Unintended Debut
"Is this... right?"
Ha-yoon looked around in bewilderment. But the rest of us, me included, just kept our mouths shut.
Wuthering Heights. A story of a man and woman's tempestuous love. And what that implied—
"Out of me and her, you're saying one of us has to play the male lead..?"
Ha-yoon pointed at the girl next to her. The girl who'd been singled out looked anxious too.
And the others as well.
"There are two guys here, though?"
"Wh-what are we supposed to do with this?"
"What the hell...? This script is ridiculous..?"
Murmurs erupted around us. The room grew rowdy, everyone acting like they couldn't believe it. Just then—
"No objections. Figure it out yourselves."
Do-kyung sunbae cut through the chaos. No changes to the script, he nailed it down—we were proceeding as is.
We jumped straight into the meeting. After quick introductions, we huddled up.
"If we use the lighting right here..."
"Got it. I'll tweak that part of the script then."
Me and the director clicked right away. The script was built around theater from the start, after all.
The problem was—
"I-I'll do the male lead."
Na-ri raised her hand. She was a girl aspiring to act, just like Ha-yoon. She must've figured Ha-yoon fit the female lead Catherine perfectly. Thanks to Na-ri's volunteering, prep moved smoothly.
"Ha-yoon, wear this."
The props girl tossed her an outfit. Ha-yoon took the English-style dress, while Na-ri got one that looked ragged at first glance.
"...This is on purpose, right?"
"She's supposed to have been caught in a storm."
"Then yeah, this fits."
Na-ri nodded slightly. I took a coat. Thick, a bit worn. Perfect for the storm scene.
"Rehearsal—once through!"
Short. Really short. Just checked blocking and done.
And then—
"Next team, get ready."
Before our turn, the play onstage had already started. I watched from the wings.
And— 'As expected, too much in such short time?'
Crude. That summed it up.
One missed their entrance cue.
"Ah, uh! Now?!"
They rushed in, tripped—thud. Down they went.
A beat of silence.
"...You okay?"
"We're in the middle of the play. Keep going."
A whisper from somewhere. Then—lights. Wrong spot. Actor center stage, but beam hit the corner.
"Hey, light on..."
"Can't change it now!"
Whispers grew louder. And crucially—
"Th-that... I... you..."
Forgot their lines. Mouth froze. Eyes shook. Finally—
"...Sorry!"
They cracked. Laughter burst from the audience here and there. Forced chuckles that rang even louder.
I tilted my head slightly. 'This must be the normal level.'
Short time. Strangers. Expected result.
Then someone stepped onstage alone.
"Everyone seems tense."
Do-kyung sunbae climbed up.
"I'll show you an example."
Lightly. Like it was no big deal. But—
The mood shifted the instant he started.
"...Why are you here."
Voice. Low, steady. Not a hint of waver.
Blocking. Natural, like muscle memory. Gaze, timing, breath—all flawless.
Not like the 'play pretend' from before. This was real.
Someone muttered softly.
"..Wow."
That said it all. Short scene. When it ended—
No one laughed.
Instead.
Silence.
That was the clearest difference.
"Next team."
Our turn. Everyone, me included, stood to prep.
That's when—
"Urk—"
A sound from beside me. Na-ri. She clutched her mouth, head down.
"You okay?!"
Ha-yoon rushed over. Na-ri waved her off.
"I-I'm fine... really..."
Everyone flinched right there. Na-ri's voice was cracked like drought-stricken earth.
No. Worse.
"Uh.. ahhh..?"
She opened her mouth—but no sound. Just ragged breaths. Her eyes shook.
This was— 'Impossible.'
I judged instantly. No way she could go on like this. Even if she did, it'd flop.
And that'd tank the whole team.
I racked my brain. Maxed out the tricks in the short time.
'Fuck. Is this really the only way?'
Despair hit. My brain's limit was simple fixes.
But if it worked, it'd land convincingly. So I spoke.
"Pull the viewpoint forward."
"...Huh?"
The director blinked.
"Delay Heathcliff's entrance."
"B-but then—"
"Possible, right? We've got the front part down a bit."
"...Yeah. We'll make it flow somehow."
The director thought fast. Better to follow the script guy's lead now. Directing flubs show less than acting ones.
She instinctively got the gap, nodding tensely. Quick math.
"Can buy time till male lead enters."
"30 seconds enough?"
"Leave it to me."
Director greenlit. Next, the actress whose part ballooned unexpectedly.
Ha-yoon came over, pointing at the advanced scene.
"So who plays Nelly?"
Short answer. No time for chat.
"Na-ri."
"...Ah."
She got it. Nelly—few lines. Minimal breath needed. Baggy clothes, perfect for cue cards inside.
Props girl fetched the outfit quick. I scribbled key lines on paper, tucked inside.
Na-ri bit her lip.
"I... I'm fine. I can—"
"You're not. That voice won't cut it."
I cut her off. Firmly.
"Go up now, we all crash. Change quick."
Brief silence. Then—
Na-ri bowed her head.
"...Okay."
I looked at Ha-yoon. She'd already memorized the front lines.
'Sharp as ever.'
Leaving her, I took a breath—
"I'll do the male lead."
Silence. Ha-yoon's eyes widened.
"...You?"
"Yeah."
"Weren't you on script?"
"Script and acting now."
Short reply. Options were slim.
Na-ri, our actress, voice gone.
Who fills the gap? Props girl—no way for male role, not theater kid. Director guy—solo on lights.
Left with me. Lucky I'm script guy, lines fresh.
Prep done rough. Then—
"Next team! Up!"
Call came. Hint of impatience—hurry up.
I grabbed Ha-yoon's shoulder as she moved.
"30 seconds. Please."
"Got it. I'll carry."
"Na-ri too."
Na-ri nodded, both hit the stage.
30 seconds left. I donned the coat.
Now, pure race against time.
Recalled script Heathcliff. Orphan tossed in streets. Earnshaw drags to manor. Hindley abuses daily.
Catherine, his deepest love. Linton steals her.
Tried grasping his emotions deep inside.
....
'Damn.'
Short think, quiet curse.
No clue. Couldn't grasp Heathcliff at all. Abuser Hindley, beloved Catherine, thief Linton.
No sim worked. His feelings? Blank.
My issue, sure.
But—no quitting.
"Don't need to play Heathcliff."
My job simple. As 'actor', show myself to others.
Anger, sorrow, cruelty—just make audience feel it.
Not acting. Actors empathize, become another self.
I can't empathize or mimic Heathcliff.
Just leave deep impression. Know what they want to see, hear, feel. Tailor perfectly.
Thump, thump. Heart slows. Faint pulse hums.
"I... can do this."
Give audience what they need.
Lived every day acting it out.
I—
"Gyeong-in."
Called the director. He looked. I pointed water bottle in corner.
"If we're doing it, do it right."
30 seconds. Time Sung-hoon bought.
Na-ri squeezed out her last line, head down.
A beat late—breath escaped.
"..Ha."
Short relief. Line twisted midway.
Na-ri's eyes shook—hand brushed inside clothes.
She dropped gaze, paused split-second.
Then connected. Precarious.
But—held.
Ha-yoon guided blocking smooth, director lagged lights to cover.
Scene done. Na-ri slipped offstage head down.
Movement natural. Like born to it.
Ha-yoon alone onstage swallowed.
Next scene—pure improv stacked on improv.
'Please, just hit average, Sung-hoon!'
That hope shattered instantly.
Splish.
Splish.
Splish.
Water dripping. Wet shoes squelching floor. Ragged breaths.
All spread over silent stage.
Someone swallowed.
"..."
Faint. Barely audible.
Front-row kid clenched fist unconsciously. Uniform wrinkled between fingers.
Ripple effect—audience air sank.
No words. No coughs...
He stepped out.
Heathcliff. No—Kang Sung-hoon.
Outfit wrecked. Coat sodden, heavy. Hair limp over forehead. Drops trailed jaw.
Drip.
Someone back row flinched.
He stopped.
Lifted head.
"......"
No words.
But gaze. Eyes on Catherine.
Emotion filled them.
Someone shifted. Creak.
Chair squeaked tiny.
Sound boomed weirdly.
Ha-yoon edged back micro. Not acting. Instinct.
One side—a hand covered mouth.
"......"
No words.
Silence stretched.
Then—Heathcliff spoke first.
"Cathy."
Low. Quiet. Clear.
"Why'd you abandon me."
Someone held breath.
One line—tore stage apart.
Ha-yoon's eyes shook. Mouth opened.
This time... out.
"Because.."
Choppy. Breath steady.
Back row—someone bit lip.
"Heathcliff... tore my heart out."
Words done. Face hardens.
Heathcliff—froze. Shock raw.
Cracking slow.
"No."
Short.
"No!"
Exploded.
Front-row kid jolted shoulders.
"I didn't tear your heart!"
Step forward.
"You tore your own heart—"
Pen dropped from hand. Clack. Rolled floor.
No one picked.
"And tore mine too."
End.
Silent.
No applause.
Instead—slow exhale.
"..Ha."
Signal—stilled air flowed again.
Lights out. Blackout.
Then—scattered small sounds.
"Insane."
"What was that..?"
"...That a real student?"
But no one yelled loud.
Stage lingered.
"Sung-hoon's amazing.."
Na-ri behind muttered. Stopped phone recording, stared ceiling.
Dark. Lights off for play.
Her pupils dulled too.
She whispered.
"Jealous.."
....
Meanwhile, student council president watching secretly by door.
"You... still..!"
Fled turning. Like prey dodging predator.
That otherness—she'd felt before.