Scream for Me
The smirks vanished from the faces of the judges who had been laughing at me.
Director Kim Seongtae was the first to lean forward, intrigue written across his face.
"Hey, Seo Jinwoo. Do you even know what kind of character Choi Dooshik is, talking like that?"
I pulled up the memories stamped into my mind.
"A serial killer. A psychopath."
"Hmmm..."
Then Lee Hyeyoung picked up the questioning in a quiet voice.
"Seo Jinwoo, how did you interpret the character of Choi Dooshik?"
"Come on, Writer. What kind of deep question is that to throw at a kid who just washed out of being an idol..."
I ignored Yoo Youngjin entirely and met the writer's eyes as I went on.
"The way I see it, Choi Dooshik isn't just some simple thrill killer."
At those words, the room went deathly still again.
"He's a psychopath of deprivation — a man who, because of the Presence he lost as a child, hunts for euphoria in the last light of a dying person's eyes. Choi Dooshik never kills the women until they scream. Why do you think that is?"
"......"
"......"
My question left everyone in the room struck dumb. Unlike the others, though, Lee Hyeyoung looked intrigued as she answered.
"Why don't you tell us that reason yourself, Seo Jinwoo."
"It's only when he hears a woman's scream that Choi Dooshik finally feels the Presence of being alive — and a deep, profound euphoria."
Lee Hyeyoung's eyes flew wide.
"That's why Choi Dooshik never kills them in a single stroke. He slowly savors the sensation of the blade sinking into flesh. To him, a woman's scream is classical music — the kind that soothes his mind and body."
"H-how do you know that..."
It wasn't written anywhere — not in the character profile, not anywhere in the script book. The true inner life of Choi Dooshik had existed only inside Lee Hyeyoung's head.
The judges who had been dismissing me just moments ago now wore utterly serious expressions. Lee Hyeyoung swallowed hard and stared at my face as if she meant to bore a hole through it.
"All right... Well. The interpretation isn't bad."
The director's praise followed.
"Mm... It's nice to see a young fellow who's clearly done his homework. But here's the thing. Acting is the real deal. Your words sound pretty grand, but I have my doubts whether your performance can actually back them up."
I gave a slight nod at the director's words.
"Then I'll begin the performance."
I walked toward the prop box waiting in the corner of the audition room.
"Excuse me... I'd like to use a prop."
The director, arms folded, nodded his permission.
I pulled on the black vinyl poncho raincoat Choi Dooshik habitually wore every time he killed. I tugged the hood down deep and put on a mask, covering most of my face.
Watching me in costume, the director muttered under his breath.
"Oh... He's got a pretty good look going, doesn't he?"
And last of all, I clenched the prop kitchen knife — its blade made of rubber — tight in my fist.
The moment the hard plastic of the handle wrapped against my palm, my heart somehow grew still. It felt unnervingly familiar. As if I had truly been possessed by the man named Choi Dooshik.
And in that instant—
Synchronization Rate: 100%
Serial Killer — Choi Dooshik
Synchronizing with the murderer Choi Dooshik from the script Traces of Evil.
A shudder ran through me.
I closed my eyes for a brief second and opened them again, and every sound in the world was wiped away, as if time itself had stopped. A coldness settled over me, as though every scrap of warmth inside my body had been stripped out. My emotions went still — calm as walking across the surface of a quiet lake.
No gratitude. No apology. A grotesque feeling in which not even the faintest shred of guilt existed.
My body moved on its own, as if it had become Choi Dooshik. I pulled the mask that had been hanging beneath my chin up over my mouth. Then, with an almost leisurely sway of my shoulders, I slowly approached the female mannequin lying on the floor.
The air inside the audition room sank, cold and heavy. The moment Seo Jinwoo — who until now had been nothing more than an idol trainee cut from the debut lineup — began to act, everyone held their breath and watched his every move.
The instant he draped the black raincoat prop over his shoulders and pulled the hood down deep, Director Kim Seongtae's expression hardened like stone.
"Oh... He's got a pretty good look going, doesn't he?"
Lee Hyeyoung kept her gaze locked on Seo Jinwoo and gave only a small nod.
"Yes. He really does..."
Yoo Youngjin, the male lead of Traces of Evil, furrowed his brow ever so slightly. The sneering, mocking attitude from just moments ago had vanished without a trace.
The way Seo Jinwoo spun the prop kitchen knife with practiced fingers and reversed his grip was so detailed, so precise. As an actor himself, Yoo Youngjin understood better than anyone that a rookie performer could not easily imitate a detail like that.
What the hell is this guy...
Yoo Youngjin swallowed hard before he even realized it.
What was that handwork just now...
No matter how he looked at it, this was not acting built up through simple practice. It didn't feel like a clumsy imitation. Not even close. From the back of Seo Jinwoo as he shambled toward the mannequin, a thick, clinging killing intent even seemed to radiate. A veteran actor, and he was completely absorbed in a rookie's performance.
Crouching before the mannequin, Seo Jinwoo tugged the mask halfway down and twisted the corner of his mouth into a cold smirk.
In that instant, lead actress Hwang Mina clapped a hand over her mouth without thinking, pressing herself back against her chair and sitting bolt upright. Half-hidden by the hood, Seo Jinwoo's cold eyes held not a scrap of guilt, not a flicker of warmth. Pupils slack and empty — the gaze of a madman chasing nothing but pleasure. It was the serial killer, the psychopath Choi Dooshik, in the flesh.
"You want me to spare you...?"
It was Jinwoo's voice that broke the silence. But it was not the voice of the Seo Jinwoo they had been speaking with moments ago. The register was far lower, split and chilled — a soft, measured voice that carried an ugly resonance. The voice of the murderer Choi Dooshik.
Seo Jinwoo slowly dragged the tip of the prop knife along the mannequin's cheek.
A chill—
Goosebumps erupted across Hwang Mina's skin.
"Hh—! Ah..."
She hurriedly clamped a hand over her mouth, sorry for what felt like interrupting his performance — but none of the sounds in the room could shake Jinwoo's concentration.
"Go ahead. Call the cops. Too bad, though. The blood bursting out of your throat is going to be a whole lot faster..."
Without a shred of hesitation, Seo Jinwoo drove the prop kitchen knife down into the mannequin's chest.
Thuck—!
The floor gave a dull, heavy thud.
"Hah...!"
"......"
Unlike Hwang Mina, who startled violently, Lee Hyeyoung's eyes only narrowed further. It was nothing but a sloppy rubber prop, thrown together for the audition. And yet Seo Jinwoo's bone-chilling movement was generating an overwhelming, visceral realism.
Thuck—! Thuck—!
"Hah... hah..."
A smile of pure madness bloomed at the corner of Seo Jinwoo's mouth. Then, bringing his face close to the mannequin's, he whispered with an expression of rapture.
Lee Hyeyoung swallowed hard. Director Kim Seongtae let out a disbelieving little laugh.
"Whoa, what is this kid... He's the real deal! I just got actual chills. How's it look to you, Writer Lee? Not bad, right?"
"......"
It was a performance that went past goosebumps and into a full-body shiver. It even carried a vicious terror, as if a real serial killer were standing right in front of them. The writer's hands, fidgeting with her papers, trembled.
Seo Jinwoo...?
Having finished the scene, Seo Jinwoo quietly rose to his feet.
"Hoo..."
The moment he pulled off the hood and let out a short breath, life began to return to the eyes that had been steeped in killing intent. Seo Jinwoo removed the mask and bowed toward the judges' table.
"Thank you..."
For a moment, a silence so complete it was almost perfect settled over the room. No one could bring themselves to speak first. Director Kim Seongtae chewed absently at a fingernail, staring at Seo Jinwoo. The others were much the same.
In a silence so still the entire room seemed frozen, it was Director Kim Seongtae who finally spoke.
"Seo Jinwoo..."
"Yes, Director."
There was no playfulness in his voice or his face. It was half a joke, of course — but not a single person in the room could laugh.
Jinwoo was the first to smile.
"Of course not..."
Only then did everyone exhale the breath they'd been holding, faces flooding with relief, and begin to murmur among themselves. Director Kim Seongtae, putting on the stern, serious face of a proper judge, addressed Jinwoo.
"Ahem. Seo Jinwoo. We enjoyed your performance. We'll discuss it among ourselves and be in touch separately."
"Ah, yes. Thank you."
Jinwoo bowed to the judges and exited.
Only after Jinwoo had gone outside did Hwang Mina let out the enormous breath she'd been holding.
"Whoa... Director, what was that guy just now?"
Even asked point-blank, he didn't know what to say. He didn't particularly know anything about Seo Jinwoo. If there was one fact he did know...
"A former idol trainee..."
"I already know that... Director, did you see his eyes just now? I genuinely thought I was looking at a real murderer... I almost wet myself for a second..."
No one contradicted her. They had all felt the same way.
Lee Hyeyoung gave a small laugh and wrote Seo Jinwoo's name on a clean white sheet of paper. Then she drew five stars, thick and dark, around the name.
"I... I really, really like this kid..."