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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Parents' Surprise Visit
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"Do-hyun!"
The ones who appeared at the Cheongyeom Arts High little theater were none other than Do-hyun's parents.
"Mom!"
I nearly had a heart attack.
I stopped practice right away and rushed down from the stage to my parents.
"I was going to come pick you up."
"Oh, come on. What could a guy without a car do to pick us up?"
"Still. At least to the front gate."
It wasn't just me who'd regressed as a freshman—my parents must find Cheongyeom Arts High unfamiliar too.
I'd been worried whether my parents, who'd never come all the way to the little theater before, could find their way without getting lost.
"It's fine, it's fine. We didn't want to bother you during practice, sweetie."
"Still, I'm glad you found it okay. No one was at the front?"
Even on weekends, there's usually a security guard, so I asked out of concern, and Father puffed out his chest proudly.
"I pretended we had an appointment right out front. Slipped in the moment the manager left."
I'd told them no one could see us practicing here, and that I'd come pick them up.
Looks like they figured it out and acted their way in just fine.
Mother chimed in from the side, saying Father had put on such a shameless act that her face had burned with embarrassment and she nearly died.
Maybe my acting talent came from my parents after all.
I let out a light chuckle at the random thought.
"You must've had it rough. My mentor teacher let me use it specially, so I was worried someone might see."
"Specially? Ha ha. Our son takes after his dad—getting special treatment wherever he goes."
At my words about special use, my parents—especially Father—were grinning ear to ear.
"Sorry I haven't been home much."
Except for the first weekend after enrollment, I hadn't gone home on weekends while prepping for the vocal test.
When I said I couldn't come home this weekend either because of the next test, my parents came to school themselves.
"Oh, honey. You're busy, that's just how it is. Why make you rush around when we can come to you? Don't worry about that stuff—focus on what you want to do."
Back then, why hadn't I heard these warm words from Dad?
Now at seventeen again, every word he said pierced straight to my heart.
With support that couldn't compare to other kids', he must always ache thinking his son might not spread his wings.
At least I had some bragging rights this time.
The day I took first in the vocal test, I called Mother right away.
As expected, she was thrilled.
That night, Father sent a heart emoji after hearing the news when he got home from work.
Seeing them so happy, I wondered how much more they'd rejoice at scholarship news.
One more reason to work hard.
"Anyway, I thought a little theater meant small, but this is pretty nice."
"Yeah. You could really get into acting in a place like this, son."
Curious, Mother and Father looked around every corner of the little theater.
Since they seemed more interested in the theater than I expected, I decided to explain.
"This is where we took the vocal exam not long ago. First-years mostly test and practice here."
"Oh, really?"
As I explained, Father suddenly looked at me with curiosity-filled eyes while eyeing the little theater.
That glint in his eye wasn't casual.
"Son."
And now Mother joined in.
I'd seen that look before.
Even after sixteen years, the memory was vivid.
***
"You really have to see this?"
Scratching my head awkwardly, I looked at my parents sitting front row in the audience from up on stage.
They were sparkling with excitement, begging for just one act on the little theater stage—I couldn't say no.
Acting in front of my parents felt just as embarrassing now as it ever did.
"Of course we do. Who knows if we'll die today or tomorrow."
"Dad! Don't say stuff like that."
"Whoa, why're you yelling all of a sudden?"
Even as a joke, hearing Dad say that made me react strongly without thinking.
But damn, he was right.
They'd paid my tuition, raised me—how many of my plays could I show them going forward?
In this life, I wanted to show them everything I hadn't last time.
"Got it. I'll do it, so no more talk like that, even as a joke."
"Alright, alright."
"Then sit tight for a sec. I'll come out from behind the stage."
At my words about making an entrance, they nodded eagerly and settled politely into their seats.
I took slow, deep breaths backstage.
All I could think was I had to do it better.
Even though my parents probably wouldn't know good from bad.
Gotta give it my all.
Second life, for my first audience in the little theater.
"Life is but a bluebird that lingers briefly, taking the stage in its time, strutting and squawking noisily..."
With my parents in the seats, it felt embarrassing and awkward at first.
But soon I dove into the performance.
Experience counts—my shyness faded fast.
Once my prepared scene ended, they gave thunderous applause.
"Whoa. Our son. Epic."
"Is this really our boy? Has he always been this good...?"
I threw myself into it so hard even they tilted their heads in surprise.
Now that it was over, I wondered if I'd gone too intense.
Suddenly, it felt a bit embarrassing.
"How was it?"
As I came down from the stage, my parents stood and approached with huge grins.
"Man, that was awesome? Thumbs up, son, thumbs up."
"My boy... Mom's so moved!"
My daze didn't last.
Just in case their son felt down, they were giving max reactions.
Knowing their effort, I grinned back.
"Who else's son am I?"
***
After wrapping practice, we left the little theater together and had a rare meal out at a restaurant near school.
Instead of heading straight home, at my suggestion, the three of us went somewhere else.
Father and I faced off, sizing each other up with serious expressions.
"You really have to do this?"
"Why? Scared of me or something?"
"Hoo... I'll give you a chance to rethink. Plenty of other wishes. Want a new phone? I'll get it."
Father shook his head like it was ridiculous, offering magnanimously.
"Nope. This is it."
"No regrets?"
"You won't regret it, Dad."
Father pondered seriously at my words.
"Fine, what's losing to my seventeen-year-old son? Call! But I'm not going easy."
Call!
Nice!
"So if I win, you quit smoking?"
"As if I'd lose to you! But if you lose, no more nagging about smokes, got it?"
"Of course."
You're on, Dad.
"Oho. Three balls?"
Father smirked approvingly as I grabbed three balls from the counter.
My proposed game: billiards.
Father had no idea.
The son before him was actually thirty-three.
Back in my theater days, I'd learned from seniors, got chewed out plenty.
And eventually got damn good—made a living off betting games for meal money.
Billiards learned through beatings is the real deal.
Body's seventeen, but skills match over a decade of play.
When he asked why a high schooler played billiards, I said rich kids here do it to bond, so I joined a few times.
No way he knew what chaebol kids did for fun, so he bought it.
"Let's keep it simple—200 points."
And so the 200-point billiards match began.
It ended before twenty minutes were up.
"Want me to spot you a point?"
Seeing my relaxed stance, Father trembled and pointed accusingly.
"You punk. You... you! Skipped musicals to master billiards?"
"If so, would I have gotten into Cheongyeom Arts High? I took first place there fair and square, Dad."
At my last line, Father shut his mouth, speechless.
Sorry. Today, I'm beating you, Dad.
"This skill's all from loving you, Dad."
Casually lifting the cue for the final shot. Crack.
200 points. Victory mine.
"What're you doing?"
Mother, watching, laughed in surprise at my skill, then eyed Father.
My part's done.
Your turn, Mom.
"Wh-what?"
"Hand it over."
"Hand what?"
Tsk. Like she'd seen through a cheat, Mother stuck out her hand.
"Smokes. In your pocket."
"Starting today?!"
Father panicked, clutching his pocket.
"You kidding? Obviously."
"Dad. Just give up."
Mother and I stared him down.
Under our mother-son assault, Father's trembling hand dipped into his pocket.
"Urk..."
Shaking, Father placed his cigarettes on the table.
"There."
"Palms."
"Huh?"
"One's stuck to your palm."
Mother flipped his hand—sure enough, one cigarette clung like magic.
Confiscated.
"Didn't you learn getting caught cheating loses the hand?"
With Mother's menacing grin, the billiards bet ended successfully.
***
Three weeks flew by in a blur.
Acting evaluation day arrived, and as usual, the test was in the little theater.
Students sat in the audience seats with tense faces, just like last time.
Do-hyun, who'd practiced here for weeks, now felt at home in the space.
Thinking about it, this was real special treatment.
I'd test here like it was meals—probably more familiar than anyone.
No way they planned that far.
I glanced at Huh Ji-woong in the back row, then scanned around.
Some were syncing breaths with partners beside them.
Moon Woo-hyuk sat next to Song Ha-na, not me.
For reference, Song Ha-na was with her team—easy to say, he was the tagalong.
"You're not sitting by Lee Do-hyun?"
"Why would I?"
"Why? Everyone's with their partner. You're not with me, are you?"
"..."
Moon Woo-hyuk summoned every ounce of talent to pretend he didn't hear Song Ha-na's sharp words or see her fierce glare.
Watching him, I thought he sure was consistent.
Lee Cheong-ha sat in front of me and turned back to ask.
"Do-hyun, you're not sitting with Woo-hyuk?"
Lee Cheong-ha, nice.
I raised my voice deliberately, playing it straight.
"He's embarrassed. Too shy to sit with me."
"Pfft. As if."
Lee Cheong-ha burst into bright laughter at my joke.
Not entirely a joke.
Glancing at Moon Woo-hyuk, he was fuming alone again.
Stubborn as ever.
Then Han Hyo-jin appeared from backstage.
"Quiet, everyone. Quiet down."
The chattering or practicing kids went silent in an instant.
With her signature smile, Han Hyo-jin swept her gaze from left to right over the tense kids and said.
"The root of all theater is acting, right? Let's start your root test now."
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