The Road To Glory [EN]: Chapter 1161

< Phantom of the Opera >

“Oh, it’s Nohaeil.”

At the exclamation, all heads turned towards the entrance of the script reading room. The ‘Korea University Team’ had been gathered since morning for this script reading, which was now reaching its third hour.

Though not originally scheduled for this session, members of the ‘Dragonfly (band)’ team, including some of the lead actors, were also present.

Park Hyuk, playing the protagonist Jungwoo, Kim Heeju as the keyboardist Hyerim, lead actress Yeonwoo, and Seo Dohyun as the guitarist Minseop, had all made time in their busy schedules to attend the practice. Their presence lent a more disciplined air to the script reading room.

However, the reason for the current whispers and chatter was the general director’s absence during break time.

“Wow, Nohaeil’s here. Ah, did he come to see Yeonwoo? They collaborated before.”

Jooyeonwoo had been staring at her script, seemingly oblivious to the commotion. She wasn’t wearing earphones, so she must have heard, but she didn’t react.

“More than that, isn’t it about the song? There’s a rumor that Nohaeil composed one of our musical numbers.”

This revelation widened the eyes of those who hadn’t heard the news.

“Really? I haven’t seen anything about it in the articles. Which number is it? Is it one we sing?”

“Uh… I think it’s Jungwoo’s number for now.”

That meant they wouldn’t be singing it.

The mention of Jungwoo’s number shifted attention to Park Hyuk, the lead actor and a respected senior in the industry.

Park Hyuk’s presence was the most surprising. As one of Korea’s top musical actors, he was known for his talent and work ethic. He usually preferred to practice alone with experts in the early stages of a musical, making his attendance here unexpected.

Park Hyuk, wearing AirPods, was intently studying the sheet music. No one dared disturb the practice of such a senior and accomplished actor, so the attention soon dissipated.

But curiosity lingered.

Perhaps because Nohaeil wasn’t often seen in public, and the setting itself was intriguing.

As they marveled, Halo also glanced into the reading room. Through the transparent glass, people were holding and reading scripts, or listening to music.

‘They’re probably listening to a musical number now, right?’

He was curious about the number composed by another artist.

It was different from a drama OST [original soundtrack].

As a musical number, connected by a story, he naturally became curious about the pieces that would precede and follow his music.

‘Well, if I ask the director, he’d gladly let me listen.’

But he didn’t want to hear it *that* much.

He was here to complete his own music.

“Has Dokgo Young arrived yet? Mr. Park Hyuk, do you have a moment?”

The producer called Park Hyuk inside. Taking off his AirPods, Park Hyuk recognized Nohaeil and was visibly pleased.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Nohaeil. I begged the producer for this meeting. Thank you for coming.”

The script reading’s serious atmosphere relaxed with his smile. The actors, previously intimidated by Park Hyuk’s almost superhuman dedication to practice, buzzed with surprise at his friendly demeanor.

Park Hyuk didn’t suddenly become a fanboy, however. He received the sheet music and guide track, directly asking Nohaeil about his questions and seeking his perspective as a band member, vocalist, and guitarist.

Looking at the script, it was easy to guess the nature of their conversation.

“Is it worth going that far?”

Someone in the practice room muttered.

“Nohaeil is a popular singer, but he’s not a rocker. Don’t you think so, Yeonwoo?”

“I don’t know,” Jooyeonwoo replied, cutting off the conversation.

“I don’t think Park Hyuk needs feedback from just anyone,” Nam Dohyun, who played the guitarist Minseop, continued. He didn’t seem to realize that “I don’t know” really meant “shut up and read the script.”

“Seeing that he brought the president of a foreign distributor like August Veil, it looks like he brought him to show off.”

“I don’t think he’s that insecure.”

He wasn’t someone who needed to borrow someone else’s fame to show off, and he was well aware of his own talent. Even after a single meeting, that much was clear.

“Shall we adjust this part again?”

Jooyeonwoo interrupted the unnecessary chatter, glancing out the window for a moment.

Senior Park Hyuk was talking to Nohaeil, having an interview(?) with a smiling face. The two seemed worlds apart.

‘That person won’t play the keyboard, right?’

Jooyeonwoo recalled Nohaeil’s keyboardist, whom she had met during their collaboration.

She was already receiving personal lessons and help from the band, but she thought that meeting a keyboardist of the same gender would also be helpful. She wasn’t even hoping for coaching, just a few tips as a band member and keyboardist.

‘I should ask him later.’

With that thought, she returned to her script.

#

Meanwhile, at 1 p.m.

Around the time people in the practice room were heading out for lunch.

Nohaeil, having escaped Park Hyuk’s barrage of questions, noticed August Veil’s hardened expression in the lobby.

“Is something wrong?”

“I think I was followed. Someone’s been tailing me,” he said, showing an article that had just been uploaded to the internet.

[Which K-pop star did overseas music distributor Veil, known as ‘the sun,’ send a love call to?]

The photo showed a recent scene of Nohaeil and August Veil riding in a car together.

The article claimed that Veil, the music distributor to which HALO belongs – a misreport, as it didn’t – was showing interest in K-pop stars.

The article mentioned several famous idol groups and singers, speculating that Nohaeil was the primary target.

‘The sun’ was HALO’s nickname.

The sensational headline, combining an ‘overseas’ music distributor and a K-pop star, was sure to attract attention.

└So, Nohaeil’s song is popular overseas? If Veil is going that far…

└ But the CEO of Veil is driving?

└ Nohaeil doesn’t have a license, so maybe that’s why?

└ Imagine Lee Jae-yong [Samsung’s chairman] driving someone himself.

└ Wow, I get it now. It’s really amazing.

As August Veil’s face grew more serious, Nohaeil calmly said, “It’s nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. It’s not the first or second time I’ve been photographed.”

Since they had been walking around together, he expected to be photographed eventually.

The old man, who had been quietly observing the boy, realized he truly didn’t care and nodded.

“Still, I think I should get rid of the bugs [paparazzi]. I’ll be back in a bit.”

It was his usual walk, but Nohaeil could see him hurrying away.

The practice room, where he had declined to eat with the others, was quiet. Nohaeil leaned against the window, trying to listen to music.

Suddenly, long hair brushed against his shoulder.

“Hello, Mr. Nohaeil.”

“…Hello, Ms. Jooyeonwoo.”

Nohaeil smiled faintly at the familiar face.

Jooyeonwoo was wearing more casual clothes than when they had collaborated.

“Aren’t you having lunch?”

“Yes, I’m going back to eat now.”

By now, the members would have woken up.

Jooyeonwoo nodded, about to leave, but stopped.

The boy was left alone in the practice room.

She seemed hesitant, but soon spoke as if she had made up her mind.

“If you’re not busy, would you like me to show you around?”

Jooyeonwoo was a surprisingly good guide.

She explained the musical practice process, especially the chorus practice and recording that he would find most interesting. After touring all the floors they used, Jooyeonwoo raised her index finger, indicating there was one more place to see.

“There’s still my favorite place left. I think Mr. Nohaeil will like it too.”

He was curious, given her confidence.

A place he would like.

Jooyeonwoo pressed the button for the lowest floor in the elevator.

After descending to the basement and walking down the hallway, she opened a door at the end, revealing a scene that briefly stunned Nohaeil.

He knew the building was big, but he hadn’t expected a theater in the basement, complete with a stage.

“This place is usually locked, but it’s open every Tuesday.”

Jooyeonwoo gestured.

Nohaeil followed, looking around the theater.

Someone more conscientious might have asked, “Is it okay to be in here?”, but no one present was inclined to ask such a question.

The red seats. And the stage.

Before they knew it, they were on stage, turning to survey the theater.

It was similar in size to the Yeonguk University Concert Hall where he had performed, or perhaps slightly larger.

“I thought you’d like it.”

Yes, he liked it very much.

The boy quietly gazed at the audience seats.

Jooyeonwoo had been planning to ask for Moon Seoyun’s contact information, but suddenly had a playful idea.

She remembered his words:

-Ah, you can’t compose.

-It’s not that I can’t, I’ve never done it before.

And she retaliated:

-Mr. Nohaeil, are you thinking of becoming a musical actor?

-No.

-Why? I think you’d be good at it.

-I don’t act.

-It’s not that you can’t?

Jooyeonwoo looked back at the boy on the stage, a playful smile on her face.

Acting.

What would his acting be like?

He said he wouldn’t do it, but was that really true?

She hoped he would be terrible.

“Mr. Nohaeil, can you help me?”

“With what?”

“Practice partner.”

“!”

“You’ll do it, right? I’ll grant you one wish in return. I was stubborn too.”

“Unnecessary…”

“Can’t you act?”

Only then did Nohaeil realize that she was holding his words against him.

“I would have said I’m not doing it.”

“I don’t remember.”

Hearing that, he had no response.

Then, as Jooyeonwoo was about to play a song, Nohaeil remembered something he had forgotten: he didn’t know anything except the songs he had made.

At those words, Jooyeonwoo stared at him suspiciously.

“Then are other songs okay?”

Jooyeonwoo sang each song one by one.

Most of them were unfamiliar. Perhaps the music she listened to was more focused on classical popular music than musical numbers.

Jooyeonwoo looked at him suspiciously as the number of songs he didn’t know increased. However, she finally arrived at a musical that everyone would know.

“You know this, right?”

Instead of announcing the title, Jooyeonwoo immediately played the song.

A low and eerie prelude.

Intense organ, drums, bass, synthesizer, electric guitar.

It was a hard rock song he knew.

Nohaeil muttered briefly.

“This shouldn’t be a song to practice.”

Ignoring his words, Jooyeonwoo turned around. Stepping onto the stage, she transformed into Christine in her white dress.

“In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came.”

He calls me. My name.

Is this a dream or a fantasy?

‘Won’t you do it even now?’

She looked at the boy, provoking him.

Finally, Nohaeil smiled and stepped onto the stage. The boy in jeans and a cardigan reached out his hand. He hadn’t changed.

“Sing once again with me, our strange duet.”

A white face revealed without a mask.

There was no trace of the Phantom’s characteristics in the boy with platinum blonde hair.

Jooyeonwoo continued to sing and thought,

‘He’s really not acting.’

It wasn’t a matter of not being able to, he simply wasn’t doing it.

He seemed to have no intention of acting.

There was no attempt to portray the Phantom’s past and present, his inner self.

He didn’t possess the Phantom’s unique gloominess, obsession, and fear.

However, another Phantom was strangely visible.

A Phantom full of confidence, not one who hid his ugly appearance and revealed his gloomy desires. A Phantom who knew his talent better than anyone else and confidently revealed his charm to others was there.

Instead of leading her to the dark basement with a clear voice, he led her to the brightest place.

As if this was the most beautiful world he saw.

Truly, like the god of music.

Jooyeonwoo suddenly thought of the curtain on this stage.

Christine, who abandoned the Phantom and her Prima Donna position to follow her first love, Raoul.

‘…How could she do that?’

The immersion broke at that moment.

Because she could no longer empathize with Christine.

‘If I were Christine, I wouldn’t have run away with Raoul. I would have stayed with this person forever.’

How blind must a woman be to make that choice?

The music had ended long ago.

However, the girl was still staring blankly at his Phantom.

Nohaeil glanced at his cell phone, then back at the girl who couldn’t leave the stage.

He soon smiled faintly and lightly tapped her forehead.

“Wake up.”

Ah.

He hadn’t hit her hard, but the girl held her forehead, feigning pain, and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t hit you hard.”

The moment the boy whispered with a smirk, the girl’s face turned red.

She felt like she had lost something and needed to say something.

She was about to say, “Why are you talking informally?” or “That hurt!” when applause erupted.

The two actors on stage were surprised and looked back at the audience.

Standing there was…

“Gasp! Senior!”

“Bravo.”

Park Hyuk, who had entered unnoticed, was sitting in the audience and applauding.

Jooyeonwoo was happy and embarrassed by the praise from the senior actor who was smiling warmly.

Her immersion had broken at the end, preventing her from showing a satisfactory performance to his discerning eyes. Park Hyuk had even played the lead role in The Phantom of the Opera.

Nevertheless, Park Hyuk smiled softly and came down to the stage.

“I enjoyed the ensemble.”

Jooyeonwoo became serious, expecting feedback, and Nohaeil nodded.

Park Hyuk spoke first.

“Ms. Jooyeonwoo, I thought you were good from the first time I saw you, and you’re getting better and better. You were truly like Christine this time.”

“!”

“The only thing I was disappointed about… well, you know without me saying it, right?”

“Yes, I will show you a better stage next time, senior.”

Jooyeonwoo answered shyly.

Then, Park Hyuk looked at the boy who had played the Phantom(?).

“Mr. Nohaeil, are you thinking of becoming a musical actor?”

“No.”

At the firm answer, Park Hyuk smiled brightly and nodded.

“Haha, that’s a relief. If you had said you wanted to be a musical actor, I would have had something to say.”

He couldn’t have missed it.

The boy never acted as the Phantom, and had no intention of doing so. It was clearly not the right attitude for a musical actor.

However, as for the music itself, there was no feedback to give. It was perfect.

Park Hyuk honestly admitted it.

The Phantom the boy portrayed was undeniably attractive. If the Phantom had been born with that talent in the 21st century, he would have presented the same image as the boy.

A Phantom who inherently possessed an attractive appearance and was loved by everyone. It was natural that Jooyeonwoo’s immersion had broken. What Prima Donna, what woman could abandon that Phantom and go to another man?

But that wasn’t the important point.

To reiterate, the boy’s acting was disqualified.

However, after seeing the boy’s live performance of hard rock, Park Hyuk thought that he shouldn’t simply use the boy as an advisor. What should he ask the composer of the number he would sing and this singer?-

“Would you like to take a look at my song?”

It was like this.

Park Hyuk made the offer half out of impulse and half out of sincerity.