Chapter 7

Six-year-old Joo Seo-yeon’s daily life is busy.

After vigorously doing some stretches upon waking up in the morning, she heads off to kindergarten.

A few hours are spent mingling with other children who, in terms of mental age, are at least twenty years older than her.

And once kindergarten ends, she heads straight to the filming set.

“Cut! Cut! Cut! Oh, I’ve heard about this, but Seo-yeon, you’re really incredible.”

“Not at all. It’s just that everyone has helped me so much.”

Upon hearing Director Kim’s compliment about the commercial she was filming, Seo-yeon modestly bowed her head.

Her polite response caused laughter to ripple through the set.

“Wow, how can our kid be so different? Not all six-year-olds are the same, it seems.”

“The kid really acts like an adult. Seo-yeon’s mom must be so proud.”

As staff members passed by, they complimented Sua, Seo-yeon’s mother, with envy. This was because in the latest advertisement she starred in, Seo-yeon’s performance was on par with or better than that in the previous soy milk ad.

‘Could our Seo-yeon really be a genius?’

Ever since she was little, Seo-yeon had been an easy child, requiring no special attention. She rarely cried and managed well on her own, which made Sua’s parenting journey extremely easy.

As Sua was tilting her head, she noticed an actress who had just finished the ad with Seo-yeon and bowed in greeting. The actress was a mid-career professional with over twenty years of experience in the acting world, a veteran despite not having a particularly extraordinary career.

“Ah! Miss Kim Mi-yeon. Thank you so much for helping Seo-yeon.”

“Not at all. Seo-yeon’s acting is so good, it made my job easy.”

As Seo-yeon made a low bow not far away, Kim Mi-yeon commented.

“However…”

“However?”

“There’s a bit of an artificial feel.”

Kim Mi-yeon looked at Seo-yeon. Everyone praised her for method acting, but something felt off.

‘Or quite the opposite, could it be?’

Instead of method acting, Kim Mi-yeon felt that Seo-yeon’s performance was more like well-practiced emotional expressions.

Kim Mi-yeon was a seasoned actress. She had worked with many big-name actors known for their method acting and understood the struggles they went through.

‘Maybe I’m just being overly sensitive. An emotion learned by such a young child doesn’t make any sense.’

This wasn’t something that could be achieved within a year or two. It would take decades, until acting became second nature.

At just six years old, it would be impossible for Seo-yeon, even if she had been acting since the day she was born.

But still, what if there were an exception?

“Miss.”

“Yes?”

“Seo-yeon looks strong, but children like her often have hidden vulnerabilities.”

To Mi-yeon, Sua was still a young mother. At over forty herself, Mi-yeon considered herself a senior parent compared to Sua.

“Not everything is what it seems.”

Upon hearing Mi-yeon’s words, Sua slowly nodded.

‘What part of Seo-yeon is weak?’

She wondered if such a thing even existed, but knowing it came from experience, she took it to heart.

‘Now that I think about it, actors do need regular stress management consultations.’

Indeed, it seemed like getting frequent health check-ups early would be beneficial, as Mi-yeon implied.

***

‘This shoot was quite fulfilling.’

Seo-yeon nodded her head. The money was stacking up nicely, and she was certainly getting consistent acting practice.

The fact that some people were starting to recognize her was now also becoming somewhat entertaining.

‘This must be why people do broadcasting.’

Seo-yeon was excited at the thought of how much more enjoyable it would be streaming as a virtual YouTuber, considering the instant feedback available online.

“When did you become busier than me?”

As Seo-yeon returned home, her father Joo Young-bin greeted her with this remark. Oddly, Seo-yeon had come home later than Young-bin had from the office.

“By the way, have you heard from your mom?”

“Huh?”

“Young-sook mentioned something about a drama offer for Seo-yeon.”

Drama?

At first, Seo-yeon thought she may have heard wrong.

“D-drama? Me?”

“Apparently Director Cho Min-tae recommended you…”

Only then did Seo-yeon understand the situation.

‘Director Cho Bang-woo must have put in a good word.’

Cho Min-tae’s father, Cho Bang-woo, one of the big names in South Korean cinema.

Right now.

Even though he hadn’t directed a ten-million-movie, he was behind numerous successful films and had a reputation as “a director who never fails.”

‘Only until exactly seven years from now.’

After that, over four years, Cho Bang-woo failed on five films back-to-back.

Especially his last film was the final nail in his coffin. He literally made the hundreds of billions of investment funds vanish, and his body was found in his home afterwards.

‘So, he’s at the peak of his power now.’

Considering that, it could be possible to push an amateur child actor into a drama audition.

“By the way, do you know what drama it is?”

“Hmm, I think I heard it’s KMB’s drama. It might be a historical drama, wasn’t it?”

“KMB and historical drama?”

“Ah, right. Do you know anything about it, Seo-yeon?”

Confused by her father’s question, Seo-yeon quickly shook her head. It would have been strange if she acted like she knew more.

‘If this is really an audition, with KMB and a historical drama…’

One name came to mind.

‘*The Moon That Hid the Sun.*’

A faux-historical drama that reached a high of over 40% viewership—the line between romance and history blurred for this piece. Its influence was so profound that all the acting awards this year went to the cast of this very drama.

‘And they want me?’

Even if it were through nepotism, KMB’s drama auditions attract child actors from renowned academies and talent agencies. An amateur who’s only shot a couple of cheap ads wouldn’t stand a chance at even getting in.

“Well, don’t set your hopes too high. If you get in, you’ll probably just be a minor role, right?”

“Probably.”

Even if she got just an extra role, that would already be a big step for someone aspiring to act in such a large-scale historical drama.

However, Seo-yeon knew better—extras didn’t need to go through auditions.

‘Perhaps what Director Cho Min-tae refers to with the audition is…’

Princess Yeon-hwa.

Lee Hye-wol.

In other words, the lead for *The Moon That Hid the Sun.*

***

“Hey, what’s on your mind?”

I looked up to find Ji-yeon glaring at me with a flat expression. Ever since kindergarten orientation day, she had been following me around like a shadow. Now, it was almost like she was babysitting me.

“As opposed to your childishness, I have quite a lot to think about.”

“We’re the same age, dummy.”

I stuck out my tongue at her. Unlike other kids, Ji-yeon was very emotionally mature and unusually bright. Just listening to her speak raised doubts about whether she was six.

‘Is this how others see me?’

In any case, Ji-yeon was irritating. Her constant presence—while sometimes endearing—was a challenge. She clung on like a leech, and once she latched on, it was impossible to shake her off.

And every time, it was about that soy milk advertisement. Without fail, after she shot one, she would come find me to chatter on.

“Instead of that, Seo-yeon, could you help me open this?”

Ji-yean handed me two glass bottles. Orange juice bottles, probably ones she had struggled to open on her own.

“Why are there two?”

“One is yours, dumb. Can’t you see?”

Hmm, Ji-yeon is annoying, but she has these endearing qualities. I was getting thirsty, and her timing with the orange juice was just right. Good of her to bring it.

“Here.”

With a “pop”, I effortlessly opened the orange juice bottle. Ji-yeon’s eyes widened in shock.

“How are you so strong? Not even the teacher could open it.”

“Really?”

Had she actually tried with the teacher first?

“Strong, huh?”

Thinking about it, my strength reference has always been based on an adult male, so it wasn’t unusual that I didn’t notice anything strange. Is there anything I couldn’t do in Seo-yeon’s body that I could do in my previous life?

Aside from problems due to short stature.

“Strange. Why am I so strong?”

Is the strength of a six-year-old the same as my past self’s strength? If I continue to grow at this rate, will I become a super soldier?

My eyes turn red occasionally too—it’s a little alarming.

“Just in case, you should know that you shouldn’t hit me.”

“Why would I hit you?”

Ji-yeon didn’t answer my question. It seemed she was worried I might lash out in a moment of irritation.

Fights among children tend to break out more easily than one might expect.

“Do you know what?”

After finishing her orange juice, Ji-yeon started speaking.

“What?”

“KMB is hosting an audition, and I can’t join because I’m too young, but my agency’s older siblings are.”

“Older siblings?”

‘So, there’s an audition for the male lead’s child role too.’

Unforeseen information.

“Seo-yeon.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going?”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. Should I tell the truth? Or lie?

“I’m going.”

But I didn’t want to lie. If by some miracle I got selected, there would be chaos.

Of course, I already know there’s no way I can be chosen, given the caliber of the other child actors up for the role.

“Hmm, really?”

Contrary to my expectations, Ji-yeon didn’t react as wildly as I thought she might.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, what else can I do? I can’t go.”

As she said this, Ji-yeon stared at me with a piercing gaze.

“Just you wait. I’ll soon be able to do that too. I just couldn’t join this time because my agency’s older siblings went.”

Ji-yeon was surprisingly determined for her age. Her self-esteem was through the roof.

Speaking of which, I wonder what happened to her in my previous life?

‘She hasn’t done much since the soy milk ad.’

Yet Ji-yeon had already starred in another advertisement.

She’s an intriguing child who gives me mixed feelings.

“I’ll be a drama protagonist next time.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

I responded to Ji-yeon’s proclamation with a laugh—a rare occurrence for me in general.

For many reasons.

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