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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Sorry. Your 'Dream Broadway' Acceptance Has Been Canceled.
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The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a text message.
I'd just gotten out of bed and picked up my phone to check the time when the weird message appeared.
"Huh...?"
Was I dreaming? I rubbed my bleary eyes and checked the phone over and over.
No matter how many times I looked, it said exactly what I thought it did.
"What the hell."
Only then did I snap to attention and bolt upright in bed.
Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong.
With trembling hands from the anxiety, I finally managed to grab my phone.
I frantically scrolled through my contacts and dialed the director's number from audition day.
It rang several times, but there was no answer on the other end.
I wiped the sweat pouring from my palms on the bedsheets over and over.
Click.
"Hello."
The director finally picked up.
His indifferent voice came through the receiver.
My heart pounded with unease.
"Hello, Director."
I barely kept my quivering voice in check.
"Who is this...?"
"It's Lee Do-hyun."
"Lee Do-hyun?"
There was no reply.
I could hear murmuring on the other end for a while.
I gripped the phone tighter with my other hand as I waited anxiously for his response.
"Ah."
"I'm the Lee Do-hyun who was cast as Jason in Dream Broadway. I just got a text saying my acceptance was canceled. It must be some kind of mistake, right?"
Even as I poured out my words, the director stayed silent.
A chill ran down my spine.
No way. That couldn't be.
Just a few days ago, he'd been clapping me on the shoulder, saying we'd do great together.
He'd even apologized for not recognizing talent like mine sooner.
"Director?"
I couldn't wait any longer for his answer and pressed him again.
With a sigh, he finally spoke from the other end.
"I'm sorry, Do-hyun. "
"Why..."
The question—why are you apologizing?—stuck in my throat and wouldn't come out.
"I'm sorry. I won't drag this out. I need a box-office hit this time. You can look it up online. My last show bombed. I can't help it if I need to make up for that."
Online? What kind of bullshit was this?
My hands shook, but I barely held back my anger and forced out the words.
A thunderous shout nearly burst out, but I poured every ounce of strength into suppressing it.
"I don't quite follow what you're saying."
I gathered the ends of my rage-trembling words and demanded an explanation once more.
The director let out a long, irritated sigh that carried through the receiver.
"Sigh... I can't work with you anymore, Do-hyun. You haven't even started yet, so let's end this on good terms. You've got plenty of other opportunities coming out of Cheongyeom Arts High. See you around. Sorry."
"Something like this out of nowhere..."
Click.
"...doesn't just happen."
I muttered my last words to no one and tossed them to the floor.
I nearly hurled the phone at the ground but veered and threw it onto the bed instead.
I glared at the phone for a long while, then slowly closed my eyes.
I needed time to think it over calmly.
Why had things turned out like this? How did it come to this?
***
I was a graduate of Cheongyeom Arts High's musical theater department.
Cheongyeom Arts High was an arts high school funded by a massive investment from the Cheongyeom Foundation, and it put heavy emphasis on its musical theater track.
Rumor had it that just graduating from Cheongyeom Arts High's musical theater department was enough to make a living.
Its reputation was legendary, to say the least.
I was lucky enough to reap those benefits right after graduation, landing a spot in a decent theater troupe.
For someone like me who'd hovered in the middle-bottom ranks all through school, it was a solid start.
But,
"You can't get on stage with that kind of vocal technique. You need volume, resonance. We'll have to retrain your vocals from scratch."
Reality was far from what I'd imagined.
The seniors in the troupe taught me a deep, resonant operatic vocal style.
"Lee Do-hyun, you want to get on stage or not?"
I had to forget everything I'd learned in school.
There was no time to question if this was the right way.
No actor ever dreams of staying off the stage.
It was completely different from the vocal training I'd received from my high school homeroom teacher, who had emphasized my natural timbre.
Still, I told myself I had no choice.
That was the trend back when I was first stepping onto stages.
I abandoned the practice methods I'd focused on up to that point.
I'd gotten good results a few times with the operatic vocals I'd hastily picked up in the troupe, so I figured that was the answer.
I never doubted that I'd shine in the pros, even if I hadn't in school.
"It's vocal cord nodules."
That was the declaration that my career as a musical actor was over.
"Ah. Okay."
When I first got the diagnosis, I was surprisingly calm.
After hearing some precautions from the doctor, I took my prescription and shuffled out of the hospital.
Only then did it all make sense.
Why my high school mentor had so strongly opposed changing my technique back then.
Given my vocal cords and skill level at the time, that big volume and resonance wasn't the right fit for me—it was like wearing clothes meant for someone else.
Self-inflicted.
Maybe I'd vaguely anticipated this outcome.
My throat had hurt for a long time already, but I hadn't stopped practicing.
If I'd known it was a sign of vocal cord nodules, would I have stopped?
Pathetically, I couldn't even say for sure.
I wanted to excel in musicals that badly.
I spent ten straight days and nights writhing in regret.
If I'd gone to university after graduation.
If I hadn't joined the troupe back then.
If I hadn't chased the spot right in front of me.
If I'd listened a little more closely to my mentor.
But what was the point of those thoughts now?
After sorting through them for a long time, I reached one conclusion.
I couldn't give up like this.
Even in this absurd despair, I refused to quit.
Despite the vocal cord nodules, I boldly looked ahead.
I couldn't even imagine a life without musicals.
'Vocal cord nodules treatment'
'Vocal cord nodules surgery'
At least no one was telling me to drop dead.
Plenty of active musical actors had overcome vocal cord nodules.
I started feeling a bit confident.
I planned to rise above this setback and make an even bigger leap.
I avoided hot foods and anything spicy or stimulating.
I managed my throat with everything I had.
Then, while working part-time at a convenience store, the results of that effort came in.
[Hello, Lee Do-hyun! You've been cast as Jason in Dream Broadway. Congratulations! Your schedule...]
I'd passed the audition.
For Dream Broadway, no less—the essential repertoire in major theaters that everyone dreams of at least once.
It wasn't a lead role, but a solid supporting one where I could really shine.
I saw it as my reward for pouring everything into it.
I'd beaten the nodules and stabilized my mid-to-high notes, and my tap dance specialty—which I'd crammed while skimping on sleep—had paid off.
Effort never betrays you, after all.
I'd bounced between part-time gigs, barely sleeping while prepping for auditions.
With debts from high school and my mom to support, pushing to the brink was the only way to leap forward.
"Goodbye."
Once the customers cleared out of the convenience store, I snuck a glance around and slipped into the staff-only area.
I called my mom right away.
And shared the audition news.
"Oh my. You've worked so hard, Do-hyun. So hard."
I heard her sobbing through the phone.
My chest tightened.
Even when I'd gotten the nodules diagnosis, I hadn't shed a tear in front of her.
"Your father would've been over the moon if he could hear this..."
"He's watching from heaven, smiling."
My voice shook as I replied.
My father had passed from lung cancer three years ago.
After he died, I had to become the head of the household.
The shock of losing her husband had wrecked my mom's health in an instant.
For the next week, I felt like I was living in a dream.
I didn't rest on the acceptance—I kept pushing harder than ever, skimping on sleep like always.
I met the director, had meetings with the leads and other supporting cast.
Then, the night before the script reading.
Too excited to sleep well, I finally dozed off past 1 a.m.
And the first thing I saw when my alarm woke me?
[Sorry. Your Dream Broadway acceptance has been canceled.]
That absurd text.
After hanging up with the director, I mulled over his words for a while.
He'd said to look it up online.
Remembering that, I picked up my phone again.
The moment I opened the browser, a huge news headline filled the screen.
[TryOne Main Vocal Flame to Challenge Musicals in Dream Broadway!]
An idol.
The anger I'd barely suppressed reignited.
The supporting role I'd earned through skill had been handed to an idol for box-office draw.
Something that happened all the time in the industry had now happened to me.
It hurt like hell, but I decided to rise above this despair too.
It took a full week to make that resolution.
Humans are adaptable creatures—despair gets easier to overcome with time.
'It's okay. Still okay.'
Yeah. Time to pull myself together.
Snagging the Dream Broadway role out of nowhere had been a huge stroke of luck for me anyway.
And my body wasn't broken yet.
I could do more.
I quickly checked other audition schedules.
Being selected for a major musical audition would still boost my resume.
Even if asked why I'd been dropped after selection, I'd have an answer.
No one would turn their arrows on me after hearing it was just industry practice.
There weren't as many as Dream Broadway, but smaller-scale musical auditions were plentiful.
Time to start over.
From lead roles in small musicals, step by step.
I burned with determination and practiced harder than ever to get back on stage.
Singing, acting, dance.
Others would've clicked their tongues at how harsh I was on myself.
But I overlooked one thing.
"You can't sing anymore. No jobs that strain your throat."
The nodules had recurred.
Was this the payoff for all my hard work?
The rage I'd been suppressing surged up with nowhere to go.
That intense anger soon turned to regret.
Curled up in a corner of the room, I bashed my head against the wall as I thought.
Where did it all go wrong?
Betting everything on the biggest audition, Dream Broadway, instead of smaller ones?
Letting the nodules develop in the first place?
...Starting musicals?
No. It was all because I didn't have skills irreplaceable by some idol.
If I'd been a genius with one-of-a-kind talent.
Then no idol main vocal would've taken my spot.
"Fuck..."
I muttered the curse I hadn't uttered in over a decade.
My voice cracked pitifully.
Tears streamed from my eyes in thick drops.
These were the tears of defeat.
If I could go back, there wouldn't be this defeat.
I wouldn't lose my spot.
I wouldn't lose every chance to vocal cord nodules.
"Aaaargh!!"
I unleashed all the emotions I'd bottled up to protect my vocal cords.
I'd never yelled once outside of singing, always babying my throat.
I kept screaming until I collapsed.
That's when my mom burst in, limping frantically.
"Do-hyun! What's wrong with you?"
She grabbed me as I wailed like a child, panicking and stomping her feet.
"What happened at practice? Huh?"
I couldn't tell her I'd been cut from Dream Broadway.
I didn't want to worry her in her fragile state.
I'd planned to tell her once I landed another audition.
Turning my back to her, I clamped my mouth shut, lay flat on the floor, and covered my eyes with my arm.
Still, the tears kept flowing.
In my heart, I prayed and prayed.
Please, just one more chance.
A chance to make up for my mistakes and reclaim my spot—I screamed it inside.
Exhausted from crying, I passed out without realizing it.
***
My eyes stung.
I peeled my arm from my tear-streaked face, crusted from dried salt, and blinked against the blazing sunlight.
"Urgh... Huh?"
Why was I sleeping on the floor?
Right.
My throat hurt so bad from screaming yesterday... Wait. It doesn't?
"What's going on?"
Startled, I shot up from the floor—and my body felt different.
It felt endlessly light somehow.
"Ah. Ah."
And my vocal cords felt crystal clear, no trace of dust or strain.
'I should drink some cold water and clear my head.'
It was weird, but I decided to head out of the room first.
I froze.
Noisy chatter came from the kitchen.
No way. It couldn't be.
I cautiously opened the door, and an unbelievable sight greeted me.
"...Father."