Free Web Novel“We’ll have to see how it plays out, senior.”
Upon hearing Yoomyeong’s calm yet challenging reply, Hansang’s face turned shades of red and blue.
Just as he was about to retort, the front door of the lecture room opened and two men entered.
They were the directors of the play.
“Hello, I’m Choi Cheoljoo from the 29th class of Changcheon and the Philosophy Department, class of ’98. I will be directing this play.”
A masculine appearance. Thick eyebrows.
Yoomyeong remembered this senior, who was meticulous and close to a perfectionist.
He was the one who had given Yoomyeong his first role in his previous life, and this was his first time directing.
“I’m the assistant director, Sa Junhan, from the Economics Department, class of ’98.”
The assistant director tilted his head and smiled. His crescent-shaped eyes, completely closed, were striking.
Before becoming a director, Choi Cheoljoo had been the leading actor of the 29th class, while Sa Junhan, true to his slippery demeanor, had been known for playing quirky roles.
“I made a vow to myself while grinding my teeth under the cruel directors during previous productions. If I ever became a director, I would be a very understanding and kind one.”
Applause was about to break out here and there. However...
“But I’m the assistant director, right?
So I decided to become a notorious assistant director who will leave a mark in history. If you’re not prepared, feel free to leave now~”
The room fell silent as Junhan spoke with a lively grin.
The theater club was known for its strict hierarchy based on seniority, but when it came to preparing for a performance, even fourth-year seniors had to yield to the directing team.
— The director’s word is law —
That was Changcheon’s tradition. The assistant director pledged to uphold it, setting a firm tone from the very first meeting.
“And now, the heads of each crew, please step forward.”
At Cheoljoo’s words, several people rose and moved to the front. The introductions of the planning director, stage director, lighting director, sound director, and costume director followed.
“Those who wish to join a crew, please approach each team leader for an interview. For those who wish to act, we will begin the reading now. The preparation period for the spring performance is tight, so casting will proceed immediately next week.
Even after casting, you can still join a crew, but from the perspective of the crew leaders, they will naturally prefer those who expressed interest from the start. Please consider your choices carefully.”
People began to scatter.
Meanwhile, Yoomyeong took a seat at a round table set aside for the reading.
“Let’s see how far you can go.”
Hansang deliberately sat next to Yoomyeong and muttered under his breath.
It was a childish act—seeking to feel superior by comparing himself to a novice actor.
Thud— Thud— Thud— Thud—
The scripts were distributed one by one.
“Act 1, Scene 1, start. Kim Cheolsu, who is cleaning windows while hanging from an apartment, encounters his wife, Lee Youngsook, who secretly works as a housemaid through the balcony window. Kim Cheolsu will be played by Park Hansang, and Lee Youngsook by Shin Nahyun. Go!”
At the director’s cue, the two students began reading.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ah! H-honey!”
“This damn wife of mine. Who told you to earn money?”
“H-honey, it’s dangerous. Don’t get excited!”
The director, listening, thought their reading was decent given their experience. Then his attention was drawn to a new face sitting beside Park Hansang. He whispered to the assistant director.
“Who is that?”
“Mun Sik said earlier he’s from the class of ’00. We must not have known him since we were in the military back then.”
“Nice style, huh?”
At that moment, he interrupted Hansang and Nahyun’s reading and switched the roles.
The reading proceeded with participants taking turns, matching actors to roles based on their image.
“Kim Cheolsu will be played by Shin Yoomyeong, and Lee Youngsook by Bae Suhyun. Go!”
What followed was a resonant voice with excellent projection.
“What about the million won I gave you last month?!”
“I put it in a savings account.”
“You could have used that for our living expenses!”
“Jina said she wanted to go to a piano academy... oh my, honey, it’s dangerous!!”
“Ugh! Oh, that startled me. Knowing our situation, Jina...ugh...”
This opening scene, portraying the life of poor commoners in the 1980s, required rapidly shifting emotions—anger, sorrow, fear of falling from the rope—while also portraying Kim Cheolsu both comically and pitifully.
But—
‘...What is this?’
‘Was he a child actor?’
‘His voice is captivating. Who is he?’
Without moving at all, Yoomyeong conveyed completely different emotions through subtle shifts in tone and pitch. And more than that—
‘The emotions change drastically, yet the character remains distinct. I can picture Kim Cheolsu’s personality just from his voice.’
The director couldn’t interrupt Yoomyeong’s reading until the scene ended.
Meanwhile, Park Hansang, completely overshadowed, seethed internally.
‘That... that bastard...!’
‘It’s different. I didn’t expect it to be this different...’
His voice cut through the air smoothly, without resistance.
His lines were not swallowed by the opposing actor’s energy.
Even though it was only a reading.
He looked up at the ceiling.
It was an ordinary classroom ceiling made of square panels, each dotted with countless tiny marks.
Since I was a dot, I thought others were dots too. I thought everyone endured this pressure to act.
But I was the only one who didn’t realize that everyone else was a square with a defined radius.
His eyelids grew slightly warm.
‘Now... I feel like I can do anything.’
Acting had always been fun.
Painful, but enjoyable.
But now, it would be comfortable and enjoyable.
Unable to imagine what kind of world would unfold, Yoomyeong let out a small sigh.
But there was something he didn’t know.
Just as someone who has been in water for a long time feels many times lighter upon reaching land, having long acted under the pressure of others’ presence, he could now act far more freely once that pressure was gone.
He was the ceiling itself, not confined within any square.
And even that ceiling could not be considered his limit.
“Shin Yoomyeong.”
“Yes!”
“Have you acted before?”
At Cheoljoo’s question, Yoomyeong hesitated briefly.
In his previous life, this had been his first performance, and he couldn’t exactly say he had returned after fifteen years of acting...
“No, it’s my first time.”
Cheoljoo studied him for a moment, then nodded and looked away.
At that moment, Hansang poked Yoomyeong in the side.
“Let’s talk for a moment.”
After saying it, Hansang stepped outside without waiting, and Yoomyeong followed in silence.
In the corridor, out of sight, Hansang leaned against the wall with his legs crossed.
“Hey, aren’t you overdoing it?”
“What? When did I...?”
“Why are you trying so hard in the first reading? As a second-year, you should quietly observe and aim to debut with a suitable minor role. Besides, reading while sitting is easy. Do you think you’ll perform the same once you have to move and deliver your lines?”
Yoomyeong was taken aback.
In an amateur production, not a professional one, a 24-year-old was asserting authority over a 23-year-old.
To Yoomyeong, who had once been 38, it looked rather pitiful—this young man admonishing him as a senior.
“I’m sorry if it seemed that way. I was just doing my best.”
“Yeah, just do better.”
Hansang lightly tapped Yoomyeong’s shoulder and walked back inside.
When Yoomyeong returned to the classroom and sat beside Hansang...
[Role Preference Form]
Kim Cheolsu
Reporter Kwak Kija
President Nam
After glancing at Hansang’s form, he wrote the same choices and submitted it.
In society, there was a way of taking revenge that people of status used.
With a heavy schedule of major courses in his third year and preparations for Oedipus’s spring performance, he was extremely busy.
As he unpacked his bag, a bundle of A4 paper rolled out.
‘Ah, I need to look at this.’
He remembered the peculiar business student who had written it.
Calm on the surface, but quite bold.
He didn’t expect much from a novice playwright, but—
‘Maybe there’s something interesting?’
With mild curiosity, he unfolded the script.
The first scene began with a monologue from Freddie Mercury, dying of AIDS.
[Day by day, death approaches. My body decays, but my mind is at peace.
Jim, who stays by my side, and Mary, who visits every day, make me feel less empty than when I was at my peak.]
<BGM> You’re My Best Friend - Queen
.
.
Blink—
He snapped back to reality.
Only when he reached the final page did Ryu Shin realize he had read the entire script without losing focus.
His palm was damp.
Cold sweat.
‘Is this guy... a genius?’
Ryu Shin’s eyes widened as he flipped through the script again.
As a one-act play, changes in time and place had to be conveyed solely through the protagonist’s acting.
He had assumed such transitions would require sound or stage devices, but—
[Freddie turns his body to the right. His gestures and expressions change.
From a boy’s face to that of a young man. He begins to seduce Mary.] freeωebnovēl.c૦m
[Freddie turns his body to the left, and the atmosphere reverses.
From a heterosexual’s face to a homosexual’s. Men’s voices echo from all around.]
The script demanded scene transitions purely through the actor’s movement and performance.
Turning right signified normality, turning left, deviation.
It was an unreasonable demand. Completely unreasonable—but...
‘I can see it.’
An actor of extraordinary skill shifting character and age with a simple twist of the body. freewёbnoνel.com
Ryu Shin could envision it.
He envisioned himself... performing it.
‘What has he been doing?’
The reason he could imagine it was because the script compelled immersion.
This was not a beginner’s script. It couldn’t be.
‘Either he’s an experienced writer using a pen name, or he has dozens of practice works... No, even that doesn’t explain it.’
The dialogue had rhythm and flow.
For someone who had never written scripts, it was difficult to produce lines that sounded natural when spoken. That was why adapting novels required dedicated screenwriters.
But this script—
The dialogue flowed as if written not only by a professional writer, but by a professional actor.
And that wasn’t all.
From the tension in the exchanges, to the strong, compelling characters, to the tightly structured dramatic flow, it was packed with dramatic impact, not wasting a single moment of its fifteen minutes.
‘Why would someone like this want to act? Does he not realize his own talent?’
Ryu Shin anxiously bit his fingertips and paced the room before pulling out a sheet of paper.
It ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) was the contact list from the group meeting.
Ring—
After two rings, the call connected.
{Uh? Ryu Shin... hyung. Hello, why—}
“Do you want to try writing this as a two-hour script?”
{What??}
