LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 3: The Callback and Noona’s Plans
Chapter 3: The Callback and Noona’s Plans
Jae-min stood outside the studio building, hands in his jacket pockets as the morning chill nipped at his skin. The city hummed around him, a blend of voices, traffic, and the distant rhythm of life moving at a much faster pace than he was used to. He was early. Too early. His phone buzzed with notifications from his friends, but his mind wasn’t on that.
He could picture the group back at the bar, still probably recovering from last night’s drinks. Jae-min almost smiled at the thought. That’s where he felt at home—chilling with friends, no stress, no pressure.
But here he was, about to walk into something he’d spent years dodging. Jin-ah’s words echoed in his mind: “Don’t mess this up.” She’d been relentless, nudging him toward the spotlight as if it were inevitable.
He stared up at the glass doors, letting out a breath. Why am I even here?
Before he could turn back and bail, his phone buzzed again. Jin-ah Noona. Of course.
Jae-min answered the call with a smirk. “Let me guess. You’re tracking me with some secret CEO tech to make sure I showed up?”
“Funny,” Jin-ah replied, her voice brisk but amused. “But I don’t need to track you. I know you’re there. You wouldn’t dare bail at this point.”
He could almost see her, that smug smile playing on her lips. Jin-ah never doubted herself—or him, for that matter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here,” he muttered, shifting on his feet. “So, what now? You gonna give me some last-minute advice?”
Jin-ah scoffed. “Advice? No, I’m not your coach. I already know how this ends—you walk in there, blow them away, and I get to say I told you so.”
Jae-min chuckled, shaking his head. “So much faith in me, Noona. You sure this isn’t just about proving yourself right?”
“Of course it is,” she shot back, laughing. “But I’ve also spent enough time around you to know you’ve got more going for you than you think. Now, go make me proud.”
Her confidence was enough to shut down any lingering doubts. He wasn’t here because he had something to prove. He was here because Jin-ah was never wrong. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling him.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Jae-min said, hanging up before she could push him any further.
With a deep breath, he turned and walked into the building, passing through the busy lobby full of assistants, actors, and industry types who were rushing around. The chaos was muted somehow, like he was moving at a slower pace than everyone else.
The receptionist barely glanced up as she typed away on her computer. “Room 203. They’re expecting you,” she said with a small smile.
Jae-min nodded, giving her a casual “thanks” before heading down the hallway. His mind was calm now, not overthinking anything, just walking. Whatever happened, happened.
Room 203 came into view, and before he could second-guess himself, he pushed open the door.
The room was bright, with a simple setup—two chairs, a camera, and a table where a small group of casting directors sat. Jae-min recognized one of them from his first audition: the older man with sharp eyes who had nodded at him last time. The other two were new, their expressions professional but neutral.
“Jae-min,” the older man greeted him with a nod. “Good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Jae-min replied, offering a laid-back smile as he took his place in the center of the room. No sense in being stiff. This wasn’t his style.
The head casting director, a middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, looked over at him. “Alright, we’re going to do a two-person scene today. You’ll be reading for the role of Yoo Tae-seok, one of the supporting characters in the drama.”
Jae-min nodded. He had seen the script for this scene earlier and quickly skimmed it while waiting in the lobby. The basic setup was clear in his mind now: City of Lies, a thriller about a corrupt city, dirty cops, and a powerful underground organization. Tae-seok, his character, was a reporter who played up his image as a playboy to stay under the radar while secretly working to expose the system. He wasn’t the lead, but the character had depth and that made it more interesting.
The casting director continued, “You’ll be performing opposite Detective Yoon Ji-won. It’s a key scene where the detective starts to get suspicious of Tae-seok, but he’s not ready to reveal his true motives yet. Su-jin will be reading for Ji-won.”
Su-jin, the assistant, stepped forward with a slight nod, holding a script. She wasn’t there to steal the scene—just to help set the tone. Jae-min gave her a quick smile as he set his own script aside. He wasn’t nervous about this one—he knew the lines well enough.
“Whenever you’re ready,” the head director said, sitting back in her chair.
Su-jin began, her voice steady but sharp. “Why are you even here, Tae-seok? I don’t have time for your tabloid gossip.”
Jae-min leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he settled into character. Tae-seok was a smooth talker, someone who liked to push buttons before things got serious. “Gossip? Now, that’s hurtful, Detective. I’m just here to report the facts.”
Su-jin’s expression stayed serious, her eyes narrowing. “Facts don’t interest you. Unless it involves what some idol wore to the red carpet.”
He chuckled, leaning forward slightly as he gave her a playful look. “Come on, Detective. You’re making me sound shallow.” He waved a hand dismissively, his smile widening as he leaned in closer. “But if you want, I could get you front-row seats to that red carpet. You look like you’d clean up nicely in a dress.”
Su-jin shot him a glare, not biting. “I’m not interested in your distractions, Tae-seok. Why are you really here?”
Jae-min leaned back again, feigning innocence as he brushed imaginary lint off his sleeve. “What? A guy can’t drop by to say hi to his favorite detective? I thought we had a connection.”
Su-jin rolled her eyes, her voice dropping lower. “Cut the crap. You’re fishing for something. What is it?”
He chuckled again, but this time, the laughter faded quicker, and his voice dropped an octave as his gaze turned more focused. “But since we’re talking facts, I heard the victim had a file. Names. Powerful ones.”
The tension in the room shifted slightly as Su-jin responded, her tone growing suspicious. “Where did you hear that?”
Jae-min leaned in slightly, his grin fading as his playful demeanor gave way to something colder, more intense. Tae-seok was done playing. “I have my sources, Detective. The kind that don’t show up in your reports.” His voice was calm, but his words carried a warning. “But if I were you, I’d be careful. Those names? They don’t like being found.”
There was a pause, the room growing quieter as the weight of his words sank in. But then, in typical Tae-seok fashion, Jae-min lightened the mood again with a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “But hey, what do I know? I’m just the guy who writes about fashion shows.”
The subtle shift from flirtatious banter to something darker had worked well. Jae-min could see the older man’s eyebrow lift, just slightly, like last time. A good sign.
The head director nodded slightly before leaning forward. “Let’s try another scene. Something with more intensity.”
She flipped through her notes, glancing up briefly. “This next scene is later in the story. Tae-seok’s found out that someone he trusted was part of the corruption all along. This is a turning point for him. I want to see how you handle anger—but keep it controlled.”
Jae-min froze for a moment. This scene wasn’t in the materials he had looked at earlier. He hadn’t prepared for it.
He took the script, scanning the lines quickly. His heart raced. I’m not ready for this, he thought, but he kept his face calm.
Su-jin took her place again, reading the stage direction softly to set up the scene: “You’re in an abandoned office. Someone you trusted is trying to explain why they betrayed you.”
Jae-min exhaled, letting the nerves settle as he slipped back into character. Tae-seok wasn’t someone who let people see him break. Even now, his anger had to be reined in.
“I trusted you,” Jae-min began, his voice low but shaking slightly, as if Tae-seok was holding back the rage. “You knew what was at stake, and you still—” He cut off, his fist clenching. “You still chose them over me?”
Su-jin delivered her line quietly, but Jae-min wasn’t focused on her. His eyes burned with frustration, Tae-seok’s struggle to maintain control visible in every muscle of his body.
“Do you think this is a game? People are dying!” His voice cracked at the end, raw and unpolished, but it felt right. The vulnerability wasn’t something he had planned. It just... happened.
The scene ended, and there was a moment of silence before the head director leaned back in her chair. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes held a flicker of something—approval, maybe.
“Thank you, Jae-min,” she said, her tone neutral but polite. “We’ll be in touch.”
Jae-min gave a polite nod, not letting his face betray the pulse of excitement running through him. He turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. He let out a slow breath. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t out of his depth after all.
As he made his way down the hall, his phone buzzed again. Jin-ah Noona.
He smirked, answering as he stepped outside into the brisk air. “You must really have nothing better to do than track my every move.”
Jin-ah’s voice came through, sharp but playful. “I’m invested. So? How did it go?”
Jae-min shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “Didn’t bomb it, at least.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Jin-ah shot back, her voice tinged with amusement. “Did they look impressed?”
“One guy raised an eyebrow. That count?”
Jin-ah laughed softly. “That’s good enough for now. Keep your phone close. We’re celebrating tonight.”
“Celebrating what, exactly?” Jae-min leaned against the building, glancing down the busy street. “I don’t even know if I got the part.”
“You will,” Jin-ah said, her voice filled with that unwavering certainty she always carried. “You did well. I can feel it.”
Jae-min smiled, despite himself. “Alright, Noona. I’ll let you have your moment.”
“You’re damn right,” she replied, before hanging up with that signature smugness.
Jae-min pocketed his phone, standing there for a moment as the city buzzed around him. It was strange—he wasn’t sure if this was what he wanted, not entirely, but there was something exciting about it. The idea that maybe he could do this. Maybe Jin-ah had seen something in him that he hadn’t let himself see.
With that thought lingering, Jae-min headed down the street. He didn’t know what was coming next, but for the first time, he was starting to think that maybe Jin-ah had been right all along.