An odd sense of tension enveloped the room.
This indicated that Seoyeon’s performance had been rather impressive, irrespective of whether it was good or bad.
It wasn’t merely good—it was eerily spot on.
‘Could it be that she’s played a few roles like this before?’
director Bae Jin-hwan, without realizing it, had entertained this thought and promptly slapped his cheek.
What on earth is she thinking about when she plays this kind of role?
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to have this sensation. The actors were all looking around awkwardly, their gazes aimless yet intersecting.
“…Did I make some kind of mistake?”
Seoyeon, feeling somewhat deflated under this atmosphere, finally spoke up.
“No!”
“Absolutely not, right?”
“Everyone’s just surprised at how incredibly well you’re doing, Seoyeon.”
“That’s right.”
Starting from the male actors, actress Jung Si-hyun, who was playing Han Ye-hwa, quickly jumped in to reassure her. Though her polished appearance and mannerisms might have caused confusion, everyone realized that Seoyeon was still in her teens.
It wasn’t that there was truly an issue with her acting. Actually, her performance was genuinely eerie.
“Is that so?”
But in reality, Seoyeon wasn’t too bothered. The deflated look had been staged, a subtle way to gauge everyone’s reactions.
Still, she admitted to herself that she had been nervous, and their affirmations were indeed a relief.
‘Did I overdo it?’
No, this feels about right, she mused internally.
She understood why everyone had reacted the way they did. For Seoyeon, this role could well be the defining role of her life, or at least the role closest to her own story from her previous life.
‘Precisely speaking…’
It wasn’t the character of Joo Sooyeon as much as it was her former self.
A role that mirrored her own past life.
“Hmm. Let’s take a few more scenes here, shall we?”
Director Bae Jin-hwan said this to lighten the atmosphere. Moreover, he wanted to confirm if the unsettling performance he had just witnessed from Seoyeon was real or just a fluke.
It wasn’t just him—other actors felt the same.
“Would it be alright if I took a shot this time?”
The one to speak up was none other than actress Jung Si-hyun, playing the victim, Han Ye-hwa. She swallowed nervously while looking at Seoyeon.
‘So, this is the Joo Sooyeon everyone’s been talking about.’
Jung Si-hyun felt a distinct tension within herself. After all, the talent agency she belonged to had one victim of Joo Sooyeon’s past performances.
“Seriously, isn’t this overkill?”
At a restaurant, a woman was stirring her salad forcefully with a fork. Despite being in her late thirties, she had a flawless, wrinkle-free appearance. A well-known method actress in South Korea, Ha Ye-seo complained with evident irritation.
“Why on earth are you back after ten years to humiliate us?”
“Well, your older sister could reshoot too.”
“…Are you joking? How am I, an old woman, supposed to play those young roles anymore? I’d be Princess Yeonhwa’s grandma at this point.”
Grandma?
Jung Si-hyun inwardly rolled her eyes. The kind of woman who could casually refer to herself as an ‘old woman’ probably didn’t actually appear old to anyone. She knew that if anyone were to tease her about that, Ha Ye-seo would explode.
“Anyway…”
After sipping a drink to freshen her mouth, Ha Ye-seo continued.
“So, you’re acting with that girl this time?”
“Yes. I heard she’s been cast in a villainous role, as Cha Sooah.”
“Hmm, a villain.”
Ha Ye-seo recalled an early impression of young Seoyeon from a decade ago. Her acting technique then was raw, but she didn’t look like your usual child actor.
What was Ha Ye-seo’s feeling the moment she saw Seoyeon’s performance back then?
“It was spine-chilling.”
“Excuse me?”
“The emotions in the performance were far too mature for a child. They seemed almost off-key. That’s why actress Jeong Eun-seon gave her a hard time.”
“Seems like she wasn’t too friendly even back then.”
“Not so much unfriendly as cluelessly rude.”
Was it alright to say that about a senior actor?
But between the two of them, there was no need to mince words.
“Anyway. Be careful.”
“Huh?”
“If you don’t want a repeat of what happened to me.”
Honestly, Ha Ye-seo was looking forward to acting alongside Seoyeon. It would be a form of revenge after all these years.
Ha Ye-seo chewed on a cherry tomato while looking at the junior actress before her.
She’s an excellent actor and strikingly beautiful. A female actor whose future is full of promise.
“Her talent is undeniable, but she’s been too sheltered.”
Perhaps this film could be a great opportunity for her. After all, one needs to fully understand walls in order to break them.
The return of a prodigious child actor after 10 years.
Even Ha Ye-seo watched quietly from the sidelines for the debut of the first theatrical stage.
“Do well.”
So, Ha Ye-seo said this earnestly to her junior. Jung Si-hyun, on rare occasion of being supported by a senior, barely took notice of it.
No matter how well she might do, she’s still just a teenage actor.
She thought this until she actually saw it. The feeling was completely different.
Carefully, she might end up just another one of those victims if she’s not careful.
In fact, it could end much worse than just being a victim.
At least Ha Ye-seo hasn’t shared any scene with her yet. But herself?
Cha Sooah shares the most scenes with Han Ye-hwa. After all, it’s a role where she drags Ye-hwa into victimhood.
“Alright.”
Director Bae Jin-hwan gave the okay sign. They decided to practice a scene together, and it seemed like a good idea to see their chemistry in advance.
“Let’s see… Scene 37 it is.”
Scene #37. This time, it was an intense part, unlike her previous role as a detective.
‘Was the acting just now really…’
‘A fluke?’
‘Or is this her reality?’
All eyes turned to Seoyeon. Seoyeon and Jung Si-hyun.
Two young actresses.
Without a table between them, they rose to face one another in the empty space, as this intense part of the script wouldn’t have worked seated.
In a shadowed area, Jung Si-hyun stood observing Seoyeon.
With jet-black long hair contrasting sharply with her pale skin, staring into her hazel eyes felt like they were gradually turning crimson—harrowingly eerie.
Even before the performance began, it was as if Cha Sooah stood right in front of her.
With the script in hand, Jung Si-hyun envisioned the scene in her mind. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes tightly, and reopened them.
Han Ye-hwa was in an alley. Running desperately down the narrow lane, the heavy footsteps coming from behind her grew louder bit by bit.
Breathing harshly, Han Ye-hwa tried to suppress her labored breaths with her hands but found it impossible.
“What… Why…?”
Her voice barely carried. Ahead, a garbage heap blocked the way, leaving it a dead end.
Behind her, the footsteps had faded into silence.
Perhaps she had been left behind?
Slowly, Han Ye-hwa turned.
And there, at the entrance of the alley, stood a woman who was staring directly at her.
Her hand clutched a hammer—such a common household tool.
But it bore something it should never have carried: blood. Blood still fresh from the head of Han Ye-hwa’s boyfriend which it had just struck.
“Why, why are you doing this?!!”
At her scream, the woman finally started taking steps toward her. She was smiling, a smile of joy at finding Han Ye-hwa after her escape.
Had she been happy, perhaps, this wouldn’t have been such raw, chilling fear.
“She’s just…”
The woman’s mouth moved, a voice devoid of inflection.
“It hurts here.”
A monotone.
“It’s so hard to watch.”
Her steps began to hasten.
By the time Han Ye-hwa had tried to recoil and catch her breath, the woman was already right before her, her face close enough for Han Ye-hwa to feel it against her own.
As if trying to read the emotions within her own eyes reflected in the woman’s.
“If only reading fear could be this easy.”
Horrified, the sheer dread was unmistakable and painfully clear.
“This easy?”
Her expression changed.
As though mocking Han Ye-hwa’s expression, mimicking her frightened face. It mirrored her, yet was profoundly disturbing.
“Like this?”
Her distorted face, mimicking fear.
It was akin to watching someone else’s face to judge her own expression.
“I don’t know.”
Her hands moved.
Her grip on the hammer shifted.
Han Ye-hwa, using every bit of strength she had, pushed the woman away.
No, she had to push her away. She had to fight.
She had to break free.
The scene needed to continue.
But Jung Si-hyun froze looking up at Cha Sooah’s (Seoyeon) expression, unable to move under the weight of her presence.
She was supposed to fight. She should have been battered by the swinging hammer and eventually fall unconscious.
“Alright, that’s good for now.”
What had been a dark alley turned back into a well-lit indoor setting. Director Bae Jin-hwan wiped the sweat from his brow with his palm.
“You two have performed wonderfully.”
That was a heartfelt compliment.
Until the very last moment, everything had been going well—until Jung Si-hwan saw her face close up and froze.
He would have provided feedback on the error usually, but this time something was off.
Rather, he realized he might have underestimated actress Jung Si-hyun.
But still…
All around, the other actors watched Jung Si-hyun, lost in thought.
“As soon as they got near, her presence completely faded.”
When Jung Si-hyun was farther away, her acting was applause-worthy. But the moment she came face to face with Seoyeon, the character of Han Ye-hwa seemed to vanish completely.
‘A play….’
Had the play-acting helped? It felt less like a script reading and more like live theater.
Exaggerated yet fitting for the villainous role, Seoyeon’s portrayal had been impeccable, almost too seamless.
The character Han Ye-hwa had been utterly overshadowed by Joo Sooohyeon’s presence.
“It is true the villain’s scene stood out.”
“But such overpowering presence can make it tricky.”
The actors considered what would’ve happened if they themselves had shared the scene with Jung Si-hyun.
It wouldn’t have been easy.
That level of pressure, the scene dominated entirely by one actor—such performances were usually seen only in the repertoire of great actors who could overshadow any setting.
She had that much power.
‘I have to be careful.’
Kim Dae-heon, portraying the lead character of Im Seung-cheol, resolved firmly. He never lacked in his acting abilities.
Still…
He chuckled softly.
He anticipated the next scene where their paths would cross.
What an amazing image would emerge, what performance he could deliver alongside her. He looked forward to it.
“…”
Meanwhile, Jung Si-hyun, who had just performed with Seoyeon, bit her lower lip, looking dejectedly at Seoyeon, bowed her head.
She sincerely felt ashamed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Pardon?”
“In the next take, I’ll do better.”
Actress Jung Si-hyun apologized to an actress ten years her junior.
It was a moment of her self-reflection. Had she not faltered, their scene might have truly been a magnificent one.
She ruined it.
“Next time…”
There must be no repeat of such an error.
She resolved not to let any of Seoyeon’s scenes go to waste.
“…”
At this point, Seoyeon, observing Jung Si-hyun, hesitated before closing her lips in determination. She found it hard to grasp what to say at this moment.
Should she comfort her?
No, perhaps, this was the time to encourage her…
“Let’s go, Fighting!”
“Huh?”
“Ah, never mind…”
Seoyeon cursed her poor communication skills. Sincerely.
And then…
A week later.
The play <Closing Your Eyes> concluded its final performance, when a response arrived from the cable TV station Izyeon had asked for.
From <Game Broadcasting>, where they aired a show called <From Kicked to King>.
