The Genius Actor Who Lives Twice - Chapter 9

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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 9

“Hello.”
“Hey, want to grab a drink after the exam?”
“Wow, I really thought I was going to flunk it.”
“How did the exam go for you?”

Day two—the final day of the workshop.
The applicants, who had grown close to one another by now, greeted each other warmly.

“I hope we all end up at the same school.”
“That would be nice.”

Of course, all of this was someone else’s conversation.
I had no close friends here.
A few people had tried to approach me, but since I wanted to focus on the exam, I’d decided to be deliberately withdrawn for a while.
Still, there was one person persistent enough to keep edging toward me anyway.

“Ah, there you are.”

It was Choi Byeong-chul, the one I’d met briefly before.

“How did your special skill go? At our school, the teachers evaluated both the special skill and the acting performance.”

He must have taken it hard that I’d been praised by Professor Ahn Chi-won during Movement Class today.
He lacked confidence in his own abilities, so he was trying to shake my mental composure instead.
Unfortunately for him, I was someone who’d subdued a madman with a soju bottle just days ago and had already overcome the trauma from it.
My mental state wasn’t easily rattled anymore.

“Your movement technique is certainly impressive. A dance department would suit you better than acting. Acting is much more complex, after all—you need good movement, but you need solid acting skills too.”

I considered smacking him on the head, but all the professors were watching.
If I actually hit him, I’d be disqualified on the spot, no matter if I’d scored top marks.
I chose to ignore him lightly and looked around.
In my previous search for future successful actors, there was something I hadn’t considered.
Even if I met the accomplished actors I remembered now, it would be hard to recognize them immediately.
So I paid attention to their acting style, their skill level, and even the changes that would come later.
I watched more carefully, more closely.
That way, I managed to spot a few actors who would become famous someday.

“Ah. We won’t be able to return to Moscow.”

The applicant doing Monologue Acting and warming up her body on the other side was named Shin Da-hye.
I’d seen her face in occasional dramas while I was struggling as an extra, and there had been a time when our projects overlapped.
Of course, she’d been in a lead role, and since there were no scenes we shared, today was actually the first time I’d seen her in person.

“I won’t cry anymore. I was just deluding myself that if I only made it to Moscow, I’d find true love there.”

Her vocalization, pronunciation, and acting were already excellent.
Hmm, was Shin Da-hye originally the runner-up admission for this cohort?
The top-ranked one was that other person.
Anyway, since they selected eighteen men and eighteen women separately, she wasn’t a competitor of mine.
There was no particular reason to worry about her.
Tap.
I turned around as I felt something bump into me from behind.

“I’m—I’m so sorry!”

A woman who appeared to be about 165 centimeters tall startled and bowed her head.
Behind thick-framed glasses, she seemed so nervous that she hunched inward.
Her gaze fixed on the floor told me she’d been looking down the whole way and had collided with me by accident.

“It’s fine.”

Even at my words, the woman bowed several more times before backing away.
Right. She was here too.
I took a seat in a chair.
Since Choi Byeong-chul had the examinee number right after mine, he sat beside me and chattered away without restraint.
Before long, the short break was over.

“Are you going to keep babbling to yourself?”

Professor Ahn Chi-won, who was standing on stage, spoke.

“Ah… I apologize.”

After being scolded by Professor Ahn Chi-won, this fellow Byeong-chul became silent as a stone.
His Attitude Score would probably be docked for that.
I sat in my seat, smiling, and listened to Professor Lim Hyun-sik speak.

“Applicants, you’ve all worked hard going through the Workshop and various tests over this long period. Only the final round remains, so I hope you’ll each summon a bit more strength.”

The students, mindful of the professors’ gazes, made reactions like “Already?”

“The last will be Male-Female Pair Scene Acting.”

This was precisely the other reason I’d been observing different people closely since the first day of the Workshop.
The final test required a male and female pair to perform a scene together, which the professors would then evaluate and score.
The problem lay in the grading method.
Even if only one of the two performed well and the other failed the test, they would both receive the same score.
In other words, no matter how well I performed, if my partner struggled, we’d both receive a poor score.

“Hmm….”

Everyone would perform at least adequately.
This was the examination hall of the Acting Department at Dae Ye Jong, the nation’s finest.
Moreover, if what Kim Sung-soo had said was true, only those with top-tier first-round scores had been gathered in this time slot.

“If anyone is absent, two people of the same gender will be paired together. Please line up—males on the left, females on the right—in order of examinee number.”

Following the instructions of the exam assistant, a current student, the applicants formed lines.

“Now, please reorganize into even and odd examinee numbers. Four lines total.”

Males and females were paired starting from the lower numbers.
Even-numbered females paired with even-numbered males, odd-numbered females with odd-numbered males.
I saw Shin Da-hye beside me.

“Hello.”

Sensing we might be on the same team, she bowed her head.

“Yes, hello.”

I returned the greeting and waited, hoping we’d be paired together.
But as pairs were being assigned from the front, I began to notice the number of female applicants growing visibly fewer.
In that moment, I realized that being second from the end by examinee number meant I had no female applicant left to pair with.
And of all things, the very last number right behind me was Choi Byeong-chul.
Since we were pairing up from the front, the odds were high that I’d end up with Choi Byeong-chul.

……

Choi Byeong-chul didn’t look pleased either—his expression had gone rigid.
I kept my disappointment hidden, unwilling to risk my Attitude Score.

“Alright, is everyone paired up?”
“Yes!”

A bright, articulate chorus rang out—exactly what you’d expect from Acting Department hopefuls.
I matched their energy, using proper vocal projection as I answered, acutely aware of the professors’ watchful gazes.
Just then, the door flew open and two female students rushed in.

“I’m so sorry!”

What was supposed to be a quick bathroom break had clearly run long.

“Acting is collaborative work.”

Professor Ahn Chi-won let his displeasure show.
As the two students absorbed his rebuke, Choi Byeong-chul beside me exhaled deeply.

“Thank goodness.”

Well, that little sigh would probably factor into his Attitude Score too.

“If the rest of you could move back two spots, please.”

Ahn Seok-ju, who’d been introduced as the Acting Department Student Council president, reorganized the pairs.
I’d expected Shin Da-hye to be paired with me, but she ended up matched with Choi Byeong-chul instead.
Choi Byeong-chul looked quite pleased—apparently he’d taken note of her performance earlier.
Not that I could blame him. Even I’d recognized her talent.
And my new partner was…

“Oh, hello!”

It was the same quiet girl I’d collided with earlier.

* * *

“You’ll have thirty minutes to prepare. In that time, you and your partner must create a short one-act play to perform on stage.”

I stood beside Han Seo-hyun—I’d decided that was what I’d call her—listening to the instructions after we’d paired up.

“When time is up, a bell will ring. After that, we’ll proceed directly to the Oral Interview, and the exam will be concluded.”

So Han Seo-hyun and I would need to prepare for the Oral Interview too.
Once Ahn Seok-ju, the Acting Department Student Council president, finished speaking, candidates scattered in every direction, huddling with their partners to strategize.
I led Han Seo-hyun to a quiet, empty corner away from the others.

“Let’s start with introductions. I’m Yeon Gi-jun.”
“I’m Han Seo-hyun.”

Han Seo-hyun lowered her head in a slight bow.
As I’d suspected.
She was exactly who I’d thought she was.

“Seo-hyun.”
“Yes.”
“What type of acting do you feel most confident with?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m fine with anything.”

That’s what I’d expect her to say.

“Let’s steer clear of comedy for now.”

Given Han Seo-hyun’s temperament, comedy would be poison.

“Let’s go with serious drama.”
“Okay.”

If it’s acting that builds emotion layer by layer, then a personality like hers could actually be an asset.

“Seo-hyun, what monologues have you usually practiced?”
“Um… Laura from *The Glass Menagerie*, Nina from *The Seagull*, and Emily from *Our Town*.”

All of them were timid or fragile tragic heroines. Nothing but.
Well, it did suit Han Seo-hyun reasonably well.

“And you?”

I needed to match her as closely as possible myself.

“I’ve worked on Tom from *The Glass Menagerie* and Treplev from *The Seagull*.”

I jotted down the titles one by one on a piece of paper, then spoke.

“It looks like the characters we’ve both played so far have a similar quality to them.”

Well, more like I’d deliberately made them seem that way.
The works Han Seo-hyun mentioned were all the kind that any serious actor eventually practices.

“It shouldn’t be difficult to establish a direction.”
“Right.”

Han Seo-hyun hesitated, hesitated, then finally opened her mouth.

“So… should we focus on bringing out the character types we’ve each played before?”

That was exactly the answer I’d been waiting for.

“Good. Let’s establish the structure more clearly. Let’s make the character types into two: one passive and one active.”

That would create a dynamic tension and bring the scene to life.

“Let’s work out the situation in more detail. If we tried to create something entirely new, it would be too difficult, so let’s draw ideas from existing works.”

Han Seo-hyun gave a small nod.
After that, various ideas went back and forth.

“Um… what if we made the rabbit the male lead in *Alice in Wonderland* and had Alice fall in love with him?”
“…….”
“Or… if that’s not working, what about adapting *Romeo and Juliet* with the female lead as a rich girl and the male lead as a poor boy… though that might be awkward too?”
“Yes, both seem difficult. The plot is too expansive and complicated to fit into a short performance.”

At my words, Han Seo-hyun’s shoulders slumped, her head drooping.
Han Seo-hyun and I continued brainstorming, tossing out idea after idea.
And whenever something felt like it was getting too elaborate, I filtered it out immediately.
After exchanging opinions back and forth several more times.

“I… just thought of something.”
“Please, go ahead.”
“Since we’ve both played roles in *The Glass Menagerie*… what if we adapted it as a twenty-first-century version?”

Interesting.
It was actually a solid idea.

“We keep Laura’s situation of being unable to leave her room… and introduce a character similar to Jim O’Connor, the one she’s in love with.”
“Should we stick with the original reason why Laura can’t leave her room?”

In the original *Glass Menagerie*, Laura has a physical disability—she limps.
Since her school days, she’d been conscious of how people looked at her, and fearing that someone might laugh at her, she gradually became afraid to venture beyond the confines of home.
And so Laura spent her days indoors collecting glass animal figurines.

“The disability is a good element, but… if we use the limp just like the original, won’t it become too similar to the source material?”

Han Seo-hyun spoke carefully, gauging my reaction.
She had a point, I had to admit.

“Then we need a different reason why she can’t leave the house. What if… she had an accident?”
“An accident?”
“Yes. She was injured, and it left some visible scar or disfigurement. Because of how people stare, she can’t bring herself to go outside.”

Han Seo-hyun’s eyes suddenly sparkled.

“Where would she be injured?”

I fell silent, thinking.
The moment I said “she had an accident,” something had surfaced in my mind.
I steadied my breath and spoke.

“Let’s say she has a scar on her face.”

I had decided to lay bare the life I’d lived on this stage.

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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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