Absorbing Like a Sponge
Two weeks after the acceptance text, in the quiet practice room. Jeong O-seok and Ha Moo-young sat facing each other with the script between them. Winter drafts seeped through the old windows, but sweat beaded on Moo-young's forehead.
"Lines again."
"The body in Bongdong Tunnel—DNA match confirmed."
"What's the key word in that fingerprint?"
"DNA."
"Then you need a breath there before it. Again."
"The body in Bongdong Tunnel—DNA match confirmed."
"Emotion's too loose this time. This is the result the detective's been waiting days for. Can't slack like that. Again!"
It had already been hours. Moo-young was repeating the single-paragraph line over and over. His throat was growing hoarse, his facial muscles aching, but he couldn't stop.
"Again!"
Each time O-seok shouted "Again!", a strange catharsis welled up. It was clearly the satisfaction of learning and realization.
Amazing, Moo-young thought. He'd never known there were techniques even for reading lines. Abdominal breathing, opening the soft palate, using facial muscles—everything.
"Where's the accent?"
"Before DNA. But my tongue keeps curling."
"That's 'cause your breathing's off. Again!"
Depending on where you placed the emphasis, infused emotion, or took a breath, the same line felt worlds apart. He'd spat it out dozens of times, but none were identical.
"The body in Bongdong Tunnel, DNA match confirmed."
O-seok hit record on the tape player in time with Moo-young's reading. With no further cues, Moo-young continued through to the end.
Finally, a faint smile tugged at O-seok's lips.
"—We'll head out right away."
After the last line, Moo-young sneaked a glance at O-seok. O-seok quickly wiped the smile away and hit stop.
"Okay."
"Whew! I'm dead."
At the okay signal, Moo-young flopped backward onto the floor. His throat hurt, his head throbbed... but above all, endlessly repeating one line had left his mind hazy.
"Now listen to this on repeat. Let it sink into your body without even thinking. Or it'll all go to waste."
"Got it."
O-seok checked his watch. Already 4 p.m. Intermediate class was starting soon, and neither had eaten lunch.
"Ramen?"
"Nah. Gotta clean."
"Sheesh. You don't have to."
O-seok clicked his tongue while tidying the desk. Moo-young's proposal had been exactly that.
—I don't like free rides. I'll clean at least. And can I crash at the academy sometimes?
The kid was fiercely determined, pouring his days into acting and the academy like it was his lifeblood. Practice after school, cleaning, class, more practice. Three or four nights a week, he stayed until dawn. O-seok didn't know the family details, but Moo-young didn't seem the type to sneak out recklessly.
"I'm boiling ramen, so wrap it up quick."
"Yessir. Thanks for the lesson."
"Good work. Drink some warm water."
O-seok left the practice room like that. He seemed nonchalant, but he was just as flushed with excitement as Moo-young.
Total sponge, he thought.
The hardest students to teach were the half-baked ones. They'd picked up scraps here and there, had some experience, so they filtered everything half-assed. But Moo-young was a sponge. A white one, spotless.
Scary. Real scary.
He absorbed everything O-seok threw at him. Effortlessly, like it was innate. The grins in between showed he was enjoying it.
'Genius can't beat hard workers, hard workers can't beat those who enjoy it...'
But a genius who worked hard and enjoyed it? O-seok shook his head with a wry smile and set the ramen water to boil.
"Haa—"
Meanwhile, sprawled on the practice room floor, Moo-young had no intention of getting up. It was insanely, insanely fun. How had he never known this world existed?
Sleep here again tonight?
No stepfather anymore, but memories of him lingered in every corner of the house. Uncomfortable even alone. Plus, worry about seeing the bastard's ghost.
*Bzzz.*
Lying still, Moo-young played back his line recording. It didn't even sound like his voice. Objectively, it evoked a hot-blooded young detective. The newer files showed the change crystal clear. Immediate progress, solid proof of his fulfillment.
Just need crisper pronunciation.
Like cleaning while listening to music, Moo-young analyzed himself as he swept.
How much time passed? The practice room door opened, and the intermediate class kids filed in.
*Click.*
"Cleaning again, huh."
"Hi hi, Moo-youngie."
"Whoa, it's freezing out there."
They'd been together for years, always arriving in a pack. Moo-young greeted them with a smile.
"Hey."
"Teacher was eating ramen. You?"
"I'm good."
"Knew it. The fish-shaped buns out front are killer."
Ki Yu-chan matched his looks and personality perfectly—gentle, kind, universally lovable. He handed Moo-young a bun and asked,
"Slept here last night too?"
Moo-young nodded, munching. Pity flashed across Yu-chan's face.
The kid who got kicked out for retaking to do acting.
That's how everyone saw him. At first, envy and inferiority over his talent had sharpened their edges, but now they just pitied him. Partly because they didn't know about the special free lessons from O-seok, and Moo-young's easygoing nature helped.
Moo-young eyed Yu-chan and asked,
"You seem happy, though?"
A new habit since starting acting: observing and memorizing everyone around him. O-seok's first advice.
—You store characters, right? Makes it easy to give personality to script roles. Like you scratching the desk with rice on your fingers at the test. That kind of trait. Same character, but acting depth changes everything.
"How'd you know? That obvious?"
"Yeah. You're smiling wider than usual."
"Results dropped today."
"Whoa, really? Congrats!"
Moo-young clapped genuinely. College entrance success! The lifelong goal of Korean exam-takers.
"Me, Bora, and Hyeong-ju got into Bandoye Arts."
Bandoye Arts University. Top of the arts schools. Famous actors, singers, directors—all alumni dominating the industry.
"Was so nerve-wracking. Competition was insane this year."
Hyeong-ju smirked boastfully, showing off subtly.
"Professors there are no joke. Already worried. But survive, and you're set for the field. They pull and push each other."
Even if Moo-young had talent, Hyeong-ju felt superior now. While Moo-young retook, he'd soar in college. Covering inferiority with arrogance and expectation.
"Yeah. Impressive."
Moo-young replied calmly to Hyeong-ju's expectant gaze. He'd sensed the misunderstanding.
"How long you sticking at the academy?"
"Me? Dunno."
Nothing set yet. If auditions led to paid work, he'd quit. Or depending on money. Life didn't follow predictions anyway—Moo-young didn't fret. He could do anything now. Like a bird freed from chains.
"We can't come after enrolling. But you'll keep at it. Hit up school festivals. Arts schools got tons to see."
"Sure. Let me know."
"Work hard. A year's long, but Bandoye's not a one-year prep. Aim looser. Especially us young ones—our youth's our weapon—"
"Hyeong-ju. Fish bun?"
Yu-chan cut him off gently. Bragging like that in front of a retaker? And baseless lecturing.
"Nah, full. Anyway, field experience only comes at our age. Don't get down from retaking, try every—"
"Hey."
As Hyeong-ju opened his mouth again, Bora tossed in a word. She'd been quietly reading script in the corner.
"Cut it. Embarrassing to hear."
"What?"
"You're poking at him nonstop. Early start ain't a title. Why keep at it?"
"Me? You're weird, Kang Bora."
"Weird's you. Drop the lame bravado."
Moo-young was mildly surprised. Bora had always been cooler to him than others; hadn't expected her to step up.
"Sheesh, why you all."
"She's starting shit first—"
"Enough. Good day, drop it!"
Yu-chan laughed awkwardly, mediating. Bora turned to her script with a pathetic glance.
X god.
Truth was, Moo-young annoyed her. That talent gap she'd felt wasn't pretty. Still, strutting like college meant skill and success? Childish.
"Moo-young. Did I mess up?"
Hyeong-ju asked Moo-young incredulously, feigning concern—everyone knew it was a dig.
Moo-young just smiled and shook his head.
"Nah. Not a mistake."
But he needed to correct it. Not film/acting major, not retaking yet.
As he started to speak—
*Bzzz.*
Moo-young's pocket phone vibrated. Rare sound—only Im Jun-ho texted him.
"Huh."
"What's up?"
Moo-young stared blankly at the screen. Yu-chan peeked over, read it, and gaped at him.
"Dude, you—"
Seoyeondae University. Korea's pinnacle prestige.
The others, minus Bora and Hyeong-ju, crowded Moo-young like Yu-chan. Gasps erupted.
"Crazy! You!"
"Whoa, this guy's nuts."
"What? What's going on?"
"Yo, Hyeong-ju. He got into Seoyeondae!"
At the friends' fuss, Hyeong-ju's face twisted oddly. Moo-young smiled softly at him.
"I passed."