When Seoyeon portrayed Hong Jeonghee, she didn’t avoid performing deeply emotional acting, akin to method acting, because she disliked it.

She lacked information.

In the end, Seoyeon’s usual emotional acting was akin to that of a veteran actor.

That is, she acted based on firsthand experiences or information she had seen.

Conversely, it took her time to understand emotions in situations she hadn’t experienced or unique characters that deviated from the “norm.”

In her previous life, emotions were something Seoyeon learned academically.

Though this disadvantage was eliminated in her current reincarnation, it was still challenging to grasp emotions she had not consciously felt or experienced.

In other words, the character “Hong Jeonghee” was merely a script to Seoyeon.

There were many aspects of Hong Jeonghee’s words and behavior that she found difficult to understand.

Therefore, Seoyeon interpreted the emotions written in the script to the best of her ability and portrayed her version of Hong Jeonghee.

‘Of course, that alone isn’t enough to beat Pyo Jiwoo, who has a complete grasp of the character.’

The answer lay before her.

Thus, she observed Jiwoo’s actions.

In theater, a character’s psychology is expressed through movements.

Those intense actions helped Seoyeon understand Hong Jeonghee as a character.

‘Alright, let’s do this.’

With a single breath,

She opened her eyes, looking at the judges.

“Song Minseo.”

Hong Jeonghee called out to Song Minseo.

Upon reflection, this was a peculiar action.

Song Minseo had a hearing impairment and could not hear Hong Jeonghee’s words.

However, Hong Jeonghee spoke to Song Minseo without any sign language.

One might argue that this was done in theater to convey Hong Jeonghee’s words to the audience.

However, other characters in the play used simple sign language when conversing with Song Minseo.

In other words, Hong Jeonghee’s actions and words were essentially monologues.

They didn’t matter if Song Minseo could hear them.

“You’re just a deaf person.”

It wasn’t a sarcastic comment.

Surprisingly, the emotion in this line was inferiority.

Such was Hong Jeonghee.

Watching Seoyeon’s performance, Jo Do-yul pondered.

‘The performance is different from before. Yet, it’s not completely different.’

Initially, it seemed like she was mimicking Jiwoo.

But it wasn’t merely that feeling.

It was as if she understood the character by watching Jiwoo, and the depth of emotion in her performance had increased significantly.

Jo Do-yul was likely not the only one who felt this way.

The other judges were also scribbling something as they watched Seoyeon’s performance with a captivated look.

“Hmm? Think about it. Do you believe he truly has feelings for you?”

Hong Jeonghee berated Song Minseo even more because of her inferiority complex towards Song Minseo’s hearing impairment.

She resorted to violence, ensuring Song Minseo couldn’t hear her words.

“He’s only going along with your vile schemes.”

The sense of superiority gained from this.

Seoyeon uttered her lines, understanding that vile heart.

“A vile woman who uses her disability to exploit the goodwill of others.”

Ultimately, Hong Jeonghee’s lines were solely about belittling Song Minseo.

And simultaneously,

“Pathetic.”

Those words were also directed at herself.

Pathetic.

Hong Jeonghee knew she was pathetic.

But it didn’t matter.

If she could exclude Song Minseo and somehow drive her away from Bae Seonghak.

Perhaps she could occupy the empty space beside him.

While concealing such sinister thoughts, she disparaged Song Minseo, but Song Minseo responded to Hong Jeonghee’s words with composure.

Witnessing this, Hong Jeonghee’s actions became more intense.

Her voice rose, and she resorted to violence.

Seoyeon followed Jiwoo’s blocking, imitating her movements and correcting some actions on the spot.

‘This is Jiwoo’s. But Hong Jeonghee... would be a bit different.’

Of course, this was merely Seoyeon’s interpretation.

However, unlike before, that interpretation was based on understanding.

Though similar in essence, Seoyeon painted over Jiwoo’s color with her own.

A painting crafted with the water currents of the sea.

So that it could be beautifully displayed in an aquarium.

A new understanding of emotion.

Through that emotion, she acted out a new “Hong Jeonghee.”

At last, she was perfectly depicted.

“I’m finished.”

Seoyeon calmly answered.

She swept her disheveled hair back.

As she straightened her wrinkled collar and faced forward, the judges were all deep in thought, with their mouths slightly agape.

‘This is...’

This is problematic.

Occasionally, such situations arise.

An audition where you hesitate, unsure of whom to choose.

‘Both of them suit Hong Jeonghee.’

‘Visually, isn’t Pyo Jiwoo more fitting?’

‘Joo Seoyeon’s appearance is too dazzling. But that can be covered with makeup.’

Each performance had its unique characteristics.

Whoever was chosen, there would be no faults in the portrayal of Hong Jeonghee.

‘They’re both prodigies.’

Jo Do-yul silently clicked his tongue.

Indeed, until the first performance, Seoyeon’s immersion in the role of Hong Jeonghee had been inferior to Jiwoo’s.

Though it was an excellent performance with captivating presence, Jiwoo’s portrayal had better captured the essence of Hong Jeonghee.

‘The movements were almost the same. The actions were initially similar.’

Had she immediately memorized Jiwoo’s movements upon seeing them?

But the true revelation came afterward.

The “Hong Jeonghee” that emerged when Seoyeon’s color was added on top.

‘When she said she wanted to perform later...’

The judges recalled what Seoyeon had initially said.

“I went first before, so I’d like to perform after this time.”

They had thought she had said that out of sheer pressure, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

‘Can you even work as an actor without feeling resentful?’

Min Seo-ho, one of the two actors participating as judges, let out a wry laugh.

As an actor, he felt it even more acutely.

That Seoyeon had interpreted the character immediately after watching Jiwoo’s performance.

The child prodigy.

A nickname given to Joo Seoyeon ten years ago.

Min Seo-ho now understood why that nickname had been attached to her.

“Ah, time’s up. We’ll notify you of the results later... via text or email.”

After checking the time, Jo Do-yul spoke.

There were still other actors remaining, but they had spent too much time on Seoyeon and Jiwoo.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

With those words, Seoyeon’s first audition after her return ended.

“Haah.”

As soon as Seoyeon stepped outside the building, she let out a sigh.

Cold sweat had formed on her forehead.

‘It’s not good to get too emotionally invested in Hong Jeonghee.’

The tingling sensation still lingered in her chest.

Inferiority.

The vile darkness felt as though it remained in her chest.

The acting she performed by understanding and emulating was overly stimulating for Seoyeon.

“You, you!!”

At that moment, Jiwoo, who had followed Seoyeon outside, shouted in a trembling voice.

“How could you, how could you do that!”

Jiwoo felt wronged.

It was a role she had practiced for a year, solely for this performance, waiting endlessly.

But, but!

‘I lost.’

She realized it.

Jiwoo bit her lower lip and wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Indeed, the performances were similar.

No, in some aspects, Jiwoo was still superior.

Hong Jeonghee suited Jiwoo’s acting the best.

She was confident about that.

But.

‘The vocalization.’

And the proficiency and potential for growth in acting.

The impact of the name “Joo Seoyeon.”

Conversely, the slightly better “fit” was Jiwoo’s only advantage.

In every other aspect, Seoyeon was superior.

It was only natural.

One year.

To Jiwoo, it might have been a long time, but Seoyeon had trained for much longer.

It was only natural that there would be a technical difference.

Surely she had outperformed in interpreting the character.

Yet, Seoyeon had caught up in an instant.

“Ugh, ughh!!”

Unable to suppress her anger, Jiwoo stormed toward Seoyeon.

Seoyeon narrowed her eyes, observing Jiwoo from head to toe.

‘...She doesn’t have a weapon, right?’

Especially a knife.

Seoyeon looked at Jiwoo’s slender legs.

Would it be okay to give her a swift low kick?

“You.”

While Seoyeon harbored such unsavory thoughts, Jiwoo reached out a hand toward Seoyeon.

Seoyeon caught it effortlessly.

“Huh?”

She hadn’t intended to attack.

For some reason, she had only reached out to stop Seoyeon from slipping away.

‘What’s this? Why is she so strong?’

Jiwoo was startled and attempted to pull her arm back, but it wouldn’t budge, filling her with fear.

How could a girl possess such strength?

She felt wronged.

She was already upset about possibly losing the role, and now she had to endure this hardship.

She had merely wanted to exchange a few words.

She might have had the tiniest intention to threaten.

Perhaps just a little.

Maybe just to give her a slight scare?

She had considered it, but only slightly!

After all, she was still a minor, still a child.

Just a little.

Just a little, really...

Tears welled up in Jiwoo’s eyes.

“Boohoo!!”

“Eek.”

Naturally, Seoyeon could only grimace at her tears.

In many ways.

“Sniff.”

And so.

After a short period of time.

“...If you do anything suspicious, I’ll report you.”

Hearing Seoyeon’s words, Jiwoo felt sorrow once again.

She hadn’t done anything yet, but Seoyeon treated her as if she were a criminal.

Of course, this wasn’t Seoyeon’s intention.

The memories of her previous life were simply too vivid.

‘She did carve up a person, after all...’

As mentioned, the reason Seoyeon became aware of the play “Eyes Closed” was none other than the news.

A news report about an assault case.

In that news, the suspect was none other than the Jiwoo before her.

The victim was Min Seo-ho.

In some ways, the incident was the result of Min Seo-ho’s own actions, but the fact that Jiwoo had stormed into a club with a knife and stabbed Min Seo-ho, who was with friends, was a topic of online discussion for a while.

‘Min Seo-ho surviving that situation is impressive, though.’

In any case, Jiwoo managed to get past the club’s guards and accomplish that.

She was even called “Swordmaster Pyo” on internet forums for a while.

If she had brought a knife today... Seoyeon couldn’t guarantee the outcome.

‘Still.’

Seoyeon watched the sniffling, tearful Jiwoo.

At least for now, she wasn’t the Jiwoo she had seen in the news.

Moreover, after witnessing her performance, Seoyeon didn’t want such a destructive future for her.

“Pyo Jiwoo... unnie.”

“Huh?”

It still felt somewhat awkward to use the term “unnie.”

With that thought, Seoyeon continued speaking.

“If it’s alright, would you like to go somewhere with me in three days?”

Knowing what she did now, she believed the past incident wouldn’t occur.

Now that Jiwoo hadn’t become Min Seo-ho’s lover yet.

“Sehee, don’t you think it’s time to take on a drama or something?”

Inside the spacious van, Manager Shin Yu-gyeong remarked to Jo Sehee, who was idly playing with her phone.

They had known each other for over a decade and were like sisters, so such remarks were possible.

Shin Yu-gyeong had numerous grievances regarding Jo Sehee’s recent behavior.

She couldn’t hold back any longer, prompting her to speak.

“Lately, I just don’t feel motivated.”

“...Well, you have been working really hard.”

Seventeen.

Jo Sehee, who rarely attended school and devoted herself to work, was undoubtedly at the top among her peers.

The only person comparable was Park Jungwoo, who was three years older.

‘No, it’s not just among peers. How many current actresses can surpass Jo Sehee?’

The “hitmaker.”

That label was attached to her a year ago.

In other words, when Jo Sehee was in her third year of middle school.

Two movies, four dramas.

All of them achieved astonishing success and were hits.

Although she only starred in one of them, what did it matter?

In the end, her reputation had skyrocketed.

If she attended school, students would undoubtedly flock to her, eager to talk.

That’s the level of popularity and recognition she had achieved.

However, Jo Sehee’s face appeared profoundly bored.

“I don’t really feel like acting.”

“Are you burned out? Then why not take a few months off?”

Take a break.

That was a word that hadn’t been used in relation to Jo Sehee for about ten years.

When did she start working so hard?

Jo Sehee thought of the person who had been the catalyst for this.

‘Did she really retire?’

Joo Seoyeon.

She repeated that name to herself several times.

In truth, they had only exchanged a few words.

Yet, had anyone else had such a profound impact on her?

“Take a break, see some plays or musicals, enjoy some cultural activities. Who knows? You might find inspiration again.”

Musicals, movies.

Shin Yu-gyeong’s intentions were clear.

Still, since Jo Sehee’s nature was that of an actress, watching such performances might inspire her again.

‘Unnie is right, I should take a break.’

Plays, huh.

For Jo Sehee, who primarily worked in dramas and movies, the word was somewhat unfamiliar.

So, she had a bit of interest.

Yes, just a little.