"It’s really heart-wrenching, but at the same time, I’m glad the two ended up together."

"Ha Yun-seong is one thing, but the child actress’s performance is absolutely amazing."

"It’s strange. The past and present Han Yoo-hwa are obviously played by the same actress, but why do they feel like different people?"

"Maybe it’s because they were a couple who had already separated once. It just feels more sentimental than other dramas."

As soon as Episode 5 finished airing, a flood of comments poured into the TV station's message board. There were so many posts that each time the page refreshed, a new page appeared.

While there were other sites with more raw and unfiltered reviews, for elementary schooler Min Da-yeon, the UBS network’s message board was her only go-to place to check the drama’s feedback.

Click. Click, click.

She kept scrolling through the station’s board, reading one post after another. Typically, this wasn’t something Min Da-yeon would spend her time on.

But her mind was a mess, more so than ever. She felt like reading the opinions of strangers—people she’d never even met—might help her sort through her thoughts.

It took her about twenty minutes to reach some sort of conclusion, just as Ha-eun walked into Da-yeon’s room, still damp from her bath.

Ha-eun’s face was as familiar as always, but Da-yeon couldn’t help but notice how the slight wetness in her hair and her flushed cheeks felt a bit unfamiliar. Overall, though, she looked just as she had for the past four years.

"What were you looking at?"

"…Nothing."

But even Ha-eun’s simple question, asked without any particular intention, drew an unusually curt response from Da-yeon. She even turned off her monitor, hiding the fact that she’d been looking at the feedback for *My Love From the Stars* just moments before Ha-eun entered the room.

A few days earlier, in a café near their elementary school, Ha-eun had said something that Da-yeon couldn’t shake off, thinking all those words were just excuses.

Whether it was really Ha-eun’s birthday today, or if spending the night at a friend’s house was indeed her wish, Da-yeon felt there had to be another reason why Ha-eun wanted to spend the night in the same room under the same blanket with her.

Maybe, just maybe, Ha-eun wanted to boast about winning the role of young Han Yoo-hwa, the part she had snagged away from Da-yeon. Perhaps it was even more than that. Maybe Ha-eun wanted Da-yeon to see her most memorable scenes, the ones she’d been able to film only because she had taken the role from Da-yeon.

"...May you... live long and well."

Da-yeon couldn’t shake the thought that Ha-eun had asked to stay over just to witness Da-yeon’s reaction to the scene, hoping to see her shock firsthand.

"Hey, Lee Ha-eun. Be honest. This whole birthday thing, it’s just an excuse, isn’t it?"

"…It really is my birthday."

"No, I mean, the real reason you asked to stay over. What is it?"

Da-yeon fixed her gaze on Ha-eun, refusing to give her any chance to dodge. It was as if she’d decided to drag out the real reason Ha-eun was here, whatever it took.

But despite their locked gaze, all she could see in Ha-eun’s eyes were countless small question marks. Then, as if confirming her confusion, Ha-eun spoke in a puzzled tone.

"Um, Da-yeon… Are you trying to have a staring contest with me?"

With that one sentence, Ha-eun shattered the serious atmosphere Da-yeon had been struggling to maintain. Her voice weakened as she asked again.

"Lee Ha-eun, you just wanted to see me feel small. You wanted to make sure I’d never think about competing with you in acting again."

And so, Da-yeon finally voiced the bitter truth she had realized while sitting alone in the room, waiting for Ha-eun to finish her bath: the harsh acceptance that she could never surpass Ha-eun’s acting.

"You know you’re good at acting. It’s infuriating how good you are. But why do you keep…?"

Her breathing trembled, her vision blurred as tears began to fill her eyes. The rational gears in her mind had started grinding the moment she met Ha-eun’s gaze, and there was no way she could keep hiding the feelings she’d buried over the past four years.

"When I got rejected in the Kim Ji-a screen test and lost the Han Yoo-hwa audition, everyone said it couldn’t be helped because of who I was up against. They said I was unlucky, but that one day, I’d get my chance…."

She knew those were just words to comfort her, and she also knew better than anyone that she’d always given her all in every competition.

But she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt foolish for ever considering herself Ha-eun’s rival.

"Do you know, Lee Ha-eun? Everyone says you’re amazing. They say they’ve never seen acting like yours before, that it made their hearts ache..."

"…Da-yeon."

"So, should I also just say you’re amazing, like everyone else? Should I stop trying to keep up and just stand back and clap?"

Swept away by a torrent of raw, bitter emotions, Da-yeon’s eyes reddened. Technically, Ha-eun hadn’t done anything wrong, other than being right there in front of her.

"Why do I always have to lose? Why do I have to keep falling behind you? Why…."

As if all her current misery, her bitterness, and everything else painful she was feeling were Ha-eun’s fault alone.

"I want to win too. I want to hear people say I’m better than you…."

With that confession, filled with the vulnerability she had never shown anyone, Da-yeon let her tears flow freely, her heaving shoulders and streaming eyes all pouring out the weight Ha-eun now had to bear alone.

Standing in front of a broken Da-yeon, Ha-eun thought long and hard about what to say.

"Let’s… play rock-paper-scissors."

"…What?"

Thinking action might work better than words, Ha-eun pulled Da-yeon to her feet and immediately started calling out for a round of rock-paper-scissors.

Without realizing, Da-yeon threw out a fist.

The problem was, Ha-eun had her hand open in a paper sign.

Caught off guard, Ha-eun stammered, and they ended up playing another round.

After about four or five rounds, they finally reached the result.

"…I won."

Da-yeon’s scissors beat Ha-eun’s paper, but she continued glaring at Ha-eun.

It was only natural—without any explanation, Ha-eun had just lifted her up and made her play rock-paper-scissors until she won.

"What is this even supposed to be?"

From Da-yeon’s perspective, still with red-rimmed eyes, it looked like Ha-eun was just messing with her.

But Ha-eun’s voice, soft and steady, was anything but playful.

"You just have to keep going until you win. Whether it’s rock-paper-scissors or acting."

It was an earnest message, with not a hint of teasing.

"With rock-paper-scissors or acting, I can’t just let you win. Even if I did, you wouldn’t accept it."

Da-yeon tried to argue, but ultimately, Ha-eun’s words were hard to refute.

"But someday, you will win. That’s how life works."

"…You sound just like my grandfather."

"Ah, well… I actually heard it from my grandpa."

Ha-eun continued to comfort and encourage Da-yeon. Though her words didn’t have an overwhelming impact, seeing the Ha-eun she had always looked up to struggling to cheer her up felt somewhat… endearing.

"…Pfft."

Unable to hold back any longer, Da-yeon chuckled, and the heavy atmosphere dissipated.

Almost immediately, Ha-eun asked a new question.

"Da-yeon, can I ask you something?"

Trying to change the subject, Ha-eun’s question came off as a bit silly to Da-yeon.

"You don’t actually think you’ll have a normal school life, do you?"

"So I just have to keep getting recorded by the other kids?"

"If that’s all that happens, consider yourself lucky. I know someone whose classmates even stole her textbooks, and she had to transfer schools."

Da-yeon bluntly told Ha-eun that a normal school life wasn’t in the cards for her. Then, after a pause, she asked Ha-eun why she wanted one so much.

"Why are you so obsessed with being normal, Lee Ha-eun? What’s so great about it?"

It was an innocent question, more out of curiosity than anything else. Watching Ha-eun cling to normalcy for the past four years had left her a bit frustrated.

But when Ha-eun looked at her with that familiar expression, there was a hint of sadness.

"It’s just… I feel like I’m missing out. I wanted to go on school trips and excursions, too."

"It’s not like you’ll never go… Just that you’ll have to be more cautious."

In the end, it was Da-yeon who ended up comforting Ha-eun. It felt odd, given Ha-eun’s seemingly perfect life.

With each passing moment, it felt like she knew less and less about Ha-eun.

---

"Yes, I

 think it’s time they made a guest appearance on a variety show."

"Exactly, Producer Hwang! So, what if we made an entire episode themed around *My Love From the Stars*? It would be great for publicity."

Producer Choi Soo-hyuk enthusiastically explained the promotional benefits of having the cast of *My Love From the Stars* appear on *Don't Stop People*.

But considering the show’s sky-high ratings, they didn’t really need the extra promotion.

"Makeup will get ruined, bodies exhausted, and reputations hurt. The downsides outweigh the benefits."

While Ha Yun-seong, who enjoyed working out, might not mind, Yoo Seong-ah had long avoided variety shows and would never agree to join *Don't Stop People*. Hwang Min-soo pondered how to dismiss Choi Soo-hyuk's eager pitch.

Then, a thought crossed his mind—one neither Hwang nor Choi had recalled.

Ha-eun had once appeared in Lee Gun-yeol’s (a member of Double Lee) music video for "Matchstick." And given her close relationship with Double Lee, Ha-eun was the most likely candidate from the cast to consider appearing on the show.

"Gun-yeol, maybe you could talk to her. But don’t pressure her."

"Of course, if she’s not interested, that’s that. I won’t push it like certain others."

"…Let’s not bring up old times."

One of *Don't Stop People's* cast members, Lee Gun-yeol himself, would be the one to subtly suggest the idea to Ha-eun.