Ten years ago, Joo Seoyeon was the brilliant child actor who caused a major sensation.

‘She definitely has acting talent. But being on stage is a different matter altogether.’

Jo Do-yul, the director, picked up his pen as he watched Seoyeon step forward. In front of him lay a notebook for evaluations.

During the first audition, the recorded video of her free acting clearly demonstrated that she was indeed an actor. She understood how to perform for the camera, tailoring her acting to fit the medium.

In the video, her portrayal of Hong Jeong-hee included her unique interpretation of the character. It was neither excessive nor lacking, perfectly fitting the character.

That’s why she passed the first audition despite several concerns about her.

‘How about the script?’
‘She seems to have memorized it all.’
‘Hmm.’

Seoyeon’s script lay on the chair. Memorizing the lines is beneficial, but not mandatory.

Many actors still perform holding the script during auditions. While it leaves a good impression, it doesn’t necessarily earn extra points.

Acting without the script carries the risk of making mistakes.

‘Alright, let’s see what she’ll show us.’

The script included Hong Jeong-hee’s scene, where her intense and sinister nature is fully displayed in Act 3, Scene 6. It begins with Hong Jeong-hee secretly observing Bae Seong-hak and Song Min-seo during a romantic moment.

It marks the conclusion of Act 3 and serves as a forewarning of the crisis in Act 4.

This was a crucial scene; failing to convey Hong Jeong-hee’s essence would render her character ineffective in the following act.

‘Will she pull it off?’
‘But she hasn’t acted for ten years.’
‘Acting for a drama and acting for a play are different, aren’t they?’

Moreover, Seoyeon not only took a decade-long hiatus, but her only notable acting experience was in The Sun That Hides the Moon. She lacked experience in various ways.

However...

‘She has an aura.’

There was an aura that captivated the audience—a natural-born talent.

While everyone was contemplating this, Seoyeon began her performance.

“Heh.”

With a lowered smile and a single utterance, Jo Do-yul felt chills. Not because she was acting well.

No, it was because her voice was so incredibly clear.

‘What’s this?’

Wasn’t this her first time performing in a play?

In front of them, the brilliant child actor Joo Seoyeon was gone.

Her back hunched, her long hair falling forward, giving off a sinister aura. The beauty that once adorned her face had vanished.

“Why, why does he smile at a woman like that? He’s never shown that side to me.”

What is the difference between acting in a drama and performing in a play? It lies in the method of expression.

In dramas, emotional and detailed acting is crucial. The camera zooms in on the actor’s face, capturing their emotions.

This is what is commonly known as natural acting. The portrayal of daily life with added emotions defines acting in dramas.

But what about theater?

“It can’t be, heh, it can’t be true. He must be deceived, right? That bitch is definitely seducing that naïve oppa. Yeah!”

Seoyeon exaggeratedly clutched her chest, stumbling with zigzag steps. She moved like a woman who couldn’t steady herself in a dark alley.

She continued her actions while delivering her lines.

Stage acting is expressed through the body.

Exaggerated gestures are both similar and different. Unlike films or dramas, the actor's emotions are conveyed through their physicality on stage, rather than through their facial expressions.

With her hands and arms, her legs, and her heaving movements, she delivered Hong Jeong-hee’s lines. Her voice trembled, yet her enunciation was impeccable.

This was proof she had received proper training. Even her voice differed from when they first heard her.

It was the voice of a cracked, sinister woman.

‘What in the world...’

The actors who had entered the room with Seoyeon rubbed their arms as they watched her performance.

Those exaggerated actions did not feel awkward at all. Anyone witnessing this would agree that the person in front of them was unmistakably “Hong Jeong-hee.”

“Should I sneak in too? Heh, if I dress in a school uniform like this, oppa won’t have the heart to push me away.”

This line was not in the script, yet it blended seamlessly into her dialogue.

Seoyeon was wearing a school uniform, whereas Hong Jeong-hee was a university student in her twenties. Naturally, the costume was a miss, but she incorporated it smoothly.

The mere fact that a woman in her twenties pretended to be a teenager to approach an idol was enough to capture Hong Jeong-hee’s sinister nature.

‘Was it intentional?’

Or perhaps an improvisation.

This was her first play.

Her blocking—or the movement around the stage during a performance—was lacking, as expected. Without any actual stage experience, her blocking was naturally insufficient. However, she was aware of this shortcoming.

In her mind, she mapped out the scene: Hong Jeong-hee hidden in an alley, observing and staggering along the path.

While her blocking might have been awkward, it added a sense of authenticity to her performance, as though she portrayed Hong Jeong-hee’s unstable psyche.

And her gaze?

While the audience may read the actor’s emotions through their physicality, they still want to see their face. As if aware of this, Seoyeon’s gaze occasionally turned toward some of the judges.

“Just, wait a little longer, oppa. I, I will surely...”

She huddled her body, turning around with small steps as if she were exiting the stage.

And with that, Seoyeon’s performance as Hong Jeong-hee concluded.

“…….”

An uncanny silence enveloped the room.

Jo Do-yul found himself reevaluating his assumptions. Had he underestimated her due to her lack of experience in drama? Sure, she lacked experience, but she possessed skills and talent that outshone that.

Even a fool could recognize her genius in acting.

Her blocking was flawed, her eye movements somewhat shaky.

But such things could be taught easily.

“Seoyeon, how old are you now?”
“Seventeen.”
“A high school freshman?”
“Yes.”

Her answer was calm. It bore no resemblance to the Hong Jeong-hee from earlier.

The faded brilliance had returned.

“Hmm.”

Jo Do-yul looked at the pen in his hand and the paper he was using for scoring. Unconsciously, he had scribbled something.

‘For now...’
‘It seems like this is settled, right?’

That was the look exchanged among the judges. She suited Hong Jeong-hee more than any other actor they had seen today. The expression on the faces of the actors who were waiting for their turn confirmed it.

An actor pressed under the weight of another’s performance couldn’t deliver a good performance.

Tap, tap.

Jo Do-yul tapped his pen on the desk before nodding.

“That was an excellent performance. Usually, I’d have more questions to ask, but...”

She had already answered everything they wanted to know through her acting. Her thoughts on the character Hong Jeong-hee. And the reason she wore a school uniform.

“Your acting is far beyond what one would expect from a seventeen-year-old. Have you been practicing during your break?”
“I continued attending acting school.”
“Acting school? Oh, do you mind sharing where...”

As other judges questioned her, Seoyeon answered calmly. It was as if she was a child devoid of emotions.

That thought crossed their minds, but it was impossible given the acting she had just displayed. Moreover, the child actor Joo Seoyeon was known for her strength in “emotional acting.”

“Now then...”

With all questions concluded, Seoyeon returned to her seat. While the actors named next turned pale.

‘…It’s a shame.’

Seoyeon rubbed her face with her palm. She believed she had acted well.

The judges’ reactions had been favorable.

Should she have expressed more emotion?

Despite having practiced repeatedly and receiving feedback from instructors and fellow actors, she still felt uncertain about her first stage performance. It was a phenomenon that arose from never having performed live before an audience.

Not to mention, she had never watched a play in her past life.

‘I tried to mask the movements as best as I could.’

While her performance had left everyone in awe, Seoyeon recalled several mistakes she had made.

She also wished she could have imbued more emotion. However, had she attempted a deeper emotional performance or a method acting approach, the mistakes would have been more numerous.

By simply mimicking emotions and wearing a mask, her performance sufficed.

Despite understanding this, she found herself longing for more.

‘I wonder how it’ll turn out.’

Seoyeon felt a flutter of nervousness. Among the impressed reactions to her performance, one person silently remained in place.

Pyo Ji-woo.

Throughout it all, she had been staring at Bae Seong-hak.

She never once directed her gaze toward Seoyeon, despite the captivating performance.

And then, Pyo Ji-woo’s gaze briefly turned to Seoyeon.

‘…She’s smiling?’

A crooked, sinister smile filled with strange emotions. Pyo Ji-woo laughed while looking at Seoyeon.

There was a fierce determination in her eyes that said she would never let go of this role.

“Finally, Pyo Ji-woo.”

“Yes.”

But that darkened atmosphere lingered as Jo Do-yul called her name, and she rose from her seat. Staggering, her gait already reminiscent of “Hong Jeong-hee.”

“I will begin my performance.”

After a few questions, Pyo Ji-woo commenced her performance.

Her answers during the questioning were typical, with nothing unusual about them.

Even if there was something odd, no one in the room, not even Min Seo-ho, the person involved, noticed her peculiarity.

Except for one person.

Seoyeon was aware of Pyo Ji-woo.

She knew her not from the theater or films but from the news.

“Heh, …liar.”

She hunched her body, her wavy hair cascading down like wet seaweed.

Her eyes shone with an unsettling gleam beneath the strands.

“!!!”

Instantly, Min Seo-ho, playing Bae Seong-hak, felt a chill run down his spine. Her eyes were clearly fixed on him.

Was it because he was playing Bae Seong-hak?

‘Method acting!’

Jo Do-yul tensed up.

Pyo Ji-woo’s atmosphere shifted in an instant.

A chill ran through him. A thick darkness spread out.

Hong Jeong-hee’s character is a common type seen in reality.

Because of that, she was even more repulsive and sinister.

There was terror that stemmed from this.

While Seoyeon’s portrayal emphasized Hong Jeong-hee’s sinister nature, Pyo Ji-woo focused on the discomfort.

It was the unsettling feeling of facing the real Hong Jeong-hee.

The kind of fear that made you want to recoil and escape.

“I must, must find a way. A way to get rid of that wretched woman.”

Seoyeon clenched her fist as she watched Pyo Ji-woo’s performance.

Yes, this is it.

It genuinely felt as if Hong Jeong-hee was right before her eyes.

Method acting?

That could be one way to describe it.

‘This performance is what will lead her to the film industry.’

The madness that garnered universal acclaim.

It was real.

Pyo Ji-woo was Min Seo-ho’s stalker—the actor playing Bae Seong-hak.

She was never caught and shadowed him until the very end.

‘And at the same time, her acting skill is… genuine.’

Her gaze control and stage movements were impeccable.

In particular, her blocking was more skilled than Seoyeon’s.

That’s because this wasn’t Pyo Ji-woo’s first play.

Driven by the sole desire to perform alongside Min Seo-ho, she had already appeared in several productions.

Of course, her previous performances were lackluster.

After all, she wasn’t sincerely dedicated.

But this time was different.

Hong Jeong-hee represented Pyo Ji-woo’s earnest desire.

If everything prior had been practice, this was her ultimate goal.

“…I’m finished.”

When Pyo Ji-woo concluded her performance, the room froze for a different reason.

An unexpected dark horse had emerged.

Pyo Ji-woo had delivered a performance bordering on madness.

“Heh.”

Inwardly, Pyo Ji-woo wore a satisfied smile.

The judges’ faces were lined with contemplation.

‘I’m more suited for the role. Isn’t that right? I am Hong Jeong-hee.’

She knew this herself.

This was a role granted to her by fate.

A destiny bestowed by the heavens to unite her with Min Seo-ho.

So not even a so-called child prodigy could stop her.

With that sentiment, she turned her gaze toward the brilliant child prodigy.

“…!”

Joo Seoyeon.

Upon seeing the girl whose beauty dazzled the eyes, Pyo Ji-woo froze.

With an expressionless face, Seoyeon stared back at her.

Beyond the lights, in the shadowed corners.

From there, faintly glowing red eyes watched her.

In that stillness, a fierce determination emerged—a resolve not to lose.

That relentless emotion rooted Pyo Ji-woo to the spot.

“Hmm, well.”

Behind her, Jo Do-yul’s voice sounded as Pyo Ji-woo turned to leave.

“I think we should see one more scene from both of you.”

A quiet conversation among the judges.

Although spoken softly, Pyo Ji-woo, who stood close to the judges, heard it.

And after hearing it, she looked back at Joo Seoyeon.

Seoyeon’s impassive expression twisted into a smirk.

A sneer.

A mocking smile directed at her victorious grin.

She returned the smile she had shown Seoyeon earlier.

At that smile, Pyo Ji-woo bit her lower lip.

A mere child.

A cunning girl trying to snatch away the role fate had destined for her.

She had thought victory was certain, yet why!

‘Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.’

Pyo Ji-woo and Seoyeon’s gazes collided in the air.

Naturally, neither intended to relinquish the role.