Chapter 3:
Minho's footsteps echoed in the stairwell as he descended the building. His heart was still racing from the audition, and his mind was an exhausted swirl of emotions: relief, nervousness, and a gnawing sense of inadequacy.
The system's notification still floated faintly in the corner of his vision.
[Task Complete: First Audition]
Performance Rating: C+
Reward Unlocked: Beginner Acting Skill Level 1
C+. He frowned. As much as he wanted to feel accomplished, the grade gnawed at him. It wasn't failure, but it wasn't good either.
"C+?" he muttered under his breath. "What does that even mean? How am I supposed to be the world's greatest actor at this rate?"
The system responded immediately, its voice calm but firm.
"Your performance was passable but lacked emotional depth and authenticity. Improvement will come with practice and skill acquisition."
"Yeah, great," Minho scoffed. "You say that like it's so simple. I've never acted before! How am I supposed to get better without embarrassing myself?"
"Experience is the foundation of mastery. Accept opportunities, face challenges, and utilize system resources to improve."
Minho sighed as he pushed the building's door open and stepped out into the cold evening air. The city buzzed around him, indifferent to his struggles. He glanced at the people rushing past him, wondering how many of them had dreams they'd abandoned or battles they were quietly losing.
He was one of them now.
The walk back to Kang Hyunjae's apartment felt like it took forever. By the time he arrived, his body was aching, and the reality of his situation hit him harder than before. The apartment was freezing; apparently, Hyunjae hadn't paid the heating bill on time. Minho's stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since waking up in this new body.
He rummaged through the kitchen and found only a single pack of instant noodles. "Of course," he muttered as he boiled water, trying not to think about how different his life had been as Jung Minho.
Once the noodles were ready, he sat at the small desk and stared at the pile of scripts again. Some were old and yellowing, their corners dog-eared from use. He picked one up and flipped through it, the lines barely registering in his tired brain.
The system interrupted his thoughts.
"Incoming Message."
A small, glowing envelope icon appeared in the corner of his vision. He frowned and focused on it, and the message opened.
[Audition Results Update]
Project: Love on the Rooftop
Role: Male Lead
Status: Callback Scheduled
Minho's eyes widened. "Wait… a callback? I actually made it?"
"Correct. You have passed the first round of auditions. A second audition will determine if you secure the role."
The noodles were forgotten as a strange mix of excitement and anxiety bubbled in his chest. He hadn't expected this—not after feeling so unsure about his performance.
But as the excitement settled, a nagging doubt crept in. He didn't just want to scrape by in this new life. He had to excel. Anything less meant failure.
He placed the script aside and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Memories of his old life started to drift into his mind, unbidden. The roar of fans chanting his name. The dazzling lights of the stage. The love and admiration that had once filled every corner of his existence.
And then the memory of the scandal hit him like a punch to the gut. The humiliation. The hate. The sheer loneliness that had driven him to his breaking point.
Minho clenched his fists. He had to succeed. Not just to reclaim his old life, but to prove to himself—and everyone who had turned against him—that he wasn't the failure they believed him to be.
But how?
The callback for Love on the Rooftop was scheduled for the next day. Minho barely slept, his mind racing as he tried to memorize lines and mentally prepare for the audition. When morning came, he arrived at the same building, his nerves sharper than before.
The waiting room was busier this time, filled with familiar faces. Minho recognized a few actors—young men who had already gained a foothold in the industry. One of them, a tall, handsome man with a confident smirk, caught his eye.
"That's Choi Jaehyun," a voice whispered behind him. Minho turned to see a young woman clutching her script tightly. "He's practically guaranteed to get the role. He's already worked with the director before."
Minho nodded absently, his stomach twisting. If this Jaehyun guy was as good as everyone seemed to think, then Minho's chances weren't looking great.
When it was finally his turn, Minho stepped into the audition room, the lines he'd practiced running through his mind like a mantra.
The same panel of judges sat at the table, their expressions neutral. This time, they handed him a revised scene—a heated argument between the male lead and his love interest.
"You may begin when you're ready," the man in glasses said.
Minho glanced at the assistant standing opposite him, who held the other half of the script. He took a deep breath and let the world around him fade away.
"You think I don't know what people say about me?" he began, his voice rising with anger. "That I'm a failure? That I'll never amount to anything? You think I haven't heard it all before?"
The assistant's lines came quickly, her tone sharp. "Then why do you keep pretending? Why do you keep dreaming when you know it's hopeless?"
Minho's chest tightened as he stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. "Because dreaming is all I have left! If I stop now, then what was the point of everything I've endured?" His voice cracked on the last word, and the room seemed to hold its breath.
For a brief moment, the judges exchanged glances, their expressions softening ever so slightly.
"Skill Progress: Emotional Resonance Level 1 Achieved."
The system's notification rang in his head, but Minho barely registered it. He was too focused, too deep in the scene to care.
When the scene ended, the man in glasses nodded curtly. "Thank you. That will be all for today."
Minho's throat was dry as he left the room. He wanted to believe he'd done well, but the weight of uncertainty hung over him like a cloud.
A Glimmer of Hope
Back in his apartment that night, Minho collapsed onto the bed, too exhausted to even eat. The system's voice interrupted the silence.
"Performance Rating: B-"
Minho let out a weak laugh. "Well, at least it's an improvement."
"Congratulations. Progress is being made. Your journey has just begun."
The words felt hollow. Minho closed his eyes, his heart heavy with the realization of just how far he still had to go.
But as he drifted off to sleep, a thought lingered in his mind.
For the first time in years, he had a chance—not just to survive, but to fight for something greater.
And this time, he wasn't going to let it slip through his fingers.