exited. As good as cast.
Even after, the judges buzzed. They'd decided.
"That's it, right?"
"Others were way below par."
"Sudden theme, though..."
They turned to the casting director.
"How many left?"
"One."
"Who?"
The casting director smirked.
"You know, the seventh-year aspirant."
"Ah..."
"That guy again?"
Most looked baffled, but a couple soured. They knew him.
Baek Chae-i and the clueless tilted heads. The director's vibe screamed no chance.
"Can't skip him entirely. Some big shot insisted."
As judges blinked, the director smirked mysteriously and called.
"Number 51, Kang Min."
#
"Idiot. I told you to quit and go home."
Ma Do-jun, passing as my name was called, tsked and patted my shoulder.
Couldn't hide his smug grin.
"Or bow out now? Not too late."
Objectively, Ma Do-jun's acting was decent, not great. For an abstract "madman," solo practice wouldn't outpace connections.
Always prepared my ass—I'd never seen him lug a makeup bag before.
"Hey, Kang Min. Still naive about the world? Connections are talent."
He cackled, said "Good luck," and headed to the waiting room. Mockery dripping.
I sighed softly.
What a hassle.
No matter how, the result was clear. Ma Do-jun aced it among all so far.
And I had to follow as the very last.
A madman, no less. No clue how.
Normally, crushing pressure.
But...
Last slot, or something else— I felt oddly calm.
Standing center, the casting director eyed me with blatant mockery. Others looked tired, annoyed. "Do it and scram."
No questions.
"...Participant number 51, Kang Min."
They set the stage. I'd play along minimally.
Madman.
Madman.
What'll work?
I recalled my most sanity-shredding deaths.
The shaman who lost daughter and wife, hacked off his arms and legs dreaming of lion resurrection.
The knight lost in the demonic realm, surviving on dead comrades' flesh and blood.
The prisoner locked in a dark cell, dying there as the world ended.
Not quite.
Not a matter of degree. Just... wrong for the venue.
No choice.
I picked the least bad fit.
Let me see... yeah, the would-be terrorist's opener was...
"Everyone."
"There's a bomb in this auditorium."
#
There's a bomb in this auditorium—
No change in faces.
A few went "Oh?" and tilted heads. Most yawned, bored, wondering the gimmick. Most had seen me in prior auditions.
Makes sense. Brain's rational stability.
Sane judgment of reality.
That couldn't happen.
No buildup for it.
He's not the type.
Not the environment—
No one bought Kang Min's calm declaration.
—Once, Prince Adrian thought the same.
The casting director sneered openly.
"Where is it?"
"Under the podium."
"Why not toss it yourself?"
Laughter erupted. Wahaha.
Kang Min answered.
"Most efficient."
"Pardon?"
"When threatened, people instinctively crouch, shield faces. Overhead blast? Rarely fatal."
"......"
"But from below? Shrapnel hits heart or brain in crouched pose. Even non-instant kills cause massive trauma, disablement. Brain lacerations have worst prognosis, even with immediate care. That's the efficiency."
Silence fell.
The man forcing a smirk swallowed hard at his own eyes.
Why—
Adrian tilted his head.
Perfect Audition (3)