Chapter 8
“Please give us the USB containing your MR file here, and then you can practice. You’ll receive the monologue for today’s exam one by one.”
The students from the Acting Department who were helping with the exam spoke to me.
“After you finish the monologue, stand in the center of the stage and we’ll play your MR.”
I handed over my USB and lightly warmed up my voice with a hum.
“Yes, next person, please come and get your monologue. You must not perform any lines other than the ones written on the monologue.”
The monologue I had to perform today was written on an A4 sheet of paper.
“You insulted me about my money and the interest at my own shop. Ah, I don’t even want to hear that nonsense about God or whatever. You call me a mad heathen? Then why did you spit in my face last Wednesday?”
Fortunately, it was a monologue I knew.
Shylock from The Merchant of Venice.
It was the story of Antonio, a merchant, borrowing money from Shylock, a moneylender and a heathen.
Antonio borrowed the money by putting one pound of his own flesh up as collateral.
Good.
At least I could save the time I would have spent analyzing the situation.
I decided to devote more time to singing.
“Singing isn’t different from speaking. You just put a melody on top of it.”
That was what Taehoon had told me.
After teaching him and observing him, I realized that he had no real talent for acting.
But his talent for singing was exceptional.
I slowly inhaled.
Singing and acting were both ultimately about breathing.
“Since you’re good at acting, it’ll probably be easier for you if you think of it this way.”
I sang the musical song I had prepared while continuing to remember what he had said.
“The lyrics of a song are also ‘lines.’”
At the examination hall where the applicants were performing their monologues and special talents.
“These kids are pretty good today.”
Professor Im Hyeonsik, who taught musical theater at Korea National University of Arts, spoke.
“They’re all good at acting, after all.”
Professor Lee Hyeyoung from the Department of Dance was also there.
Of course, she didn’t know as much about acting as the professors in the Acting Department.
However, she could judge how well the students used their bodies better than the acting professors could.
“Their movements aren’t bad, but compared to the dance students, they’re definitely awkward when it comes to using their bodies.”
“Of course, Professor. These kids are from the Acting Department.”
“Maybe that’s why. Still, don’t you usually have one or two students in the Acting Department who can use their bodies really freely?”
“That’s true. Some students majored in dance at arts high schools, after all.”
Professor Lee Hyeyoung looked at Professor Im Hyeonsik.
“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Professor Ahn Chiwon even once today. I guess that’s because he’s at Examination Hall A.”
This was Examination Hall B.
To examine a large number of students at once, the professors had also been divided into two groups.
It was a method of conducting examinations that was only possible at Korea National University of Arts, which had several performance halls throughout the school.
“Oh, the next student is coming out.”
The scene was similar to the first-round exam.
But the atmosphere was completely different.
“Come on in.”
The professors greeted the applicant with smiles.
Seeing students who were actually skilled made the professors far less bored.
“I’ll begin my acting.”
The applicant seemed to have memorized all his lines. He placed the monologue sheet on the floor behind him, then brought over a chair that had been prepared to one side.
After placing the chair in the center of the stage, Professor Im Hyeonsik felt something strange and looked at the applicant.
Why isn’t he sitting in the chair?
The applicant stood behind the chair.
There was no need to move the camera.
Whether by coincidence or skill, the applicant was standing exactly where the camera was pointing.
Ah, I remember this kid. He played Salieri from Amadeus during the first round.
Professor Im Hyeonsik nodded as he carefully observed the applicant’s face.
Soon, the applicant’s acting began.
“You insulted me about my money and the interest at my own shop.”
His deep voice, with clear diction, carried all the way to the back of the audience.
A twisted smile filled his previously gentle-looking face.
The resentment he had accumulated over many years spread like dark red blood through his eyes.
In an instant, he had become Shylock himself, filled with venom.
“Ah, I don’t even want to hear that nonsense about God or whatever.”
Taking a calm breath, Gijun placed his hand over the empty chair.
At that moment, Professor Lee Hyeyoung’s eyes widened.
That applicant’s hand…!
He’s massaging someone’s shoulder.
His fingertips, seemingly touching empty air, were massaging someone’s shoulder.
If mime was done poorly, it could easily become laughable, so avoiding it was usually the safest choice.
But there was no unnecessary movement in Gijun’s gestures.
His slow and bold hand movements both appeased his imaginary opponent and gradually tightened the pressure around him.
It was the movement of a true actor who knew how to control his body freely.
The actor on stage slowly moved diagonally.
For a moment, he seemed completely uninterested in whatever the person sitting in the chair was saying.
But then, as if he had heard something, he suddenly turned around and glared at the empty chair.
The resentment-filled expression in his eyes naturally twisted.
“Ahahahahaha!”
A rough, hoarse, even vulgar-sounding laugh echoed through the theater.
Once the mockery faded away, silence descended.
Amid the beast-like lingering echo of his laughter, Shylock’s eyes slowly turned cold.
“…You call me a mad heathen?”
His lips trembled as he exhaled a rough breath.
As he did so, the madness that had filled his face slowly disappeared.
“Last Wednesday…”
His voice became low and even.
All arrogance and venom had disappeared.
“Why did you spit in my face?”
In the end, only the question of a human being deeply wounded remained.
Gulp.
Professor Im Hyeonsik swallowed.
As a musical director who had led numerous productions, Professor Im Hyeonsik had seen countless actors perform on stage.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this level of stage presence.
The performance reminded him of the actors he had worked with while preparing productions alongside some of the industry’s top performers.
I want to see him perform in a musical as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, Kim Seongsu, who was responsible for playing the music, had been so absorbed in Gijun’s acting that it took him a while to remember to play the MR.
During that time, Professor Im Hyeonsik simply watched Gijun waiting on stage.
Isn’t he going to move the chair?
Yeon Gijun stood in the center of the stage without moving the chair.
He closed his eyes and focused, calming his breathing while waiting for the MR.
Then, finally, the MR began to play.
A high-pitched piano melody followed.
A low cello note flowed beneath it.
“Do you know the genius who has become a specimen?”
His voice was low and gentle.
He sang without forcing his voice, yet there was a strange resonance that captured the listener’s ears.
“Oh, those days when I didn’t know whether I was a maggot or a human.”
Professor Im Hyeonsik suddenly straightened in his chair.
It was a song from the musical Wings, a production he himself had directed.
The man walked across the stage.
“Why is the city beneath my feet so chaotic?”
His body was bent strangely, taking on an imperfect posture.
Yet the sound produced by his vocal cords resonated through the room and reached the very back row without losing its clarity.
Perfectly controlled physical acting.
“Wings, grow again.”
The melody of the timpani and clarinet bursting from the speakers became fiercely intertwined with the man’s performance.
The climax was approaching.
“Let us break through this prison-like room and fly.”
With eyes filled with deep thought, the man stepped onto the chair on stage.
The song, acting, and character’s story became one.
His powerful high notes shot relentlessly toward the ceiling of the examination hall.
“Let us fly. Let us fly just one more time!
Even if the sun blinds my eyes,
Let us soar one more time!”
The man’s final high note was like a scream.
“Ah…”
A spontaneous exclamation escaped Professor Im Hyeonsik’s mouth.
How wonderful would it have been if this were an actual performance?
The music gradually became quieter.
The man looked down from the chair.
His center of balance slowly collapsed.
And at the exact moment the MR ended—
Thud!
The man fell to the floor.
He had collapsed as if he had fallen to his death and didn’t move at all.
It was the moment when the curtain would have closed in the original production.
The man on stage had completely become a corpse, not even making a sound as he breathed.
The chilling aftertaste created by the scene sent shivers down everyone’s spine.
Seongsu, who had been watching in a daze, simply couldn’t keep his hands still.
Clap, clap, clap, clap!
Kim Seongsu began applauding.
The other student assistants also joined in.
“Hey, you crazy…! What are you doing…!”
Student council president Ahn Seokju whispered harshly.
But even though he tried to stop them, the applause continued.
Ahn Seokju abruptly turned toward the audience.
The professors were applauding.
The sharp eyes that had been carefully evaluating the applicants now held the lingering traces of deep immersion.
Gijun stood up while receiving their applause.
He barely managed to control his body, which was filled with an unfamiliar sensation, and bowed politely.
“Thank you!”
After giving a brief greeting, I took in their faces.
The look in their eyes.
Their breathing.
The way they looked at me.
Everything was so different from before.
After the exam ended, I remained lost in the lingering feeling.
I didn’t know how long it had been since I’d received applause on stage.
Perhaps the last time had been when I performed in that mask play.
People had watched my acting and judged me.
They hadn’t run away after seeing my appearance or frowned at me.
That fact excited me.
“Hoo…”
As I exhaled, the cold air in the examination hall’s hallway entered deep into my lungs.
Because of the scar that horribly distorted my face, people often left the theater before even watching me act.
The looks I encountered the moment I entered an audition room.
The ridicule.
Or the disgust they openly displayed.
But today was different.
Once the gazes of others that had oppressed me disappeared, my acting became free as well.
As if I had truly grown wings.
That’s right.
This was the feeling.
The reason I had never been able to give up acting despite being ignored.
I felt a burning warmth deep inside my chest.
I felt vividly alive.
Leaning my exhausted body against the hallway wall, I murmured softly.
“…I’m glad I became an actor.”
I felt like it was the first time I had ever said those words.
And I made one small wish:
I hoped there would be many more days ahead when I could say those words.
