Two weeks later, in a quiet practice room.
Oh Seok and Muyeong sat facing each other, scripts in hand. Cold winter air leaked through the worn window, yet sweat beaded across Muyeong's forehead.
"Say the line again."
"The DNA from the Bongdong Tunnel corpse matches."
"What's the key word in that line?"
"DNA."
"Then you need a breath before it. Again."
"The Bongdong Tunnel corpse—DNA matches."
"This time your emotion dropped. The detective's been waiting days for this result. Don't flatten it. Again!"
Hours had already passed.
Muyeong kept repeating the same short line. His throat was hoarse, his facial muscles sore—but he couldn't stop.
"Again!"
Each time Oh Seok shouted "again," a strange catharsis surged in him. The satisfaction that came with learning—real progress.
Amazing…
He hadn't known there was a method to reading lines. Proper breathing, how to open the soft palate, how to use facial muscles—each was an entire world.
"Where did I tell you to put the accent?"
"Before DNA. But my tongue keeps rolling back."
"That's because your breath's uneven. Again!"
Where to stress, where to add emotion, where to take a breath—each decision transformed the line completely. He'd said it dozens of times, but no two versions were alike.
"The Bongdong Tunnel corpse—DNA matches."
Click.
Oh Seok pressed the record button, listening as Muyeong read on. For once, he didn't interrupt. A faint smile crept onto his lips.
"—I'll head out right away."
Finishing the last line, Muyeong glanced at him hopefully. Oh Seok quickly erased his smile and pressed "stop."
"Okay."
"Whew… I'm dead tired."
The moment he heard "okay," Muyeong collapsed backward. His throat hurt, his head ached—repeating a single line endlessly was dizzying.
"Now keep listening to that recording and repeat after it until it's in your body. If you don't, all this'll go to waste."
"Yes, sir."
Oh Seok checked the clock.
Already 4 p.m. Soon the intermediate class would start, and neither of them had eaten since morning.
"Want some ramen?"
"No, I should clean up first."
"You don't have to!"
He clicked his tongue as he cleared the desk. That was part of Muyeong's deal, after all:
"I don't want it to be completely free. I'll clean in exchange. And… can I sleep at the academy sometimes?"
Was he precocious or just sharp? The boy poured his whole life into acting and the academy, like a man possessed.
After school—practice, clean, class, then more practice.
He often stayed up past midnight, sometimes even sleeping there. Oh Seok didn't know the full story of his home life, but judging from his behavior, he clearly wasn't just slacking off.
"I'm making ramen, so finish up and come out soon."
"Yes, thank you for the lesson."
"Good work. Drink some warm water."
He left the practice room, outwardly calm but inwardly just as exhilarated as Muyeong.
A total sponge.
The hardest students to teach were the half-baked ones—the ones with scraps of experience who filtered everything through pride.
But Muyeong was a sponge. A pure white one.
"Scary. Seriously scary."
He absorbed everything Oh Seok taught, not awkwardly or with strain—but naturally, like someone born to do it. The smile he wore between repetitions made it obvious: he was enjoying this.
They say the talented beat the hard-working, but the hard-working can't beat those who enjoy it…
Then what about a genius who both works hard and enjoys it?
Shaking his head in disbelief, Oh Seok set a pot of water to boil.
"Haa—"
Meanwhile, Muyeong lay sprawled on the floor, with no intention of getting up. It was crazy—insanely fun. How had he gone his whole life not knowing there was something like this?
Maybe I'll sleep here again tonight.
He didn't have a stepfather anymore, but memories of him still lingered in every corner of the house. Being alone there felt uneasy—and what if he saw that man's ghost?
Beep.
Still lying down, he replayed his recorded lines. The voice didn't sound like his own—it carried the energy of a passionate young detective.
The more recent the recording, the clearer the transformation. That meant his progress was real and immediate, which gave him a thrilling sense of accomplishment.
Just need to tighten the pronunciation a bit more.
He swept the floor, analyzing his speech like someone cleaning while listening to music.
Some time passed before the practice room door opened—the intermediate students had arrived.
Click.
"Yup, cleaning again as always."
"Hey, hey, Muyeong!"
"Man, it's freezing outside."
They always moved in a pack—they'd been together for years. Muyeong greeted them with a grin.
"Hey."
"Teacher's eating ramen. You want some?"
"I'm fine."
"Knew you'd say that. The fish-shaped pastries out front are amazing, though."
Yuchan was the friendly type—handsome and easygoing, the kind of guy everyone liked. Handing Muyeong a pastry, he asked,
"You sleep here again last night?"
Mouth full of sweet red bean, Muyeong nodded. A flash of pity crossed Yuchan's face.
The kid who got kicked out for retaking exams and chasing acting, they all thought.
At first, some of them had felt jealous—resentful of his talent—but before long, they'd come to see him differently.
Partly because they didn't know about his free private lessons with the director, and partly because he was just… easy to like.
Noticing Yuchan's expression, Muyeong asked,
"You seem happy. Something good happen?"
It was a new habit he'd developed since starting acting—observing people and storing their details. It was also Oh Seok's first piece of advice.
"When you store characters in your mind, it becomes easier to give individuality to the ones in your script. Remember how you scraped the desk with your rice-covered hand during the test? That kind of quirk. The same role changes depending on how deep the actor goes."
"How'd you know? Is it that obvious?"
"Yeah. You're smiling wider than usual today."
"Actually, the acceptance results came out today."
"Wow, really? Congratulations!"
Muyeong clapped sincerely, genuinely happy for him. Getting into college—one of the ultimate goals that every Korean student spent years chasing.
"Me, Bora, and Hyungju all got into Bando Arts University."
Bando Arts University. Among all the art schools, it was the top. Many of the nation's most famous actors, singers, and directors were alumni. It was the kind of place that dominated the industry.
"I was so nervous. The competition was crazy this year."
Hyungju grinned smugly, his tone half-joking but fully bragging.
"They say the professors there are no joke. I'm already nervous about that. But if you can just hang in there, you'll make it in the field. Everyone helps each other out."
Even if Muyeong had talent, Hyungju felt he was in a better position now. While Muyeong was taking a gap year, he'd be at university, already on his way up.
It was a way to cover his own insecurity—with pride.
"Mm. That's amazing," said Muyeong simply, responding to Hyungju's expectant look. He could tell the others had the wrong idea about him.
"So how long are you gonna keep coming here?"
"Me? Hmm, not sure."
Nothing was set in stone.
If he landed an audition and started earning money, maybe he'd stop coming. Otherwise, it'd depend on his wallet.
Life didn't go according to plan anyway, so he didn't bother worrying.
Right now, he felt like he could do anything.
Like a bird finally freed from its cage.
"When we start school, we probably won't be able to come by much. But you'll still be around, right? If there's a campus festival, come visit! Arts universities always have fun stuff going on."
"Sure, let me know when it happens."
"You should keep at it, man. A year seems long, but really it flies by. Still, schools like Bando Arts aren't something you get into after just a year of prep. It might be better to aim a little lower. For people like us—our youth is our biggest weapon—"
"Hyungju, want a fish-shaped pastry?"
Yuchan's gentle voice cut him off. He couldn't stand how Hyungju was showing off in front of someone retaking the exam—and giving him unsolicited advice on top of that.
"I'm good. I'm full. Anyway, I'm just saying—real-world experience matters at your age. Don't get discouraged just because you're—"
"Hey."
This time it was Bora who spoke, looking up from her script in the corner.
"Enough. It's getting uncomfortable."
"What is?"
"You're just poking at him nonstop. Starting acting early doesn't make you special, so why do you keep acting like it does?"
"What? Come on, Kang Bora, you're twisting my words."
"No, you're the weird one. Drop the fake swagger."
Muyeong blinked, surprised.
He hadn't expected her to jump in—especially since she'd always been colder toward him than the others.
"Hey, come on, guys…"
"She started it—"
"Stop. It's a good day. Enough!"
Yuchan forced a laugh, stepping in to ease the tension. Bora turned away with a sigh, eyes back on her script.
Idiot, she muttered inwardly.
Honestly, she still found Muyeong frustrating. The difference in talent she'd felt that day hadn't vanished—it still stung.
But Hyungju flaunting his acceptance like it defined talent and success? It was pathetic.
"Muyeong, did I say something wrong?"
Hyungju looked at him, pretending to be concerned—though everyone could tell it was just another jab in disguise.
Muyeong only smiled and shook his head.
"No, not really. But…"
He figured it was time to clarify. He wasn't necessarily aiming for a theater degree, and he wasn't exactly "retaking" a year either.
Just as he opened his mouth—
Bzzz.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Since he hardly got messages from anyone other than Junho, it had been a long time since he'd heard that sound.
"Huh?"
[Congratulations, Ha Muyeong. You have been accepted to Seoyeon University's Department of Global Culture. Please check the website for registration details.]
"What's up?"
As he stared blankly at the screen, Yuchan leaned over to peek. Then, after reading the message, he looked at Muyeong in shock.
"Wait—you—"
Seoyeon University.One of Korea's most prestigious universities.
Aside from Bora and Hyungju, everyone else reacted the same way as Yuchan—crowding around him in disbelief.
"Holy crap, you?!"
"Dude, are you serious?"
"What's going on? What is it?"
"Hey, Hyungju—he got into Seoyeon University!"
At that, Hyungju's face shifted ever so slightly.
Muyeong met his eyes and smiled faintly.
"Guess I got in."