The Genius Actor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 7

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 7

“Let’s do our best from today on.”

Kim Hyun-deok smiled.
With that, the agency issue was settled.
I ran through everything I’d need to do next in my head.
First, there was still the 2nd Round Test at Daehan Arts University.
And after that, I’d need to shoot a proper portfolio and start attending auditions.
Let’s focus on preparing for the 2nd Round Test as best as I can first.
I looked at Kim Hyun-deok.

“It’s about time they showed up.”
“Who’s coming?”
“Didn’t I mention we have another actor signed to the agency?”

Just as I’d expected, there was already one more person under contract.
Knock, knock.
Right on cue, a knock sounded from outside the door.
Kim Hyun-deok called out for him to enter, and a man opened the door and stepped inside.

“Hello.”

A man with light brown hair walked in—he looked like he could be a high school or university student.
That face looked familiar.

“Ah, is this the person who auditioned earlier today?”
“Yes, go ahead and introduce yourself—he’s going to be part of the family from now on.”

At Kim Hyun-deok’s words, he bowed his head respectfully.

“Hello, I’m Lee Tae-hun. I’m 21 years old. It’s a pleasure to work with you.”
“It’s a pleasure to work with you. I’m Yeon Gi-jun.”

It was indeed someone I knew.
Lee Tae-hun—a singer under Nabi Entertainment who’d even gone international.
He’d supposedly been signed as an actor initially, and it looked like that was actually true.

“He works hard at his training, so make friends with him.”

I nodded without letting anything show on my face.
Before the regression, I’d actually seen Tae-hun act once.

—”It wasn’t me↗ who killed him↘”

His acting was so bad it had become a meme.
I remember fans’ comments were full of pleas for him to just stick to music.

“Oh, and you two are the same age, aren’t you?”

At Kim Hyun-deok’s remark, Tae-hun and I decided to drop formalities with each other.
Even if his acting wasn’t great, he was the kind of guy who’d stay out of trouble and do well for himself—cultivating a connection with him could prove useful.

“Gi-jun’s got good acting instincts, so Tae-hun, you can learn a lot from him. And Tae-hun, he….”

Kim Hyun-deok hesitated, as if unsure whether Tae-hun still couldn’t act.

“He’s good at singing.”

Being signed to an agency as an actor and still singing well.
Tae-hun looked embarrassed and lowered his head.
If I hadn’t known information about the future, I would have reconsidered my contract with this company.

“I can teach you acting.”
“You?”
“Yes. I still have a lot to learn, but people who lack knowledge help each other and grow together, don’t they?”

I’d grown accustomed to my own bright, early-twenties tone by now, so words like these came out naturally.

“In exchange, teach me some songs.”
“Songs?”

Tae-hun’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah, I want to sing well. We’ll teach each other and grow together.”

At my suggestion, Tae-hun nodded in agreement.

“But you have to teach me acting well too, since I want to get better at it.”
“Sure, let’s start right now.”
“Then I’ll teach you songs first.”

Tae-hun, genuinely pleased that someone his own age had joined the company, taught songs with enthusiasm.
While learning from him, I caught a sideways glance at Kim Hyun-deok, who sat in a chair across the room.
His expression was nearly blank, but he exhaled a long sigh, looking somewhat dejected.
At other entertainment agencies, they’d hire professional instructors. But here, the signed actors were teaching each other.
What must the head of a small agency feel in a moment like this?
Kim Hyun-deok gazed at his smartphone contacts, wrestling with something.
Yes. I mustn’t forget that emotion now.
That feeling would become the driving force for his growth going forward, and it would pull me higher as well.

“Is there something you want to say?”

I must have been staring at Kim Hyun-deok too long.

“Just a moment.”

I picked up my smartphone while quickly deciding what excuse to offer.
A text had arrived from the admissions office at Daehan Arts University a few hours earlier.
I opened my mouth, showing him the message.

“I passed the first round at Daehan Arts University.”

* * *

Inside my father’s truck on the way to Daehan Arts University.
I stretched and yawned.
I hadn’t slept much, busy preparing for the second round test and auditions.
It’s nice being young.
With my original body, I would have collapsed long ago.
We arrived in front of the school and I got out of the truck.

“Thank you for the ride, Father.”
“Go and do well on the test. We’ll have grilled pork belly for dinner at home.”

Father said that much and left right away.
Waving through the window, his departing truck carried a warm presence with it.
Though admittedly it was actually hot because the air conditioning wasn’t working.

“Oh, you’re here?”

The moment I stepped into the exam hall, a man greeted me warmly.
Bronzed skin, slightly shorter than me, bright intelligent eyes, and a neat short-cropped athletic haircut.

“You’re examinee number 127, right? Don’t you remember me? I was the one who showed you around during your 1st Round Test.”

Ah, so that was him.
I’d been too disoriented right after the regression to remember him properly.

“Hello.”
“Hey, great to see you. You look pretty worn out—didn’t get much sleep last night?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, that’s understandable. But don’t worry too much. You’re such a talented actor anyway.”

The chatty young man didn’t stop talking as I walked toward the performance stage.
I wished he’d leave soon.

“We never even introduced ourselves properly. I’m Kim Sung-soo.”
“Yeon Gi-jun.”

All the assistant staff for the Daehan Arts University Acting Department’s exams were current students.
When I eventually enrolled, Kim Sung-soo and I would become upperclassman and underclassman—there was no harm in getting friendly with him ahead of time.
I answered appropriately while mentally mapping out my strategy for today’s test.

“How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Oh, we’re the same age! Want to drop the formal speech?”
“Sure.”

I kept my replies brief, trying to signal that I wanted him to leave, but he didn’t take the hint at all.
I walked toward the performance hall without really paying attention to what he was saying.

“So you’re here now—looks like this is the right time slot.”

What was he talking about?
One of Kim Sung-soo’s remarks caught my attention as I was half-listening and half-ignoring him.

“Is this time slot special?”
“Yeah. Only people who scored high on the 1st Round are in this time slot.”

So that meant I’d also scored well on the first round.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Kim Sung-soo clapped his hand over his mouth, realizing his slip.
Talking too much always led to mistakes like this.
Thanks to him, I’d gained useful information.
Only when I reached the audience seat in front of the one with my examinee number did Sung-soo finally stop talking.

“Do well on the 2nd Round, and let’s make sure we meet as juniors and seniors.”

Sung-soo waved and left, and I watched his retreating figure while muttering to myself.

“Kim Sung-soo, Sung-soo, Sung-soo…”

It was a name I’d heard somewhere before, but I couldn’t quite place who he was.
I’d never seen his face before.
Maybe there was just someone I knew with the same name?
It hovered at the edge of memory, tantalizingly close, yet never quite surfaced.
Hmm, acting, perhaps? I’m certain I’ve heard it somewhere before.
While I was occupied with my amateur Sherlock Holmes impression,

“Hello, I’m An Seok-ju, a third-year student and president of the Acting Department student council.”

A man who appeared to be in his mid-to-late twenties—An Seok-ju—bowed his head.
He instructed us to submit our phones during the 2nd Round Test and cautioned us not to speak casually with other applicants.
After he’d finished his remarks, the professors gradually made their way up onto the stage.
Professor An Chi-won took the microphone.

“Congratulations to all of you who have passed the 1st Round Test for the Acting Department of Daehan Arts University’s School of Drama. As for our institution, I must say we offer the finest education in the country…”

While Professor An Chi-won launched into his speech, I took a moment to gather my thoughts.
The 2nd Round Test at Daehan Arts University’s Acting Department is conducted in the form of a Workshop.
Through Movement classes and Acting classes, the professors scrutinize each student’s attitude, fundamentals, and potential.
Just now, Kim Sung-soo definitely mentioned that only those with high scores from the 1st Round had been gathered here.
When you’re among mediocre performers, even modest skill stands out—but when everyone is talented, it’s difficult to catch the professors’ attention without exceptional ability.
I quietly surveyed the applicants around me.
I was trying to identify who might become a successful actor in the future.

“Hi there.”

While I was sizing people up, a man approached me.

“Oh, hello.”

I didn’t recognize him by sight, but even if he wasn’t an ally, there was no reason to make an enemy.

“I’m Choi Byung-chul.”

I seemed to be exchanging names with a lot of people today.

“I’m Yeon Gi-jun.”
“I attended Jungwon High School of the Arts. What about you—what arts high school?”
“I came from a regular high school curriculum.”
“Ah, I see. Then what agency are you with?”
“None.”

Realizing I had no useful value, Byung-chul—or whatever his name was—fell silent almost immediately.
I didn’t pay it much mind and continued scanning for anyone who looked destined for success.
On the stage stood An Seok-ju, who had introduced himself as the student council president earlier, holding the microphone at the front.

“All right then, let’s begin the Workshop!”

Since this was a gathering of acting applicants, the energy and tone of the response was distinctive.
From all sides came thunderous cheers loud enough to make your ears ring, accompanied by enthusiastic applause.
It was an exaggerated reaction, but concerned that the professors might already be evaluating my demeanor, I clapped along moderately.

“Woo!”

* * *

All the students who entered the large dance studio lay down together.

“Picture in your mind the most comfortable place. You are lying there, releasing all your worries. Your body and mind become completely relaxed.”

Professor An Chi-won led us through a physical relaxation exercise.
I practiced Diaphragmatic Breathing as deliberately as I could, aware that the other professors were evaluating me at this very moment.
After about twenty minutes of this, he instructed us to slowly sit up.
After the students stood up, Professor An Chi-won had us practice walking.

“Walk very slowly. First at normal speed… now, very quickly.”

It sounded like nothing special, but he was really assessing how freely each actor could move their body.
While I listened to Professor An Chi-won’s instructions, I searched for those who would succeed.
I didn’t see anyone who stood out as a future star.
They’d supposedly gathered only people with high marks from the first round, yet I didn’t recognize a single actor among them.
This industry really must be as brutal as they say.
Beyond that, we demonstrated basic movements—sitting, running, and so on.
And finally.

“It looks like everyone’s warmed up their bodies before taking the stage. Let’s move on to the Same-Day Monologue and Special Talent portions.”

Following Professor An Chi-won’s words, we moved to a different practice room.
A Same-Day Monologue is exactly what it sounds like—a monologue script distributed to applicants on the day of the audition.
You receive a few lines of dialogue without knowing what they’re about, construct a situation in roughly ten minutes, and then perform it on stage.

“Please submit any MR Files you’ll be using for your Special Talent to us here.”

For Special Talent, you had to choose between musical theater or dance and perform it on stage.
The reason I’d joined Nabi Entertainment in the first place, the reason I’d learned singing from Lee Tae-hun—it all came down to this.

—”The way singing should be done is like this….”

Nobody knew it now, but a decade from now this person would become a Korean singer known throughout the world.
His talent had already blossomed, and he’d demonstrated his exceptional vocal ability right in front of me.

“Learning directly from someone like that really did improve my skills considerably.”

I had absorbed that radiant talent completely.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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