That morning, Yin Ze was up unusually early. His nerves felt like a laid-back gaming streamer who suddenly got gagged, stuffed into a plane, and parachuted straight into the finals—facing a world-class sniper in a shootout, live in front of the whole world.
Everyone he'd met so far had praised his talent… but today, the seams were starting to split.
He made himself a bowl of high-end, premium beef-flavored instant noodles—pricey stuff—cracked open a beer, and decided to have a last supper before judgment day.
Of course, he wasn't going to just roll over and die. Struggle was inevitable.
The audition was for a minor role in a typical fantasy action anime. A knight escorting a princess who dies in episode one.
The character's whole life could be summed up in a few lines: a commoner who became a knight, ambushed by dark forces, holds off the enemy until the protagonist arrives, and dies after uttering a final line.
Hence, the audition script was short:
"I was born a commoner, so I have no say in royal affairs. But no matter how thorny this path, Princess Panis, I will protect you with my life."
"Don't panic! Form a defensive line around the carriage!"
"You're the ringleader, aren't you? With swordsmanship like that, why hide behind a mask doing shady things like this? Who ordered you to defy royal authority?"
"Ah... Your Highness, please don't cry for me. I gave my life to you the moment I swore my oath as a knight. Brave stranger, I beg of you—please escort the princess to Snowpeak Castle."
Honestly, Yin Ze could already picture the character just from reading the lines.
A humble boy who clawed his way to knighthood, secretly in love with the beautiful princess, bound by social class and unable to speak his heart. He dies protecting her, passing her into the protagonist's hands.
The ultimate tool character. This was the soul he was about to breathe life into.
A perfect match, he thought wryly.
Chopsticks in one hand and script in the other, he slurped noodles while rehearsing, trying to channel the knight's sorrow.
Once finished, he changed into his checkered "programmer uniform" and headed out. It was Saturday, so the subway wasn't too crowded. He followed the map to the studio.
Kashiwai Ippei spotted him from afar and waved him over warmly, grabbing his hand like a mother rushing her flu-ridden child to a shot.
"You're looking good, Takizawa-kun. Ready to ace it, huh?" he smiled.
"I'll try…"
"Don't stress. It's not as scary as it seems. Just treat it like another job interview."
"I'll… try to be normal."
"Only nine people are auditioning for this role. It's a small part, so competition isn't fierce. Don't hold it against me for starting you with a side character," Kashiwai joked.
"Not at all, not at all…"
"It's a named role, at least. They won't label you 'Knight A' or 'Guard B' in the credits. And rumor has it, he'll even appear in a flashback later."
The elevator arrived at the right floor. Despite the crowd in the hallway and near the vending machines, the place was hushed. No one was making much noise.
Kashiwai led him to a small waiting room, cheerfully greeting people along the way. He clearly had connections.
Handing over a bottle of water, he said, "The main cast has already been selected. Today is all about the supporting roles. No big-name veterans in the room—just relax."
"Looks like quite a few showed up," Yin Ze commented.
"This show's got a healthy budget, and the original manga sold well. It's a solid project."
"Any tips for the audition?" Yin Ze asked cautiously.
"Just like your training—except watch for the director's cues and adjust accordingly."
"…Will it be solo?" Yin Ze asked, dreading the answer.
"Should be. Not too many people today, and the side roles don't have many lines. They'll probably call you in one at a time."
Yin Ze's face turned pale.
"If you nail it, dinner's on me," he said. "If not, you treat me as consolation. Deal?"
"Deal," Kashiwai grinned.
The chance of freeloading brought a small flicker of warmth to Yin Ze's cold heart.
They chatted for a bit longer until someone knocked on the door.
...
Inside, the studio was dead silent. Every pane of glass was soundproof. The doors and windows were sealed with rubber bands to eliminate gaps. The floor was elevated, with a wood frame beneath carpeted boards. The multilayered walls were coated with sound-absorbing panels. Even the AC unit was a whisper-quiet custom model.
Only one sound was allowed here: the voice of a character coming to life.
Yin Ze shuffled in wearing slippers, more cautious than when he used to sneak into the neighbor's yard to steal their broken-legged Transformers toy.
A high-end microphone stood at the center, facing a glass panel. On the other side sat the sound director and his assistant—gray-haired and statuesque like temple guardians.
The mic even had a silk mesh pop filter a few centimeters in front of it.
He stepped into position and peeked at the director. The man's expression was kindly enough.
After a moment of silence, Yin Ze realized he should speak first.
"Good morning. I'm Takizawa Satoru from I'm Enterprise. I'm here to audition for the role of the princess's knight, Elredo Charles Trivesgesen."
Why did people in Japanese workplaces always greet each other with "Good morning," no matter the actual time?
"Let's start with Line D. Interpret it freely," the director's voice came through the speaker.
Line D was the final words line. He held the script but didn't need it. Clearing his throat, Yin Ze took a moment to visualize the scene, then spoke with utmost care.
"Ah… Your Highness, please don't cry for me. I gave you my life the moment I became a knight. Brave stranger, I beg of you—protect her. Take her to Snowpeak Castle."
He wasn't a professional voice actor. He'd never emceed a wedding. The last time he recited anything this seriously was reading Kong Yiji aloud in his favorite Chinese class.
But Yin Ze was a total amateur.
—Takizawa wasn't.
The moment he opened his mouth, everything clicked. His articulation, timing, breath control—it all flowed naturally. His posture leaned instinctively into the mic for the perfect distance.
Discipline is the foundation of skill—refining instinct.
A seasoned arcade gamer can dodge bullets with eyes closed. A good voice actor trains away their accent and regional habits.
This body had been trained. Rigorously.
Even if the soul inside had changed, the instincts remained.
The line wasn't long. By the time Yin Ze snapped out of it, he'd finished.
But had it been good enough? He wasn't sure. That moment of trance had made him lose track of how well he performed.
"Now, let's hear Line A," came the calm voice of the director—steady as stone.
This time, Yin Ze threw himself into it with every ounce of effort, riding the battle-worn instincts of this new body.
"Royal affairs are beyond me… I was born a commoner. But no matter how thorny this path, Princess Panis, I swear to protect you."
There was a pause.
"Could you give it a different tone?" the director said evenly. "Same line. Start when ready."
No detailed feedback. Just "adjust it." Like a vague client saying, "It's… off," and when pressed, can only say, "It feels weird."
Yin Ze didn't think the director couldn't guide him—it was clearly a test.
He thought a moment, then tried again.
The director gave him a glance from behind the glass. "Thanks. That's all. Please wait—we'll contact you once everyone's finished."
Yin Ze bowed and left.
"Don't rely too much on clever tricks," the director added. "There's no soul in that."
Yin Ze paused, nodded, and exited.
Standing in the hallway, he finally realized just how fast his heart was racing.
This body—tempered through years of grinding effort—was trembling.
And the soul now living inside it… was even more afraid.