The Audition Room Turns Cold
"What the…."
I was staring at my phone when a laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it.
Going by that text alone, you'd think I was heading off to take the college entrance exams.
I sent back, 'I'll head out now and contact you again afterward,' then stared at the screen for a long while. When I could no longer put it off, I left my room.
In the hallway, Choi Sanghoon stopped me out of nowhere.
"You said you have an audition today, right? When are you leaving?"
"Right now, actually."
He'd asked me the exact same thing yesterday, so I wondered why he was pretending he hadn't heard it—and sure enough, he fidgeted like he had more to say.
"What? What is it?"
"Nothing, it's just—I'm going to the PC bang with the guys, and if you've got nothing going on afterward, you could come too."
So that was the real point. It was a casual enough invitation that there was no reason to refuse, so I nodded.
"Okay. I'll come if I have time."
"Oh, and… you didn't tell anyone about this audition this time! So don't worry."
Somehow, the kid's voice had gotten noticeably louder.
I wondered why he was being so solemn about it, but when I smiled and thanked him, he pumped his fist and marched bravely back to his room.
As I walked down the hallway after that, every kid I passed wished me luck on the audition, one after another.
It took no thought at all to figure out the culprit: Teacher Lee Sihyun, leaning against the doorframe with a grin plastered across her face.
It wasn't exactly a secret, but it wasn't the kind of thing that needed a public announcement either.
Resigned, I thanked each and every one of them before finally leaving the orphanage.
Not long after, I felt my pocket buzz.
Pulling out my phone, I found texts waiting from Park Haeun and Noh Bihyeok.
When on earth had Noh Bihyeok changed his contact name?
Shaking my head, I sent my thanks back to both of them.
I'd always wondered how two people with such different personalities became friends, but reading their messages side by side made it click.
Different tone, identical message.
I pocketed my phone and watched the scenery flick past through the subway window.
Calmly settling the strange, floating feeling in my chest, I took a short, deep breath. Then, slowly, I clenched my fist and poured strength into my hand.
"Unbelievable. Not a single decent one."
"Tell me about it…."
It was the audition site for the child actors of The Butterfly Flower on the Zelkova Tree.
A fusion historical drama was a rare thing to come by these days, and everyone from the broadcasting station to the investors was keyed up over it. Which made the drained, lifeless voices trading complaints across the room—belonging to PD Kim Minseok and writer Han Jihye, the ones who'd be filming the drama—all the more jarring.
The child casting for the male lead Hyoyeon and the female lead Nabi had already been completed. All that remained was the supporting role of Yuhyeon—and though more than two hours had passed since the auditions began, not a single castable actor had appeared.
"What about number 23? At least the visuals were decent."
"His voice whined too much. Doesn't fit the character at all."
"Then 16? The one who was in M Networks' daily drama."
"Isn't he way too young compared to the two kids we already cast?"
"Haaah… honestly, at this point we can't even cut the child-actor scenes."
Writer Han let out a sigh of her own.
Yuhyeon was too one-dimensional to call a true second male lead—nothing but a one-sided love line—but he was still essential to how the story unfolded. Early in development, they'd trimmed his child-actor scenes to the bone for casting-synergy reasons, and now there was nothing left to trim.
"PD-nim, Writer-nim. Shall I bring in the next numbers?"
"Ah, yes, please."
"Certainly. Sending in numbers 40 through 45."
At the staff member's words, writer Han straightened out of her slump and flipped briskly through her paperwork. The casting manager beside her murmured in a low voice.
"Writer-nim. Number 43 is the one I mentioned earlier."
"Ah, the yellow-hat kid?"
Writer Han raised an eyebrow. When the casting manager nodded, she scrawled a lazy star across number 43's documents.
From the drama alone, even she had to admit the kid was strikingly good-looking—but that was something you could only judge in person. She'd seen her share of faces that cheated with lighting and camera angles. Once or twice was all it took to learn.
"Holy…."
Just as that cynical thought was running through her head, writer Han caught PD Kim muttering softly under his breath. She looked up, startled—and barely managed to keep from making the exact same sound.
"Number 40, actor Lee Sungmin. Please introduce yourself."
"Hello! I'm Lee Sungmin. My credits include Please Love Me and The Gracious Guest in the Master's Room—"
The two of them did their best to keep their eyes fixed on the number 40 actor's mellow, honeyed voice. It was no use. Every nerve in their bodies kept straying toward number 43, standing behind him.
It felt as though the very air of the room was flowing toward number 43. The waiting actors kept stealing glances at him, and the actor performing up front was visibly distracted by whatever was happening behind him.
"Thank you. Next is… number 43, actor Lee Yeonjae?"
At the staff member's call, actor number 43—Lee Yeonjae—stepped forward.
He had only come a little closer, and already she was certain. That's him. Without a doubt, that's him.
Under the heat of writer Han's rapt gaze, PD Kim gave a small nod.
"Hello. I'm Lee Yeonjae. I appeared as an extra in Tail: Tracing the Traces. I'm auditioning for the role of Yuhyeon. I look forward to working with you."
A simple, unembellished self-introduction, nothing more.
And even those few plain words had stolen their eyes.
With a face like that, she'd thought, he could pass even if all he did was read aloud from a textbook. But hearing his voice only made her more curious about his acting.
"Right, let's see your assigned scene. Scene 8, the conversation between young Nabi and young Yuhyeon. Ready?"
"Yes."
With his bright, sunny smile, Lee Yeonjae—the famously viral "Yellow Hat Kid"—seemed surprisingly reticent.
His voice wasn't especially high, which suited Yuhyeon well, since the character was a former crown prince. But at the same time, he also had to show the boyish side of a kid who clung desperately to the female lead, which left her a little worried.
"Yuhyeon, if you're ready to go—what do you mean you're still not ready! We have to leave now!"
The staff member playing opposite, reading Nabi's lines, delivered the character's line for the forty-third time that day.
The voice was far too gruff for a young girl, and the endless repetition of auditions had worn her patience thin—it was hardly an environment built for immersion.
Head bowed, writer Han gazed earnestly at Lee Yeonjae as he listened to the staff member's lines.
'Please, just don't let it be a textbook reading… just avoid the textbook reading…!'
For a moment, Lee Yeonjae made a show of clenching his fists—then whipped his head up.
With the corners of his eyes crinkled all the way.
"Nabi, what took you so long!"
Son of a—. That's it!
Writer Han and PD Kim nodded at the same moment.
They tried not to show it, but the surge of emotion was far too intense to hold back.
"I was so sick I couldn't even get dressed… I couldn't eat breakfast either. It hurts so much. I could just die of it."
Lee Yeonjae whined in a voice stretched thin and listless.
In contrast to his shoulders and posture, which had gone completely slack, the eyes he turned on the staff member glittered—betraying exactly how overjoyed he was to see her.
"You caught a cold? And I told you, you're supposed to say 'my lady'! What if Mother hears you talking like that?"
"Out there it's 'my lady.' It's just the two of us right now, so what's the harm…? I'm sick."
He smiled with his eyes, played the rogue—and then, glancing around nervously, let his gaze drop. It put her in mind of a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. And yet calling him simply fragile would have been wrong, because the force behind those eyes was far too intense.
A combative glint cut straight through the pitiful pretense. Anyone could see he was faking the whole illness.
"Where does it hurt? Badly? I should have brewed some medicine before I came."
"No. We don't have money, remember. The medicine's fine, but I don't think I can go out today…. Can't you just stay too, Nabi?"
"I can't. If I don't go, Mother has to go alone. You stay here. Can you manage being by yourself?"
"Mmm…. I guess I have no choice. But you'd better come back early—I'll be waiting."
Lee Yeonjae's lashes trembled pitifully. His mouth worked busily as he mumbled, hands fidgeting at his sides.
His voice wasn't particularly high, yet the way he rounded out every single syllable made the whole thing sound pitched upward.
'Oh… he's better than I expected.'
PD Kim simply stared, dazed, at the glowing-eyed boy.
Because of how wildly his Tail appearance had blown up, he'd seen Lee Yeonjae's beaming smile plenty of times. It had even circulated widely as reaction GIFs.
But the smile on the boy's face now was on a completely different wavelength from that easy, open grin. Back then he'd been an ordinary boy who smiled out of pure habit; now he was a tiger cub concealing its heart as it lowered its tail in a graceful bow.
The contrast—between a voice light enough to float off into the air and eyes charged with such fierce intensity—was simply exquisite.
He glanced sideways. Writer Han, too, couldn't tear her eyes away from Lee Yeonjae.
Her face was scrunched up so tightly that he could only imagine the torrent of silent curses she was unleashing inside.
"That's all."
"Very good. Please prepare the next scene and begin when you're ready. Scene 23—the conversation between young Yuhyeon and Lady Yi."
"Yes. I'm ready."
Lee Yeonjae had blinked only a few times, and yet somehow he'd already shed Yuhyeon's skin entirely.
He wasn't one to draw out his words, and his intonation itself was gentle—but the difference from the aegyo-laden lines just before was so stark it felt almost disorienting.
'That kid… he'd be great at playing a psychopath too.'
Wait. A beautiful, young psychopath…? That could work.
Straining to hold back the inspiration suddenly flooding through her, writer Han watched as Lee Yeonjae prepared his next lines.
This time, his line came before the staff member's.
After a brief silence, Lee Yeonjae straightened his back and spoke.
"I heard you were granted an audience with Her Ladyship."
Heavy. It carried a gravity that couldn't even be compared to the lines before it.
"Yes, my lord."
"Did you deliver the message I entrusted to you?"
"I did. However… I was unable to receive a reply."
"…I see. Understood. You may withdraw."
"My lord."
The staff member whispered softly, following the script as written.
Then those black eyes turned down on him, cold as frost, and before he knew it he swallowed hard and fixed his gaze on the page.
"Forgive my insolence, my lord… but I hear you have maintained a close companionship with my daughter. Might I ask if there is some particular reason…?"
"Am I obligated to answer that question?"
His carefully chosen words were answered with words like stone.
Despite the honorific speech, the unmistakable force of power bled through the intonation and the expression alike. The staff member, taking that gaze head-on, sweated inwardly as he forced out the remaining lines.
"I beg your pardon. I only meant—"
"The tea has gone cold. Nabi will return soon, so it would be best for you to take your leave now."
A voice as frigid as that gaze drifted through the air and settled over the room. Feeling an actual chill, the staff member breathed a sigh of relief—at last, it was over.
"That's all."
Just as before, Lee Yeonjae returned to his true self with a few blinks of his eyes.
But the audition room was still saturated with that cold energy. In the midst of the collective silence, Lee Yeonjae alone stood blinking blankly, bearing the full weight of everyone's stares.
"You have a truly lovely voice. Your diction comes through very clearly, too."
"Thank you."
The first to speak had been PD Kim.
With other candidates still waiting, he'd meant to avoid making comments as much as possible—but there was something he couldn't hold back.
"That look at the end—was that an intentional choice?"