Daily Life Acting
Living drama. A rainy Friday night. The men who had gathered at the bar quietly nursed their drinks.
"Ha...."
Film director Yang Jin-hyung let out sigh after sigh as he stared at his empty glass. Tonight, the booze tasted especially bitter. It was always like this whenever something bad happened.
The movie, crafted over two painstaking years, faced brutal criticism from day one of its release. The story and direction were solid—no major issues there. The backlash stemmed entirely from the lead actor's performance.
A, an idol-turned-actor, had been cast for his buzz and to secure funding. Director Yang had voiced concerns from the project's outset, but with pressure from a major sponsor, he had no real choice. A had been a condition of the funding from the start.
"He'll be a huge box-office draw."
That one line had forced him to nod along—or at least pretend to. Still, even then, he hadn't anticipated the problem snowballing this badly.
"His acting will improve as we shoot..."
With a long shooting schedule, he'd figured there'd be time to polish those skills. But that hope shattered spectacularly.
"A can't make it next week due to his schedule."
Acting wasn't A's main gig—he was an idol first. His packed calendar left no room for dedicated coaching. The finished film reeked of doom even at the preview screening. Silence blanketed the theater whenever A appeared, and in the climax that should've had audiences sobbing, laughter erupted instead. They were laughing in a scene meant to wrench tears. It was pure chaos.
Two years of grueling work ended in mockery.
"I'll never cast an idol in my films again!"
Director Yang slammed back drink after drink in bitter frustration. His colleagues around the table chuckled softly, patting his back to console him. Among them, screenwriter Kim Si-woo topped off his glass with a worried look.
"But, Director..."
A formal notice had recently come down from the major sponsor: Cast another famous idol in the next project. With production costs fully reliant on them, Director Yang couldn't ignore the demand. He knew it better than anyone, letting out a quiet groan.
One of his drinking buddies offered a gentle suggestion.
"Hyung, if it's that bad, how about I recommend a solid idol actor?"
"An idol actor...?"
"Yeah. Great buzz and top-notch acting chops."
Director Yang stroked his chin thoughtfully. Not all idols sucked at acting—some were genuinely talented. The catch? They all commanded sky-high fees.
"You know our production company's situation. We can't afford that luxury."
"No worries there. She's newly debuted, no acting credits yet, so her rate in this field should be reasonable."
"Public recognition...?"
"Through the roof. She's the hottest thing right now."
Director Yang narrowed his eyes. Newly debuted but hugely popular, no experience but killer skills? It sounded too good to be true.
"Someone like that actually exists...?"
"Give this a call."
The man handed over a business card from his pocket. It bore the SJB Entertainment logo. Director Yang eyed him skeptically.
"...You sure about this?"
The man who passed the card lifted his glass with a relaxed grin.
"If this pans out, buy me a round. Make it expensive."
That man's name was Lee Jin-su, a hotshot ad director.
My image appeared on the LED screen at the stadium, broadcast live.
"And now, a ceremonial first pitch from Ruti!"
Thwack.
The baseball I threw sailed straight into the catcher's mitt. A crisp smack echoed, followed by cheers roaring from the stands. For my first-ever pitch, I'd nailed a perfect strike.
"That concludes Ruti's first pitch!"
I waved to the crowd and slipped out of the stadium naturally. Outside, paparazzi were already lying in wait to snap my photo. Those vultures followed me everywhere like ghosts.
"Coming through."
With my managers shielding me, I barely made it to the car.
"Whoa, Siyeon, that pitch was spot-on. Did you practice separately?"
"A bit at school."
I'd practiced during PE whenever I could. Lucky for me, there were baseball team guys in my class who helped out.
"You wanna learn how to throw? Sure, we'll teach you."
It was the same guy who'd accidentally beaned me with a dodgeball last time. Probably felt bad about it—he taught me without hesitation. Thanks to him, I pulled off a killer pitch.
"What's next on the schedule?"
"Let me check..."
Manager unnie scanned the itinerary in her hand. It was crammed edge-to-edge—no breathing room.
"Afternoon's that cosmetics ad shoot I mentioned, then evening we head to the station for radio recording."
"Still that packed?"
The schedule never ended. Fresh off our album release, that was why. New album drops meant promo everywhere—events, shows, you name it. The other members were swamped too, but with my ad gigs piled on, I was extra buried. New slots kept popping up constantly. Like right now.
"Got a call."
Manager unnie glanced my way after picking up. No need to guess—another offer.
"...Yes, got it."
She hung up with a quiet tsk.
"What is it?"
"A role offer came in for you. Movie."
"A movie? Why? I can act."
Arms crossed, she scowled.
"They want you to audition. Say they can't give the part without proof of your skills. Can you believe it? They approach us first, then this."
"Isn't that standard?"
"Sure, for cutthroat competition or big-name projects. Big.Name."
Her emphasis on the last words screamed "not famous." Still, better hear the title.
"What's it called?"
"Want to Reach You, I think? Original script, but the director's low-profile, so box-office odds are iffy..."
Want to Reach You.
I answered without a second thought.
"Sounds fun. Let's do it."
"You sure? You're slammed already."
"No problem."
It was a stretch, sure, but I couldn't pass on a project like this. Money waits for no one—stack it while you can.
The audition was set to happen secretly in the distributor (CI) office. It was originally open, but the production team switched it to private for me today, considering my status. Odds: 1 in 41. High for a small company's tryout. Showed just how saturated the acting market was.
And now I was jumping in.
"Ahh..."
In the car heading to the audition, I flipped open the script they'd sent ahead and memorized lines one by one. I was good at committing lyrics and stage banter to memory anyway, so scripts weren't tough.
"We're here."
I headed straight in with my managers. Three interviewers sat at the table inside. I bowed politely first.
"Hello. Looking forward to a great session today."
They stood, bowing back.
"Likewise."
"Heh, you're even prettier in person."
They welcomed me with bright smiles. All but one.
"Pleased to meet you."
The guy in the middle looked sour. Position-wise, probably the director.
...Why the gloomy face? Looks like he hates that I'm here.
I decided not to sweat it. Maybe that was just his face. No judging books by covers, right?
"Got the script memorized?"
"Yes. Just now..."
"Just now?"
The director shot me a sharp glare. I ad-libbed quick.
"Just double-checked in case."
"...Right. Well, let's start the audition. Ready?"
"Yes."
I set the script aside, took a deep breath. The role: female lead Lee Ha-eun. Quiet, gloomy, timid schoolgirl. No friends, always eating lunch alone in the classroom corner.
Spot on. Matched the "Kim Siyeon" I'd played for three years perfectly.
Daily life acting? Piece of cake.