Seoyeon couldn't help but feel a bit of pressure from being cast as the lead in Sky Garden.

It wasn’t that she disliked the opportunity. However, after the recent meeting, she realized what it truly meant to be cast without an audition.

‘Now that I think about it, most of my roles have come through auditions.’

Even her current project, Hyper Action Star, was essentially an audition, despite its variety-show format. While acting ability played a significant role, it was still a competition, with scores being given to each contestant and eliminations happening along the way.

Seoyeon was simply in a very favorable position this time, likely due to GH Group’s expectations. The show’s average rating was around 6%, a solid number for a cable variety show. Additionally, thanks to short clips circulating on social media, its popularity had grown beyond just TV ratings. When the film eventually premiered, it was expected to benefit greatly from the show’s exposure.

‘But even then, that was still an audition, at least in form.’

Even if they had faith in her abilities, there was never a guarantee. Anything could happen during an audition. But in the case of Sky Garden, she had been cast outright, without any competition.

She could understand why some of the other actors might be upset. For a young actor, recognition and exposure were as important as talent, so being denied the opportunity to compete could feel unfair.

‘Which is why I really need to do well.’

If she had been cast without an audition and didn’t live up to expectations, people would definitely talk. While the older, more seasoned actors had been kind to her, especially the ones who would play the ‘parent’ roles in the drama, Seoyeon knew she had to prove herself.

Whenever they met, these senior actors praised her work in The Chaser and Dream Future. However, if she failed to perform well on set, all that goodwill would vanish quickly.

“Ugh…”

Seoyeon sighed, crossing her arms.

She was currently in the practice room provided by Nova Entertainment, running through the script and rehearsing her lines alone. She had thought about asking Jiyeon for help, but Jiyeon was busy with her own audition for Kyungsung Lady and still streaming regularly on Lamiel’s channel.

‘The protagonist of Sky Garden, Lee Yujoo, is quite a cynical character.’

Yujoo had a near-perfect curriculum planned out for her by her older brother. Her family was middle-class, but her brother was a top scorer on the college entrance exam and the valedictorian of Baekyeon University, a fictional top school in Seoul. Their father had been a highly successful college prep coordinator, but after a string of students he coached failed to achieve their goals, he had lost his reputation. Thus, Yujoo’s brother’s academic success was a point of pride for him. He expected Yujoo to follow in her brother’s footsteps.

As a result, Yujoo had become an expert in self-discipline and had memorized her academic plan to perfection. However, approaching Yujoo’s father directly wasn’t an option, as he had previously rejected an offer from the very same people trying to get close to him through Yujoo.

Thus, the parents of other students sought to gain favor with Yujoo instead.

‘A college prep coordinator?’

This kind of role felt foreign to Seoyeon. She had never been particularly focused on academics, and her parents had always been content as long as she studied diligently. Seoyeon had never even had private tutoring, mostly because she had pursued acting from a young age.

‘Even if I hadn’t pursued acting, I don’t think I’d have gone this far with my studies… Oh, this is real?’

Seoyeon checked her smartphone and looked up what a college prep coordinator was, feeling puzzled. Was there really a job that involved managing every aspect of a student’s life so meticulously, as described in the script?

Apparently, yes. Coordinators helped students manage their stress, provided advantages as students, and ensured that everything was in order for their school records.

‘Do wealthy people really live like this?’

She considered asking the drama’s writer, Min Sehee, who had once told her:

“Of course, it’s a bit exaggerated.”

“A bit?”

“Well, to be honest, really wealthy people would just use money to solve most things, wouldn’t they?”

Hmm, that was probably true.

“But there are certainly people who care about prestige, and that’s what this drama focuses on.”

So while exaggerated, it wasn’t completely fictional. The writer had done her research to create the script. Even so, Seoyeon found it hard to relate to Sky Garden. It felt like she was filming a story set in a world she couldn’t quite imagine.

It was almost like acting in a historical drama—relying heavily on imagination to bring the character to life. However, unlike historical dramas, there was no familiar history to draw from.

‘Elite education and the lives of the upper class.’

Yujoo was portrayed as a middle-class student who had a deeply cynical and nihilistic view of life, solely focused on academics.

‘I understand now why they asked if I’d ever played a top student before.’

The only person Seoyeon could think of for inspiration was her class president, Gil Dahyun.

‘But Yujoo needs to show much more intense emotion than that.’

Portraying Yujoo’s emotions would be one of Seoyeon’s toughest challenges. Unlike Seoyeon, who enjoyed attention and praise, Yujoo resented it. She saw others as seeking her friendship for their own gain and hated the expectations placed on her.

Disgust.

That was the root of Yujoo’s cynical nature—her disdain for others.

Seoyeon had never truly hated anyone. She’d been angry at the Summer Girls for bullying Cha Nahyi but had never felt disgust or hatred toward them.

‘If I could understand that feeling better…’

Still, it wasn’t an emotion Seoyeon particularly wanted to explore. It felt too unsettling.

However, she was curious about how the upper class truly lived. Was it really like this? Or was it an exaggeration?

That curiosity led her to contact someone who might have the answers—someone who had recently fallen under her influence.

“The upper class, huh?”

Jo Seohui arrived in a flurry, clearly out of breath. For once, her usual limousine was nowhere to be seen. She had shown up on a bicycle.

Seoyeon stared at her, completely baffled.

Her gaze said it all: “This is not what I was expecting.”

In response to Seoyeon’s look, Jo Seohui crossed her arms, huffing.

“This bike is worth thirty million won.”

“?”

“My bicycle.”

Seoyeon’s eyes widened. How could a bicycle cost that much?

‘What’s the difference between this and a regular bike?’

Judging by appearances alone, Seoyeon couldn’t tell. However, knowing its price, Seohui suddenly seemed wealthier and more upper-class just by sitting on it.

“Ahem! So, what’s this about?”

Though Jo Seohui had heard some details over the phone, she still cautiously watched Seoyeon for any sign of her mood. She had been trying to gauge Seoyeon’s emotions ever since that infamous betrayal in Hyper Action Star.

‘I don’t regret it, but…’

It felt like Seohui’s betrayal had cemented her reputation as a backstabber in the public’s eyes. While it didn’t bother her too much—it was, after all, just a variety show—Seoyeon’s reaction was a different story.

According to Lee Jiyeon:

“She’s really pissed.”

“She is?”

“You can tell from the emojis she uses in her messages.”

Now that she thought about it, the more she scrolled through Seoyeon’s replies, the more it made sense. Most of the replies were indifferent emojis.

So yes, Seoyeon was definitely mad. In fact, Seohui and Jiyeon had already started preparing something to win back Seoyeon’s favor.

“Is there something you want me to help with?”

Seohui had rushed over to repair their relationship as soon as Seoyeon called.

“The upper class.”

“Huh?”

“It’s for the drama I’m filming.”

Seoyeon explained the plot of Sky Garden, and Seohui’s interest was piqued.

‘This actually sounds fun.’

Apparently, the show had almost been a variety program before it became a drama.

‘Come to think of it, Jung Woo-senior did mention that.’

Min Sehee, the writer, was incredibly talented but very reserved. That’s what made her so good at her job. Seohui was beginning to understand why someone like Sehee would be praised by a veteran actor.

“Hmm.”

Seohui contemplated Seoyeon’s request. Showing her what the upper class was like wasn’t difficult, but deciding how to present it was the tricky part. Although Seohui was technically part of that world, she didn’t really interact with it much.

Her family wasn’t keen on the spotlight, so they found her acting career somewhat curious. They supported her, but her involvement in the entertainment industry was far from typical.

“Alright.”

In the end, Seohui nodded. She had the perfect opportunity in mind.

And so, Seoyeon found herself attending a party thrown by the upper class—a birthday party, to be specific.

According to Seohui, it was for the daughter of a corporate executive. Seohui had been invited and managed to get permission for Seoyeon to attend as well.

“They didn’t reject me, at least.”

“Why would they?”

Seohui laughed, lounging in the back of a luxurious limousine, idly playing with the hem of her white dress.

“Parties like this are really more like exhibitions, meant to show off your connections. Having an up-and-coming actress like you show up? They’d be dying to invite you.”

Really? Seoyeon wasn’t sure if she believed that, but she absentmindedly fidgeted with her own black dress. It felt a little too extravagant for a high school student to wear.

Not that Seoyeon had any issue with dresses. She’d heard somewhere that skirts were even used as combat gear in Scotland. Plus, skirts were definitely more practical when kicking, whereas pants tended to tear when she moved.

“But the dress code is such a hassle. They could’ve just specified a simple color scheme or something.”

Seohui’s complaint surprised Seoyeon. She hadn’t realized dress codes were such a thing. She had simply assumed it was normal to dress up for a fancy party.

As it turned out, hosts usually provided dress codes for these events. Sometimes it was specific colors, like black or white, and other times it was a full theme, like a masquerade.

Tonight’s theme was formal attire—suits and dresses.

“They’re trying too hard. I know the girl hosting this party, and she’s so spoiled. She’s a high schooler, for crying out loud.”

Seohui tapped her hand fan against her palm.

‘So she brought the fan after all.’

With her hair styled up, fan in hand, and her haughty demeanor, Seohui looked every bit the role of a villainous noblewoman.

In fact, Seoyeon wasn’t too different herself.

“Let’s go.”

Following Seohui’s lead, Seoyeon entered the extravagant hotel, one of the most famous in Seoul, known especially for its delicious food.

‘They rented out the entire hall for a party?’

This level of luxury was hard for Seoyeon to wrap her mind around.

Inside, it was even more glamorous. Most of the guests were people Seoyeon didn’t recognize, all dressed to impress. Among them, she spotted a few actual celebrities.

They seemed equally surprised to see Jo Seohui and Seoyeon.

“Is that Jo Seohui?”

“And that’s Ju Seoyeon next to her, right?”

“Was Yu-gyeong actually telling the truth about knowing Jo Seohui?”

Seoyeon overheard their hushed whispers. Most people wouldn’t have caught it, but her sharp ears picked it up easily.

And unlike the average person, they weren’t content to admire from afar. They each held their phones, eager to approach.

Before arriving, Seohui had warned her:

“Be careful. Don’t just let anyone take a photo with you.”

“Huh?”

“They’ll all want a picture. They’ll post it on Instagram to show off that they know you.”

This wasn’t necessarily a trait unique to the upper class. It was more about people who were confident in themselves and wanted to flaunt their connections.

“Think of yourself as a walking gemstone.”

That’s what Seohui had said as she adjusted Seoyeon’s dress.

“Each one of these people is holding a jewelry box, and they want to place you inside it.”

Each person had their own approach, but the ultimate goal was the same—using her as a symbol of their social standing.

“What do you need?”

The moment someone tried to approach, Seohui snapped open her fan, speaking with such authority that most people backed off.

As a wealthy celebrity herself, Jo Seohui was one of the apex predators at this party. Even Seoyeon could see that clearly. Many guests wanted to approach her, but none dared.

“Stay close to me.”

Seohui whispered through her fan, and Seoyeon nodded quietly.

‘Still.’

Despite being slightly overwhelmed, Seoyeon wasn’t too nervous. She simply observed, absorbing what it was like to be at an upper-class party.

What interested her more were the celebrities present.

‘There are a lot of them.’

Her gaze narrowed as she spotted a group of men gathered around, laughing and talking.

One of them she recognized.

‘Ro?’

The leader of Just X and the oldest member of the group. And aka the drug-eating idol.
   
   “Hey, I'm opening a club, and you guys should come. You know, everyone.”

Seoyeon’s eyes narrowed further as she watched him.