I bit down hard on the soft flesh inside my mouth, only to release it, a fleeting sense of relief washing over me.
Hang-yeol, catching my eye by chance, flashed me a thumbs-up.
But the real challenge was just beginning.
“Wow! That was completely unexpected! You’ve brought out the character’s charm so vividly! Now I get why your team name is ‘Four Colors, Four Souls’!”
Sim Youngwon’s praise kicked things off.
“It’s clear you didn’t just skim the surface of this work—you dove deep into its core to craft the structure and dialogue. Well done.”
Even Yoo Jinwon… was he actually praising us?
“This piece is tough, isn’t it? Honestly, I thought (Seorim High Student Council) was the most challenging work here. I wondered how anyone could pull it off.”
“But focusing on capturing the essence of the characters and expressing them so well—that was the right call. More than anything, it feels like you truly understood the intent of the first evaluation and delivered.”
Even Lee Jungah joined in.
No team had ever received such glowing feedback on their composition before.
For a moment, I nearly let my guard down, lulled by the praise.
“Whose idea was it?”
Yoo Jinwon’s question made my teammates turn to me, their eyes gleaming with a mix of awe and gratitude.
‘No, guys, don’t do this.’
“It was a group effort,” I said, deflecting.
My teammate’s faces twisted in confusion.
“B-but, Jae-ha—, I mean, Participant Kim Jae-ha—was the one who suggested focusing on the characters themselves!”
“Yeah, exactly!”
‘Oh, come on, why are you guys doing this?’
I hadn’t expected all three of them to point to me when asked whose idea it was.
Normally, people just smile vaguely and say, “We all worked on it together,” right?
That’s what the other teams did.
These guys seemed to have forgotten that this is a competition show.
“I might’ve started the conversation, but we all pitched in to make it happen,” I said, trying to smooth things over.
I wasn’t being overly humble for no reason.
Getting labeled as the “great leader” or the “idea bank” could backfire.
In team evaluations, it’s a fast track to being saddled with extra responsibilities.
Plus, if the show paints you as that kind of figure and you slip up even once, the backlash would hit hard.
‘Early on, it’s better to keep a low profile and just make your presence known.’
“I see,” Yoo Jinwon said, nodding.
The mentors smiled warmly at us, but the moment of reprieve was brief.
The individual acting evaluations began.
“First up, Jung Won-seok.”
The individual critiques proceeded in reverse order of performance.
Thankfully, all three of my teammates received praise for showing improvement since the first evaluation.
Now, it was just me left.
“Kim Jae-ha.”
“Yes.”
Lee Jungah began, her gaze locking onto mine, steady and unyielding.
“Everyone else has improved, but you, Kim Jae-ha, seem stuck. Honestly, compared to the first evaluation, this was lackluster. I couldn’t feel the character’s charm at all.”
She let out a heavy sigh.
“Did you get complacent? Did you think, ‘I’m B-rank, so I’ll stand out even if I half-ass it’?”
“No, absolutely not,” I replied.
“I was lacking. I’m sorry.”
It was the critique I’d expected, but I couldn’t help the way my head dipped slightly, weighed down by her words.
“It’s hard to relate, isn’t it? You’re probably thinking, ‘Do I really have to go this far?’ But you still have to act.”
Her words pierced straight to the core, leaving me speechless.
If I were still just a twenty-five-year-old with no life experience beyond that, I might’ve taken it personally, maybe even pushed back.
But now, having lived to thirty, I felt a strange mix of satisfaction and clarity.
‘This is the first time I’ve gotten such raw, detailed feedback.’
It was as if a long-standing thirst had been quenched, even if just a little.
Then Lee Jungah asked, “So, Kim Jae-ha, what does Seo Da-jung, the character you played as Eun Si-hyuk, look like?”
“…Pardon?”
When I portrayed Eun Si-hyuk, the image of the female lead, Seo Da-jung, wasn’t some concrete figure in my mind.
She was just… someone standing in front of me.
“You don’t even know what the person you love looks like?”
“I’m sorry. I… I don’t think I fully immersed myself in the character.”
Admitting my flaws and limitations out loud wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was the truth.
“Well, at least you recognize it!”
Choi Hyunchul, the so-called “Soul Master,” chimed in.
“Don’t just think about how the character you’re playing would act. Think about what emotions they’d feel and how you’d express those emotions!”
I nodded silently, taking it in.
“But your fundamentals are solid. Your dictation, especially—it’s probably the best among the participants,” Yoo Jinwon offered, tossing me a small carrot.
“It looked like good acting,” Sim Youngwon added, “but… it didn’t quite make my heart race this time.”
Her vague whip brought the evaluation to a close.
I bowed deeply, masking the heaviness in my chest.
“Thank you!”
As we prepared to leave after our group bow, Lee Jungah’s voice stopped me.
“Kim Jae-ha.”
“Yes?”
“You cut or tweaked most of the lines that are famous internet memes, but you kept ‘A red-blooded human appearing in the kingdom of blue-blooded humans’ exactly as it was. Why?”
“Oh… yes, that’s right.”
‘Do I have to explain the reason?’
I hesitated, but Lee Jungah gave a slight nod, urging me to continue.
“Eun Si-hyuk is someone who pities his mother, who’s been mistreated for coming from an ordinary family, and he wants to save her from that situation. His methods might be a bit self-destructive, but…”
I could feel the mentors listening intently, a stark contrast to the dismissive sneers of “You really think that?” I’d gotten it from my former agency.
“Yet, he’s inherited the mindset of his chairman father and his grandmother. In that line, Eun Si-hyuk classifies himself as a blue-blooded human, which I think perfectly highlights the contradiction at the core of his character. It also foreshadows that he’ll eventually be drawn to Seo Da-jung’s ‘redness’—her warmth and kindness.”
‘Did I ramble too much?’
Unsure of their reaction, I instinctively averted my gaze.
After a quick breath, I looked back.
Lee Jungah’s elegant, cat-like face, usually so composed, bore a rare, gentle smile.
“That’s a compelling interpretation. You should have more confidence in the conclusions you’ve drawn.”
The other mentors nodded in agreement.
‘Have more confidence in my conclusions.’
‘I don’t quite get what she means.’
“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”
But for some reason, those words lingered in my chest, leaving a strange, resonant echo.
The impromptu mentor evaluation ended, and practice resumed.
Staring blankly at my tattered script, I could feel my teammates’ glances.
Turning around, I saw their eyes brimming with emotion. Â
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What are you all doing instead of practicing?”
“Jae-ha, I mean, ‘Brother’…”
“Agh, just call me by my name!”
“I’m sorry… Jae-ha, you worked so hard for the team, and we couldn’t even say a proper word of thanks…”
“Worked hard? It’s not like I was doing charity. We all did this to succeed together. Besides, I didn’t get good feedback because I didn’t do well.”
“Still…”
If this kept up, none of us would get anything done.
I gave them a reassuring pat and stood.
Smiling at the three pairs of eyes following me, I said, “I’m going to the bathroom.”
‘Let me sort out my thoughts, guys.’
I left the meeting room and headed toward the bathroom, then detoured downstairs.
Unlike the bustling upper floor, filled with filming and practice, the lower level was quiet.
I slowed my steps, savoring the stillness.
A strange sense of relief and an inexplicable fullness swelled in my chest.
My heart beat at a pleasant rhythm.
‘This is my first.’
The first time I’d received serious feedback about my acting.
As a child, clear pronunciation and quick memorization earned me praise.
Through my teenage years as a child actor, I was told I was the best among my peers.
But I always felt trapped, repeating the same things, stuck in a frustrating loop.
‘”Jae-ha, at your age, acting like this is amazing! Just keep doing what you’re doing.”‘
That’s all I ever heard, no matter who I asked.
Reviews of the projects I was in barely mentioned my acting as a child star.
‘Is this right?’ I could never shake that question.
By twenty, I’d pivoted to being an idol and then returned.
‘”What? It’s just a minor role. Don’t overdo it and piss off the director or writer.”‘
Forget acting lessons—every attempt to improve was met with responses like that.
With no one to guide me, I got used to doing everything alone.
After seven years of obscurity, minus my military service, I finally landed a supporting male lead role.
‘”He’s this good at acting? Why haven’t we seen him before?”‘
The praise felt like a throwback to my child actor days.
Traumas from my idol days kept me from bonding with fellow actors or earning the notice of seniors for advice.
With no real success, just a string of credits, the idea of being a student of acting again felt absurd.
‘That’s what I thought, at least.’
Was my heart too closed off?
Or was it pointless pride?
Had I been waiting for someone to knock on the door of my heart, using my trauma as an excuse?
For the first time since coming back, a thought I’d never entertained crossed my mind.
‘If I hadn’t been falsely accused, if I hadn’t died in that accident… would I have kept acting well? Would I have achieved my dream?’
I used to think the answer was an automatic “yes.”
But now… I wasn’t sure.
The possibility that it might not have happened crept in quietly.
A hollow laugh slipped through my parted lips.
‘Is this what they call a silver lining?’
Beyond mere survival, the (Back from the Dead) project was starting to mean something more to me, though I wasn’t thrilled about it.
Just then, a message popped up in front of me.
[”^^”]
‘This damn god isn’t reading my thoughts, is it?’
I didn’t dare say it out loud, fearing some embarrassing consequence, so I just glared at the message.
[”TT”]
“Ugh…”
I waved my hand, and the message vanished.
‘Great, now my train of thought is broken.’
I shot a glance at the empty air.
‘Whatever.’
‘”That’s a compelling interpretation. You should have more confidence in the conclusions you’ve drawn.”‘
I needed to hold onto those words and think deeper.
I reached the end of the hallway.
Time to head back to the meeting room.
As I turned toward the stairs, a voice echoed from within.