The Acting Genius Who Descended Like a Dance from the Darkness (2)
“….”
Lee Min-woo swallowed hard without realizing it.
The little girl who had been clinging to her mother’s sleeve and shrinking into herself only moments ago was gone. In her place stood a sun that seemed ready to swallow the entire audition room whole. He glanced sideways. Director Han Sang-in—normally so prickly about everything—was staring with his mouth hanging open, completely dazed.
But both men were professionals who had worked with countless actors.
Having an “aura” and possessing real “acting skill” were two entirely different things. How many times had they been fooled by a powerful first impression only to be disappointed once the actual performance began?
Director Han Sang-in covered his mouth with a fist and cleared his throat quietly.
“Ahem, ahem. Young Seo Da-young. The atmosphere is excellent. You seem to understand the role very well. Now then, shall we see if you can act just as well?”
He tapped the script on the desk and continued.
“I never intended to demand complex emotional lines from a group of young children. The acting you’ll do is very simple. Let’s assume there’s a beloved little sister right in front of you. It’s a scene where you’re happily running around the yard playing hide-and-seek with her. Start whenever you’re ready.”
The most primal kind of improvisation—and the one that most easily exposed a child actor’s limits.
Most of the candidates would wave their hands awkwardly at empty air or parrot memorized lines until the scene fizzled out.
More than half the child actors were eliminated at this stage.
Lee Min-woo didn’t hold high expectations either as he gripped his pen and watched Da-young.
In that instant, a mischievous glint sparked in Seo Da-young’s eyes.
Her gaze locked precisely on the space behind Han Sang-in and Lee Min-woo.
“…Ah, found you! So that’s where you were hiding?”
The voice was full of playful energy and crystal-clear brightness.
As if someone really stood behind the two men, Da-young lowered her line of sight just a little.
Then she giggled and lightly stepped between them, hopping as she went.
“Hey, hiding there during hide-and-seek is cheating! Anyway, you’re it this time, right?”
A child’s hand stretched out toward empty air.
The movement of those fingertips, the roll of her eyes, even the tiny tilt of her head as if checking the other person’s reaction—
In that moment, Han Sang-in and Lee Min-woo both flinched on pure instinct and looked behind them.
Da-young’s performance had been so natural that they actually wondered whether another child really had been hiding in the audition room.
Her gaze and laughter were that overflowing with realism.
“…Ha. Would you look at that.”
Only after realizing it had been pure acting did Min-woo let out a stunned, admiring laugh.
Director Han Sang-in of Flower of Blood said nothing, but a strange light flickered in his eyes at the fact that he had been completely taken in by a six-year-old’s performance.
Yet the one most shocked was Han Ari, watching her daughter from the side.
She had brought Da-young to the audition half-believing the constant praise from people around them that the girl would become a great actress someday.
That half-hearted confidence had evaporated the moment they arrived and faced the other parents and children.
Of course Han Ari had noticed what Da-young had noticed.
The other mothers’ politely distant attitudes toward a complete novice who knew nothing about the entertainment industry—walls carefully raised.
Even so, Ari had pretended to be cheerful, terrified that Da-young might notice and feel sad.
Deep down she had been aching with guilt for putting her daughter through a bad experience.
But what was this?
The talent of the daughter she herself hadn’t even dared to expect—
Was it just because Da-young was the child she had carried and given birth to? No. Looking at the reactions around them, she clearly wasn’t the only one stunned.
She covered her mouth, a thrilling shiver rising at the unfamiliar sight of her own daughter.
This should be enough, right?
Acting was something I had been doing ever since I was born.
A monster reborn with every memory of my past life intact.
But my parents never knew that. They simply poured endless love onto this child.
The more of that infinite love I received, the more the guilt crushed me until I felt I might die.
So for the past six years, every single moment, I had acted the part of a good, lovable daughter so I would never disappoint those two people.
There was no way a little improvisation among preschoolers could be difficult.
“…Ahem.”
Han Sang-in, who had briefly lost himself in Da-young’s presence, hurriedly cleared his throat and pulled the atmosphere back together. Casting director Lee Min-woo beside him also awkwardly tapped his papers and straightened his clothes.
They both felt a little embarrassed at having been so thoroughly captivated by a six-year-old’s acting.
The performance she had just shown was certainly astonishing.
But they couldn’t decide an audition’s fate on a single scene.
It might simply have meshed well with the request by chance, or she might only be outstanding at one prepared moment.
“All right, young Da-young. Let’s have you act a little more.”
Han Sang-in lightly pushed up his glasses and looked down at the script.
“This time… I’d like you to act as if you’re protecting your little sister and getting scolded by your parents in her place.”
The moment the request left his mouth, Seo Da-young stepped forward with quiet confidence.
“…And actually, I’m the one who broke the teacup while I was playing around. So my little sister didn’t do anything wrong.”
At the same time she bowed her head deeply.
That was all.
If you described it in words, it was nothing more than two sentences and a lowered head.
Yet as Han Sang-in watched, the image of the heroine’s older sister from the scenario—Yu Da-hye—began to take vivid shape in his mind.
The way she stepped forward boldly and looked up with unwavering eyes.
Yet at the same time her voice trembled finely at the end, as if she were afraid of being scolded.
And after she lowered her head, her shoulders flinched irregularly now and then, exactly as if an adult were really shouting at her right there.
As her face tilted down, the earlier confident expression vanished like a lie, replaced by one filled with fear.
Then, in the middle of it, Da-young suddenly turned her head slightly to the side.
Huh? Why is she looking that way all of a sudden…?
From Han Sang-in’s position he couldn’t see Da-young’s expression head-on. So he realized the meaning of that acting a beat late.
Ah.
Goosebumps prickled over his skin.
Even while being scolded in her sister’s place, she had deliberately met the little sister’s eyes and flashed a playful smile—to keep her from being scared!
It was short, but it was dense, powerful acting.
“…Young Da-young.”
Han Sang-in swallowed and asked,
“Do you… happen to have a little sister?”
“No. I’m an only child!”
Instead of a simple answer, Da-young rested her chin on her index finger and tilted her head with pure innocence.
Han Sang-in was stunned speechless.
The narrative he had requested from Seo Da-young had been nothing more than a single line: “Get scolded in place of your little sister.”
Yet within that brief situation she had woven in an ad-lib—reassuring her sister even while being scolded—right into the improvisation.
In the world of actors, many performers researched their roles deeply and used ad-libs to maximize the character.
In fact, at an audition like this, throwing in ad-libs to show how thoroughly you had analyzed the part—or simply to fill empty space during improvisation—was considered basic technique.
But that was a story that applied only among seasoned adult actors.
A six-year-old child… throwing out an ad-lib like that on the spot?
Han Sang-in turned to look at Lee Min-woo.
“Min-woo. Does that child have any prior acting experience as a child actor?”
Min-woo, equally dazed, checked the résumé and shook his head.
“No. The résumé says this is her first entertainment audition. Honestly… if there were a child actor with that face and this level of skill, there’s no way I, as the casting director, wouldn’t know about her.”
After that Han Sang-in had her perform several more scenes, but of course every single one was flawless.
With each additional performance, a heavy certainty began to settle inside the audition room.
Lee Min-woo leaned toward Han Sang-in and whispered,
“Director. I think we have our pick.”
“….”
“She’s a bit young for the heroine’s older sister, which is a shame, but we can cover that with makeup and heeled shoes to make her look as mature as possible.”
In his mind Min-woo had already confirmed Seo Da-young as the successful candidate.
Her young age was a slight concern, but sometimes overwhelming acting skill easily covered any external shortcomings.
Besides, the two of them had already spent more than twice as much time on Seo Da-young’s audition as on any other child candidate.
By this point even the staff outside the door and the parents waiting in the lounge would have sensed it: Ah, they’ve found their person inside.
Yet even after Min-woo’s confident words, Han Sang-in didn’t open his mouth right away. He wore a thoughtful expression.
“…Don’t tell me, Director Han. You’re not about to say even young Seo Da-young doesn’t satisfy you?”
“Hmm.”
Han Sang-in rested his chin on his hand and spoke heavily.
“Let’s see one last piece of acting.”
“Director Han!”
Min-woo’s voice rose a little. He couldn’t understand why the director was reacting so lukewarmly when they had already found a perfect child actor.
“There’s one last performance I really want to see. Just one more.”
But Han Sang-in’s attitude was firm. Min-woo, about to keep arguing, saw the look on the director’s face, sensed that something else was turning in his mind, and let out a sigh.
“…Understood. We’ll watch just one final scene. But please don’t forget that the final casting authority rests with me as the person in charge.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
Han Sang-in gave Min-woo a light nod, then looked at the mother, Han Ari, who was still fidgeting nervously in the middle of the room, and at her daughter Seo Da-young, who by contrast was utterly calm.
At this rate you can’t even tell who’s the parent and who’s the child.
Han Sang-in smiled gently and spoke to Da-young.
“First of all, thank you so much for going along with all those acting requests so willingly, young Da-young.”
At those words Han Ari carefully wrapped an arm around Da-young’s shoulders and hurried to answer.
“Oh, not at all! Da-young didn’t mind at all… she seemed to enjoy it. Right, Da-young?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
Da-young answered with a bright smile.
“Good. Then for real this time—just one last piece of acting, please.”
Han Sang-in’s eyes grew still and deep.
His voice was so grave that the air in the audition room seemed to freeze solid in an instant.
“…Young Seo Da-young. Can you act the feeling of having lost every family member you could rely on, of being left completely alone in the world?”
“Director Han!!”
Before Seo Da-young could even open her mouth, Lee Min-woo, sitting beside Han Sang-in, shouted as if screaming and shot up from his seat.
At the sudden movement the chair he had been sitting on tipped and crashed over backward with a loud clatter. Han Ari flinched in surprise, but Min-woo paid no attention to any of it. He simply stared at Han Sang-in with eyes that refused to believe what he had just heard.
“Director Han! That request right now…!!”
Min-woo couldn’t finish the sentence. His lips trembled.
He couldn’t say the rest. Because the words that would have followed were a secret that must never be spoken lightly in front of these two ordinary people.
The acting Director Han Sang-in had just requested from Seo Da-young.
It was not the acting of “Yu Da-hye,” the role currently being auditioned.
It was the acting of a child who had lost her parents and even the older sister who had always smiled like the sun and loved her so dearly—every last member of her family—and who, as an adult, would seek revenge for them.
It was the acting of Yu Ji-hye, the heroine of the drama Flower of Blood.