One Step Higher
Even as Hwang Dong-hui stepped into Baek Woojin's house, his face was filled with a bright smile. But three days later, after a whirlwind of intensity...
"Great work, sunbae-nim!"
"...Y-yeah! Woojin, you really went through hell because of me."
"Haha, no, not at all. See you at the troupe tomorrow!"
"Yeah, get some good rest and we'll see you tomorrow..."
His expression as he left Woojin's house was the complete opposite of when he'd arrived. His face was utterly drained. And it was no wonder—the past three days had been nothing short of a death race. From the moment his eyes opened until they closed, his daily routine had consisted solely of acting. The ordeal was so grueling that he could barely remember what he'd eaten for dinner the night before. All he recalled was shuttling between the troupe and the house, immersed entirely in performance and analysis.
As the final day drew to a close and dawn broke, Hwang Dong-hui finally emerged from Woojin's house, now swept up in an indescribable emotion. What was this feeling, exactly?
...My heart's just bursting into flames.
A swell of pride and refreshment washed over him, mingled with a twinge of shame. He'd thought the saying about never letting go of the script except for sleep and showers was just hyperbole, a joke—a mere metaphor for diligent preparation. But experiencing it firsthand, with not a hint of exaggeration, filled him with genuine awe for Woojin from the depths of his heart. It had been three days of truly novel experience.
"No wonder Woojin has no choice but to be so good at acting..."
Muttering to himself, Hwang Dong-hui took a short walk in the dawn air. Even though he needed to grab a bit of sleep before heading to the troupe, he strangely didn't feel like going straight home. He felt like he'd grown a level in that short time. It might just be his imagination, of course. But he was certain it wasn't.
When discussing growth in acting, people often liken it to climbing stairs. The moment a hardworking actor senses they've ascended one step, it mysteriously manifests as improved performance. That state holds for a while, then plateaus into a long stretch where growth feels absent—until suddenly, the sensation of another step arrives. The endless cycle of effort and practice is thus an infinite loop of patience and waiting. And it's not just acting. Any path to mastery involves wandering. You endure and strive just to feel that pride of one more step.
Through those three days with Woojin, Hwang Dong-hui had felt that sensation intensely. Confidence surged in like a tide, and he vowed to shine in B Team's performance alongside Bae Gyu-beom sunbae.
I need to go home and review the script more!
His steps toward home were incredibly light.
* * *
Just as the three days Woojin and Hwang Dong-hui had spent in intensive training had burned hot, the final three days before the main performance blazed even hotter. During those final rehearsals at the Actor's Yard Grand Theater, the atmosphere was like walking on thin ice—charged with the tension of the real thing.
Both A Team and B Team unleashed tremendous force from the stage. Lighting and music enhanced their performances with flawless timing, not a fraction of an error. The ensemble's harmony dominated the stage. Lingering concerns from before—like Myeong Se-hui sunbae's tone in A Team, which had slightly clashed with the overall picture, or Bae Gyu-beom sunbae's overly standout acting in B Team—had vanished as if they'd never existed. Myeong Se-hui sunbae had found her groove, and Bae Gyu-beom sunbae's stripped-down chief physician role, free of greed, stood equal to Choi Yeong-do sunbae's.
As the saying goes, an old official makes a great one. Even with initial discord, they were all pro actors from Actor's Yard, rich in skill and experience. They synced up at an astonishing speed. Proving it, the moment the final rehearsal ended:
"Okay, perfect!"
Oh Tae-hyeop's near-screech echoed through the Grand Theater. Ma Seol-ah, standing beside him, jumped in shock, nearly tumbling comically.
"Puhahaha!"
"Director! You scared the writer!"
Laughter erupted from everyone.
"Aigoo, Seol-ah! Sorry. I just got so excited, I couldn't contain myself."
"Hmph, whatever!"
As Oh Tae-hyeop sheepishly checked on Ma Seol-ah, she playfully shrugged him off with a haughty expression—a gesture showing she, too, was overflowing with excitement now that the final rehearsal was done. The hearty laughter shook the Grand Theater once more.
Everyone felt it deep in their bones: If they delivered like this in the main show, the audience reaction would be explosive. The anticipation swelled like a jackpot waiting to happen.
"The writer and I will do one more stage check before heading out. Great work, everyone!"
Clap clap clap clap clap.
The applause from all the troupe members echoed like a simulation of tomorrow's curtain call after the first performance.
"Actors, head straight home and rest up! No drinking, absolutely!"
Ma Seol-ah furrowed her brow, crossing her arms in an X. A smooth finish was more crucial than a strong start. Just get through tonight, and it was showtime. Deliver perfection in peak condition! Her strong will shone through, urging them not to slacken the tension.
Woojin, Lee Kang-sik, and the twelve actors nodded with bright smiles.
"Hey, Bae Gyu-beom."
"...Yes, sunbae-nim!"
Since getting thoroughly dressed down by Lee Kang-sik sunbae and snapping to attention, Bae Gyu-beom sunbae had been in full "private mode." He gulped dryly and tensed excessively at the mere call of his name.
"Your acting was good today."
"...Pardon?"
"You did well."
"...Th-thank you!"
Stunned by the sincere praise laced with warmth, he responded blankly.
"Ditching that solo flash for harmony makes it so much better to watch, right?"
"...Yes."
"I know you're embarrassed. But don't beat yourself up too much. I make mistakes too. What matters is showing the effort to fix it, like you did. That's enough."
"Thanks to your tough scolding, sunbae-nim, I rediscovered the basics I'd forgotten. I'll work even harder for the show."
Lee Kang-sik sunbae laughed heartily at Bae Gyu-beom sunbae's words. Then, suddenly, he threw both arms around Bae Gyu-beom sunbae's neck.
"But you know, now that I think about it, it's infuriating! You punk, you could act this well all along—why'd you hold out?!"
"S-sunbae-nim... Ack! W-wait a sec!"
"'A sec' is casual talk!"
"Wait, please! Aaaah!"
Bae Gyu-beom sunbae's pathetic, comical scream rang out as Lee Kang-sik sunbae's strength pinned him to the floor. Even if the junior had clearly erred and needed a stern talking-to, it seemed Lee Kang-sik sunbae had still worried about his pride in front of everyone.
"Sorry! Not sorry?!"
"This is all your karma, sunbae!"
"Hey, pile on!"
Before long, Hwang Dong-hui sunbae and the B Team actors seized the moment, piling onto Bae Gyu-beom sunbae. He cried "Sorry!" and "I surrender!" repeatedly, stuck on the floor for a while. Yet every face on B Team, including his, beamed with happiness.
Watching Lee Kang-sik sunbae slip away with a relieved sigh, Woojin smiled warmly. Finally, his own mind was at ease. Nothing was left to worry about, not even the tiniest detail. For the main performance, all that remained was to pour out every ounce of energy as practiced.
Thump thump.
His heart pounded harder than when he'd first gripped the mic at Trapalga Plaza. Tomorrow, he'd perform his first stage here. Wishing tomorrow would come soon, Woojin left the troupe building. And right after returning home...
Virtual world manifesting.
Shall we proceed?
Woojin immediately headed to the virtual world where a young boy awaited.
"...You're here?"
"Yeah, came to see you, Hyeong-jun."
He hugged the child, who greeted him in the same spot, same form, same words as always.
"...What were you, doing?"
"Mm, just met your noona."
"...Our noona?"
"Yeah, Su-yeong noona."
Then Woojin pointed to the blank wall.
"Hyeong-jun. Let's draw a picture."
"...Picture?"
"Yeah, right there."
The child shook his head quickly.
"...No. Noona hates it."
"No, Su-yeong noona doesn't hate it."
The child's eyes widened. Woojin met his gaze steadily.
During the final rehearsals, he'd had in-depth talks with Myeong Se-hui sunbae, who had rediscovered the "lost emotion" of her Kim Su-yeong role. Her insights—deeper than anyone's on the current Kim Su-yeong—had been invaluable. The script made it obvious, but her advice solidified his certainty.
With that conviction, Woojin now spoke to the young boy.
"Noona wants you to draw there."
"...Really?"
"Yeah, really. I asked her myself."
Woojin's gentle voice flowed from smiling lips. The child beamed.
It had taken ages on stage to reach this simple line with 100% conviction as the actor embodying this child. But he'd arrived precisely at the goal, even if it took time. So Woojin asked,
"Shall we go to the wall?"
"...Yeah!"
He felt the child's resolve surge through his toes. As his body floated like in a vacuum, Woojin strode eagerly toward the void. Soon, they reached the root of the issue—the high-rise officetel interior sketch, filled with underdrawings yet never hitting 100% completion, its inside hollow.
That was the first time. As he approached the wall, lights from behind gathered, transforming into various drawing tools.
"Want to draw whatever you like, Hyeong-jun?"
"......"
The child said nothing, just nodded quietly.
His small hand moved with a shh shh shh sound. After a bit, it stopped. On the canvas: inside the empty officetel, two men and a woman smiled happily, alongside a splendid birdcage with a single bird inside.
It might seem trivial compared to the long void's weight. But gazing at it, Woojin's heart felt strangely serene.
[Kim Su-yeong, Kim Hyeong-jun]