Chapter 122

The sound signaling the start of filming rang out, and simultaneously, actors scattered in all directions.

Around twenty actors nimbly sprinted toward various parts of the set—a sight that was undeniably impressive.

‘Of course, they’re all people who have some degree of confidence in their physical abilities.’

Seoyeon chased after the group, her eyes darting quickly.

Everyone in this competition identified themselves as action actors, so there were no slow ones among them.

‘Ah, one person.’

There was, however, one person running relatively slower.

Seohui Jo.

Though it felt inappropriate to say it, she looked like someone who would be taken down soon.

‘Anyway.’

Seoyeon exhaled softly.

This was a variety show, but not just any variety show—it was strictly an acting audition.

Naturally, it was crucial to establish a character and deliver a proper performance.

‘My character is…’

After their prior meeting concluded, they received a call from *Hyper Action Star* inquiring about her abilities for the script.

It was probably to confirm her definitive ability.

Seoyeon, without hesitation, replied that she had regenerative abilities.

She saw no reason to change it.

The script she received afterward clearly marked her ability as regenerative, along with the abilities of other participants in Group A.

The reason was straightforward.

‘This ability is the script itself.’

Professor Kim Hong-baek had once said, “The most important thing in action acting is synchronization.”

No matter how spectacularly one moves alone, without others matching their movements, it would only ever look like useless choreography or comedy. Empty motions without depth.

“So, for action acting, you have to endlessly practice and memorize your counterpart’s movements with your eyes.”

Punches, kicks, blocks, and falls—all of these movements must naturally flow as one, which demands synchronization.

“But when all this is done live… that’s where the true skill of an action actor is revealed. Everything becomes an impromptu performance.”

Abilities serve as the minimum safety net. If you memorize what kind of powers your counterparts have, you can instantly synchronize with them on the spot.

‘That’s why the script.’

Though lines weren’t written in it, everyone’s abilities were.

Thus, when it came time for these individuals to act in their scenes, they were required to clash dramatically, like swords meeting.

Seoyeon silently recited the script in her mind while observing the abilities of those she could see.

She also analyzed her surroundings.

The neon scoreboard on the wall. The number of cameras set up.

‘There are twenty roving cameramen set up in addition to the static ones.’

A truly impressive number. With so many, one could assume each person had a personal cameraman keeping track of them.

‘Five cameramen are on me.’

As she ran through the ruins of the set, Seoyeon felt several pairs of eyes watching her from the moment the cameras started rolling.

Among these, three seemed to be working as a team, likely forming a tacit alliance before the show officially began.

Seoyeon inwardly approved; three people were better than one.

Their alliance not only strengthened their character dynamics but also ensured three cameras were focused on their actions.

‘Ten seconds.’

On the scoreboard, which listed the names of the twenty participants, everyone was marked with ‘0 points’ beside them.

It appeared the points were being tallied in real-time. Since no sensors were attached to the participants, the scores were most likely being updated manually.

‘Five seconds.’

Seoyeon suddenly stopped running and turned around.

The three actors who had been chasing her froze momentarily, surprised to find her suddenly facing them. However, realizing their numerical advantage, they glared fiercely.

‘Joo Seoyeon.’

She was probably the most well-known actor among the participants in this audition. Though Jo Seohui was also famous, she was considered untouchable since she had never performed action scenes before, making it hard to gauge her skills.

‘If I can’t take her out quickly, it’ll be dangerous.’

Acting is about presence. The presence Cha Sooah had exhibited in *The Chaser* was extraordinary, and her action skills were stellar.

‘Considering what future missions might hold…’

This first, pure scoring mission was clearly the best chance to eliminate Seoyeon.

Getting hit by a paintball meant -1 point.

Incurring fatal injuries resulting in “death” equaled -20 points.

Conversely, hitting an opponent with a paintball earned +1 point.

A direct hit to a critical area added +5 points.

Furthermore, inflicting a fatal blow to an actor with a higher score would split half of that person’s points.

‘Roughly those kinds of rules.’

And since this was acting, once “dead,” one couldn’t move anymore. This was left to the actor’s discretion—it was obvious no one would believe someone moving after taking a fatal wound.

“1 second.”

Someone said it aloud, and the pistols in their hands aimed accordingly.

Three gun muzzles pointed toward Seoyeon.

Lee Ki-tae, watching the scene unfold from afar with a camera in his hand, found himself tensing up.

At the same time, a prior conversation with a manager from GH Group resurfaced in his mind.

“If we proceed with this survival mission, there’s a high probability that Miss Seo Yeon will be eliminated.”

“Is that so? Personally, I think otherwise.”

The manager of GH Group, Kang Tae-jin, crossed his arms and rested them on his knees.

“Did you not watch *The Chaser*?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you also happen to miss the interview?”

“The interview… you’re talking about?”

Probably not, Lee thought. Was there even an interview?

As Lee pondered this, Kang Tae-jin continued.

“There was an interview conducted with the cast after *The Chaser* broke the ten million box-office mark.”

There, actors Kim Dae-heon and Park Hee-jun gave this account about their last fight scene:

“Let’s not even talk about that final melee scene. I thought I was going to die. Park Hee-jun must agree with me, right?”

“Ahhh, you’re telling the truth. I have some experience with special forces and still thought I could handle action scenes, but…”

They mentioned that the scene could have been done in one take.

“One take?”

“Yes. But, I was not satisfied. Miss Seoyeon’s performance, however, was flawless.”

“Isn’t that impossible?”

The journalist was clearly surprised. Action scenes usually require synchronization between actors, and repeating takes until it’s perfect. This consumes a lot of physical energy and is often why stunt doubles are used.

Professional stunt actors specialize in these types of scenes. Although two actors could potentially find some synergy, how was Seoyeon able to match their skills?

The two actors admitted they were so unsatisfied with their own performances that they insisted on reshoots. How good does one need to be before saying something like that?

“So, what do you think they said in response?”

Kang Tae-jin remembered the answer they gave vividly.

“They said, ‘By watching action, I sync my role.’”

“Watching and syncing?”

Meaning, from the moment Seoyeon watches someone else’s actions…

“Seoyeon understands numerous action sequences the moment she witnesses a performance.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Perhaps. If it’s possible, that’s why it works, isn’t it?”

If it’s possible, it works.

As those words echoed in Lee’s mind…

TATATANG!!

Paintballs shot out of the guns.

The camera tracking Seoyeon zoomed in on the exact moment the shots were fired.

The bullets targeted Seoyeon’s chest—any impact there could be fatal due to her regenerative capabilities, but still a dangerous spot nonetheless.

‘Weaknesses outlined in the script: two.’

Each script included each character’s power along with their fatal flaws. Seoyeon, having regenerative abilities, had detailed vulnerabilities listed —her heart and her head.

In a scenario where none of the participants had any fatal flaws, she would’ve been nearly invincible by these rules.

So, the three actors had aimed for her chest, avoiding the face which would automatically disqualify someone.

At the moment their fingers pulled the triggers…

Their eyes locked with Seoyeon’s.

They couldn’t help but see the piercing red glow in her eyes.

In that instant…

Seoyeon dropped to a crouch and twisted her body sharply.

“…!!”

The bullets passed harmlessly by her.

‘This can’t be!!’

Could she have dodged simply by observing their movements?

Her evasive maneuver was so concise it seemed almost inhuman.

“Hurry, shoot!!”

Caught in surprise, her colleagues tried to reload, but Seoyeon charged forward.

“Huh??”

Was she running toward them?

Typically, one would use cover and distance themselves in such overwhelming numbers.

Others might fire to intimidate or hold them at bay.

‘Why?’

But Seoyeon stayed low as she ran straight toward them, her crimson eyes fixed on the three.

‘Settings, what were the settings?’

In this tense situation, recalling the lines or someone’s specific superpowers from the script became impossible.

TANGTANG!!

In panic, another actor continued firing. Seoyeon simply raised her left arm and deflected the bullets.

“!!”

Normally, getting hit by a paintball meant incapacitating that limb—it was acting, after all.

But Seoyeon had regenerative capabilities; while her heart remained vulnerable, any other wound was effectively inconsequential.

‘I should’ve picked regeneration too!’

Body enhancement was the most popular power among actors, followed by telekinesis and pyrokinesis—all powers that were simple to grasp.

But the latter ones required CGI to look convincing, while regeneration could be easily portrayed.

“Acting.”

Suddenly, Seoyeon’s face loomed inches from the startled actor.

Her whisper was barely audible.

“Right?”

No one noticed how she had gotten so close until it was too late to react.

Before the actor could scream, Seoyeon’s right hand, still clutching the paintball gun, was already moving toward the protective vest beneath his clothes.

TANG!!

With a crisp sound, the paintball splattered across his chest. Instantly, -20 points.

“!!”

The other actor tried to fire, but it was difficult with Seoyeon so close to his comrade.

Seoyeon used the body of her fallen ally as a shield and didn’t budge from her position.

She could’ve kept shooting, but the other two actors realized why she wasn’t.

‘Impossible… She can’t hit from long range, can she?’

Given Seoyeon’s physical prowess, she shouldn’t have had difficulty with long-range shooting. However…

‘It’s part of her setting.’

Seoyeon had chosen a character who was notoriously poor at long-range shooting, requiring her to get up close to do any damage.

In a single moment, she clearly explained her character’s constraints.

She had regeneration, excelled in close combat, and exhibited clear strengths and weaknesses.

“…Don’t you want to come closer?”

Seoyeon’s icy voice hung in the air.

Added to that, her emotionless eyes reminiscent of Cha Soo-a, and the slightly twisted smirk on her lips sent shivers down everyone’s spines.

‘When did she start acting?’

The other actors began to feel goosebumps.

‘Is that even normal human movement?’

‘She’s enhanced, right?!’

All three had chosen physical enhancement for its usefulness in action scenes.

But as they watched Seoyeon’s movements, they couldn’t help but question their choice. Their performances seemed amateurish in comparison.

“EEK!!”

One of the actors suddenly ran while signaling to the others.

His aim was to distract Seoyeon while the others took aim.

‘Her left arm hasn’t regenerated yet, right?’

That assumption crossed their minds just before one of them took a step forward.

“…?”

Seoyeon was gone.

Where did she go? As one actor slowly turned his head, he noticed…

TUK.

A gun was pressed against his side.

Right as the startled actors tried to aim back at Seoyeon…

TATATANG!!!

Three shots fired in quick succession.

***

The scoreboard displayed the updated score.

Joo Seoyeon: 13 points.

The sharp sound of the paintball hitting the board drew everyone’s attention.

Among the gathered crowd was Min Do-ha, who had been observing the four-way fight.

“….”

She considered jumping into the fray, but something about this situation felt off.

How was Seoyeon dodging the bullets?

Seoyeon glanced at the three actors who had fallen, their convincing death performances a stark reminder of their lack of prior acting.

A bit sorrowful about the irony, Min Do-ha raised her own gun toward Seoyeon.

‘If I act now while she’s off guard…’

Slowly, quietly…

Seoyeon’s back was to Min Do-ha when the trigger was pulled.

TANG!

With the sound of gunfire, Seoyeon instinctively stepped back.

A paintball splattered off her left shoulder.

“Huh?”

It was aimed straight at the middle of her back.

Could she have dodged just by hearing the sound?

“…”

As that thought crossed Min Do-ha’s mind, Seoyeon’s eyes flickered toward her.

A crimson gaze locked onto Min Do-ha.

At that moment,

Min Do-ha turned and fled immediately.

---