I don't know how the past few days have passed.
It felt like I just closed my eyes and opened them, and time flew by in a flash. As I got older, I realized how quickly time slips away. Looking back at my seventeen-year-old self, I saw that even then, life wasn't easy.
"Hey! It's food time today!"
"Yay! I'll eat two bowls."
"Since when did you talk like someone who's only had one bowl of rice?"
'It's time to eat a lot.'
Even Han Do-jae ate dinner twice yesterday. Sky High School was famous for its delicious food, despite the high tuition. 'When I entered the real world, I missed the school lunches from back then.' Honestly, Han Do-jae was glad he could eat school meals again.
Besides, today was Wednesday—dinner time, classes over.
The cafeteria had simple sky-blue wallpaper, the signature color of Sky High, with neatly arranged white tables. In the center, food was laid out buffet-style. Though the setup resembled a typical cafeteria, the presentation was more like a salad bar. Every dish was high-quality, glistening with an appetizing sheen. That was why students went wild every Wednesday.
Sky High's Wednesday meal was special. Other schools also served great Wednesday lunches, but Sky High was in a league of its own. Sometimes, chefs prepared steak omakase-style or even hand-rolled sushi on the spot. Students could customize their meals—options like a "vegetable course" for vegetarians or a "meat selection course" for Hindu or Muslim students.
Wednesday was always an exciting day.
"Hey, Do-jae."
Woo Ji-ho nudged Han Do-jae in line, bringing up the topic of 'faking' again.
"Acting is just faking it."
Then, Woo Ji-ho dramatically lowered his bangs to cover his eyes, mimicking Han Do-jae's mannerisms. 'When did I ever raise my voice like that?'
Woo Ji-ho was half-admiring, half-teasing. He'd imitated Han Do-jae's speech at least thirty times that day. Expecting no reaction, Han Do-jae decided to humor him.
"What happens next? Go on."
"Next...? The character... the actor..."
From his mumbling, it was clear Woo Ji-ho had run out of material.
"If you're going to tease me, at least memorize it properly."
"Fine, I give up."
Woo Ji-ho grabbed two steaks, admitting defeat with a smirk. As he took a bite, he abruptly changed the subject.
"So, what are you doing this weekend?"
"Nice subject change."
Woo Ji-ho and Han Do-jae bickered playfully.
"There! Fake!"
"Ugh..."
From a distance, Im Hyeok and his friends could be heard heading to the retirement home. Woo Ji-ho giggled at the remark.
'I'd rather die than be sick of this...'
Han Do-jae felt a flicker of irritation, but the sight of the meat feast ahead calmed him. After finishing his meal and clearing his tray, he turned to leave.
"I'm heading to the practice room, then the gym."
"Again? It's only been a few days since school started. Why work out so much when you're already fit?"
Woo Ji-ho frowned at his roommate, who vanished after classes. He had no intention of joining.
Han Do-jae paused, turning back with a serious expression.
"This isn't the tortoise and the hare. Consistency matters."
"...Just go."
Waving him off, Woo Ji-ho watched as Han Do-jae strode away.
'I don't exercise because I enjoy it—I have bigger goals.'
Han Do-jae hurried to the practice room, checking his reservation on the Sky High app. Standing in the lobby of the multipurpose hall, he glanced around.
'It's been a while. I don't remember the way.'
The building was massive, serving all Sky High students. Following overhead signs, he navigated the halls, cross-referencing with the app to find his room.
'Third floor. Here.'
He arrived early and surveyed the hallway. Though it was only the third day of school, many practice rooms were already occupied.
'Fly high in the sky—'
'It's my pleasure to see you!'
Snippets of singing and piano melodies filled the air, each performance showcasing remarkable talent. Sky High was renowned for its students, who ranked among the best in the country.
'Everyone's already this intense? How long have they been practicing?'
Han Do-jae found his room—307—and stepped inside. The space was chilly, equipped with a piano, soundproof walls, and a floor-to-ceiling mirror. A folded metal chair sat in the corner.
He unfolded the chair and sat, taking in the space.
'I never thought I'd be back here.'
He'd used this room often in the past—and would likely use it even more now.
'Time to practice.'
Starting with stretches, he worked through each muscle slowly. His body protested—unused to exertion. For an actor, body control was crucial. Moving with precision, speed, and emotion required daily training.
'This is my old body, but it's harder to adapt than I expected.'
Thirteen years ago, his physique had been awkward—lacking flexibility, strength, and stamina. Physical training would be essential.
Thirty minutes later, thoroughly warmed up, Han Do-jae stood at one end of the room.
'First, walking.'
He paced to the opposite wall and back, embodying different characters—a worker running late, a student cramming for exams, a friend rushing to meet someone.
Back and forth, he walked until sweat dripped and his breath grew ragged.
"Phew."
Catching his breath, he studied his reflection.
'My stamina back then was terrible.'
His mirror image revealed a skinny frame with no muscle definition.
'I need to train harder.'
Next, vocal exercises.
"Ah—"
His voice cut off abruptly.
'Breath control is too weak.'
Strong actors delivered long lines effortlessly by mastering breath control.
"Ah. Ah. Ah."
He forced his diaphragm into action, producing short, controlled sounds. Still unsatisfied, he frowned.
'I need a mentor.'
Basic skills—breathing, vocalization, enunciation—were the foundation of acting. A year without practice, and his fundamentals had eroded.
'Start with what I can do alone.'
He placed a ballpoint pen horizontally in his mouth—a classic pronunciation exercise. The pen forced precise articulation while relaxing facial muscles.
"Dangdin, who is looking at me now—"
His muffled words dribbled out, but the exercise worked. His facial muscles, underdeveloped and stiff, needed this training.
Voice, pronunciation, diaphragm, shoulders—he assessed every weakness without rest.
This was his first practice session since returning to Sky High. Han Do-jae lost himself in drills, unaware of time passing.
Performance.
It was the moment Han Do-jae's pure desire for it blossomed.