Attempting to finish the entire shoot in one take without a single mistake is ambitious.
No matter how much time she had poured into practice, the rehearsal environment would never be the same as the actual filming set.

“Cut, cut! Let’s shoot it again~.”

So, there was no need to feel like a criminal for fumbling a single line.
Kim So-hyun knew well enough that berating herself over a recent mistake wouldn’t do any good.

However, the resigned look in Ha-eun’s eyes from a moment ago...
Those empty eyes that seemed to say, "Just let it end."

‘Whoa… was she always… like this?’

The image lingered in Kim So-hyun’s mind, sending chills down her spine.
After all, no child actor she’d worked with before had ever shown eyes that devoid of life.

It was an unsettling feeling.
Or perhaps, guilt.

It was a despairing performance, one that couldn’t possibly come from a child that age.
Ha-eun seemed to be taking her portrayal a few steps further than what was agreed upon between actors, as if she were fully embodying the hopeless character from the script.

The Ha-eun in front of the camera was a girl so deeply entrenched in despair that even a depraved person like Seo Do-yeon would hesitate to harm her.
And that alone was more than enough to unsettle Kim So-hyun, not just as an actor but as a human being.

“Alright, Kim Ji-ah. Today, you’re going to learn a lesso... …Sorry, let’s do it again.”

Even during the second and third takes, Kim So-hyun’s performance continued to falter.
It was almost inevitable that Director Kwon Jong-hyuk would start to worry with So-hyun’s repeated mistakes.

‘…She’s been overpowered.’

It’s common for actors to be influenced by each other’s performances in collaborative scenes.
This phenomenon happens even more frequently when child and adult actors perform together.

But typically, it’s the child actor—often lacking in experience or vocal projection—who succumbs to the adult actor’s performance.
It was rare to see the opposite, with the adult actor being swallowed by the child’s performance.

Ha-eun didn’t raise her voice or break into a sob. She simply made eye contact.
Yet, with that atmosphere she created, she silently suppressed Kim So-hyun’s performance, shifting all control to her side.

Strictly speaking, Ha-eun was performing exactly as the script dictated.
In fact, her portrayal was even more true to Kim Ji-ah than described in the script.

It was Kim So-hyun who was holding up the shoot.
Instead of Seo Do-yeon’s twisted emotions suppressing the young Kim Ji-ah, it was Seo Do-yeon who was being restrained.

Kim So-hyun was aware of this and tried to reset her scattered performance.
But the more time passed, the darker and heavier Ha-eun’s presence seemed to grow.

As a result, the camera continued to capture scenes almost identical to the first take.
Director Kwon, observing this, didn’t think pressing on would improve the situation.

“Alright, let’s take a short break and pick it up again. So-hyun, why don’t you take a moment to catch your breath?”

“Ah, yes….”

They decided to take a 30-minute break before resuming the shoot.
After a while, Kang Sun-woo, who had been watching the shoot from Director Kwon’s side, approached Ha-eun.

“Hey, Ha-eun, could we chat for a bit?”

“?”

Naturally, Ha-eun was unsure why Kang Sun-woo had come over to her.
After all, it was Kim So-hyun, not her, who had been fumbling her lines.

Still, she couldn’t exactly ignore Kang Sun-woo.

“Director Kwon, I’m going to borrow Ha-eun for a bit~.”

“…Please don’t take too long.”

And so, Ha-eun ended up heading to a break area with Kang Sun-woo.
Her manager, Joo Jung-yoon, tagged along, though already visibly tense.

Joo Jung-yoon, already on edge, could barely hold herself together in front of a renowned actor like Kang Sun-woo. She ended up frozen, simply watching as Ha-eun and Sun-woo sat at a table together.

Ha-eun, too, would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit nervous.
If someone like Kang Sun-woo was taking her aside, it wouldn’t be for something trivial.

With both of their eyes now focused on him, it was Sun-woo who suddenly felt awkward.

“Ha-eun, your acting is really impressive. It’s even more intense than during the screen test.”

“…Thank you.”

He started with a slightly exaggerated compliment, hoping to ease the tension.
But when the atmosphere didn’t seem to warm up, he abandoned the pleasantries and got straight to the point.

“Can you tell me what you think Kim Ji-ah is like as a person?”

Going right to the core of the issue, he took the first step to avoid further interruptions in the shoot.
After all, *The Man Next Door* was an important film for Sun-woo as well.

If filming was delayed further, it could reflect poorly on Sun-woo, who had recommended So-hyun for the role of Seo Do-yeon.
Seeing So-hyun, who was cast without an audition due to Sun-woo’s influence, repeatedly mess up wasn’t a great look.

“Hmm, to me, Kim Ji-ah is…”

For about ten minutes, Sun-woo listened intently to Ha-eun’s interpretation of Kim Ji-ah’s character.
Once she finished, he shared his thoughts on adjusting her performance.

“You’ve got a solid interpretation. But… maybe it would help to focus more on the situation rather than the character itself.”

“The situation…?”

“Yes, the situation. In this scene, the main point is to highlight Seo Do-yeon as a terrible mother, right?”

Normally, it would be the adult actor’s performance that needed tweaking.
But rather than fixing So-hyun’s performance, which had already been overtaken by Ha-eun’s, it seemed more effective to adjust Ha-eun’s portrayal.

He felt a little bad for So-hyun, but objectively speaking, Ha-eun’s performance was stronger.

If Ha-eun adjusted her performance as Sun-woo suggested, it would likely harmonize with So-hyun’s acting.
Regardless of age, the actor most capable of adapting should be the one to adjust.

“Instead of showing Kim Ji-ah’s misfortune in its entirety, it’s more about provoking Seo Do-yeon’s anger and frustration. Do you get what I mean?”

“…Yes.”

Just then, Joo Jung-yoon, who had been standing silently like a stone statue, hesitantly informed them it was time to return to the set.
Having said everything he needed to, Sun-woo was ready to leave it at that.

‘I’m sure she’ll do well on her own.’

He didn’t need to double-check how Ha-eun would adjust her performance.
After all, this was the exceptional child who had left him speechless during the screen test a few days prior. Giving her just a new direction was enough.

“Director Kwon, Ha-eun’s back~.”

And so, the shoot for the scene depicting Kim Ji-ah’s troubled home life resumed.

“Stop whining and get up. Where did you hide my money?!”

Seo Do-yeon’s emotions peaked as So-hyun’s voice intensified, hitting harder than before.

“…What money could a debtor even hide?”

For the first time, Ha-eun, who was supposed to stay silent, murmured a barely audible line.
It was so soft one would have to listen carefully to even hear it.

But within those empty eyes now flickered a hint of anger.
A faint resentment aimed at the woman hardly worthy of being called her mother.

And perhaps most telling, the slight upward curl of her lips, as though mocking Seo Do-yeon.

“What…what did you just say…? Alright, Kim Ji-ah, let’s see if you can survive today!”

Seo Do-yeon’s anger exploded, perfectly provoked by Ha-eun’s subtle ad-lib.
About five seconds later, Director Kwon’s mouth finally opened.

“Cut!”

Naturally, there was no added NG signal.
Almost simultaneously, Sun-woo raised a discreet thumbs-up toward Ha-eun.

She met his gaze briefly, then quietly walked to a corner of the set with Joo Jung-yoon, who appeared with a strawberry milk in hand.

“Focus on the situation rather than the character…”

Perhaps it was because this was the first time she had encountered such a different perspective on acting.
A complex feeling, not entirely good or bad, lingered within her.