I Don’t Want to Play Villains Anymore - Chapter 12

Transcending perception and expectations

‘Is it that kid’s turn?’

Yoon Seok-won looked up at the sky, his already wrinkled face crumpled even more. His gaze was mixed with suspicion, wariness, and irritation.

To Yoon Seok-won, Haneul’s first impression was quite, no, very bad.

A small, white face with shining blue eyes. Even considering she was a young girl, her perfect looks were as jarring as sharp thorns.

It was no surprise, as Haneul had a striking appearance. Her pale blonde hair sparkled with a bright sheen, and her twinkling eyes shone cold and mysterious like ice.

‘She looks very convincing. She’s probably just a kid that her parents forced into the industry.’

Yoon Seok-won evaluated Haneul in his mind as he turned away.

He had always been a Buram (a term for someone who fears nepotism). He had spent over a decade in obscurity while directors were decided based on connections with famous directors and broadcasting companies.

Thanks to his breakout first work, he was able to escape that tedious obscurity.

For someone like Yoon Seok-won, who had climbed up solely on talent, Burams who entered through connections and pressure were all targets of his disdain. Whether they were children or adults, he never gave them a break.

However, Yoon Seok-won was also a well-known critic in the media. Though he was recognized as a director with the “eye of a master,” his personality was entirely different.

He was someone who provided harsh and merciless evaluations, not hesitating to trample on others.

“Next. Waiting number 85!”

As soon as Yoon Seok-won’s words left his mouth, Haneul walked forward onto the stage. The sight of her small, delicate body slowly stepping onto the stage felt as if a young bird was taking its first steps towards the sky.

However, Yoon Seok-won didn’t care about such things. His eyes shone fiercely to witness only Haneul’s acting ability.

‘She’ll probably act cute. No, considering her age, has she even properly practiced?’

Yoon Seok-won stared at Haneul while sitting stiffly. Soon, he could hear other judges preparing their evaluation sheets, and the camera focused on her.

But as the lights shone on Haneul, she seemed to change from that moment. She straightened her back, and her gaze deepened.

Her eyes no longer looked like those of a child. Even Yoon Seok-won flinched slightly, but he dismissed it as just a trick of the light.

“Alright. First, recite the lines. You’re playing the role of Yoon Na-rae, right?”

Yoon Seok-won spoke clearly and curtly. His voice was cold without a hint of warmth.

“…Yes.”

Haneul answered briefly and slowly took a deep breath. For a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled.

‘Is she about to cry already?’

As Yoon Seok-won muttered this in disbelief, when she opened her eyes again, they had become calm.

In an instant, she cast away the feelings she had been experiencing.

Yoon Seok-won felt a sense of bewilderment. It was different from earlier.

The energy had transformed.

“Young Yoon Na-rae. It’s a scene where a child who has just started playing badminton, finally dedicates her life to that dream. Not just reciting the lines, show me that you desperately long for that dream. Understood?”

Yoon Seok-won directed her to perform a challenging scene with a trembling voice, making it more important to convey emotions through expressions and gestures than just delivering lines.

What mattered more than the script was the ‘feeling’.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Haneul took a deep breath and clenched her fists. Her fingertips looked slightly tremulous.

It wasn’t fear. It was determination.

Her gaze was clear yet firm. It shone like a jewel deep in the ocean.

“Start.”

As Yoon Seok-won’s emotionless voice dropped, Haneul quietly closed her eyes. And when she opened them again, she was no longer there.

Instead, what stood in her place was the oblivious young girl, Yoon Na-rae.

The eyes that had felt cold began to slowly shine with dreams, and her small lips parted as words flowed out slowly.

“…I…”

Haneul’s voice had a resonance. The tremor of a child suppressing emotions only to release them.

Like the pure and desperate wish of a child who is realizing a dream for the first time.

“I… want to become a badminton player. I must… absolutely must.”

Haneul’s blue eyes filled with tears and trembled. Her fingertips shook, and her lips were tightly pressed together.

It was not merely a child’s confession; it was a resolution that embodied everything she had.

Yoon Seok-won’s gaze widened slightly. Unlike other kids who forced themselves to cry, the tears that flowed, reaching a peak of elation, fell to the ground.

“…What.”

He was left speechless, watching Haneul’s performance.

It was not simply ‘good.’ There was something contained within that performance.

“If she becomes a badminton player, so many people will watch her! As many as the stars!”

This was something that couldn’t be explained by experience or technique.

Haneul’s acting was ‘masterful.’

‘At that age, how can… such acting.’

Yoon Seok-won’s fingertips trembled. It was so quiet that he himself could hardly grasp that brilliance.

“All of you, on stage, will see. There’s someone in Hanasa who has such a large dream, named Yoon Na-rae!”

The passion pouring out suppressed yet bursting forth. Her tone was resolute, and her eyes were steadfast.

Indeed, this child had a dream.

Not a mere desire or vain ambition, but a true dream.

The pure desperation of a girl daring to challenge that dream at such a young age.

It was a hope that did not lose its light even in despair, a pure yearning for that hope.

Haneul condenses all those emotions and perfectly realized them in a single moment of acting.

Yoon Seok-won’s eyes were trembling. This girl before him was someone he had never seen before.

A genius.

A monster.

Perfect.

No, those words were insufficient.

Ineffable.

‘This is… not possible. Why…?’

Many actors had already shown they could precisely understand the emotions in the script and present them accordingly.

But this was something on another plane altogether.

As if the real Yoon Na-rae existed right in front of him.

It was a perfection that could even make such an illusion seem real.

Yoon Seok-won had seen countless actors before.

From child actors to middle-aged ones, and veteran actors seeking depth in their performances.

But he had never before encountered someone who so thoroughly absorbed him.

“……”

He wanted to speak, to say something, but his throat was blocked.

He was overwhelmed by the performance in front of his eyes, to the point that he forgot how to breathe.

The other judges felt the same way. Their eyes reflected a mixture of astonishment and admiration.

“…Goodness, this is decided.”

“Even kids like that come out nowadays. Wow.”

“Even in our time, there weren’t kids like that. Not to mention those kinds of actors.”

It was something that could not be judged simply as ‘good performance.’

It wasn’t just acting; it was the force of pouring out all emotions and swallowing the stage.

And in Yoon Seok-won’s ears hung Haneul’s words like an echo.

‘Will you show them all? That there exists a person named Yoon Na-rae with such a big dream in Hanasa!’

The urgency and certainty felt in the lines.

It sounded like a pure confession of a child while simultaneously echoing the cries of someone who had endured numerous setbacks.

Was it right to evaluate this performance?

Was evaluation even possible?

Yoon Seok-won was rubbing his fingertips unconsciously.

Again, a habit of rubbing them when in thought.

Inside him, admiration and shock were tangled in a complicated manner.

“It’s done.”

Haneul’s voice sounded again.

This time, it was completely the original voice of Haneul back again.

Pure, clear, and oddly innocent-sounding.

But at the moment he heard that, Yoon Seok-won was overwhelmed yet again.

The feelings from just a moment ago were so strong that it felt like a dream.

“…Did you say it’s done?”

“Yes.”

Haneul nodded slowly. Her demeanor was extremely calm.

As if nothing had happened.

However, the thumping in Yoon Seok-won’s chest did not cease. The performance from just now was undeniably real.

Not an illusion or a trick, but something genuine.

“Um… so, is it done now?”

Only after hearing Haneul’s words did Yoon Seok-won regain his voice.

“Ah… uh, yes. Yes… please wait a moment.”

Yoon Seok-won continued to speak in a flustered manner. It was obvious that he was shaken.

But he could not deny it.

“Well, this is…”

“Yes. It seems it’s decided.”

“Director Hee-chang has found a monster…”

The judges sitting beside him exchanged glances and began to whisper to each other.

Their eyes all contained the same emotions.

Confusion and wonder.

Yoon Seok-won slowly straightened up from his chair and looked at Haneul intently. Then he nodded slightly.

“Next…”

However, his voice had lost all its strength.

It was merely automatic, like reciting lines.

The audition hall was quiet, all holding their breaths. Haneul slowly walked off the stage.

“Then I’m done!”

No one could take their eyes away, watching her rush towards her waiting mother.

“Daughter! You were so amazing!”

“Really?”

I felt a bit awkward while acting. After all, I had only seen such hopeful performances from the audience and this was my first time doing one.

I might have brought out some emotions, but it wasn’t a complete immersion like a villain role.

Maybe about 30 percent? I can still firmly say I acted better than many others, though…

‘Compared to villain roles… it’s lacking.’

I really felt like I had become that person, that was something most said when performing.

However, it wasn’t the same with villain roles.

I never found myself saying, “I felt like I became that character.”

I could feel the fear from those around me.

Even when we met at a distance, I could see the suspicion in their eyes.

The emotions strong enough to handle acting came out only in villain roles.

Well, I had no desire to touch villain roles again.

Having been born a pretty girl seemed wasted now, how ridiculous.

“What do you want to eat today, Haneul? Mommy will make something delicious just for you!”

My mother was looking at me, pondering, still smiling brightly.

It seemed even more bothersome.

Despite knowing her daughter was struggling with a decision, she wore a carefree smile.

I couldn’t help but feel irritated.

“When will mom stop smiling?”

I didn’t mean to say it, but my words slipped out without thinking.

“…What?”

My mother’s face hardened. Ah, she was angry.

After that day, for a week, our dining table was filled with mashed potatoes and fish sticks.

“Haneul, what on earth did you do?”

In front of me was Baek Geon-hwan (32 years old), who was trying to eat with a stiff expression.

“…Nothing.”

I’m sorry, Dad.