Glory Film Company

Episode 23: The Audition

The actor who had captivated Youngkwang, Lee Jaehyun, was delivering a mesmerizing performance.

Where did this guy come from?

While Youngkwang was impressed, the judges and Director Kwak Junghoon appeared confused and uneasy. Their expressions betrayed their inability to fully process what they were seeing.

Lee Jaehyun continued his performance.

“What’s the dilemma?”
“Choosing between personal feelings and one’s duty. Should I really be saying this out loud?”
“Why not? Let’s hear how far your imagination goes. We’ve got time, after all.”
“All right. But how about we make a wager? Since we’ve got the time to spare.”

When he delivered his final line, concluding the scripted scene:

“Thank you for your time.”

Director Kwak signaled to the camera operator to stop recording. He then offered Lee Jaehyun the same polite farewell he had given every other actor, his focus already shifting to the next candidate’s profile.

As I thought.

Reading Kwak’s reaction, Youngkwang clicked his tongue internally.

He’s not getting the part.

Though the official results wouldn’t be announced until three days later, when the auditions concluded, Youngkwang could tell right away. He also understood why.

Kwak Junghoon’s vision doesn’t align with what Lee Jaehyun brought to the table.

When a director personally oversees auditions, even for supporting and minor roles, it’s a sign that their vision for the character is clear and specific. Actors must fit that vision or bring something that enhances it.

But Lee Jaehyun had gone beyond what Kwak had imagined for the character. Kwak likely saw it as excessive or a misinterpretation.

However, Youngkwang viewed it differently.

He’s too talented. His ability shines too brightly, and he couldn’t tone it down or conceal it, which made him stand out too much.

Lee Jaehyun had layered the character with depth and conveyed emotions so subtly yet powerfully within a single scene that it was almost overwhelming.

The issue was that in Kwak’s film, supporting and minor characters wouldn’t have the narrative weight or screen time to justify such a performance.

A seasoned actor might have adjusted their intensity, but as a newcomer, Lee Jaehyun likely lacked the finesse to hold back his full potential. Even when he tried to suppress it, his presence could overshadow the leads.

Youngkwang nodded slightly to himself.

In other words… he’s not someone who should be a supporting actor. He’s leading material. And that means… I have to lock him down.

Sliding out of his chair, Youngkwang rubbed his stomach theatrically, signaling to Kwak that he needed to step out.

Kwak glanced at him with a knowing smirk. “Go on, take care of it.”

As the door closed behind him with a faint beep, Youngkwang found himself in a hallway bustling with actors—some nervously waiting their turn, others looking more at ease as they lingered, likely still holding out hope for an immediate callback.

But Lee Jaehyun?

He’s gone?

Was he playing hard to get, like a Cinderella with a curfew? Or was he simply being aloof? Either way, the actor who had set the audition room ablaze was nowhere to be found.

“Excuse me!”

Youngkwang finally spotted him outside the building, about to cross a crosswalk.

With his long strides, Lee Jaehyun was already halfway across, matching the pace of the green pedestrian signal.

“Excuse me! Lee Jaehyun!”

Oblivious to the shouting—likely due to wireless earphones—Lee Jaehyun continued walking, his focus on the path ahead. Thankfully, the signal hadn’t yet changed, and Youngkwang managed to close the distance.

“Huff… puff… Actor!”

“Huh?”

“Haah… Did you not hear me? I’ve been calling you!”

Lee Jaehyun, now sporting a slightly dazed expression, looked at Youngkwang with mild confusion, as if trying to understand why he was being stopped.

“You were at the audition earlier.”

“Oh!”

“I’m Lee Youngkwang, a producer.” Youngkwang handed him a business card.

“I don’t have a card myself,” Lee Jaehyun replied, sheepishly.

“Are you busy?”

“No, I was just heading home.”

Apparently, he had left the audition site in a hurry not because of another appointment, but simply to head home.

Did he figure out he didn’t make the cut?

If so, he might already suspect why Youngkwang was chasing after him.

“About the audition… would you consider doing another one?”

“…Pardon?”

“Not for Director Kwak’s project—this is for a different film.”

“Oh…”

“Take a look at the script. If it resonates with you, let’s meet this Thursday. We’ll have a short audition then.”

Youngkwang pulled Ha Pilsung’s 300 Days After We Break Up from his bag and handed it to Lee Jaehyun.

“Is this an independent film?”

“It’s a commercial film. The role I’m offering is the male lead, Lee Minwook.”

“…The lead?”

Whether it was due to a lack of explanation, unfamiliarity with the script, or even distrust of Youngkwang’s business card, Lee Jaehyun tilted his head curiously as he accepted the script.

“The audition will be held at our office on Thursday afternoon. Let me know beforehand if you’re interested.”

As much as Youngkwang wanted to dig deeper—get Lee Jaehyun’s contact information, grab coffee, and chat—he decided to leave things with a simple parting remark. Anything more might come across as overbearing, and he was confident the strength of Ha Pilsung’s script would be enough to sway the actor.

*****

“You’re from Australia?”

“Yes, I moved there as a child and lived there until I came back to Korea three years ago.”

When Youngkwang returned to the audition room, several roles had already been cast. The actors chosen so far were distinctive but not overly flashy, fitting well within the vision Kwak had for the film.

“Anything else you’d like to show us? Freestyle, maybe?”

“Ah, I prepared a scene from the play Subway Kim. Would it be okay to perform that?”

“Oh, I’ve seen that play! Were you in it?”

“Yes! I performed as Sangdu until the March production this year.”

“Sangdu. Ah, Sangdu!”

The atmosphere in the room had lightened, with friendly conversation flowing between the actor and the panel.

“They’re moving quickly.”

Peeking at the notes of the judge beside him, Youngkwang saw that four or five names had already been marked with circles. Only a handful of actors remained to audition.

“Not bad for the first day. Landing five solid candidates on day one is a strong start.”

Kwak’s auditions were scheduled to run for three days, and while stronger candidates might show up later, today’s results were already promising.

“Wow! Watching you perform brought back the play vividly. That’s exactly the kind of character Sangdu was. Great work back then, too.”

“Thank you!”

“Well, that’s all for now. The results will be announced in three days.”

“Yes, thank you!”

As the actor left, Kwak Junghoon stretched dramatically.

“Phew. How about we take a break?”

“Sounds good. Let’s grab a smoke.”

“I’ll get some coffee.”

Judging auditions required balancing an actor’s unique qualities, potential, and compatibility with other cast members. The intensity had left the judges visibly fatigued, and they began to disperse for a quick break.

“You. Come here for a second.”

Kwak gestured at Youngkwang and pulled him aside to the smoking area.

“Are you planning to work like this on my project too?”

“Sorry, what do you mean?”

“Where’d you sneak off to just now?”

“I’ll tell you after you sign the contract. A producer’s schedule is confidential, after all.”

Youngkwang smirked, refusing to back down.

Kwak still hadn’t officially signed his contract with My Way Pictures. While he worked from their office and acted as if the deal was set, he kept delaying the paperwork, citing unresolved conditions.

“You know my requirements aren’t fully met yet.”

“We already secured cinematographer Joo Kanghyuk, whom you wanted. We’ve agreed to proceed with Guardian Spirits as your next-next project. The only thing left is securing the budget, which we can do once you officially commit. You know how this works.”

“And if the budget doesn’t come through? Do we shoot on a shoestring budget? What if you decide it’s too hard and suggest switching to another project? Am I supposed to settle for that?”

“Wow. You must’ve been burned before. Do you want a conditional contract? I can draft one for you right now.”

“Ugh…”

Kwak groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Even if you pull it off, we’re talking about a minimum production cost of 7 billion won.”

“I’m well aware.”

“And… are you up to it?”

“…Sorry?”

The conversation meandered, seemingly without a clear point, but Youngkwang could guess where Kwak was headed.

“You’re new to this, right? First-time producer, no prior production experience?”

If Kwak signed the contract, he’d have to entrust both the investment and production to a rookie. Understandable hesitation.

“But it’s strange. Everything you touch seems to fall into place. Why is that? Are your ancestors helping you out? Nothing’s gotten stuck. You bring in great scripts, attract the right people… So all that’s left is the money and execution.”

Kwak trailed off, muttering half to himself.

Youngkwang remained silent, letting Kwak’s thoughts spill out uninterrupted.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can trust you until I see this through to the end.”

Director Kwak Junghoon took a deep drag from his cigarette and spoke.
“Prove it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your ability as a producer. Show me that it’s not luck, but inevitability. In other words, prove yourself.”

“Huh?”

“You’re going to start with Director Ha Pilsung’s project, right? I’m going to keep an eye on that.”

Of course, he’s always been like this, overly cautious.

Youngkwang narrowed his eyes at Kwak. So all this time, Kwak had been delaying the contract because My Way Pictures hadn’t given him enough confidence? And now, seeing a rookie producer meeting his demands with startling efficiency, he wanted to observe further before fully committing?

It was mildly infuriating. Hadn’t Kwak nodded in agreement earlier? Now he was implying he might back out entirely.

Still, Youngkwang couldn’t do much about it. My Way Pictures was the one in a weaker position. Moreover, proving his ability to put Kwak at ease wasn’t an impossible task for Youngkwang.

“You weren’t really in the bathroom earlier, were you?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Cut the crap. Spill it.”

“Fine. No, I wasn’t.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I went to pick up something you threw away.”

Youngkwang chuckled, feigning innocence.

“Ha. Let me guess, Lee Jaehyun? I figured as much.”

Kwak shook his head with a smirk. Though Lee Jaehyun didn’t fit Kwak’s project, he was undeniably a unique talent. The fact that Youngkwang had gone after him piqued Kwak’s curiosity.

Still, Kwak couldn’t help but needle him.
“Won’t be easy to manage him.”

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

“Hmph. Even your name annoys me.” Kwak grumbled before exhaling smoke. “Anyway, if you make Ha Pilsung’s project a success, I’ll officially acknowledge you and sign with My Way Pictures. Let’s not rush; we’ve got time.”

“Wow. Postponing the contract until Ha Pilsung’s movie releases? That’s low, Director. Isn’t it about time for you to show some integrity?”

“Hey! I didn’t say no. That’s not what I meant.”

After some thought, Kwak relented.
“Fine. I’ll sign the contract with My Way Pictures once Ha’s project secures funding.”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

Youngkwang grinned, fully understanding Kwak’s perspective. This was a passion project years in the making; naturally, Kwak wanted to ensure it was done right. Business was business, after all.

“And about my next-next project,” Kwak added, “I’ll decide who produces it based on the results of Ha’s film.”

“Understood.”

“You know what that means?”

“Yes.”

“If you can’t handle it, I’ll bring in a different producer.”

“That’s only fair.”

Kwak’s words seemed intended to put pressure on Youngkwang, but they barely registered with him. Instead, Youngkwang, who had been holding back, casually brought up another matter.

“So, now that we’re being honest, can I leave?”

“What?”

“The auditions are nearly over.”

“Ha. You punk. We’re having dinner together tonight.”

“I’m hungry too, but Director Ha’s mental state needs some attention.”

Youngkwang used Ha Pilsung’s endless script revisions as an excuse.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

Recognizing the struggle Ha must be going through, Kwak nodded in understanding.

****

Thursday morning brought two phone calls.

One was from Ha Pilsung, announcing that he had finished his latest revision.

The other was from Lee Jaehyun, requesting to meet.

“I want to audition, Producer.”

Perfect.

Seeing an opportunity, Youngkwang arranged for them to meet at the same time and place: Thursday afternoon at My Way Pictures’ office in Yeonnam-dong.

What followed was a tense yet vital introduction among the three.

“Who the hell is this?” Ha Pilsung growled, his bloodshot eyes glaring at Youngkwang.

“He’s the male lead for your film,” Youngkwang replied calmly, gesturing toward Lee Jaehyun.