Chapter 5:
The apartment was silent except for the sound of Minho pacing across the worn wooden floor. The script lay open on the table, but the words blurred together as his frustration mounted.
The director's words from the table read echoed in his mind: "You'll need to dig deeper if you want to carry the weight of this character."
"What does he even mean by that?" Minho muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I gave it everything I had."
"Correction: You performed adequately," the system chimed in. "Adequacy is not sufficient for greatness."
Minho glared at the corner of the room, where the faint glowing notifications of the system lingered in his vision. "And what do you expect me to do? I'm trying!"
"Effort is commendable but must be directed toward specific improvement. You are not yet embodying the character."
"Not embodying?" Minho snapped, his voice rising. "I memorized every line, every pause, every damn emotion!"
"You memorized words," the system corrected. "True acting requires more. You must become the character, not merely recite his story. This will require understanding, empathy, and immersion."
Minho sank into the chair, his head in his hands. He wasn't just fighting to get by—he was trying to excel in a field he had never mastered. The climb felt impossibly steep.
"Initiating Task: Character Immersion Training."
A new window popped up in front of him.
[Character Immersion Training: Optional Task]
Objective: Spend 24 hours living as your character. Engage in activities that reflect their struggles and passions. Reward: +2 Skill Points, Increased Emotional Resonance.
Minho hesitated. The thought of spending an entire day "in character" felt ridiculous, but the promise of improvement—and the system's consistent results—nudged him forward.
"Fine," he said quietly. "What do I have to lose?"
The next morning, Minho woke up early, his mind set on the task. His character in Love on the Rooftop, Seo Jiho, was a struggling artist who poured his soul into his work, despite constant rejection and ridicule.
Minho hadn't touched a paintbrush since his school days, but he forced himself to gather supplies: a cheap sketchpad, pencils, and a small set of paints he found at a nearby convenience store.
He found a quiet park and set up by a bench, his tools spread out before him. The cold wind bit at his fingers as he hesitated, unsure where to begin.
"What would Jiho draw?" he murmured.
His mind drifted to his own struggles—the loss, the humiliation, the pain of being misunderstood. Slowly, he began to sketch.
At first, his lines were hesitant, shaky. But as the minutes passed, something shifted. Memories surfaced unbidden: the faces of fans cheering his name, the crushing loneliness he had felt in those final days before his death. His hand moved faster, almost instinctively, as he poured his emotions onto the page.
By the time he stopped, hours had passed, and the paper was filled with jagged, chaotic images. A shattered spotlight. A faceless crowd. A boy standing alone in the rain.
Minho stared at the drawing, his chest tight. He wasn't Seo Jiho, but for the first time, he felt like he understood him.
"Task Progress: 50% Complete."
Encouraged by the system's update, Minho spent the rest of the day walking through the city, observing people, and imagining how Jiho would see the world. He wandered through art galleries, sketching quick impressions of the paintings and the people who stopped to admire them.
By evening, he was exhausted but strangely energized. The lines between himself and his character were beginning to blur.
A New Perspective
The following day, Minho returned to the production office for his first rehearsal. The cast had been instructed to focus on one of the drama's most pivotal scenes: a confrontation between Seo Jiho and his estranged father.
As Minho stepped onto the set, he felt the weight of the previous day's training settle over him. He wasn't just Minho anymore—he was Jiho, carrying the burden of unfulfilled dreams and a desperate need for validation.
The scene began.
"Why can't you just admit it?" Minho shouted, his voice raw. "You never believed in me! You never thought I could make something of myself!"
The actor playing Jiho's father, a veteran with decades of experience, responded coldly. "Because you never gave me a reason to believe! You're a failure, Jiho. Always have been."
The words cut deep, but this time, Minho didn't falter. He channeled the emotions he'd felt during his day of immersion—the frustration, the hopelessness, the burning desire to prove himself.
"I'm not a failure!" he roared, his voice trembling. "I'm still fighting, even when the whole world is against me. And if that's not enough for you… then maybe I don't need your approval after all."
The room fell silent as the scene ended. The director leaned forward, his expression unreadable.
"Better," he said finally. "That was better."
Minho exhaled, his shoulders sagging with relief.
[Task Complete: Rehearsal Performance]
Rating: B+
Reward: +1 Skill Point
As Minho left the set, his steps lighter than they'd been in days, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Choi Jaehyun.
"You're improving," Jaehyun said, his tone calm but edged with something sharp. "But don't think for a second that you've caught up to me."
Minho raised an eyebrow. "Was that supposed to be encouragement?"
Jaehyun smirked. "Call it what you want. Just know this—acting isn't about raw emotion. It's about control. Letting go is easy. Mastering your craft? That's the hard part."
Minho watched as Jaehyun walked away, his words lingering. He hated to admit it, but Jaehyun was right. Emotion alone wouldn't be enough to carry him to the top.
If Minho wanted to surpass Jaehyun—and everyone else in the industry—he needed to combine passion with discipline, instinct with precision.
And he would.
Because this time, failure wasn't an option.
That night, Minho stood in front of the cracked mirror in his apartment, his reflection staring back at him. He clenched his fists, determination burning in his chest.
He wasn't Jung Minho anymore. He wasn't even Kang Hyunjae.
He was something new.
And he was just getting started.