After finishing all her lines for the screen test as Kim Ji-ah, Ha-eun waited for Kwon Jong-hyuk’s “okay” to come from afar. Even after hearing they could head home, she found herself still exhaling deeply.

“Hoo…”

It had been easier to bear than she’d expected. Well, easier than she’d thought.

The memories she had dredged up to create her own Kim Ji-ah—distinct from Min Da-yeon’s portrayal—weren't exactly happy ones.

Though she knew she’d moved beyond those people and those experiences, just recalling them brought a weight to her chest.

Aftereffects. Or maybe trauma.

Digging deeper into her emotions than usual had left her feeling a bit mentally drained.

-Sip.

At least the apple-flavored drink Jung-yoon had bought her helped a little. Maybe there was truth to the idea that sweet things ease stress.

Anyway, the screen test was over now. Once her mom returned from the restroom, they could finally head home.

“Ha-eun.”

“Huh?”

Suddenly, Min Da-yeon appeared before her, calling her name so naturally, despite Ha-eun never having introduced herself.

Debating whether to acknowledge her or not, Ha-eun remembered that Da-yeon was a well-known child actress. She decided to make eye contact.

But the question that followed took her completely by surprise.

“Does your mom hit you?”

“…What?”

She couldn’t help but ask in return, baffled by the odd question. Da-yeon’s answer came swiftly.

“You were acting like a real abused kid. Just checking.”

Ha-eun couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or an insult.

“Misunderstanding. My mom would never do that.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

Whatever image Da-yeon had of her, Ha-eun brushed it off. Only after this response did Da-yeon reveal the real reason she had approached her.

“That acting of yours—who taught you?”

“No one taught me.”

“Don’t lie.”

“It’s true.”

Their eyes met, and Da-yeon’s narrowed gaze held both irritation and suspicion. A few seconds later, her voice rang out again, laced with frustration.

“If you weren’t abused and no one taught you, how could a kid like you pull off that pitiful act?”

“…We’re the same age.”

“Ugh, whatever!”

Da-yeon’s face flushed slightly, and it dawned on Ha-eun that Da-yeon had been dwelling on her performance. It seemed that Da-yeon, too, had felt the same competitive spark that Ha-eun had.

Her question hadn’t held any malice; it was pure curiosity.

And yet…

-Throb.

Why did her chest feel tight again?

Maybe because some things can’t be taught. Perhaps she knew that some knowledge is best left undiscovered.

“…Some things are better left unknown.”

In the end, Ha-eun couldn’t give Da-yeon the answer she wanted. She couldn’t wish upon Da-yeon the same experiences she’d gone through—that wouldn’t be advice; it’d be a curse.

She watched Da-yeon turn away with a scowl. But as Da-yeon’s small figure began to fade into the distance, Ha-eun felt a strange urge to call out.

“Hey, Min… Da-yeon.”

“?”

“You did well.”

A subtle way of acknowledging that she had watched Da-yeon’s performance closely.

The small silhouette continued to move away without a word, her steps seemingly a little heavier than before.

She was mad. But why? Was not getting the answer she wanted really worth being this angry?

While mulling over Da-yeon’s frustration, Ha-eun suddenly heard her mom’s voice.

“Ha-eun, did she say something to you?”

Ha-eun set her thoughts aside and replied, “No, nothing important.”

She reassured her mother that nothing had happened. It was true; nothing had occurred that was worth worrying her.

Hand in hand with her mom, they left the set, where Jung-yoon’s black van awaited them, ready to take them home.

‘If you weren’t abused and no one taught you, how could a kid like you pull off that pitiful act?’

Da-yeon’s innocent, probing words echoed in her head, bringing back memories she would have preferred to leave forgotten.

By the time they arrived home, her head was aching along with her chest. …Maybe I should’ve just ignored her.

Even after a cold shower, she didn’t feel any better. So she turned to her personal stress-relief method for the first time in a while.

It wasn’t anything fancy. Just munching on sweets while surfing the internet from the living room computer.

Not the healthiest choice, but it was effective. She grabbed a slice of her birthday cake that Jung-yoon had cut for her earlier, settling down in front of the computer.

She opened YouTube first, playing a classical music compilation in the background, then went to read the comments on the *Matchstick* music video.

- "These child actors today are something else. They can cry on cue like it’s nothing."
- "They probably just put artificial tears in their eyes for scenes like that."
- "So, do artificial tears make your eyes red too? She looked like she was really crying."
- "It’s probably CGI."
- "Then I guess the facial expressions were fake too? C’mon, have some respect."

- "Double Lee’s new song, *Matchstick*, reflects modern society’s selfishness. It’s meant to make us aware of individualism and the lost altruism in our so-called civilization… (Read More)"
- "Write this on a blog, old man!"

‘…Hmm.’

At least 70 percent of the comments were incomprehensible. She thought there’d be more variety by now, but they were mostly the same comments she’d seen last week.

After scrolling through about 30 of them, she grew tired and scrolled back up, opening a new tab to visit a streaming platform called *New World TV*.

Her expression turned more serious as she joined an ongoing gaming stream, carefully typing out a familiar phrase.

<D.A: Tuning in~>

The trademark chat message she used, marking her presence in the quiet chat.

“Oh, D.A’s here! I was wondering when you’d show up!”

The streamer greeted her warmly, sharing stories about his in-game upgrades, mentioning the costs and his hunch that he was due for a successful upgrade soon.

Ha-eun responded with bits of knowledge she’d picked up from watching other streams. Though there were a few other viewers, only she was chatting, making it feel almost like a one-on-one stream with the streamer.

In truth, she’d never played the game he was streaming, either in her past or current life. Her reason for watching had nothing to do with the game itself.

[ Meteor Blade +11 Enhancement Challenge - Streamer: *Squirrel* ]

This “Squirrel” would one day become a massive figure in online streaming, famous enough to be known as the “children’s president.” He would also be the founder of *Fantasy World*, the VTuber group that would eventually change her life.

“Oh, oh, oh…! It worked!!!”

<D.A: Congrats, congrats!>   

She wanted to leave a good impression while he was still an unknown “rookie streamer” with single-digit viewers.

It was what you’d call an early investment. Someday, if she applied to *Fantasy World* under the same username, <D.A>, maybe he’d recognize her and be happy to see her.

So, she continued watching Squirrel’s stream until she started to feel sleepy. By then, the memories that had clouded her mind earlier had faded like a mirage.

There’s no better stress relief than this. Though she’d probably need to exercise a bit more tomorrow to make up for the sugar intake from the cake, it was far better than feeling restless and uneasy.

---

-Bzzz.
-Bzzz.

“Hello?”

[ Oh, Manager Joo. It’s Do-cheol. ]

“Oh, yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

[ Is our young actress in a lesson right now? ]

Jung-yoon glanced across the room at Ha-eun, who was in a recording booth, staring intently at the sheet music of a popular singer’s song while wearing a headset.

The sight was far from what one would expect in a typical children’s singing lesson. Remembering that this had been the case for a few weeks now, she replied.

“She’s in the middle of a lesson. If it’s urgent, I can step out and─”

[ No, no, nothing urgent. Just let her know that we’ve officially secured her first movie role. ]

The rough tone of Jeong Do-cheol’s voice was filled with pride, as if reaffirming that his judgment had been spot-on.

With no further warning, the call ended abruptly. Moments later, she received a text with the contact information of the *The Man Next Door* production team.

‘…Where should I start?’

Jung-yoon began pondering her first steps for Ha-eun’s involvement in *The Man Next Door*. Still, she knew who to contact first.

She quickly typed out a message to Ha-eun’s parents, figuring they should be the first to hear this good news.

“Hello, ma’am. It’s Joo Jung-yoon. I have great news for you.”

She told them that Ha-eun had officially been cast as Kim Ji-ah in *The Man Next Door*.

Predictably, Na-yeon’s joyful voice filled the other end of the line, and Jung-yoon responded with a promise to do her utmost for Ha-eun.

Not long after, she crossed paths with Gun-ye

ol, who, judging from his expression, had overheard her phone call.

“Is it true Ha-eun got cast as Kim Ji-ah?”

-Nod.

She confirmed his question with a nod, though she couldn’t quite understand the comment he muttered to himself afterward.

“…Guess it was worth the steak dinner. We really nailed that early investment.”