Miscast, or a Stroke of Genius? (3)

I set the worry aside for the moment and headed for the Neptune dorm.

I wanted the script in Lee Songha's hands as soon as I could get it there. She had an audition to prepare for, and more than that I was dying to know what kind of performance would come out of her once she had the whole thing. A few short lines from the synopsis had already shown me something worth waiting for.

I rang the bell, and LJ opened the door with her eyes half-shut. She couldn't have been up long. Her long blonde hair, usually gleaming, was a tangle, and sleep still clung to lashes the same pale shade.

"You're here?"

"Yeah. Brought a script for Songha."

"She's in the shower."

LJ stretched, then tossed the next words out like they were nothing.

"Code's 828289."

"Huh?"

I stopped and stared. LJ scratched at her neck.

"From now on just punch it in and come in. I was going to wait a few months before telling you, but you don't look like the type to pull anything weird. You're not a thief, or a stalker, or a pervert, right?"

"Mm. Probably not."

"What do you mean, probably! I ought to change that code right now!"

I looked toward the voice and found Lim Seoyoung draped belly-down over an enormous rubber exercise ball. Whether she was working out or simply lying across it was anyone's guess. On the couch beside her, Lee Taehee was sprawled out, clicking the remote.

I traded hellos with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them and sat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down myself. Not long ago this place had felt as foreign as a new continent, but I'd been in and out of it so often that the couch had started to feel like my assigned seat.

"Oppa, oppa, oppa."

"Yeah. I can hear you if you call me once."

"Aww, once is so cold. Where's the affection?"

Seoyoung flailed, rolling the ball until she was right in front of me, and asked.

"Something happened with Songha yesterday, didn't it? It did, right?"

It had. Plenty had. More than one or two things, if I started counting. I shrugged, tucking the little stabs of guilt out of sight.

"Not really. Why?"

Seoyoung narrowed her eyes, suspicious.

"I think something did. She came in yesterday grinning like crazy. Like something good had happened."

"Yeah? That's new."

"I'm telling you. And she had a bandage wrapped around her ankle."

Ah. So she noticed.

I quietly slipped out from under Seoyoung's glare. Taehee switched off the TV and looked at me.

"She says it's nothing, but is she actually okay?"

"They called it a mild sprain. As long as she takes care of it, she'll be fine."

They must have been worried. Their faces eased all at once.

A little later the water in the bathroom cut off. The door clicked open, and Lee Songha came out toweling her damp hair, just as she had the day I first met her. Then and now, that face was made for a camera.

"Oh, oppa."

She came over, plainly glad to see me.

"Sleep well? You tired?"

"This much is fi— I have good stamina. I ate around dawn yesterday and then slept."

She started to say one thing and switched to another, and I almost laughed. Maybe she remembered I'd told her yesterday not to say she was fine.

I took two document envelopes out of my bag. One for Songha, one a copy for me.

"Script for Cat Guardian Spirit."

"Oh...!"

"You've got an audition to prep for, so let's run a read-through."

Songha took the envelope in both hands with a crisp little snatch and checked it. Then she glanced at the others and tugged my arm.

"Let's do it inside."

"Hm?"

Suddenly I was in Songha's room. Behind us Seoyoung was carrying on about how unfair it was, declaring she wasn't even going to listen, but Songha shut the door without hesitation.

Awkwardly, I looked around a room I'd never entered before. I hadn't been harboring any particular fantasies about a girl's room, but I hadn't pictured this either. It looked entirely too much like the quadruplets' room back home—empty snack bags and crumbs rolling around where the cute little decorations should have been.

While I stared at the disaster, Songha made a halfhearted show of tidying, then patted the brown rug spread under the bed. Impatient, she practically turned the envelope inside out to get the script free.

"Sit here. I'll read it first."

"Yeah, sure."

For a long while she focused on the pages as if she'd forgotten I was beside her. Color rose in her cheeks—surprise, then seriousness, then the faintest smile. The tiny shifts were so good to watch that I waited without getting bored.

At last she drew a long breath and closed the script.

"Well?"

"This is fun."

I'd known she would say that. She looked like a kid who'd just been handed a Christmas present by Santa, and the sight pleased me more than I expected.

"Then let's do a proper read-through. I'll take the stage directions and the other parts."

I opened to the page where Jung Haewon first appeared and read the direction straight through.

I'd been reading directions and the café employee's lines for a while when I felt an odd stare and looked up. Songha was watching me, startled.

"What?"

"You're really good at that. You sound like a pro."

"Huh? Ah... probably because I've read a lot of picture books out loud."

The quadruplets all had such definite tastes that the skill had come from taking turns through each of their favorites. There wasn't a fairy-tale part I couldn't do, stage directions included, from Snow White all the way to the wicked witch. I'd never imagined it would be useful like this.

"All right. Starting again."

When the first read-through ended, Songha went limp, as if the work had drained her dry. The afterimage of having worn Jung Haewon still sat all over her face.

I hadn't climbed back out of it either, even with the script closed. When I came to, my throat was raw. Right—I'd read every one of those long directions and lines without a sip of water.

I rubbed the stiffness from the back of my neck and stepped into the living room, and met three pairs of eyes fixed on me. The looks were intense enough that I felt I ought to open the door and go right back in.

"Oppa."

Seoyoung came over.

"We could hear it from out here. I don't know much about acting, but..."

She glanced at Songha's door and asked, smaller.

"Songha's kind of good at this, isn't she?"

"No."

"What?"

"She's unbelievably good."

I was sure of it now.

Lee Songha could act. I couldn't count how many times she had startled me during the read-through. This wasn't a talent that merely leaned toward acting. It was an enormous gift. If that wasn't true, then either my eyes were crooked or I was wearing some very thick rose-colored glasses.

It wasn't worry or nerves about the audition anymore. I wanted her in that room as soon as possible. I wanted the director and the writer actually making the drama to see her work, and I couldn't stand not knowing what faces they would make, or what they would say.

The thought had barely landed when my phone buzzed. A number I didn't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is Jung Sunwoo."

Impeccable timing.

I crossed quickly to the couch and pulled a notebook and pen from my bag.

"Hello, PD. I was actually waiting for your call."

"We just wrapped a major recording yesterday, so we're completely open through the day after tomorrow."

The PD on the other end hesitated, then went on.

It wasn't a shock. The script had already left me uneasy about exactly this.

Jung Haewon, the simultaneous interpreter, had a far larger part than I'd expected. Unlike the supporting roles that existed only to prop up the leads, she was a character with a real story, and that made her emotional line complicated. No producer or director would cast an unproven newcomer in a part that important without a second thought—and not even an aspiring actress, but a member of an unknown girl group. If they had, I would have been more anxious, not less.

"Yes. I've read it."

If the call had come before I got here, I might have hesitated. Not now.

At first I'd fixated on the role because my foresight had shown me Lee Songha playing a simultaneous interpreter. To reach that future, I had thought I needed to land her Jung Haewon. Now I had bigger reasons. The character was attractive enough that I wanted her. Songha had started to grow attached to the part. And I had become certain she would carry it.

"Thank you, PD. But..."

Park Sukyung, production PD at Pan Production, climbed onto a chair with a duster in hand. When she stirred the cloudy top of the bookshelf, clotted dust drifted down like wet snow. Below her, writer Hong Joo-mi, filling a coffee pot, broke into a cough.

"Seo Ji-joon isn't even coming. Do we really have to clean?"

At Park's grumbling, CEO Kim Pan-seok, seated in solemn posture, clicked his tongue.

"They're from W&U. What if they go back and say our office looks like a beggar's den? And even if they don't—this is the first celebrity coming in to audition. If the place looks like this, where does that leave my face? Hurry up. They'll be here any minute."

"You said yourself there's a ninety-nine percent chance we won't cast her as Jung Haewon..."

A planning PD, just back from an errand outside, cut into the conversation.

"I saw Lee Songha's profile too. The visuals are incredible, aren't they? With a face like that, even if the acting's a little off, people will think they're watching a pictorial or a commercial and won't change the channel."

CEO Kim Pan-seok snorted and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shot back.

"In a profile shot, any mutt off the street is a goddess. You know how good photographers are these days."

"I watched the music video too."

"You have to see them in person. Those girl-group members the fans worship as the pinnacle of visuals—nine times out of ten, put them in a two-shot with an actor and it turns into a humiliation shot. You don't know that?"

"That part's true. Actor looks are their own category."

Park Sukyung nodded along. Just then the youngest PD, who had gone out to buy fancy snacks for the audition guests, came running into the office.

"Whoa... did you guys see? There's a celebrity downstairs right now. I think she's an actress."

"What is with you? You came up as a film AD, didn't you? Like actresses are some rare sight."

At the scolding, the youngest PD swallowed hard.

"She's insanely pretty, sunbae. From a hundred meters away the halo just—bam!"

At that moment the door opened again with a clatter.

A man and a woman stepped into the office. Everyone inside knew at a glance that the woman was the owner of the halo the youngest PD had been raving about, and suddenly the fuss made sense.

"Hello. I'm Lee Songha."

"Jung Sunwoo."

The two of them bowed. Park Sukyung flung the duster aside and went to meet them.

"Park Sukyung, production PD."

Taking out a business card, she stole a glance at the Lee Songha in front of her. Pale fingers swept back the straight hair that had fallen loose ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠when she bowed, and a perfect set of features came into view beneath it. Park swallowed the urge to whistle.

She had heard twenty-year-old girl-group member and pictured something bouncy and bright. The atmosphere was the opposite: calm, almost contemplative. If she hadn't known better, she would have taken her for an actress without a doubt.

A humiliation shot beside an actor? If Lee Songha came in as support, the female lead would be the one to worry about. An ordinary face would have a hard time surviving a two-shot with her.

"We'll be in your care."

Park Sukyung dragged her eyes off Songha with some effort. The man who had come with her was holding out a business card. A casual suit under a neat coat—not a look that announced manager at first glance. Tall and clean-cut, but cold, somehow. Only his voice was soft.

After brief greetings with CEO Kim Pan-seok and the rest of the office, Park led the two of them to the conference room where the audition would be held. The ones who went in with them were CEO Kim Pan-seok, Director Shin Tae-gyun, and writer Hong Joo-mi.

When the door closed, the three left outside set out coffee and snacks and whispered without pause. Most of it, of course, was about Lee Songha's looks. Then the youngest PD asked out of nowhere.

"The guy who came with her looked young. Is he somebody high up? What's his title?"

"The card only had a name. He didn't seem like a road manager. Too at ease."

"But does a higher-up usually tag along to a rookie's audition? This isn't some tiny agency. It's a company the size of W&U... Maybe they're actually pushing her, trying to build her properly? Looking at the visuals alone, it'd make sense."

"Then she might act better than we think."

They looked at the conference room door, curious.

Behind it, shut tight, the audition was just beginning.