Aura of a Genius Actor

Professor Lee Jae Pil wrote the topic in large letters on the blackboard.

He turned and began explaining it for those who did not understand.

“A woman acting as a man? Fine. A human acting as an inanimate object? Fine. An artificial intelligence robot? Fine. Acting as a white or black person? Fine.”

An outcry erupted across the classroom.

Lee Jae Pil had taken an already difficult Method Acting assignment and raised it to another level.

“In other words, it must be ‘something unfamiliar to you’—something that cannot be fully expressed through understanding alone. And that ‘crossover’ must be connected to the theme of your play. For example, if you are acting as a black person, the story cannot simply feature a black protagonist without addressing racial conflict.”

Haaah—

Sighs filled the room.

“Each team will consist of six members, with at least three actors. You may bring an existing script or write your own. The protagonist must fit the theme.

Staff roles will be assigned within the team. There should be a director. You may use sound and props, but lighting is not required. For the performance, we will reserve a slightly larger lecture hall.”

“How do we form teams?”

“If someone proposes a play, those interested may join. Does anyone have a proposal?”

Jae Pil scanned the room.

He did not expect an immediate response.

In previous years, proposals usually appeared around the second class—led by proactive students—and teams formed based on personal connections.

But then—

“Professor, I have a question. Would it count as ‘being born different’ if a heterosexual person plays a homosexual?”

A male student seated in the corner—clearly a returning student—asked the question.

Whether he had genuine intent or simply wanted attention—

Jae Pil assumed the latter and replied evenly.

“Opinions differ on whether sexual preference is innate or acquired, but many consider it an ‘innate preference that cannot be chosen.’ If your play addresses sexual identity, I will accept it.”

The student spoke again.

“In that case, I’d like to create a play about Freddie Mercury, the lead vocalist of Queen.”

Buzz—buzz—

The room stirred.

“Freddie Mercury? That’s interesting. Do you have a script?”

“I will write an original script. I have a general outline.”

Jae Pil clicked his tongue softly at the confident answer.

Was it substance—or posturing?

There was always one attention-seeker every semester.

“Then come forward and present your idea. Without a script, this is how you recruit your team.”

Contrary to expectations, the student stepped forward without hesitation.

He climbed onto the podium, bowed, and introduced himself.

“Hello. I’m Shin Yoomyeong, a sophomore in Business Administration.”

The room reacted with surprise.

It was not unusual for non-majors to take electives—

but this was a major course.

A demanding one, even for aspiring actors.

And he was a lower-year student from an unrelated department.

“I joined the Central Drama Club , and because I’m seriously interested in acting, I decided to take acting courses. I’ll do my best not to hold the majors back.”

His tone was polite, without being submissive.

The atmosphere eased.

At least he had some experience.

Yoomyeong wrote the name on the board and swallowed.

He was a fan.

Back in middle and high school, he had listened to Queen endlessly during late-night study sessions.

After starting theater, he sought out documentaries, essays, and films about Freddie Mercury—

and dreamed of portraying him one day.

Apparently, he was not the only one.

In 2018, a film about Freddie Mercury’s life had been released and became a major topic.

He remembered watching the lead actor’s performance—

and clenching his fists.

‘I wanted to act like that.’

He set down the marker and turned.

“As is widely known, Freddie Mercury is believed to have been gay. During his early years with the band, he met Mary Austin—his lover and lifelong soulmate.”

He began without hesitation.

“Despite achieving immense fame and wealth through his talent, he suffered from emptiness, depression, and alcohol dependence. He realized how precious Mary Austin was to him, yet acknowledged that he could not love her as a woman.”

Even as a presentation, his voice carried naturally—rising and falling with rhythm.

“After their breakup, he lived through a series of affairs, sex parties, and drug-fueled excess—but his mental state deteriorated further. Then—”

The room grew still.

“Jim Hutton. The man who stayed by Freddie’s side until the end.”

A brief pause.

“But Mary Austin remained his family—and his muse—until his death from AIDS. In fact, much of his estate was left to her.

I want to portray Freddie Mercury as a human being—his sexual identity, his inner conflict, and his path toward reconciliation—in a fifteen-minute one-act play.”

Silence.

Then—

Jae Pil smiled.

‘Interesting.’

“Will you include Queen’s musical elements?”

“I would like to, but it’s not essential to the theme—and difficult to execute.”

“So your main characters are Freddie Mercury, Mary Austin, and Jim Hutton?”

“We’ll confirm through the script, but yes.”

Jae Pil turned to the class.

“Anyone interested in joining Shin Yoomyeong’s group?”

Silence again.

But this time—

it was conflicted.

Pride versus instinct.

Then—

a slender, handsome student raised his hand.

“Professor. I want to join that group.”

Yoomyeong recognized him.

Seo Ryu Shin.

Despite his delicate appearance, he was the lead actor of the well-known theater troupe —famous for his obsession with acting and fierce competitiveness.

His transformations were so complete that he rarely looked like the same person twice.

They called him “Chameleon.”

He had remained in Daehak-ro despite offers from the film industry.

‘I must have heard of him before... but that was before he became famous.’

Whispers spread.

“Ryu Shin?”

“Should we join too?”

“If he’s in, that’s half the work done.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

“I’ll join as well.”

“Me too.”

Within moments—

all six positions were filled.

Other students began proposing ideas of their own, unwilling to fall behind.

Group formation concluded that day.

Jae Pil watched with interest.

‘Let’s see if he can back it up.’