Aura of a Genius Actor

Contrary to popular belief, actors were not particularly extroverted people.

People often assumed otherwise because acting was a profession performed in front of audiences.

In reality, acting was a process of digging inward.

"You're kidding. We have to perform out of nowhere in this chaos?"

"There's no set, no background, no assigned scene, nothing."

"Oh, come on... I want to go home."

Of course, actors constantly faced tests.

Auditions were tests.

Every individual scene during filming could be considered a test.

But even then, they were usually performing prepared material in a prepared environment.

Actors were not like comedians or television hosts, people accustomed to stamping their presence onto an unprepared environment and winning over an unfriendly crowd through sheer force of personality.

"And now, introducing our judging panel!"

The murmuring had not yet subsided when the six judges for the California regional preliminaries appeared.

One of them stood out immediately.

"WOOOOOOOOAH!"

The contestants' enthusiasm instantly reignited.

Natalie Cassen.

In the blockbuster film Killing Smile, she had shaken audiences around the world with a single expression.

Her character, Nelly—a female assassin incapable of emotion—displayed a radiant smile only when taking a life.

That one smile had become legendary.

She was one of Hollywood's highest paid actresses.

And every project she appeared in seemed incapable of declining in quality.

Yu Myeong found himself staring at her with genuine curiosity.

She really was extraordinary.

Even standing still, she possessed a presence that drew eyes like a black hole.

TW had truly spared no expense for Casting Vote.

He had heard that one main-program judge was required to participate in each regional screening.

Apparently Natalie was the representative assigned here.

"NATALIE!"

"NELLY!"

The six judges split up, each taking responsibility for one section of contestants.

When Natalie Cassen elegantly approached Yu Myeong's group, the cheers around him only grew louder.

"When I stand in front of you, simply perform whatever you've prepared."

Her voice carried effortlessly.

Warm.

Clear.

"If you pass, an assistant director following behind me will record your number and name immediately. If we need an interview, we'll let you know. Please show us your best work."

The contestants visibly relaxed under her gentle smile.

That relief lasted only briefly.

"I'll be performing Hamlet's soliloquy."

"Please begin."

"To be, or not to be..."

Three minutes was not a short amount of time.

One of the judges in a neighboring section seemed impatient, cutting people off the moment they appeared mediocre.

"Next."

"Next."

Many contestants froze and failed before they could properly begin.

Natalie Cassen, however...

Waited.

"Uh... um..."

"You still have over a minute remaining. Take your time."

She waited until the very end.

Every time.

Then she delivered concise, thoughtful feedback.

"Your breathing is too shallow."

"Part of that is nervousness, but I also think your core muscles aren't developed enough."

"Even in a noisy environment like this, a clear voice that cuts through the space can be built through training."

"I recommend improving both your conditioning and breathing technique."

She was kind.

Painfully kind.

With sincere concern in her eyes, she identified each performer's weakest point without hesitation before delivering a rejection.

Some contestants left devastated.

Others seemed strangely thrilled simply to have been critiqued by Natalie Cassen.

One thing was certain:

Her section moved significantly slower than the others.

And its pass rate was dramatically lower.

As Yu Myeong watched contestant after contestant get knocked down before him, he considered what he should perform.

He had countless prepared pieces.

But...

What fit this environment?

This situation?

What would be fun not only for the audience, but for himself?

I've got it.

A film surfaced in his mind.

Dennis Milton had personally assigned her there.

"You'll want to handle that section."

"Oh?"

Natalie raised an eyebrow.

"So there's someone interesting over there?"

"There is."

Dennis smiled.

"But that's a secret."

Thus Natalie Cassen found herself conducting auditions in Group Three under the producer's direct orders.

It was a brutal test.

Not an ineffective one.

When individually auditioning thousands of people was impossible, the environment itself became a tool.

Being watched by countless eyes tested courage.

Improvisation tested quick thinking.

Three minutes, though seemingly brief, quickly revealed whether an actor possessed the ability to command attention.

Even so.

It was cruel.

Especially for actors who had spent years scraping by in tiny roles and saw this opportunity as the chance of a lifetime.

Many of them were undoubtedly thinking:

If only I could perform in a calmer environment.

If only I could show what I'd prepared.

Just like the actor currently standing before her, tears in his eyes.

"Please. Just one more chance."

"I couldn't even show ten percent of what I'd prepared."

Natalie checked the contestant's name.

"Carrie, was it?"

"Yes..."

"Your problem isn't preparation."

She shook her head.

"You attempted three different monologues during those three minutes."

"And forgot all three halfway through."

"B But I wasn't expecting this..."

"This environment is harsh."

Natalie nodded.

"But if you continue acting professionally, you'll encounter situations far more unreasonable than this."

Her voice softened.

"You have good pace and a good voice."

"If you improve your concentration, you'll become an excellent actor."

Natalie Cassen was not someone who took shortcuts.

She watched every performance from beginning to end.

She remembered the desperation she had felt when she herself had been an aspiring actor.

And she gave the most sincere advice she could.

But if someone lacked the necessary qualifications, she cut them without mercy.

After more than two hours of watching, judging, and critiquing performances, even Natalie's concentration was beginning to wear thin.

Only occasionally would a contestant produce something unexpectedly good, briefly refreshing her exhausted eyes and mind.

Which one is Dennis talking about?

I haven't seen anyone particularly remarkable yet.

She eliminated another contestant.

Then stepped in front of the next one.

An Asian face.

Perhaps it was simply the stereotype, but East Asian actors often appeared difficult to read.

His expression was calm.

Composed.

"What will you be performing?"

"Today I'll be performing Truman Burbank from The Truman Show."

Natalie's eyebrows lifted slightly.

An unusual choice for an audition.

She gave a small nod.

"Whenever you're ready."

A single breath passed.

And then—

A fabricated world began unfolding before her eyes.

In the land of gods, perform gods.

In a park filled with lush greenery, play a beautiful Aphrodite.

Beside the flowing Adige River, portray a wise Athena.

At the Colosseum, where two thousand years of history still breathed, become an imposing Hera.

Just as Miho always selected the perfect role for the environment around her, Yu Myeong had asked himself:

What performance best suits this place?

This moment?

These countless eyes watching me with mixtures of goodwill and hostility?

The answer he arrived at was simple.

A story about a man's life being observed by outsiders.

The Truman Show.

"Marlin."

The Asian man looked directly at Natalie.

Then lowered his voice.

"Something's wrong."

A chill ran down Natalie's spine.

He was smiling.

Yet his voice had dropped into a confidential whisper.

No—

Not actually a whisper.

Everyone could hear him perfectly.

But it felt like a whisper.

"The elevator doors opened..."

"There were strange people inside."

"And on the radio..."

"They were broadcasting details of my private life."

The confusion in his voice—

Am I crazy? Or is the world crazy?

—felt impossibly real.

The room was brightly lit.

Hundreds of people watched.

Cameras pointed in every direction.

Yet somehow his performance felt less like acting than reality itself.

As though everyone surrounding him—including Natalie—were actors.

And he alone was the only person actually living.

"Look."

His eyes swept around suspiciously.

"I can feel people watching."

"Doesn't it feel like someone's looking at us right now?"

The surrounding actors who had been staring at him suddenly looked away.

Unable to meet his gaze.

It's like... we're accomplices.

The thought sent a shiver through Natalie.

This enormous stage.

These countless actors.

Even herself.

Had he chosen The Truman Show precisely because he understood what this environment was?

While everyone else was desperately scrambling to figure out how to fill three minutes, had he calmly looked around and thought:

Ah. This setting suits The Truman Show.

Did he really possess that level of perspective?

That much composure?

"There's a conspiracy."

The question emerged so naturally that Natalie nearly answered.

"You've thought about it too, haven't you?"

"About being surrounded by walls?"

The eyes that had turned away gradually drifted back toward him.

Hundreds of cameras watched.

Voyeuristic.

Obsessive.

And Natalie herself was one of them.

"I'm leaving."

Passion appeared in the eyes of a man who no longer knew whether departure meant pursuing a dream—

Or awakening from one.

Dropped into a seated position.

And faced forward again.

A scene change.

He began rowing.

Pulling on invisible ropes.

Raising invisible sails.

The sea appeared.

His movements grew more violent.

The boat rocked.

Rain.

Wind.

A tiny vessel being tossed about by a raging storm became visible through physical movement alone.

The final sequence of The Truman Show.

Truman realizing his entire life had been a lie.

Setting sail to escape.

The manufactured storm sent to stop him.

It all materialized vividly before her.

The climax of a man escaping a world where his entire life had been a set.

The noisy audition hall fell strangely quiet.

Not everywhere.

Only around him.

As though everyone had become devoted viewers watching the scene unfold.

Toward the sky.

Toward an unseen opponent.

Truman screamed.

"If you're going to stop me..."

His voice exploded.

"THEN JUST KILL ME!"

The cry sent a shockwave through the room.

Because it didn't feel like acting.

It felt like genuine longing.

The authentic human desire that always chooses difficult reality over comfortable illusion.

And then—

He found the wall.

Thunk.

Though no sound existed, everyone heard it.

His hand pressed against an invisible barrier.

He traced it.

Slowly.

Searching.

Until he found the door.

Then his face changed.

"Ah..."

Natalie unconsciously breathed out.

Shock that his life had truly been a lie.

Relief that he wasn't insane.

Liberation.

Fear.

Pride.

The dignity of a self determined human being.

All of it existed simultaneously within a single expression.

Just as Natalie herself had once packed countless emotions into one smile in Killing Smile—

He too was an actor capable of combining multiple emotions into a single moment.

In this environment.

In this situation.

In the most perfect way possible.

He reached for the door.

Then paused.

Turning back toward everyone watching him.

"I'll say it now, in case I don't see you again."

His smile appeared.

"Good afternoon."

"Good evening."

"And good night."

With the graceful farewell of an actor exiting a stage, he turned and walked away.

Step.

Step.

Step.

"..."

Natalie stared at his retreating back.

For a long time.

Then the actor who had just finished performing turned around and smiled.

"Hasn't three minutes already passed?"

Natalie looked down at the stopwatch in her hand.

03:37

Beep.

Accounting for the time she'd spent frozen in place...

The performance had ended almost exactly at the three minute mark.

Yet it felt as though she had just watched an entire film.

All around them, the other actors wore expressions of disbelief.

"Y You pass."

For the first time that day, Natalie Cassen offered no critique.

No advice.

No analysis.

Only those two words.

She wanted to say something.

Anything.

But the afterglow of the performance still lingered too strongly.

That's him.

That's the actor Dennis was talking about.

She knew it with certainty.

And she could only watch blankly as a staff member hurried past her and approached him.

"Hello, Mr. Yu Myeong."

"Congratulations on passing."

"My name is Susan Laycock."

"Hello."

"That was an incredible performance."

Susan smiled brightly.

"Would you mind coming with me for an interview?"

Acting under direct orders from the producer, Susan had arrived to secure Yu Myeong's interview.