Arriving about ten minutes late? Understandable.

Unlike the others, who were all adults, Ha-eun was still a high school student. They could brush it off, assuming her class ended later than usual today.

Being a high school student who wanted to become a VTuber? Also understandable. There weren’t any strict age restrictions on being a VTuber, after all.

In fact, finding what she wanted to do at such a young age and even passing the audition was something to praise Ha-eun for.

However, no matter how you looked at it…

“…Could I get your autographs?”

“Wait… you want *our* autographs?”

The fact that the person who should have been asked for an autograph was now the one requesting them was hard for them to wrap their heads around.

In this room, the most famous person was undoubtedly Ha-eun. She was the one with widely recognized charm.

But still, why would she want the autographs of people who hadn’t even debuted yet? If she really wanted an autograph, she should have asked Squirrel, Ji Hye-min.

“I already got hers.”

“Oh… I see.”

A few seconds later, Ha-eun looked at them with earnest eyes and a polite voice, full of sincerity. Unable to refuse, everyone ended up giving her their autographs. The thought of turning down a request from someone as famous as Ha-eun was simply too daunting.

So, once Ha-eun carefully put the sketchbook with the four signatures into her bag…

‘…Wait. Four signatures?’

Realizing something was off, Ha-eun’s mind filled with questions. There were six people in the room, including herself, or five if she excluded Ji Hye-min.

This meant there were five successful candidates, not the original four intended for Fantasia.

Moving closer to Ji Hye-min, who was standing behind her, Ha-eun whispered in a slightly perplexed voice, “Why are there five?”

Ji Hye-min, realizing she’d forgotten to explain, responded quietly, “Originally, it was supposed to be four, including you, but I couldn’t bring myself to eliminate any of the others, so we decided to add one more spot.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Well, adding one more won’t kill us,” Hye-min replied, adding that each member was talented enough to justify the decision.

Since the project manager had approved it, Ha-eun didn’t question it further. In fact, she was slightly relieved. Now, all the members she remembered would debut under the name Fantasia.

Ha-eun, who had been silently worried that one of the members might lose their spot because of her, felt a bit of relief. But there was still a noticeable distance between Ha-eun and the other members.

“Huh… We were all chatting comfortably before, but now everyone’s gone quiet. Feel free to chat with Ha-eun,” Hye-min urged.  
‘Casually? …How am I supposed to do that?’

The other members were all ordinary people. While some of them had recognition in their fields, Ha-eun was in a league of her own, with fame that anyone on the street could recognize.

Even if someone didn’t know Ha-eun, they’d at least know her from her role as the young Han Yoo-hwa of *Byul Ondang*. There were plenty of ways to describe Ha-eun beyond “young Han Yoo-hwa,” but how much did they really need to explain?

To the others, Ha-eun was like a disruptor. Even Ji Hye-min, when she first learned of Ha-eun’s involvement, had assumed she was just dabbling in VTubing.

And when the other members first learned of Ha-eun’s celebrity status, Hye-min assured them, “I understand your questions, but Ha-eun is more committed to Fantasia than anyone else. If I’m wrong, you’re welcome to slap me.”

To help them accept Ha-eun, she had shown them Ha-eun’s audition video.

“She’s an amazing singer, right? I was just as surprised when I first heard it.”  
“…What are the rest of us supposed to do?”  
“Pardon? What did you say?”  
“Oh… nothing.”

With that, the misunderstandings were resolved. The members were no longer intimidated by her exceptional singing and dancing skills but now felt insecure in a different way.

So Hye-min’s suggestion to “talk comfortably” with Ha-eun became a challenging task. Recognizing Ha-eun’s dedication was one thing, but chatting casually was another.

Seeing the tension continue, Hye-min finally said, “…I didn’t want to resort to this…”

She picked up a small remote from the table and pressed a button. Instantly, familiar voices played from a screen on the wall.

[So, Ye-na, what’s the most memorable anime or manga for you?]  
[Haikyuu!]  
[Haikyuu? Isn’t that just a Slam Dunk knockoff—]  
[What did you just say?]

[It says here that Eun-hye has experience as a webtoon artist. Could you tell us about it?]  
“Well… it was honestly a flop, so it’s a bit embarrassing to mention…”

Each member’s interview video played in turn. Unsurprisingly, the final video was Ha-eun’s.

[Mint chocolate vs. Hawaiian pizza?]  
[Mint chocolate.]  
[Why?]  
[Hawaiian pizza isn’t real food.]

The video continued with Ha-eun’s personal preferences and small talk, an intentional tactic from Hye-min to bring Ha-eun down to a relatable level.

It worked; the questions started flowing toward Ha-eun, creating the desired atmosphere of conversation between her and the other members.

However, from Ha-eun’s perspective, it was embarrassing to have her personal thoughts laid bare before the people she’d longed to meet.

“So, Ha-eun, who’s your favorite character in *Gangyeonggeum*? I liked Roy for his charisma.”  
“Oh… well… I like Izumi…”  
“Oh, right, Izumi’s in it too. He’s got some serious charisma.”

As she tried to answer, Ha-eun’s ears grew red, which didn’t escape the other members’ notice.

‘She’s adorable.’  
‘Too cute.’  
‘Absolutely adorable!’

Any distance they’d felt toward Ha-eun was gone. So, finally…

“Well, since we’re all older than Ha-eun, let’s drop the formalities. That’s okay with you, right, Ha-eun?”

“Yes… I don’t mind.”

Hye-min’s last trick to help the members open up had done the job. About ten minutes later, everyone was given A4 sheets to brainstorm their VTuber avatar concepts.

“We’ve got plenty of time, so discuss everything thoroughly,” Hye-min encouraged.

Soon, just as they had before Ha-eun arrived, everyone began chatting happily as they designed their avatars. Ha-eun was still a little shy, but with conversations flowing smoothly, there was no problem.

The earlier awkwardness had completely disappeared.

- Creak.

Seeing no need to stay, Hye-min decided to leave the members alone. After all, she was their “director.”

As she left the room and walked down the long corridor, she briefly pressed her ear to the door.

- “Mi-so, why did you choose the nickname Milo?”  
- “Well, because ‘Mi-so’ means ‘smile,’ so I just took the ‘mile’ from it. See, my avatar even has a smile-shaped hairpin.”  
- “By the way, Dia’s concept art looks amazing! Did you draw this yourself, Ha-eun?”  
- “Oh, no. I commissioned an illustrator for it. I’m not that good at drawing.”

Inside, the atmosphere matched the warm camaraderie Hye-min had hoped for. She was relieved on all counts.

***

“Eun-hye’s here, Mi-so’s here, Maria, and… Ha-eun just joined too.”  
“Ye-na, aren’t you going to invite the director?”  
“The director said she’ll make a separate chat with the team leader later.”

Late in the evening, after the sun had completely set, the Fantasia members exchanged contact information and made plans for their next meeting.

Ha-eun shared her number with them as well, but the reactions…

“A celebrity’s phone number…!”  
“I never thought I’d get a celebrity’s number. Incredible.”  
“I’ll treasure it as an honor for my family, actress Lee Ha-eun!”

The playful remarks had a mischievous edge, and as soon as everyone went their separate ways, Ha-eun practically sprinted toward Joo Jung-yoon’s van.

All she wanted at that point was to get home and rest in her cozy bed. But, unfortunately for Ha-eun…

“───♪ ──♪─♪”

The song playing in Joo Jung-yoon’s van sounded all too familiar.

It didn’t take long for her to realize it was Double Lee’s newly released album, and Jung-yoon had specifically selected the songs Ha-eun had featured on.

“…You too, unnie?”  
“Hm? I just played the top songs on the real-time chart.”

Jung-yoon also shared the album’s success on the charts.

“There was even an article titled, *‘The Sudden Rise of the Vocal Star, Pinocchio—Who Are They?’*”  
“…You’re kidding.”  
“I figured you’d say that, so I saved a screenshot. Look, the headline really says ‘Pinocchio.’”

Jung-yoon showed her the screenshot, and although Ha-eun tried to deny any connection to Pinocchio, the sight of it left her silent.

“Can I set this *Tunnel* song as my ringtone?”

Crushed by

 Jung-yoon’s teasing, Ha-eun retreated to the back seat. But she didn’t stay there long.

“The *Moonlight Drawn by Clouds* casting audition is tomorrow at 7 p.m.”

They started discussing the preparations for the role of Yeongwol, including the specific costume style she needed.

“First, wear a compression vest. Then, you’ll need bandages on top.”  
“Can’t I just use bandages? Yeongwol didn’t wear a compression vest in the novel.”  
“If you only use bandages, it’ll be painful, and you might have trouble breathing.”

Hearing Jung-yoon’s blunt reminder about her chest size, Ha-eun, glancing down momentarily, muttered, “…It’s really not that big.”

To Jung-yoon, who was somewhat self-conscious about her own size, this sounded like a thoughtless comment.

But Ha-eun wasn’t just saying it—after being around Ji Hye-min earlier, she felt her own size was quite average.

Ignoring Jung-yoon’s narrowed gaze, she focused on the upcoming casting.

With only about ten minutes remaining until the Yeongwol audition, Ha-eun asked:

“Is this a real sword?”  
“No, it’s a prop.”  
‘…For a prop, it’s quite heavy.’

The texture and weight felt different from the plastic swords at Kim Kyu-tae’s action school. It was sharp enough to cut a tuft of grass effortlessly, making it seem almost real.