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“Oh my, it really is Ms. Hee-soo!”
The voice was loud and agitated, drawing everyone’s attention straight to Hee-soo.
“Ah, hello.”
Hee-soo gave a slight nod of acknowledgment and turned her gaze back to the script. However, the bustling presence persisted, and soon Jin Yuna’s shoes came into view, obstructing Hee-soo’s line of sight.
It was clear why she had come, but ignoring her wasn’t an option either.
With a sigh escaping involuntarily, Hee-soo slowly raised her head to look up at Jin Yuna standing before her.
“Are you here for the audition? Long time no see, act a little happy to see me.”
Jin Yuna greeted her with the warmth one would show an old friend, though the corners of her mouth curled up in a sly, knowing smirk.
Jin Yuna was an actress who, during Hee-soo’s peak years, was often dismissed as perpetually being second-best.
Hee-soo remembered how Jin Yuna had ignored her greetings when they crossed paths a few times, prompting Hee-soo to later pretend not to notice her as well.
Yet here she stood, deliberately positioning herself right in front of Hee-soo, her gaze piercing and anything but ordinary.
Though Hee-soo could guess what was coming, she remained calm.
“Yes, I’m here for the audition. Are you too, Yuna?”
“Well, sort of. It’s more like a pre-meeting than an actual audition.”
Her tone was dripping with arrogance, practically shouting, ‘You and I are on different levels now.’ Knowing Jin Yuna wouldn’t leave without some form of engagement, Hee-soo forced a smile.
“I see.”
After offering that perfunctory response, nothing else came to mind. She certainly wasn’t in the mood to flatter or grovel unnecessarily.
Their silent standoff ended quickly as Jin Yuna’s brow twitched, and she began spewing venomous words.
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here after abandoning your last project mid-shoot and thinking about making a comeback.”
Though Hee-soo let out a small sigh of exasperation, she listened silently without responding.
She didn’t feel like explaining herself in detail in front of so many people, and she knew her past actions were indeed wrong.
Being criticized by the production staff who suffered because of her felt somewhat justified—it was something she had anticipated. She had already foreseen that if she resumed her career, people would attack her for this very reason.
But Jin Yuna didn’t stop there.
“You seem to be holding onto too much hope, so I thought I’d give you a word of advice.”
Suddenly leaning in close, Jin Yuna whispered into Hee-soo’s ear.
“The roles for this project have already been decided. Including mine.”
“What do you mean?”
Turning sharply to look at Jin Yuna, Hee-soo saw the other woman’s eyes narrow mischievously.
“The auditions are just for show. Seeing someone like you sitting here with such an innocent face makes me think you’re past your prime.”
“Is what you just said true?”
Hee-soo wasn’t as concerned about the insult as she was about verifying whether Jin Yuna’s claim was accurate. Sensing Hee-soo’s reaction, Jin Yuna’s expression brightened with delight.
“Do you even know how much money is being poured into this movie? Why would they cast someone like you, whose image is already tarnished? You really don’t get it, do you?”
Hee-soo paused, pondering whether this was just another insult or if there was truth behind it. Something flickered in her mind, and she looked up at Jin Yuna with a composed face once more.
Straightening back up, Jin Yuna sneered down at Hee-soo with a smug grin plastered across her face.
Though Hee-soo knew she should simply brush it off with a polite “I see,” she couldn’t help herself.
“I heard Director Bang insists that even lead actors go through auditions. So, you’re not here for the lead role, then?”
The thought had just occurred to her, and before she could stop herself, she voiced it aloud.
Director Bang was known for carefully selecting every role through auditions, never predetermining leads. Realizing this now, Jin Yuna’s behavior suddenly seemed laughable.
“What… What did you say? Are you implying I’m lying?”
“I never said that.”
While Hee-soo maintained her indifferent demeanor, Jin Yuna’s face flushed a deep red.
“Y-you… you—!”
“That reminds me, I owe you thanks. Thank you, Yuna.”
Caught off guard by the unexpected gratitude, confusion spread across Jin Yuna’s face.
“Thank you for stepping in and taking over my role back then. Thanks to that, you got reevaluated, didn’t you? I heard you always wanted that role from the start.”
The label of “always second to Seo Hee-soo” was like a thorn in Jin Yuna’s side.
The drama Hee-soo had dropped out of was one Jin Yuna had desperately wanted, reportedly visiting the writer and director multiple times to promote herself for the part.
That’s why Jin Yuna had eagerly taken over Hee-soo’s spot when she left.
Still, despite her efforts, the consensus remained that she couldn’t quite measure up to Seo Hee-soo.
“What… What do you mean?”
“Or maybe I should be the one thanking you. In a way, things worked out well for me because of you.”
“You!”
Jin Yuna’s face contorted with rage. Her voice was loud and shrill compared to Hee-soo’s calm, quiet tone.
As more people began gathering around, intrigued by the exchange, a man who appeared to be a senior manager approached and called out to Jin Yuna.
“Yuna, that’s enough. Let’s go inside.”
But Jin Yuna, her eyes brimming with tears, glared at Hee-soo and refused to budge.
“Don’t even think about making a comeback! I’ll sabotage everything you try to do!”
“Do as you please.”
Hee-soo shrugged indifferently, which only fueled Jin Yuna’s anger. She raised her hand as if she were about to strike.
“Hey! Seo Hee-soo!”
If she hits me, I’ll take it. Right here in front of everyone.
Hee-soo closed her eyes, steeling herself for the slap.
But then—
“Is getting slapped and slapping back some kind of hobby for you, Ms. Seo Hee-soo?”
“President Baek─!”
A familiar voice interrupted, and Jin Yuna’s tone shifted dramatically. When Hee-soo looked up, she saw Baek Donghwan swaggering over.
“President, why did you take so long? I’ve been waiting for ages.”
Jin Yuna clung to Donghwan’s arm, whining like a child.
“Yuna, you’ve gotten even prettier since I last saw you. How about showing your face in Namyangju sometime?”
“Oh, come on. I’ve been so busy with filming lately. But if you call me, I’ll go anytime.”
Donghwan exchanged a few words with Jin Yuna, who was practically hanging off him, before glancing briefly at Hee-soo.
“Are you here for the audition too, Ms. Seo Hee-soo?”
Donghwan’s question caught Hee-soo off guard. She hadn’t expected to run into him at the audition, and her surprise was evident. Before she could respond, he continued with a sly grin.
“Let’s see how impressive you are inside. I’m curious to watch.”
With a meaningful smirk, he gestured with his chin and walked past Hee-soo, still holding Jin Yuna close.
“President, are you close with Seo Hee-soo?”
“Not at all. I can’t stand her.”
“Hehe. I figured. I really dislike her too.”
Hee-soo watched blankly as Donghwan and Jin Yuna chatted and walked away together.
“Sigh…”
All she could do was exhale deeply.
It’s fine, it’s fine.
Hee-soo muttered the words to herself like a mantra as she collapsed back into her seat.
No, it’s not fine.
This place had been her last hope, but now it felt like she’d hit an insurmountable wall before even starting.
“The roles for this project have already been decided. Including mine.”
Jin Yuna’s words echoed in her ears. Though Jin Yuna had shouted them, Hee-soo couldn’t shake the worry that they might be true.
“Let’s see how impressive you are inside. I’m curious to watch.”
Donghwan’s sneering face overlapped with someone else’s in her mind—Lee Jungchul, who had casually threatened to destroy her life that night.
Her hands trembled so much that she couldn’t focus on the script. The excitement she had felt earlier in the audition hall had now turned into fear.
Thump, thump. Her heart suddenly raced, and Hee-soo clutched her chest. She had experienced something similar three years ago when production halted. That same endless anxiety and suffocating fear were creeping back.
It’s fine. Nothing will happen.
Hee-soo closed her eyes and whispered “it’s fine” over and over, trembling uncontrollably.
“Nuna, they’re calling you in.”
She heard Yoon Seok’s voice but couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.
“Nuna, are you okay?”
“…Yeah. Yeah.”
After what felt like forever, she finally responded and grabbed onto Yoon Seok to steady herself as she stood up.
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
Yoon Seok, who had been going back and forth between the inner office and the waiting room, apparently hadn’t seen Jin Yuna or Baek Donghwan.
“It’s fine.”
Hee-soo gave Yoon Seok a faint smile and opened the door to the audition room.
Creak. As she pushed open the iron door and stepped inside, she found herself in a large, empty space with a single chair placed in the middle.
Across from her sat Director Bang, the male lead actor known for his strong performances, and a few others, including Baek Donghwan, who appeared to be producers.
As Hee-soo entered, all eyes turned toward her, pinning her in place.
Click, click.
The few seconds it took her to walk to the prepared chair were filled with an awkward silence that seemed to stretch endlessly.
“Hello, I’m Seo Hee-soo.”
She sat down and began her introduction, but she could feel the subtle tremor at the end of her words.
Though she was looking straight ahead, the camera recording the audition from the corner of the room caught her eye. Suddenly, she felt like a rookie actress about to debut for the first time, overwhelmed by nerves.
“Ms. Seo Hee-soo, which role are you auditioning for?”
The judges’ dry, unfeeling gazes bore into her.
“Yoon Ji-soo, the female lead.”
Thud.
As soon as her words ended, the sound of the door closing behind her echoed through the room.
“For now, let’s start with what you’ve prepared.”
As Director Bang finished speaking, the man sitting next to him leaned over and whispered something in his ear. At that moment, Hee-soo’s heart began pounding wildly in her chest.
The gazes of the people seated before her seemed full of hostility.
Why is she here? Let’s just get this over with.
It felt as though their whispers were reaching her ears. In reality, no one might have said anything like that. But regardless of logic, her body’s reaction was undeniable.
Her vision blurred, her pulse raced, and her breathing grew ragged.
The urge to bolt out of the room screaming that she couldn’t do it overwhelmed her. But Hee-soo fought hard to compose herself.
I can do this. I can do this.
Repeating the words like a mantra, she moved her lips several times, then rose from the chair. For a brief moment, she lowered her gaze and immersed herself in the emotions of the character.
When Hee-soo lifted her eyes again, her face had transformed—she was no longer Seo Hee-soo but someone entirely different.