I stood in the middle of the stage, my whole body trembling. The sword in my hand felt heavy, as if the weight of the world rested on its blade. My eyes stared straight ahead, suppressing the burning pain in my chest. I knew this was just acting, just an audition, but the pain coursing through my body felt so real. What was really happening?
The air around me started to shift, growing colder and thicker, like the night before a battle. The sound of wind, absent just moments ago, now roared, as if blowing from the depths of a chasm. My vision blurred briefly before I refocused on my scene partner standing in front of me. His face was filled with hatred, his eyes glinting with malice. I realized this was no longer mere acting. The script's world had pulled me into it.
I stifled a scream as his sword pierced my chest. My body slumped to the ground, blood soaking the war uniform I was suddenly wearing. Every breath became more painful. I could see the wound the blood, the searing pain spreading through me. My left hand trembled as I tried to hold the gaping wound, even though I knew it was all just an illusion. But it felt disturbingly real.
"Why...?" I whispered, my voice cracking, following the character's final line in the script.
I knew this was his last line before he died. My eyes slowly began to close, surrendering to the darkness creeping in. But I wasn't someone who gave up so easily.
"Cut!"
The director's voice shattered the silence, snapping me back to reality. In an instant, the world returned to the stage set, with crew members standing tensely around me. I was still lying on the floor, panting, the remnants of the pain lingering in my chest. Was all of that... really just acting?
In the control room, the judges and producers sat in stunned silence, exchanging glances before one of them finally spoke.
"Was... he really hurt?" asked a young producer, his shirt neatly pressed. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, watching me lie weakly on the stage floor.
An older judge with graying hair gave a slow nod. "That was an extraordinary performance. He didn't just act the role he became the character." His voice trembled, filled with disbelief.
"Where did he learn such a technique?" another judge asked curiously. "Did he train abroad? In America? Or perhaps Russia? They're known for their Stanislavski method."
The people in the room began speculating about my background, wondering how an unknown actor could achieve such depth in his performance. They debated enthusiastically, each offering theories, unaware that I was just as confused as they were about what had happened.
I slowly rose from the floor, struggling to steady my breathing. Even though the scene was over, the pain in my chest lingered. Some crew members approached me, showering me with compliments.
"Kaito, your performance... was insane! You really lived that role!" one of them exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration.
"Thanks," I replied shortly, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. How could the pain feel so real? What had I just experienced?
My legs felt heavy as I walked away from the stage. The world within the script... It had felt so real. Every second I was there, I existed as that character hearing the clash of swords, feeling the wind, enduring the pain. Everything was vivid and tangible.
I slumped into a chair, staring at my hands as they trembled in my lap. The sensation of the earlier wound still echoed faintly in my chest. My mind swirled with questions, trying to make sense of the experience. This couldn't just be acting, could it? It wasn't possible for acting to feel this real.
"Did I... actually feel that sword?" I muttered under my breath, barely audible.
Suddenly, the door to the waiting room opened, and a crew member entered.
"Kaito, the judges want to see you," he said.
My heart pounded faster. What were they thinking? Did they believe my performance? Or did they suspect something else?
I slowly stood, taking a deep breath before following the crew member out of the room. As I stepped outside, I saw the judges seated at a long table, their expressions serious but full of anticipation. All eyes were on me, making me feel slightly nervous.
"Please, have a seat," said one of the judges, a man in a blue shirt, gesturing toward the chair in front of them.
I obeyed, sitting down and meeting their gazes, though a storm of confusion still raged within me.
After a few moments of silence, which felt like an eternity, the older judge finally spoke.
"Kaito... your performance was truly impressive," he said in a low, assured voice. "Honestly, we've never seen anything like it before."
I tried to give a small smile, though my mind was still spinning.
"Thank you," I replied briefly.
"But we have a question," another judge, a younger woman, interjected. "Where did you learn to act like that? It's hard to believe you're just a beginner."
I hesitated for a moment. Learn to act? The truth was, I had never studied acting formally. I just... connected with the character.
"I've never had any formal training," I answered honestly. "I just try to understand the role... and live in it."
The judges exchanged glances, admiration and puzzlement clear in their expressions.
"To be honest," the woman continued, "it's hard for us to believe. Are you sure you've never trained abroad? Maybe in Russia, with the Stanislavski method?"
I smiled faintly, amused by their speculation. Did they really think I'd studied overseas?
"No, I just... do it naturally," I said, though I didn't fully understand how it happened myself.
Meanwhile, the crew began whispering among themselves, many of them praising my performance. Some even thought I'd been genuinely hurt during the scene.
"Was he really hurt? I almost ran to get the paramedics!" one crew member said anxiously.
"No, that was just his amazing acting," another replied with a small laugh. "But honestly, I almost believed he was dying too."
However, even as they continued their discussion, Kaito remained trapped in his own thoughts. The world around him had returned to normal, but the sensations from the script still lingered, leaving a heavy question in his mind. How could the pain have felt so real?
I felt a faint ache in my chest as I finally stepped out of the audition building. The night air was fresh, but my body remained tense, as if what had happened inside hadn't fully left me. It was as though the world shifted the moment I entered the script, and I couldn't ignore the strange sensation that still lingered.
I walked slowly toward the bus stop, my mind swirling with thoughts especially about this odd power that seemed to awaken whenever I performed. Every time I connected with a script, the same thing happened. The world around me would transform, and I would be pulled into it.
When the bus arrived, I took a seat at the back, letting my body sink into the chair. The city lights flickered outside the window, but I barely noticed them. My thoughts were consumed by what might happen next. Tomorrow, the results of the audition would be announced, and I couldn't stop thinking about what I had done earlier.
On one hand, I felt confident. My performance felt flawless almost too flawless. Every expression and emotion had flowed effortlessly, as if something inside me had taken over. But the realism of the pain still puzzled me.
When I finally arrived home, I collapsed onto the sofa, trying to relax my tired body. Before I could fully unwind, my phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from my friend, the one who had convinced me to attend the audition.
"How are you feeling after the audition? They seemed pretty impressed with your performance!"
I glanced at the message briefly and put my phone back down. A part of me felt relieved, but there was still lingering anxiety I couldn't shake off. The audition might be over, but my mind was still caught in the role I had played. This didn't feel like just another part it was something more.
Meanwhile, back in the judges' room, they continued to discuss the participants' performances. One of the judges, a middle-aged woman with thick glasses, was still contemplating Kaito's extraordinary display.
"That kid... he really has talent. But where did he come from?" she asked, perplexed. "There's no record of him ever attending any acting school."
Another judge nodded in agreement. "I felt the same way. His performance was so authentic, especially at the end. It was as if he truly experienced everything in the script."
One of the other judges chuckled. "Maybe he's a natural genius. Sometimes we stumble upon talent like this by sheer chance."
Their conversation continued, filled with admiration but also tinged with curiosity about Kaito's mysterious abilities. Such remarkable skill, yet without any formal training he had become an enigma among them.
I lay down on my bed, trying to clear my mind, but the events of the day kept replaying over and over. With the results being announced tomorrow, I wondered if I was truly ready for whatever might come next. The way the world shifted whenever I acted, the sharp, vivid pain... This was more than just ordinary acting.
"Tomorrow," I whispered to myself. "We'll see what happens."