For Da-yeon, Ha-eun was an irreplaceable rival. Auditions without Ha-eun simply didn’t carry the same weight.

That’s why, upon discovering the upcoming lead role audition for *To Busan*, Da-yeon immediately wanted Ha-eun to join her. Showing up unannounced at Ha-eun’s house was just an extension of her determination.

“Da-yeon, there are roles I don’t want to play,” Ha-eun replied calmly.

But Ha-eun’s responses were nothing but rejections. Da-yeon tried goading her, asking if she was afraid. She even pleaded, in an unusually desperate tone, to take the audition together, but Ha-eun’s answer remained firm.

In the end, Da-yeon couldn’t help but ask why Ha-eun was so averse to playing a sick character. Ha-eun’s response was only silence.

‘…What’s her deal?’

What could possibly make Ha-eun reject her proposal so firmly, especially since it was “just acting”? After all, it was just a simple patient role, involving a few coughs and sneezes.

“I don’t want to play a patient role… ever again.”

Ha-eun’s eyes were filled with a mix of emotions that Da-yeon had never seen. This was nothing like the carefully curated expressions she showed in front of the camera.

With no choice but to let the audition idea go, Da-yeon decided to set a condition that would prevent Ha-eun from backing out of their next competition.

"Fine, Ha-eun. If *To Busan* surpasses *The Neighbor Uncle*, then you’ll have to go along with whatever I say next time, whether it’s an acting showdown or rock-paper-scissors."

Putting forth a condition that even seemed unrealistic to her, Da-yeon tried to make it impossible for Ha-eun to dodge the next face-off.

After a brief hesitation, Ha-eun nodded in agreement.

"Alright, if *To Busan* surpasses seven million, I’ll do whatever you want. Acting contest, rock-paper-scissors, whatever."  
"And one more thing. You have to come watch it with me on the first day."  
"…Fine."

Knowing how well *To Busan* would perform from her previous life, Ha-eun decided to accept Da-yeon’s terms, using it as a reason to avoid this audition.

Eventually, Da-yeon went on to ace the audition and secure the lead role, pouring her energy into the project with the sole purpose of proving herself to Ha-eun.

Months later, on the film’s opening day…

"Excuse me, students, this movie is rated 15. You’ll need a guardian to enter."  
“…Give me a moment. I’ll call someone.”

Before they could even enter the theater, Da-yeon almost saw her plans fall apart. Fortunately, she managed to summon her manager, Kim Jin-su, who was killing time at a nearby PC café, to act as their guardian and save the day.

Once they entered, though, Da-yeon faced another problem as the unsettling images she’d only seen in the script now filled the screen.

[Graaaargh!]

Startled by the grotesque scene, Da-yeon let out a high-pitched scream, jumping in her seat. Almost instantly, Ha-eun reached over, tightly covering her mouth and grabbing her arm.

The popcorn she held nearly flew everywhere, but Ha-eun managed to prevent a disaster.

"If it’s too scary, we can leave." Ha-eun whispered, trying to reassure her.

“I-I’m not scared!”  
"Hmm… but your face says otherwise."  
“What’s wrong with my face?!”

Unfortunately for Da-yeon, not even a few minutes later, an even more terrifying scene flashed on the screen.

[Screeeeeech!]

Da-yeon jumped again, flinching violently, and once more Ha-eun had to hold her in place.

"Look, we can’t disturb other people. Let’s just leave before you spill your soda, too."  
“Mmhm! Mmmmh!”

In the end, Da-yeon couldn’t show Ha-eun the final scene she’d worked so hard on. While Ha-eun knew what the scene entailed due to her memories from her past life, she couldn’t reveal that without sounding crazy.

"What I saw was already good enough. Don’t feel too bad about it."  
"That’s easy for you to say!"  
"I mean it."

Da-yeon could only grumble and stew in frustration, reluctantly accepting Ha-eun’s words.

The terms of their agreement hinged on *To Busan* matching or surpassing the success of *The Neighbor Uncle*. Realistically, reaching seven million viewers for a newly released film was a stretch, so all they could do was wait.

After about two weeks, the inevitable day arrived when *To Busan* hit the seven million mark.

[Congrats on the milestone, Da-yeon.]

Ha-eun called Da-yeon to congratulate her, acknowledging that the condition had been met.

But as soon as she’d secured Ha-eun’s promise to compete, Da-yeon felt an odd sense of indecision. None of the current dramas or films seemed worthy enough for a showdown with Ha-eun.

"I won’t forget this, so you better be ready!"  
[…Sure. I’ll be ready.]

A week and three days later, after *To Busan* achieved a historic ten million views, Da-yeon continued to delay their face-off, putting it off indefinitely.

And so, time went by without any project striking Da-yeon as suitable for their competition.

"Da-yeon, you’ll take a picture with Ha-eun later, right?"  
"…Only if she asks first."

Eventually, graduation day from elementary school came and went, and the months passed until they found themselves dressed in smart uniforms rather than casual clothes.

"Oh, look at that. We’re in the same class again."  
"Must be more convenient for the teachers, I guess."  
"It’s ‘teachers,’ Da-yeon, not ‘those old guys.’"  
"Better than calling them ‘old geezers,’ right?"

Despite her grumbling, Da-yeon held onto the promise with Ha-eun, thinking that one day, they’d finally have a true showdown. They both continued acting, so she was confident the opportunity would come.

But while Da-yeon took on almost every acting gig, Ha-eun’s sporadic appearances bothered her.

"Are you planning to retire from acting, Ha-eun?"

This question came not long after they entered their third year of middle school. Da-yeon’s expression was more serious than ever.

Ha-eun’s response was a shake of her head.

"I still love acting."

Having been by Ha-eun’s side for almost nine years, Da-yeon could tell that she was telling the truth. But what she couldn’t understand was why Ha-eun only took on one role a year, if that.

"Back when you auditioned for *My Love From the Stars*, you said you were ready. So, are you still ‘preparing’ for something?"

Da-yeon pressed, pulling from a memory from long ago. After a brief silence, Ha-eun’s response was calm and measured.

"I finished preparing back then. But if I act all the time, I think I might burn out quickly."  
"How could anyone get tired of acting?"  
"Well, you never know. Plus, if I keep working non-stop, my image will get worn out fast."

‘Is she dissing me right now?’

It almost sounded as if Ha-eun treated acting like a hobby. Da-yeon had always seen Ha-eun’s dedication to acting as anything but casual.

"Don’t worry, Da-yeon. I’ll never quit acting until I’ve fulfilled our promise. I still have roles I want to play."

It didn’t feel like a lie. Yet, she still couldn’t shake her doubts, resolving to make sure they faced off before adulthood.

While they didn’t need to audition for every role, there were plenty of other ways for her and Ha-eun to compete. For now, her priority was simply keeping Ha-eun on the path of acting.

---

"Hmm… where should I start?"

Na-yeon, Ha-eun’s mom, swung open her daughter’s door. Though Ha-eun wasn’t home, Na-yeon couldn’t ignore her room on such a rare cleaning day.

But once inside, she was unsure where to begin, so she started by looking over Ha-eun’s belongings.

First, her gaze landed on the bookshelf crammed with old notebooks and novels. Then she glanced at the bed, where a large teddy bear lay, one Ha-eun often hugged while sleeping.

And finally, her eyes settled on the soundproof booth at the center of the room, the largest object among Ha-eun’s furniture.

‘…When did she add a lock?’

The soundproof booth, which they’d bought as a middle school graduation gift, seemed to be the one thing Ha-eun kept immaculately clean. Na-yeon respected her daughter’s privacy, yet she couldn’t help but reminisce about the times when little Ha-eun would sing her heart out.

‘Feels like just yesterday she was toddling around. Time flies…’

She smiled wistfully, recalling Ha-eun’s innocent, high-pitched voice from those days. Her reverie was interrupted when she noticed a slightly tilted display case.

**Rattle.**

Carefully, she removed the trophies, adjusting the case until it stood straight once more. Then, she took out some wipes and polished each trophy until they gleamed.

As she

 read each inscription, memories came flooding back.

"First film—Best New Actress. First drama—Youth Acting Award… My girl really is amazing."

After some quiet moments of reflection, she returned each trophy to its place, tidying up the rest of Ha-eun’s room until it was pristine. 

When Ha-eun finally returned, Na-yeon hoped she’d be delighted by her mother’s effort.

---

**Bang!**

But as soon as Ha-eun opened the door, she rushed inside, her face filled with urgency, oblivious to her freshly cleaned room.

She had a reason. Today was the deadline for the application to join *Fantasia*, a VTuber group she had prepared for, only to realize the deadline was much sooner than expected.

After hastily submitting her application, Ha-eun stared at her inbox.

**[Unread]**

Click.

**[Unread]**

Click. Click. Click…

**[Read]**

"…!"

Five long hours later, she finally exhaled in relief when she saw the "Read" notification.