While nearly all the hopefuls wanted to land a role in this mysterious medical disaster movie, Zeno had come with a clear objective—ruin his name so that nobody would want to work with him anymore.
Of course, he wouldn’t go as far as ruining Zeno Han’s life. However, to this group of hopefuls, as well as the esteemed directors, actors, and even producers, Zeno wanted to decrease his reputation to the point of no return.
He looked for a vacant seat and found one next to a tall, dirty blonde guy whose armpit stains were wetter than an abused sponge.
Zeno crossed his arms and observed everybody in the room. It was true there wasn’t a script given beforehand, so he assumed it was going to be a cold reading.
Just then, he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn to the culprit with narrowed eyes.
It was the guy with sweaty pits.
“Don’t touch me, please,” Zeno said.
The man’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Woah,” he said. “No need to be rude.”
“I said please,” Zeno deadpanned, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
The guy clicked his tongue and offered his equally sweaty hand. “What’s up? My name’s Jace. Jace Moon. What’s your name?”
“Zeno,” he responded, wanting the conversation to end.
“Zeno,” Jace muttered. “Where did I hear that name again?”
“Have you acted before?”
Zeno pursed his lips. This human was very talkative.
“Yes.”
“How many?” Jace asked.
“One,” Zeno honestly responded.
Just then, Jace relaxed slightly. “Eyy, you don’t have to be nervous then.”
Zeno turned to him, his straw hat slightly obscuring his vision. “You’re the one who’s nervous.”
“Me?” Jace chuckled. “What do you mean?”
His voice betrayed him as it broke at the end of his question.
“I’m not nervous,” he added, clearing his throat. “I’m cool. The coolest, even. The chillest man on Earth.”
Zeno raised both eyebrows. Jace couldn’t see Zeno’s expression clearly because of his straw hat, but he had a hunch that the latter was judging him.
“Anyway, I’m a model turned actor,” Jace said, feeling a little less nervous since someone with less experience was there with him. “I’ve been in three works so far. Have you seen ‘Sword Fighting: Man Edition’ released last year?”
“Never heard of it,” Zeno truthfully said.
“How about ‘Green Ogre Man’? It’s an animated movie. I voiced the sentient mud.”
Zeno shook his head.
“Umm, ‘Cornstarch Lover?'”
“Nope.”
Jace clicked his tongue. “Ah, whatever. I have more experience than you, though. So, you could ask me about these things. This is like my 18th audition, too.”
Zeno nodded, feeling that the human was pitiful. But then again, he seemed happy being unsuccessful, so he let him be.
Jace kept barking about his previous works, and Zeno already regretted starting a conversation with him.
Fortunately, the door opened, rendering everyone silent.
There they were—the esteemed people everyone was waiting for. Unconsciously, the hopefuls began to stand. Zeno followed suit, not wanting to stand out.
Chaewon PD led the pack, her bob swaying left to right but her gaze not swaying at all. Beside her was Ian Seo, the A-list actor who had over ten million followers on social media. Even with a glance, everyone could tell he was of a different caliber than the rest of them.
Zeno couldn’t help but find the situation funny.
Ian Seo didn’t do anything grand. He just walked. However, even those with a big following nodded in quiet reverence, some straightening their backs to make themselves seen. No one told them to react this way.
They just did.
Because that’s how humans are.
When someone above them enters the room, they bow—whether physically or just in their presence.
And yet, the same instinct that makes them bow also makes them search.
For someone below them. Someone newer, someone struggling more.
Because if there is someone beneath them, then they are not at the bottom. It is a silent, cruel cycle, one that no one questioned but nearly everyone participated in.
Success, then, was measured not by how far you’ve come but by how many people you’ve stood above.
“Sit,” Chaewon PD said, but Zeno was too lost in his thoughts. Jace pulled him down before he could be called out, though.
“Goodness,” Jace said. “Were you so nervous that you couldn’t even hear her?”
Zeno crossed his arms in front of his chest. He got way too philosophical there. He better not do it again.
“Good afternoon,” Chaewon PD greeted, her voice echoing in the conference hall. She didn’t need a microphone to be heard. The room was resonant enough that she could be heard until the end.
“Before anything else, I would like to say that you are all special.”
The hopefuls began to smile.
“However, don’t be too happy yet,” she said. “There are 70 people in this room. When the word special is tossed around, do you think it’s still special?”
That quickly dampened the mood.
“Being special isn’t something you are born with. Your mothers lied to you—that is if you had a good childhood.”
Zeno’s eyebrows raised. Dang, this woman was roasting everyone.
“Being special is something you have to earn.”
“Today, I have called for this audition for the final scene of my medical disaster movie. It’s entitled Code Black.”
With the mention of the title, the applicants began to feel excited once again. It already sounded very epic.
“We need three speaking roles for this,” she said.
“As for the rest,” she continued, looking around. “You would be the bystanders. We need 14
people as part of the disaster.”
Whispers erupted inside the conference hall.
“I’m going to get that speaking role.”
“Fuck, I don’t want to be an extra without any lines again.”
Jace, too, clenched his fists. “I’m going to make it this time.”
“This is a cold reading,” Chaewon further revealed. “You will not get any time. These are scenes within the movie, and you will pick one by random.”
Minseok raised his hand, but Chaewon didn’t even spare a glance at him.
“I don’t need you to understand the character or story.”
“I need you to act.”
“And that’s who we’ll be picking today—the greatest actors in this room.”