"Hyejin! Please look a bit more this way while speaking! We can't see your face properly."

Full-fledged stage rehearsals had begun.

Throughout the process, we dissected the script thoroughly, exploring every nuance. Script readings were just the beginning.

The goal of approximately six weeks of rehearsal was to perform the play without making any mistakes.

A perfect performance.

That is the most fundamental requirement of a theatrical production.

"Seoyeon."
"Yes."

Assistant director Kim Cheong-un stroked his chin as he looked at the girl in front of him.

In general, the assistant director is responsible for guiding the actors' performances in a play.

Kim Cheong-un had seen many actors, but Seoyeon was special.

Child prodigy Joo Seoyeon.

Her skills far exceeded what Kim Cheong-un had expected from an actor known simply by that title.

Mostly in a good way.

"You still have a bit of a drama-like feel, but you’re really good at capturing emotions."
"Thank you."
"But it would be great if you could improve your blocking a bit. Your eye contact and movements are really good."
"Blocking? Specifically where…?"

I asked, wondering if there was a place where my blocking was lacking.

"In the part where you have a monologue while looking at Sim Cheong-seok? Try crossing the stage more."
"Wouldn’t that make the blocking too wide for a monologue?"
"It will make the emotions seem more intense. And deliver the monologue as if you're conversing with the audience."

Conversing with the audience.

Seoyeon nodded at his words.

‘Did she understand?’

This isn't something you can understand just by being told.

Even for Seoyeon...

"Okay! Let’s give it a try."

With Kim Cheong-un's words, Sim Cheong-seok approached.

"Alright, then."

With his words, Seoyeon calmly collected her emotions.

The woman who stalks the idol Bae Seong-hak, Hong Jeong-hee.

Reading the surface of her emotions, she exhaled.

‘…It’s always fascinating to watch.’

Method acting.

There’s a term for it, but what Seoyeon was doing now was different.

There was still a faint sense of ‘Seoyeon’ remaining.

When asked about it, Seoyeon replied:

"Because it's practice right now."

I’ll try to do it more properly during the rehearsal, Seoyeon added.

‘If she does it properly, to what extent?’

Kim Cheong-un recently re-watched the drama Seoyeon starred in.

Her performance was incredibly emotional for a child.

This was probably Seoyeon's greatest strength.

But paradoxically, such detailed emotional acting wasn’t always an advantage in theater.

Seoyeon's emotional acting was very delicate and showed its true value when the camera zoomed in, but on stage, not everything can be conveyed.

Depending on where the audience sat, it might not be visible, and delivering those fine emotions was more challenging than expected.

Hence, gestures and movements were important to express those emotions.

The two need to be balanced, but this often conflicts with method acting.

If you fully immerse yourself in the character, your gestures and movements may become awkward.

So some "theatrical techniques" inevitably had to be integrated.

Seoyeon's practice was about naturally blending those elements.

"I can’t believe it. Why! Why is oppa seeing a woman like her?"

Seoyeon's monologue was clearly conveyed to the audience.

Kim Cheong-un watched Seoyeon's feet moving naturally while listening to her lines.

She moved exactly as he had instructed.

She delivered the monologue well, engaging the audience.

"How was it?"
"It was excellent."

Kim Cheong-un gave Seoyeon a thumbs-up as she returned after her performance.

Watching a talented actor is a joy.

But.

‘There’s something that bothers me.’

Kim Cheong-un hesitated whether to mention it.

It wasn’t a big issue if left unaddressed.

In fact, it felt complete even as it was.

"Take a break while I check on the other actors."
"Okay."

At his words, Seoyeon stepped back.

‘Did I do something wrong?’

Kim Cheong-un's reaction was strange.

But if something was wrong, he would have mentioned it first.

"…."

After a moment of contemplation, Seoyeon approached Sim Cheong-seok.

The one who had been on stage with her earlier.

"Oh, that?"

He seemed to understand right away.

"It's not a problem, but it feels like something’s missing."
"What do you mean?"

Sim Cheong-seok crossed his legs as he sat in a chair, pressing his temples with his thumb, as if thinking about how to explain.

"There's a lack of affection."
"…What?"
"Think carefully. Why does Hong Jeong-hee stalk Bae Seong-hak?"
"Ah."

Seoyeon realized what he meant.

"The darkness, the inferiority complex, and the contempt for Song Min-seo are well-expressed. But the affection for Bae Seong-hak isn’t very apparent."
"That’s true."
"But to be honest, I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary in this play. If you try to include too much, it might become neither here nor there."

Sim Cheong-seok was saying it was better to emphasize the dark emotions Seoyeon was currently portraying.

Or maybe he was suggesting that what she was doing was already good enough.

It felt different from when he had provoked her earlier.

"…Why are you glaring?"
"I wasn’t glaring. This is just how my eyes look."
"No, it isn’t."
"It is."

Sim Cheong-seok chuckled at Seoyeon’s insistent expression.

"Anyway, this is good enough, so don’t worry."

Good enough.

Although true, Seoyeon felt her pride hurt.

The fact that Sim Cheong-seok, who wasn't usually considerate, said it with care made her feel worse.

"But."

Affectionate acting, huh.

Seoyeon bit her lower lip.

He was right.

She had subconsciously excluded such feelings.

‘I had been sensing it a bit.’

Affectionate acting is essential in dramas and movies.

It’s not something that can be avoided.

Hong Jeong-hee might not need it as much, but that wouldn’t be the case for future roles.

‘I need to think about this.’

For Seoyeon, who blurred the line between male and female roles, this kind of acting was even more challenging.

Acting with affection for someone else.

For Seoyeon, who prided herself on method acting, it was an inevitable challenge.

Seoul Yeonhwa High School.

A private high school famous for its modern buildings and beautiful uniforms, frequently attended by students strong in arts rather than academics.

Its drama club included active actors and many aspiring ones, maintaining a high level of performance.

"Ji-yeon! Oh, our actress!"

Song Dayeon, the advisor of the drama club, fluttered like a butterfly and grasped Lee Ji-yeon's hands tightly.

"…What’s going on?"
"Oh, don’t speak so coldly."

Ji-yeon frowned.

She had been told to visit the drama club after a long time, only to be met with this sight.

‘There must be something she wants to ask.’

That's the usual thought.

Reading Ji-yeon's expression, Song Dayeon cleared her throat and continued.

"It’s good news for you too. Do you know the show 'Looking at the Past, Memories?'”
"No."
"…Right, you wouldn’t."

Is the show that unpopular?

She wondered if this was okay.

"They’re going to film at our school. It’s a show where students recreate scenes from old variety shows or dramas."

Song Dayeon explained what she had heard in the faculty meeting to Ji-yeon.

The other drama club students were listening with interest.

"Reenacting The Moon That Hid the Sun?"
"Exactly!"
"But what does that have to do with me…?"
"Of course, I want you to play Princess Yeonhwa."

As Song Dayeon looked at the other students, they nodded in agreement, though somewhat reluctantly.

If they had to choose the most successful, talented, and good-looking student in the drama club, it was undoubtedly Lee Ji-yeon.

"Princess Yeonhwa?"

Ji-yeon's face took on a strange expression.

Wasn’t that a very familiar role?

"Park Jeong-woo is coming too?"

If it was true, it would cause a huge stir on the internet.

The high school's name was also Yeonhwa High School.

It seemed like a setup made in heaven.

"The outline is to recreate episode 8 of the original."

Episode 8 was the reunion scene.

The episode where the grown-up Yun Seo-il and the grown-up Lee Hye-wol reunited.

It had high ratings and received good reviews.

"But it also got a lot of bad reviews."

At that time, actress Ha Yeso, who played the grown-up Princess Yeonhwa, received harsh criticism.

Princess Yeonhwa didn’t have as much presence as her child counterpart.

Something about it didn’t quite fit.

Those evaluations still hadn't changed, and Ha Yeso often brought up that period.

It was difficult being compared to her younger counterpart.

"Okay, I’ll do it."
"Really?"
"But can I bring someone from the agency for makeup? I want to do it properly."
"Oh, of course."

Ji-yeon nodded and smiled slightly.

An interesting thought had crossed her mind.

A large van was driving down the road.

Inside, a casually dressed man was sitting with an eye mask on, his eyes closed.

"Jeong-woo, we’re almost there. Wake up."
"…."

Annoying.

The first thought in Park Jeong-woo’s mind was that it was annoying.

Originally, he had no interest in this shoot.

"Please, please help us just this once! I’ve been talking about this for so long!"

A request from an acquaintance he had coincidentally met during a previous shoot.

Plus, he happened to be on a break, so he decided to help.

"Looking at the Past, Memories is doing both drama and variety this time, right?"
"Yes. Since you’re the guest, it wouldn’t make sense to just do one."
"Sigh, who do they think I am?"
"You’re Park Jeong-woo."

The hottest actor these days.

His next movie was already decided.

He was the lead, and it was a well-funded film with a good director.

Everyone thought his life was smooth sailing with no obstacles.

"Reenacting The Moon That Hid the Sun… No wonder this show isn’t popular."
"Don’t be like that. It’s a meaningful role for you too."
"…That’s true."

Manager Ha Hyeong-hwan, who had been with him for five years, spoke, and Park Jeong-woo nodded.

A meaningful role indeed.

"What’s that girl doing now?"

There weren’t many moments in Park Jeong-woo’s acting career that had left a strong impression.

But the girl he met in The Moon That Hid the Sun was still vivid in his memory.

Her acting.

Her retirement.

"…."

The image of the girl crying at the award ceremony came to mind.

A girl with no expressions, a boring kid.

She was the first to shatter Park Jeong-woo’s pride as a child actor.

The girl who, when she cried, looked at everyone.

He could remember her laughing as well.

Sometimes Park Jeong-woo wondered.

Should he have persuaded her to keep acting?

Would it have been better to tell her it was a waste to stop?

If he had done that.

‘It’s all in the past now.’

As he was lost in thought, the van stopped.

He felt the manager’s gaze on him.

"Jeong-woo."
"Yes."

Erasing the image of the girl from his mind.

He slowly opened the van door.

And at that moment.

The screams of countless students filled the air.