The Day Everything Began Again
The surroundings were noisy that day in the past.
“Applicants thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…”
It began as a small murmur, but soon swelled into a clamor impossible to ignore. I had been enjoying a pleasant sleep when the sensation of someone forcibly shaking me awake triggered an instinctive resistance.
“Why…”
At that moment, a sharp sting struck my forehead, and my eyes flew open.
It hurts!
“What… what the hell?”
An unfamiliar scene. Yet the space felt somehow familiar.
“The waiting room?”
Around me sat students who looked far younger than I was. At most, they seemed to be in their early twenties.
What is this?
Even stranger was what came next.
I repeatedly flexed and extended my joints.
It feels light.
The chronic ache in my lower back and the pain in my palms had vanished completely.
Ah. So this is the afterlife.
Ha, damn it. I should’ve believed in God or something.
Or maybe not. With so many young people around, this might actually be heaven.
As I sat there in a daze, someone beside me spoke up.
“Falling asleep at an audition? Is your acting mindset lacking, or have you simply given up?”
I turned toward the voice and found a woman sitting next to me.
“Audition?”
While I stared at her in utter confusion, she continued.
“You were dozing off, so I smacked your forehead. If you want to complain, blame your own lack of professionalism as an actor.”
I had no intention of complaining. But still—
“Genius actress Lee Se-rin?”
This was strange. The face before me looked exactly like the actress Lee Se-rin. I had never heard any news of her passing.
Her daughter, perhaps?
I answered with a sympathetic look.
“I never heard she had a daughter. Either way, that’s unfortunate.”
The woman placed a hand on her chest with an expression of pure bewilderment.
“It’s true that I’m the genius actress Lee Se-rin, and I don’t have a daughter. I don’t know what you find unfortunate, but the truly pitiful one here is your current state.”
“Then… you’re saying you’re the actress Lee Se-rin?”
She answered coldly and matter-of-factly.
“That’s right.”
My mind was in chaos. Was I dreaming?
I clearly remembered the excruciating pain of my final moments. Had I somehow survived and been rushed to the emergency room, only to be trapped in this ridiculous dream?
That was when a clear voice slipped through the slightly open door.
“Run! If you stay here, you’ll get caught up in it too!”
What? That line sounded very familiar. It was one of the lines from Flowers Fall, the first play directed by Lee Tae-ryun.
Of all things, why did it have to be Flowers Fall?
Flowers Fall. That was the first audition where I had tasted bitter defeat. Was this a remake?
The woman beside me—who claimed to be Lee Se-rin—frowned and muttered.
“What terrible acting.”
Was it really that bad? Her harsh criticism made me speak without thinking.
“It doesn’t seem that bad, though.”
Lee Se-rin’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
I glanced once more toward the gap in the door. The line we had just heard—Run! If you stay here, you’ll get caught up in it too!
“It’s not so much terrible as… misdirected. Since the correct answer is already set, maybe they were just trying to take a different approach?”
Lee Se-rin frowned, clearly disagreeing.
“The correct answer is already set? What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Huh?”
I was momentarily flustered. She had criticized my attitude toward the audition so sharply that I assumed she already knew.
It’s a pretty famous anecdote. Maybe she doesn’t know.
Later, in a documentary, Director Lee Tae-ryun would reveal that beneath the surface of sacrifice in that line lay a hidden plea: Please don’t leave me.
Even the director himself only realized it after filming wrapped, so it made sense that she wouldn’t know the deeper meaning.
As I nodded to myself, Lee Se-rin pressed me.
“Explain what you just said. What did you mean?”
Look at the way this girl is speaking to someone much older than her…
I shook my head. If she didn’t know the story, explaining it would be difficult. In that case, showing her through acting would be the easiest way.
Should I give it a try?
I cleared my throat, raised my hand, and delivered the line.
“Run! If you stay here, you’ll get caught up in it too!”
How’s that? No matter how unknown I might be, I’ve been eating, sleeping, and breathing acting for decades.
With that thought, I looked at Lee Se-rin.
“…I expected too much. What a waste.”
Her expression suggested she had just witnessed something unbearable. Even though she wasn’t the real Lee Se-rin, hearing it from her doppelgänger still stung a little.
“It’s hard to express properly.”
“Forget it. I’ve lost interest.”
Lee Se-rin turned her head away as if she had grown bored. At that exact moment, something resembling comments flashed before my eyes.
Huh…?
While I was still reeling in confusion, one particular comment caught my eye.
Have I finally gone insane?
But what was truly unbelievable was that following those instructions felt like it would create a far more compelling performance.
Should I try it?
I took a slow, deep breath. Then I delivered the same line, only slightly altered.
“Run.”
Lee Se-rin’s head snapped toward me.
“What are you—”
Her eyes widened.
More trembling. More wistfulness. This time, as if terrified. Like a child desperately hoping I would look at them again.
I spoke the line.
“You might get caught up in it too.”
“…”
Lee Se-rin remained silent. I paid it no mind. I was too stunned by my own performance.
Was that really me just now?
As I marveled at myself, Lee Se-rin spoke in a low voice.
“S-sit down. It’s embarrassing.”
At her words, I looked around and realized all the audition participants were staring in our direction.
“I’m sorry, but please keep it down in the waiting room.”
At the staff member’s warning, I bowed ninety degrees and quickly sat back down.
“This is mortifying.”
“If you’re going to act like that, save it for the director.”
“Haha…”
Was it my imagination? The perpetually cold expression on Lee Se-rin’s face seemed to have softened just a little.
Without looking at me, she said,
“Still, I understand what you were trying to say.”
Lee Se-rin nodded. I asked her a question.
“Good. Since I performed for you, it’s only fair you pay the price.”
“What? You did that on your own and now you’re demanding something?”
Her attitude was utterly haughty. Undeterred, I continued.
“I just have one thing I want to ask.”
“What is it?”
“This audition—who’s the director?”
Lee Se-rin looked at me as if I had lost my mind.
“What exactly do you even know?”
“Nothing.”
“Is that something to brag about?”
“So who is it? Tell me. If it’s a remake of Flowers Fall, is it a play or a drama?”
At my words, Lee Se-rin asked with clear suspicion.
“A remake?”
“That’s right. Director Lee Tae-ryun’s Flowers Fall remake.”
What? It was definitely the script for Director Lee Tae-ryun’s Flowers Fall. There was no way I could forget it.
“This is indeed the audition for Director Lee Tae-ryun’s Flowers Fall, but this is the first I’ve heard that this work was ever adapted into film or video before.”
The moment those words left her mouth, it felt as if someone had struck me over the head with a blunt weapon.
I had been ignoring the creeping suspicion. This wasn’t a movie—such a thing couldn’t possibly happen.
Yet the overwhelming sense of déjà vu made me swallow hard without realizing it.
“Hey, where are you going all of a sudden?”
Despite Lee Se-rin’s attempt to stop me, I searched the room for a mirror. Instead of the aged, heat-damaged skin from the meat restaurant, I saw the face of a still-youthful young man.
“Could it be…”
I no longer cared how prickly the woman claiming to be Lee Se-rin was. Only one possibility filled my mind, one I could not erase.
I grabbed her hand and stared directly into her eyes.
“Tell me. What audition is this?”
She looked unusually flustered.
“I’m asking what audition this is right now.”
“Have you really forgotten what audition you’re here for? Unbelievable. How many times do I have to say it? It’s for Flowers Fall…”
“So what you’re saying is that this is the open audition for Director Lee Tae-ryun’s very first play, his debut work, Flowers Fall?”
She nodded, now visibly shaken.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And this isn’t a dream or the afterlife?”
“Sorry, but there’s a limit to how long I can keep answering your nonsense.”
I swallowed again without thinking. The impossible possibility was becoming clearer by the second.
No way.
Only then, with a clear mind, did I truly look around.
A somewhat crowded, narrow space. A waiting room filled with a mix of worn sofas and folding chairs. An A4 sheet listing the audition order was plastered haphazardly on one wall, and the murmurs of aspiring actors reciting lines filled the air.
A hollow laugh escaped me. Why had it taken me this long to notice?
I knew this place. I had no choice but to know it. The memory was burned into my mind with painful clarity.
I had already lived through this exact moment twenty years ago.
How could I ever forget?
The first audition that became the crossroads of my life.
Before me stood the director I respected most in the world. On either side of me were future genius actors.
I was merely the background that would make their brilliance shine even brighter. And on the day I realized that truth—
the day I understood I didn’t possess even a fraction of their talent—
I had decided to devote everything to effort alone.
That day from the past.
That day was today.