There Are Four Top Idol Uncles - Chapter 214

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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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Part 2, Episode 40
* * *
After the previous candidate finished, it was Yewon’s turn.
Hyuk watched her step into the audition studio, tension etched across his face.
“I’ll take the prop first.”
Sung Jiwon, the judge from the last interview, handed Yewon a wristwatch.
Yewon accepted it and slipped it into her pocket.
“You’ve memorized the script, yes? We’ll start right away. Don’t worry about the camera—just focus on matching your breathing with the other actor.”
Yewon glanced at the camera positioned behind the judges, then nodded and looked toward Mun Hyeok.
Hyuk gave her a subtle nod, a smile he hoped wouldn’t give him away.
It was the best encouragement he could offer.
Would she notice?
He watched her, his stomach tight with anticipation.
Of course Yewon would do well—she always did. But the role itself was demanding, and honestly, he’d wondered if anyone could master such a performance in a single day.
But then.
The moment Yewon began, the atmosphere shifted entirely.
She pulled the wristwatch from her pocket, stepped forward, and placed it gently on Hyuk’s wrist.
And then she began.
[It’s yours.]
‘…!’
Hyuk felt his breath catch.
The Yewon standing before him vanished in an instant, replaced by the female lead of this production—Chae Seojin.
Until the moment she began acting, Yewon had radiated brightness and innocence.
But the instant she surrendered to the role.
That warmth dissolved completely, leaving in its place a figure suffused with poignancy and an almost secretive quality—Chae Seojin, perfectly realized.
Her sparkling eyes went dark in a heartbeat, and the broad smile she always wore gave way to the subtle expressions demanded by sign language.
“Where did you find this?”
Hyuk was supposed to perform both sign language and spoken dialogue, but for now he delivered his lines in voice alone.
Silently praying his voice wouldn’t betray him.
[In the forest.]
Yewon signed the words and looked at him once.
[The one we went to together.]
“You went there alone? I told you it was dangerous.”
Hyuk found himself frowning at Seojin, startled by his own response.
Right now—he was genuinely worried for her, so much so that anger flared up in him without warning.
[I was looking for it.]
Seojin signed the words while pointing at the watch and at him, a small smile crossing her face.
“Then we should’ve looked together. Why would you…”
[I’m fine.]
With each phrase Seojin signed, Hyuk felt a tender ache bloom in his chest.
This was nothing like the other actors he’d seen before.
Yewon wasn’t simply making a pretty expression—she was truly communicating her lines to her scene partner.
Sign language isn’t a language that lives in the hands alone. Expression, mouth shape, and the light in the eyes must all align for meaning to truly come alive.
And just as the pitch, tone, speed, and breath of spoken dialogue matter in acting, so too do the speed, scale, and force of sign language movements—they’re the voice of the hands. Yewon was executing all of this flawlessly.
[Don’t lose it again.]
Seojin signed these words and held his gaze steadily.
[Next time, I might not find it.]
There was something strangely hollow in that look, and Hyuk caught his breath.
“…I won’t lose it. Never.”
Hyuk found himself murmuring the words while looking down at the watch.
And he was startled by himself once more.
He felt it with genuine conviction—a resolve to never lose this watch again.
Ah. So this was the feeling all those other actors paired with Yewon must have experienced.
The fact that Yewon had become Seojin so completely in such a short time wasn’t surprising—everyone knew she could act. But what struck him now was different.
The problem was that her Seojin had, in a single moment, transformed Hyuk into the male lead, Jung Taejun.
The ability to pull even the scene partner into complete immersion during an audition was, he felt with every fiber of his being, a truly rare talent.
Just then.
“Should we continue?”
“!”
Yewon tilted her head with a puzzled expression as she asked the dazed judge.
Hyuk realized it as he looked at Yewon’s face.
Ah, so the original script only goes this far.
“More?”
“!”
Hyuk turned his head in surprise.
The answer came from Yoo Eunoh’s direction.
“But there’s no script after this—how can you do more?”
“I thought I’d show you an ad-lib.”
“…!”
All three of them were taken aback by what she said, though none let it show.
“Even if you wanted to ad-lib… you’d have to do it in sign language, wouldn’t you? Do you know sign language?”
Sung Jiwon asked, her voice trembling with surprise.
“Yes. A little.”
Yewon said this and smiled brightly as she added, “And since I wasn’t sure whether you might ask me to do more… I prepared some dialogue in advance. I thought about how Seojin would say it.”
Yewon spoke as if it were nothing, but Hyuk was astounded by her.
That she knew sign language was surprising enough, but she’d prepared something without being asked and even researched the character?
All in a single day?
Hyuk looked back at Yoo Eunoh.
He couldn’t imagine what this perfectionist would say.
Hyuk knew Yoo Eunoh’s nature very well. He despised when actors improvised or performed things not in the script.
He firmly believed that what he’d drawn had to come out exactly as intended.
Naturally, Yoo Eunoh would refuse.
“Go ahead.”
“!”
He wasn’t refusing?
You, Yoo Eunoh?
Hyuk clenched his fists as he watched Yoo Eunoh.
Suddenly an unfathomable anxiety and tension washed over him.
“Then… if you’ll forgive me, I’ll give it a try.”
Yewon nodded and took a deep breath before looking back at Hyuk.
Then, pointing at Hyuk’s wristwatch with an innocent expression, she asked him in a way he could understand—with both sign language and spoken words.
[That watch—it’s precious to you, isn’t it?]
“…Yes. It’s precious to me.”
Hyuk found himself nodding as he answered.
[Why is it precious?]
Hyuk couldn’t answer for a moment.
And he felt ashamed of himself. As the male lead, he should have received the full film script beforehand, and thanks to that, he knew well what kind of person the character Jung Taejun was.
Yet he couldn’t answer right away. Foolishly.
But then.
[You don’t have to answer. I know what it is.]
“!”
[I have something like that too.]
“What… is it?”
Taejun asked Seojin with a dazed expression, without thinking.
[Us.]
At the word “us,” Taejun’s heart seemed to sink.
[Our village is precious to me like that.]
But with her next words, he suddenly felt alert.
“Hold on. Stop there.”
“!”
The one who cut in was Yoo Eunoh.
Yoo Eunoh stopped Yewon’s performance with a terrifyingly rigid face.
“That much should be enough… so let’s stop here.”
Yoo Eunoh said this and spoke to Sung Jiwon without even glancing at Yewon.
“You’re satisfied, right?”
“Oh, yes. That seems like enough. We’ve got it all recorded anyway. We can review the video again later.”
Sung Jiwon nodded hurriedly as she answered Yoo Eunoh.
“Yewon, you can step outside… and everyone else, let’s take a quick break.”
Yoo Eunoh spoke without relaxing his terrifyingly rigid expression at all, then stood and left the Audition Studio.

Yewon, along with Sung Jiwon and Hyuk, stared at him in astonishment.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Yewon asked Hyuk, her face bewildered.
But Hyuk could do nothing but shake his head desperately.
If there was any fault in Yewon…
it was only that she had become Chae Seojin in an instant.
* * *
Yoo Eunoh strode out of the audition studio, passed through the crowded hallway, and entered the restroom.
He turned on the cold water and plunged his face into it.
It felt as though he couldn’t regain his senses unless he did something this drastic.
Just now.
While watching Yewon’s performance, Yoo Eunoh felt as if he were dreaming an unbelievable dream.
Every scene he had imagined existed only in his mind was unfolding before his eyes with perfect precision—could any director retain their composure in such a moment?
Yoo Eunoh was certain that no one who truly loved their own work could keep their wits about them in a situation like that.
It was Chae Seojin.
When he first glimpsed her on screen long ago, he had felt a strange intuition that his Chae Seojin was about to come to life, but this was simply…
something more.
It had to be her.
Throughout the audition, Yoo Eunoh had struggled relentlessly to keep from crying out that it had to be her.
And then, when Yewon delivered lines that weren’t in the script, truly…
it was truly…
as if Chae Seojin—a version even Yoo Eunoh himself hadn’t known—was taking shape before his very eyes.
Yoo Eunoh closed his eyes.
It had to be her.

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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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