The Serial Killer Audition
“I didn’t get the audition in the end.”
Kang So-yeon swallowed a piece of the jokbal she’d ordered for delivery and spoke.
“The Giant K audition?”
“Yeah. It’s a shame, even though you helped so much, oppa.”
So-yeon smiled bitterly, mentioning that a trainee named Yoo Ji-eun from the same company had been cast.
“Even if you didn’t debut that way, once you’re on stage your team will definitely stand out.”
Tae-san peeled the fatty parts off the jokbal and placed only the lean meat onto So-yeon’s plate.
Watching her oppa, who always gave her all the lean meat while chewing only the skin himself, So-yeon asked,
“Oppa, you always do this. I’m not a kid anymore. Every single time we eat, you hand over all the good parts.”
“The skin’s chewy and fatty. That’s what makes it delicious.”
Normally, when working or dealing with people, he was sharp and resolute, but whenever it was just the two of them, Tae-san turned into this foolish, doting brother.
So-yeon laughed softly and, watching him keep pushing the lean meat toward her, spoke as if she had made up her mind.
“Oppa, I think you should act.”
“Suddenly?”
This was the same blood brother who had worked himself to the bone, skipping meals and new clothes, all so she could chase her dream. He had the looks to turn heads anywhere, yet he had never shown the slightest interest in the entertainment industry, insisting it was only for people born with luck like hers.
“You definitely have talent. The kind that stands out. I’m sure of it.”
“If you’re just going to talk nonsense, leave. Stop saying weird things while we’re eating.”
“No, what you showed at the audition last time was seriously incredible. I’m telling you, oppa, you’re a genius at acting.”
So-yeon straightened her posture, as though this had been her real point all along.
“Are you really going to let that kind of genius talent go to waste? That would just be stupid.”
“Yeah, I’m a high-school graduate. Just a fool, I guess.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about right now. Look at this.”
So-yeon pulled out a business card she had carefully kept in her wallet and held it out to her uninterested brother.
“Do you know whose card this is? It’s from the drama department PD at SBC!”
“Is he famous?”
“He’s the director making his debut with this project. He got the audition footage of you and me from Director Kim Hoon-sik. But he said you turned it down when the assistant director called?”
Director Sung Tae-man had personally visited So-yeon and handed her the card, asking her to pass it on to Kang Tae-san.
“Oppa, chances like this don’t come around often.”
“Often? Extras and bit parts are everywhere if you just check part-time job listings. They skim off a huge fee, and you spend the whole day waiting around for mediocre pay.”
“A proper supporting role is completely different from an extra.”
“Who said it’s a proper supporting role?”
“The director himself reached out. I’ve never even heard of a director personally contacting someone to cast a supporting actor. Do you really think he’d go through all that trouble just for an extra?”
At that point, Tae-san finally felt a spark of interest.
He had already decided to take a break from Smile cleaning jobs for now.
“Really?”
“I double-checked everything with my manager oppa. The drama is an anticipated project written by the same writer who did that hit drama the year before last.”
Kang So-yeon grew more animated as she saw her brother’s interest growing.
“A supporting role like that has to pay more than cleaning, right?”
“How much do you even make cleaning?”
“At least a hundred thousand won. Sometimes twice that.”
So-yeon frowned at her brother’s clueless attitude and answered seriously.
“Oppa, a supporting role at this level pays way more than your cleaning jobs.”
“Really? How much?”
So-yeon spread all ten fingers wide.
“A hundred thousand? I already told you I make that cleaning.”
“No. One million won.”
“One million?!”
“A hundred thousand per episode. Two episodes means two hundred thousand.”
“Seriously?!”
Kang Tae-san’s eyes widened.
The base pay started at a hundred thousand, and depending on the actor’s filmography and the nature of the shoot, the number of episodes could increase even more.
“Wow. That’s huge.”
“Even for a minor role you’d film once or twice per episode. That means at least fifty thousand a day.”
“So that’s why people say actors make good money.”
“And with a face like yours, you’re not going to hear anyone call you ugly. Honestly, back at the shelter you were more popular than me, especially with the older girls.”
“That part’s definitely true.”
So-yeon didn’t miss the opening and kept fanning the flames.
“All this time you’ve been supporting me and never even let yourself dream.”
“I do have a dream. Your dream was my dream.”
“Exactly. I’m this close to debuting. Once I do, the company will take care of everything. You won’t have to work yourself to death like this anymore.”
……
Then, as if the moment had finally come, she quietly placed the business card on the table.
“I have to get back before curfew at the dorm. Just think about it.”
Even after So-yeon left, Tae-san stared at the white business card with the SBC logo for a long time.
It wasn’t because of some romantic dream or longing for acting.
As if possessed, Tae-san kept murmuring the same number under his breath.
“Two hundred thousand… two hundred… two hundred…”
Right now, all Tae-san could see in the SBC logo was the number 200.
He had always thought dreams were illusions.
Because you couldn’t see them or grasp them.
But money was something you could grab the moment it appeared in front of you.
So if it meant earning money, Tae-san was willing to do anything—acting, cleaning, whatever it took.
***
A few days later.
A waiting room at the SBC drama department in Sangam.
About a dozen men in their twenties and thirties had gathered for the supporting role audition, each trying to ease their nerves.
“Hyung, this one’s yours for sure. I practically peed myself watching you act in Hyehwa last time.”
“Hey, quit exaggerating.”
“There’s no one here who acts better than you, hyung. You went to Korea National University of Arts and you’re with the Nulbom Theater Company. Total elite course.”
“Ahem.”
Actor Min Jung-won glanced around the room.
Most of the faces were familiar, but just like the guy buttering him up, none of them looked like real competition.
“That guy over there—I’ve never seen him before. You know him?”
Min Jung-won’s gaze landed on a man sitting quietly by the door.
“No idea. He looks like an idol or something.”
“Ah, shit, not again.”
Min Jung-won was reminded of the painful memory of losing a supporting role to an idol-turned-actor in the previous audition.
“Is someone already cast for this too?”
“The agency president said they specifically asked for actors with real acting skills. Since it’s a debut project, the director’s apparently very focused on performance.”
“Damn. Debut projects are brutal. Last time I nearly died auditioning for a movie debut and it still got scrapped. It’s way too easy for things to fall apart when the director has no power.”
“Oh, so you basically already did a screen debut then?”
“Something like that.”
While they were busy flattering each other, Kang Tae-san sat by the door, shoulders hunched, letting out a long sigh.
‘Ha. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.’
Looking around, everyone else looked like professional actors.
Even the way they projected their voices while practicing felt different.
Just listening to them talk about this director and that director made it clear that no one else here was experiencing their first audition.
Time passed whether Tae-san felt anxious or not.
The door opened and a staff member stepped in.
“We’re starting the audition. Min Jung-won-ssi.”
“Yes!”
“Please get ready.”
“Yes, coming!”
Min Jung-won answered energetically and rushed out of the waiting room.
“Next is… Kang Tae-san-ssi?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Please get ready.”
Choi Song-ah checked Tae-san’s name and was about to leave when she turned back to look at him again.
“Huh… Kang Tae-san-ssi! You’re the one I saw at the Giant K music video audition before, right?”
“That’s right. I recognized you earlier but didn’t say anything in case it made you uncomfortable.”
“Wow, you look so different up close.”
Choi Song-ah immediately recalled the phone call she’d made to him.
After the music video shoot, she had joined the directing team on Director Kim Hoon-sik’s recommendation. Meeting Kang Tae-san again—someone she thought had rejected the offer—made her strangely glad.
“Haha. Sorry about last time. I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble.”
“Oh, getting rejected is just part of the job in the directing department.”
As they walked toward the audition room together, Tae-san smiled warmly at Choi Song-ah.
With his natural instinct for reading people, he could tell she had probably been put in a difficult spot because of him.
They say you can’t spit in a smiling face, so even if she had gone through some trouble, the best way to keep her from resenting him was to smile even brighter.
But Choi Song-ah wasn’t thinking about resenting him at all. Her thoughts were somewhere entirely different.
‘Wow. He looks even more handsome when he’s cleaned up like this.’
Working in the entertainment industry, she had seen plenty of good-looking celebrities and had built up quite a tolerance. Yet Kang Tae-san had a different kind of presence from the idols and rookie actors she was used to.
‘How should I put it… an untouched kind of purity?’
She could see it clearly in the way he smiled so openly at her.
Idols and new actors all smiled and greeted staff, but those smiles never felt sincere. Their polite expressions were usually laced with a shallow sense of superiority.
“If you ever need anything from me later, please don’t hesitate to call. I’ll do whatever you ask, no questions asked.”
But Kang Tae-san’s smile, honed from years of customer service, was different.
There wasn’t a trace of superiority in it—just the pure, unfiltered smile of someone who had always been on the receiving end.
‘A single word can repay a thousand nyang of debt.’
If he did this much, even if she ended up disliking him, she wouldn’t go out of her way to cause trouble.
Besides, how often would he actually need her help after meeting only twice? It was mostly just words, but he couldn’t afford to say it without any sincerity either.
People in service jobs could instinctively read an employee’s attitude.
“Wow, when you smile like that, your features really stand out even more.”
Choi Song-ah pressed the back of her hand to her cheeks, which had turned red without her realizing.
Being told by a handsome man that she could call on him anytime naturally made her feel embarrassed.
‘Phew. I don’t think I’ve made a bad impression.’
Choi Song-ah’s face was flushed bright red.
“Huh? PD-nim, are you running a fever?”
Tae-san, reminded of his sister So-yeon, instinctively reached for her forehead before stopping himself.
Instead, he lightly tapped his own forehead with his hand and gave her a worried look, as if asking if she was okay.
The gesture was strangely gentle and even a little sexy, making Choi Song-ah blush even harder as she took a step back.
“I-I-I’m fine. Could you wait here for a moment?”
Choi Song-ah hurried her steps.
She passed Tae-san and led Min Jung-won into the audition room, but she couldn’t help glancing back at Kang Tae-san as he slowly sat down in the waiting area.
In that moment, Kang Tae-san had gained his very first fan.
***
“Where do you think you’re running to? Can’t you see? This is the exact spot where you first ran away from me.”
“Cut. Okay, that’s good.”
“Thank you!”
Min Jung-won finished his impromptu performance and handed the script back.
Since they’d asked him to play a psychopath, it seemed he was auditioning for one of the criminals in what was probably a detective drama.
“You memorized the lines after just one look?”
“Ah, yes. I have a pretty good memory, so memorizing lines isn’t difficult for me.”
“Your emotional expression is good, and you immerse yourself well.”
“Thank you.”
The writer and producer sitting beside Sung Tae-man each added a comment.
Both of them seemed quite pleased with Min Jung-won, who had graduated from Korea National University of Arts and belonged to a well-known theater company, delivering a stable performance.
His fundamentals were certainly solid.
But there was something about Min Jung-won’s acting that felt…
‘Too textbook.’
Having acted for so long, he clearly knew exactly how to perform according to theory, but it wasn’t quite enough to satisfy Tae-man.
“Good work.”
Rather than evaluating his acting on the spot, Sung Tae-man decided to see the next candidate first.
Next up was the actor Sung Tae-man had strongly insisted on auditioning—Kang Tae-san.
The writer and producer had expressed concern about Tae-man’s decision, but they seemed to accept his suggestion to watch the audition first before discussing further.
“I’m looking forward to this. It’s the first time I’ve seen Director Sung push so hard for someone.”
Oh Hyun-soo, a veteran writer who had already completed two projects and secured a stable position, remarked casually.
Her words carried unmistakable concern.
Unlike other actors who had filled their filmographies with even minor roles, Kang Tae-san’s resume was strangely empty.
‘Wedding hall buffet, chicken restaurant server, meat restaurant grill cleaner, late-night pojangmacha kitchen assistant… This isn’t even a part-time job application.’
Aside from his various part-time job experiences, he had zero acting credentials.
Oh Hyun-soo couldn’t help but wonder what on earth had made the director so insistent.
“Hello, my name is Kang Tae-san.”
When Kang Tae-san entered, he looked neat but somehow awkward, not at all like a professional actor.
“Let’s start with a free performance.”
“Ah, well… I’ve never actually studied acting before. I didn’t prepare anything. If it’s okay, could I just use the script you give me?”
At Tae-san’s clumsy response, Oh Hyun-soo’s doubts only grew.
Even though it was a supporting role, the script required an overwhelming performance right from episode one.
‘She wants to cast an ordinary person who’s never acted before in a role like that?’
No matter how much of a debut director she was, how could someone who had worked as an assistant director at SBC for over seven years handle this so unprofessionally?
Oh Hyun-soo couldn’t help but question Sung Tae-man’s directing ability.
“Here, take this and do an impromptu performance right away.”
Sung Tae-man handed Tae-san the side script Oh Hyun-soo had written, ignoring the tension in the room.
Watching Tae-san bow politely and accept the script, Oh Hyun-soo felt a headache coming on.
She exchanged a glance with the producer.
The producer seemed to share her thoughts and gave a small nod, as if to say they should just watch and see.
‘Hoo. I’ve been holding onto this script for years.’
People thought she had written this script two years after finishing her last project, but in truth, it had been an idea she’d carried since the very beginning of her drama career.
She had poured years of research into it while working on other projects, so her attachment ran deep.
She needed actors who wouldn’t waste a single line or glance.
That was why she had decided to attend the supporting role auditions in addition to the already-cast leads.
‘Min Jung-won, was it? He was decent enough. If this guy ruins it, I’ll have to speak up properly.’
Oh Hyun-soo flipped through Kang Tae-san’s resume as if there was nothing more to see and began scanning the next candidate’s profile.
That was when it happened.
“Where do you think you’re running to?”
A low, deep voice filled the audition room with quiet intensity.
“Can’t you see? Look carefully. This is the exact place where you ran away from me.”
The psychopath killer’s oppressive movements cornered the trembling victim.
Even though there was no co-actor, no props, nothing but an empty space, Tae-san’s gaze clearly raked over the victim with greedy hunger.
At the same time, his trembling voice carried a strange mix of tension and excitement.
“This is where we first met.”
The lines Kang Tae-san delivered were quite different from the ones Oh Hyun-soo had written.
But right now, the exact words didn’t matter.
Every careful step, every trembling fingertip, every flash of ecstasy in his eyes—everything was the serial killer Joo Chang-mok from episode one.
Joo Chang-mok took one step at a time, as if walking on glass, and came to stand right in front of Oh Hyun-soo.
For a moment, Oh Hyun-soo felt as though she had actually made physical contact with Joo Chang-mok.
The chilling sensation of his ice-cold hand touching her sent goosebumps racing across her entire body.
“Look carefully. You can never escape this place.”
Tae-san’s head tilted slightly.
Even if you get out of here, you’ll still die by my hand—that fierce will was clearly visible.
Kang Tae-san, who had become the serial killer Joo Chang-mok, seemed to notice the change in the air around him and took a long breath through his nose.
It was Joo Chang-mok’s small habit of smelling the scent of death that was soon to come.
……
At Kang Tae-san’s impromptu performance, everyone in the audition room held their breath at once.
It felt as though he might grab any one of them by the neck at any moment and snap their windpipe in an instant.
Everyone felt as if they had become the victim trapped in a long nightmare.
The fear of accidentally swallowing wrong and angering the killer.
In that moment, everyone in the audition room was caught in Kang Tae-san’s trap, screaming silently inside.