The sun was bright and radiant, as if smiling and cheering for Clein's audition day. He woke up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around his room, which was in utter disarray, like a storm had swept through it. After brushing his teeth—struggling to squeeze the last drop of toothpaste from the tube—he looked into the mirror, smiled, and said to himself, "From now on, this is not our life."
Determined, Clein cleaned his room and dressed meticulously, as if suiting up for battle. While fastening his belt, his phone rang. Putting it to his ear, he said, "Yeah, Mom. How are you? I'm good too. No, not a job today—something more special. I'm going to an audition."
He tapped his right foot nervously as he spoke. A car horn startled him, and he glanced out the window to see a sleek white car waiting for him. "Thanks, Mom. Oh, they're here. I'm going now. Yeah, I'll call you later," he said, ending the call.
Clein stepped outside, awestruck by the car's gleaming exterior. Its interior was just as breathtaking—luxurious seats resembling a king's throne. As he settled in, the driver asked, "Shall we start, sir?"
"Yeah, sure," Clein replied, still mesmerized. Turning to the driver, he remarked, "You're really lucky to drive this car. This is someone's dream."
The driver chuckled darkly. "If this is someone's dream, then it's a nightmare for me."
Clein, confused, asked, "What do you mean?"
"I'm quitting this job. Today's my last day driving," the driver said, his tired eyes revealing sleepless nights.
Clein, at a loss for words, simply muttered, "Oh."
After a two-hour journey, they arrived at the location. As Clein got out of the car, he noticed the driver's weary expression but couldn't ask further as the car sped away. Turning to face the building, Clein was stunned. It was massive, far grander than he had imagined.
"This is just for auditions?" he whispered to himself, overwhelmed.
Inside, the opulent interior resembled a movie set. People glanced at him curiously as he clutched his bag tightly and walked forward. He accidentally bumped into someone—James.
James smiled warmly, placing a hand on Clein's arm. "You look better than yesterday. There's a positive vibe about you," he said.
Clein, nervous, stammered, "Uh, am I going first? Why?"
James, slightly exasperated, replied, "Because I said so."
Clein hesitated but nodded. "Okay, I'm going."
Walking toward the room James pointed to, Clein gripped the door handle tightly and took a deep breath before stepping inside. The dimly lit room had a worn wooden floor, and a single bare bulb cast harsh shadows on the three judges seated at a table.
One of them, Leon, greeted him, "Ah, Clein, you're first. Let's skip introductions for now and see your talent. Your scene: you have a broken leg, but you're still walking."
Clein nodded hesitantly and launched into the performance. His steps were slow, deliberate, and filled with pain, his voice rising and falling as he portrayed desperation. His trembling hands clutched his imaginary injury as he gasped, "I can't stop now. If I stop, it's over."
The judges exchanged glances as Clein poured every ounce of emotion into his act. Just then, the door opened, and James walked in, observing with a faint smirk.
The judges looked at Clein with critical eyes. One of them asked, "Are you sure this is your limit?"
Clein hesitated, fumbling for words. "Uh... did I not do it accurately?"
Leon, one of the judges, leaned forward. "Alright, let's try another scene. Imagine this: your mother is dying in your lap. Convey that emotion."
Before Clein could react, James entered the room. "What's happening here?" he asked.
Leon turned to him and explained while whispering, "His acting is good, even his monologues. But the problem is, it doesn't feel genuine. It's like he's serious about acting but isn't feeling it. There's no emotional connection. Do you get what I mean? At this point, we might have to give him the antagonist role."
James's eyes widened in disbelief. "No, no, no! We can't cast him as the antagonist. That character is pivotal and carries a unique weight in the story. Clein deserves the protagonist role. Why not rewrite the story to fit him better if his acting is still solid?"
The judges exchanged glances, pondering James's suggestion. After a moment, one of them nodded and said, "You might be right."
Clein stood there silently, his mind racing with thoughts, unsure of what to feel or think.
Finally, the judges turned to him. "Congratulations, Clein. You're selected as the protagonist."