Chapter 15

It’s over!

I tucked the script binder back into my bag. Getting praised, and even applauded on top of it, left me so happy I could’ve flown.

Honestly, I couldn’t even remember how I’d read it.

I’d memorized the script so thoroughly I could’ve rattled off the lines if someone just tapped me on the shoulder.

I’d worried, since matching rhythm with other actors was something I’d never done before — but it felt like Yeon Do-yeon had briefly come and gone, right through me.

Maybe it was because Do Je-hyeon’s snub earlier had given me just the right spark. Either way, I’d pulled it off, so that was all that mattered.

Anyway…

“Wh-why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Do Je-hyeon was still acting strange. He hadn’t even packed up his things — just stood there, lips pressed shut, staring at me, for a good five minutes now.

Unable to stand it any longer, I finally asked him why he kept staring, and only then did he seem to come back to himself, lowering his eyes.

“…You were good. It was just a reading, but it felt like we were already on set.”

Why the sudden compliment? And even so, he still hadn’t dropped the casual speech.

“Did you notice Seo-jun got outmatched by you in sheer presence earlier?”

Had he?

I thought the flow had broken for a moment somewhere in the middle, but I’d been so deep in thinking as Yeon Do-yeon that I hadn’t even noticed.

When I didn’t answer, Do Je-hyeon, looking frustrated, set his hand down on top of my bag.

“Ah — sorry about before. I should’ve packed some manners along with everything else.”

That word, coming out of that model-student face! Bit by bit, the upstanding-young-man image I’d had of Do Je-hyeon began to crack.

Then, one by one, Do Je-hyeon laid out the thoughts he’d been holding about me.

He said he’d heard I landed the role of Yeon Do-yeon easily, so he’d assumed I was some kind of parachute hire — that I had to be someone being backed by some bigshot.

Having spent so long in the industry, I supposed it made sense he’d jump to that kind of assumption.

I actually am being backed by someone pretty important, as it happens.

I hadn’t told anyone, but I was going to be the very first actor signed to the agency Chairman Joo of Dongwoo Group had quietly set up.

Of course, I’d won this role myself, through audition, so it didn’t really matter either way.

“I was wrong. The writer isn’t the type to take a parachute hire in the first place.”

“She cares a lot about her child actors.”

“Right. She must’ve known the moment she saw you — that you were Yeon Do-yeon.”

“You were just like Ha-jin too, senior.”

“Huh? Oh — is that so…”

There it was again. Do Je-hyeon reacting like a malfunctioning robot.

It wasn’t an empty compliment. Do Je-hyeon really was a good actor — something I’d known even before I went back in time.

Except in my last life, the general opinion had been that while he was overwhelmingly good at genre acting, his romance performances were a bit hit-or-miss.

Maybe it’s because he’s still young now?

Unlike that future where he’d avoid romance leads altogether, Do Je-hyeon’s Ha-jin had nothing wrong with his emotional arc. He’d painted a flawless Yoo Ha-jin with nothing but the script reading.

A boy utterly captivated by his first love, ready to stake his whole future on her. That was exactly the feeling he gave off.

Looking a little embarrassed by my compliment, he scratched his cheek, then fumbled his phone out and held it out to me.

“Joo Sae-i, give me your number.”

“Why do you need my number…?”

“I-it’s not like I have some ulterior motive, so don’t look at me like that.”

“…How exactly was I looking at you?”

“N-never mind that! I just figured we’d have a lot to talk about regarding filming. Again, no ulterior motive — strictly business.”

When I obediently typed in my number, he spoke up again.

“From now on, just be comfortable with me. Talk casually too. It’ll help with immersion.”

Be comfortable with him.

Hearing that, there was something I wanted to ask.

“…But then why have you kept talking to me so casually this whole time?”

“What?”

“You told me to be comfortable with you, so I’m being comfortable. Seeing as you keep calling me ‘you’ so casually.”

Ugh, thinking about it is making me annoyed all over again. Counting my past life, I’ve lived years longer than him! And even without counting my past life, I’m a year older.

At my question, Do Je-hyeon looked utterly stunned. His lips moved without a sound for a moment before he finally answered, slowly.

“…Aren’t you younger than me?”

“I’m a year older.”

“You’re… older than me?”

When I nodded, Do Je-hyeon took a step back. He covered his mouth as if he couldn’t believe it, blinking rapidly.

Was it really that surprising?

I found his flustered reaction so funny that I let out a light laugh. At that, he spun away to avoid my eyes and said, curtly:

“A-anyway! I’ve got somewhere to be, so let’s talk again next time!”

Talk about what, exactly? No matter what, the fact that I’m older isn’t going to change. I waved after Do Je-hyeon as he hurried off.

Still, he doesn’t seem like a bad kid.

He’d been wary of me out of prejudice, assuming I was a parachute hire, but seeing him admit his misunderstanding and apologize first, I figured he wasn’t as obnoxious as my first impression of him had suggested.

And his reason for disliking parachute hires was probably… because he genuinely cared about acting.

Someone who took acting seriously was better than someone who tiptoed around people depending on who they were. That would help me too, after all.

All things considered, I thought Do Je-hyeon was about as perfect a co-star as I could ask for in my very first project.

The script reading venue, after all the actors had left.

Writer Choi Gi-jeong swept her eyes once over the seat where Joo Sae-i had been sitting, then looked toward the production crew and spoke.

“So, how was it?”

But the question wasn’t aimed at the crew.

It was directed at her own older sister, Writer Choi Gi-yeong, who had slipped in among them wearing sunglasses.

“…How did you know? My disguise was perfect.”

A shirt and slacks she hardly ever wore. She’d even done her hair differently to throw people off, and worn sunglasses on top of it all, afraid of accidentally meeting someone’s eyes.

Choi Gi-yeong pulled off her sunglasses and hooked them onto her shirt, mussing her own hair in defeat.

Choi Gi-yeong often snuck onto set like this to peek in on her younger sister’s work.

This time was no different. She’d talked Director Woo Byeong-hwa into letting her sit in on the Your Blue Name script reading.

She had been curious about her sister’s new project, but that wasn’t the main reason.

“Director Woo kept sneaking glances this way.”

“Ha, that man really can’t act.”

“So, how was it, I’m asking.”

“There’s nothing more to say about your work — you write it well, Writer Choi Gi-jeong.”

“Not the script.”

“…Not the script, then what? What else would I have come to see besides my own sister’s work?”

“Do-yeon.”

“…!”

Honestly, her sister’s instincts really were razor-sharp.

She’d tried to brush it off by talking about the script, but it seemed her real reason for sneaking into the reading had been caught dead on.

Shrugging as if conceding defeat, Choi Gi-yeong set a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

In all her years in the industry, she’d occasionally seen an actor come in with the entire script memorized.

But a rookie bold enough to pull that off on her very first project, her very first official schedule in her acting life — that, without question, was a first.

“Your Do-yeon — her name’s Joo Sae-i, right?”

At the question, Choi Gi-jeong nodded quietly, her face betraying how curious she was, deep down, about her older sister and fellow industry veteran’s verdict.

Choi Gi-yeong closed her eyes, slowly.

In the darkness behind her closed lids, the rookie’s performance she’d just witnessed began to replay.

She’d had no props to help her sink into the role, yet just sitting at that desk and throwing out her lines, she’d changed the very smell of the moment.

It wasn’t like she was acting as Yeon Do-yeon — it was like she’d become Yeon Do-yeon herself.

When she recited her monologue at her brother’s funeral, it was a performance that smelled of burning incense; when she faced Yoo Ha-jin in the rain, of wet, briny earth; when she smiled in front of Ha-jin for the first time, of warm country sunlight.

Ah, I want her.

In all her years of writing scripts, had there ever been an actor who handed her this many layers of feeling from a script reading alone?

At least in the life of Choi Gi-yeong, who had risen to the ranks of Korea’s star writers, Joo Sae-i was the first actor like that. In a voice steeped in feeling, Choi Gi-yeong said shortly:

“…She’s a monster. Going to be someone huge.”

When she’d first heard about Joo Sae-i from her sister, she never imagined her heart would end up racing like this.

Now she was even starting to think maybe she’d been born as Choi Gi-jeong’s older sister just so she could meet Joo Sae-i while she was still a fresh-faced rookie.

I absolutely have to make her my Ji-min.

So Ji-min. The female lead of her newest project in the works — the newest kind of attempt she could make as a drama writer.

The back half of the script, which had been stuck for so long while she wrote, came pouring out the moment she saw Joo Sae-i.

She had to get it down before the inspiration slipped away. Pulling a notebook from her pocket and scribbling as she went, Choi Gi-yeong hurried out of the reading room.

“Where are you going? You still have to tell me more of what you thought!”

“My workroom! If I don’t write this down now, I’ll lose out on hundreds of millions!”

She had, at last, found the “real” So Ji-min.