Chapter 10

Looking back, it was a scene that wasn’t particularly outstanding.

Princess Yeonhwa had merely turned her body slowly in response to the boy’s call.

It was such a simple action, yet…

‘Acting.’

The thought naturally came to Ha Tae-oh, the planning producer.

Acting is not merely about delivering lines.

It’s the expression of all emotions—whether through facial expressions, gaze, or even bodily movements.

All of these elements make up the act of performing.

“You sought me.”

The significant lines of dialogue had yet to be delivered, but everyone watched intently as Princess Yeonhwa quietly turned her body.

Yeonhwa, leaving the palace for a distant place, was portrayed by those who expressed her grief. And Seohui Jo took it further by successfully filling her eyes with tears, conveying the emotion with great intensity.

But the Princess before them did not cry.

Grief—certainly it was there.

But a deeper anger emerged in her eyes, a wrath that could not be drowned out by mere sorrow. Her crimson gaze, like the setting sun, seemed to darken, brimming with resentment. It was not just her escape from the rebellion but her rage against its instigator that was palpable.

This gaze struck young Yoon Seoil speechless. His mind went blank, even though he had memorized his lines perfectly.

“So, why do you not speak?”

Ordinarily, that should’ve been it. But Princess Yeonhwa’s lips parted to address the silent boy.

“Or is it that to someone like me, even words are too precious?”

It was an act of venting. A release of frustration at the boy who had interrupted her private sorrow.

“…sniff.”

At this blade-like voice, Yoon Seoil let out a hiccup and tears welled up in his eyes. In that moment, he truly felt the presence of royalty.

It felt like a grave sin to say anything further in that moment.

“Cut! Cut! That’s enough. The performance was plenty!”

Thanks to Director Gong Jung-tae’s call, the oppressive atmosphere vanished as if it had never existed. The Princess who had recently stood before everyone transformed back into Seoyeon, blinking innocently.

But no one mocked her carefree attitude as they once had.

‘…A parachuted candidate?’

Was this parachuted? More like a special forces unit.

The faces of the child actors who had auditioned for the role of Princess Yeonhwa were filled with disappointment. They hadn’t expected that there would be another child actor who could match Seohui Jo in skill.

‘This is absurd.’

Among the astonished audience, none were more surprised than Seohui Jo herself. Her confidence faltered.

‘They said she only did commercials!’

Could these performances really be from someone who just filmed commercials? Though resentful, she had to admit that the interpretation delivered just now was beyond anything Seohui Jo herself could have imagined.

‘No, that was wrong. The script clearly described Princess Yeonhwa shedding tears in her grief.’

The script required Yoon Seoil to comfort Yeonhwa as she wept.

But Seoyeon’s version leaned more toward a chilling, desperate sorrow rather than pathetic wailing. Hence, this interpretation deviated from the requirements, making it a “wrong” performance.

That’s how Seohui consoled herself.

“…I’ve heard the acting of child actors these days is incredible.”

“Definitely worth recommending.”

“Her emotional delivery is outstanding. She surpasses most actors.”

Ha Tae-oh glanced at the CF director, Cho Min-tae, who had come to observe the scene. Cho Min-tae, the son of Director Jo Bang-woo, was known for his advertisements.

‘Is he just lucky? Or is he talented at spotting talent?’

The judges all recalled Seoyeon’s act from earlier.

‘She was clearly looking at the sunset at the start.’

‘Facing the sun directly, so her eyes should have been dazzled and unable to open fully…’

‘Then she slowly turned her body in response to Yoon Seoil’s call…’

Though it was obvious, the sun was still high in the sky, and it would be a while before the sunset.

Yet Seoyeon’s performance made the sunset feel as if it were right in front of them, as though she was a moon standing against the light.

“But that line wasn’t in the script.”

“It was an ad-lib. Very natural though.”

“The emotional acting was a bit off from the script’s request. Director Gong, what do you think?”

This was an important judgment for Director Gong, the guiding force behind the execution of the drama and its acting.

“It was truly excellent acting… but I think a picky director might not have appreciated it. The performance was too subjective.”

“That’s true. In my experience, I’ve never seen a child actor interpret things this way. They usually just follow instructions.”

“Yes, exactly. They should follow the script…”

Interpreting the script in one’s own way, as Seoyeon did, is typical of seasoned actors.

But she naturally achieved this despite her young age. Was this really talent?

“Ah, wait. Could she possibly have acted according to the original novel?”

Someone suddenly mentioned this.

The drama “The Moon That Hid the Sun” was based on a novel.

“In the original novel, Princess Yeonhwa scolds Yoon Seoil. Consumed with sorrow for herself and anger, she vents her emotions.”

However, the Yeonhwa in the drama was more subdued, emphasizing serenity to allow Yoon Seoil to shine.

“… If she had read the original, then it might not have been a wrong interpretation.”

“Hmm…”

Of course, beyond anything, it was a great performance.

The natural ad-libbing and intense emotional performance captured everyone’s attention.

The only problem was that it differed from the acting required by the script.

“Compared to Seohui Jo…”

A term everyone associated with Seohui Jo. The princess of the one-hour drama, an accolade praising the immense talent everyone believed would lead her to become a great actress one day.

“Strictly speaking, it’s hard to compare them when it comes to acting.”

“Their emotional delivery varies significantly. In terms of skill… Seohui Jo was definitely incredible, and there were many good moments too.”

If we consider acting alone, Seohui Jo was the model student, one who earned top scores in every subject.

But Seoyeon was untamed. An interpretation and natural ad-libbing driven by her own understanding. This could easily become chaotic if not handled correctly by her counterpart.

Just like how Yoon Seoil was unable to utter a single line.

“It’s not a difficult role for Yoon Seoil… but it seems I’ll struggle with Lee Hye-wol.”

After a brief period of conflict, the panel looked at each other.

“Let’s watch all the prepared scenes before deciding.”

“Yes, there’s no need to rush.”

With that, they decided to proceed with the audition. The character casting would be decided during a subsequent meeting anyway.

But they already knew who would play Princess Yeonhwa, better known as Lee Hye-wol.

***

“Did I go overboard?”

That intense reaction she observed from the panel after finishing her act still lingered.

Crossing her arms and thinking about the ordeal, her body involuntarily twitched in anxiety.

She feared that perhaps she had just accumulated a “dark history” scene.

If there had been a blanket nearby, she would have definitely kicked it away.

“Seoyeon.”

While deep in thought, Cho Min-tae broke the silence.

“It was truly amazing watching your performance today.”

“Yes?”

“Frankly, I was worried about this being your first drama, but it seems to be your true nature. Honestly, I thought Princess Yeonhwa was standing right in front of me.”

Was this just flattery?

Looking at his expression, it seemed honest.

“Thank goodness…”

Relieved, she exhaled and immediately felt her mother’s firm grip on her hand.

“I was surprised too. I often watch historical dramas—you know that. Comparing you to the child actors in those dramas, your performance was flawless. No, in fact, it was far better.”

“…Is that so?”

“Yes! Clearly, you’re a genius just like everyone says!”

Apparently, unable to say anything earlier due to the atmosphere, Sua enveloped her in a tight embrace.

‘Breathing…’

As Sua’s hefty weight pressed against her face, Cho Min-tae continued with calm tones.

“Whenever there’s an opportunity, if I ever direct a drama or a movie, I would sincerely like for you to play the lead role.”

“Me?”

“Of course. By then, however, Seoyeon will likely be a great star—someone even I would hesitate to approach.”

With that, he chuckled softly.

“Oh, but I’ll definitely make sure to seize the opportunity if it arises.”

“Fantastic. No backing out.”

“Certainly. We have a promise then.”

She responded by enthusiastically raising her arm and extending her thumb to meet his in a playful exchange, completing their contract with a comical gesture.

“Sometimes, Seoyeon, you seem just like a boy. Your actions are so spirited.”

“That so?”

Upon hearing the “boyish” comment, she flinched momentarily.

Of course, she would resemble a boy—her past life had been that of one.

Though her actions had changed, her mindset hadn’t shifted much.

‘Ah, well…’

Perhaps the contract seemed trivial to Cho Min-tae, but she took it seriously.

‘Cho Min-tae’s first movie would be “The Thief.”’

It was a casual, entertaining film to pass the time.

A genius director’s thrilling action movie!

Broadly speaking, it was marketed that way.

If he cast her as the lead, she’d be infinitely grateful.

So many actors rose to fame because of such opportunities.

The movie that propelled Kim Jung-ha to astronomical heights amidst her skyrocketing career, wasn’t it?

‘But I also need to manage being a VTuber.’

Mentioning her past participation in a “Ten Million Movie” was hard to spin as a casual anecdote.

If she said she was an extra, it would feel lackluster.

If she claimed a lead role, her identity would surely be identifiable.

Red pills!

It was something she had to be exceptionally cautious about as a VTuber.

‘Well, we’ll see.’

She would think about that later. For now, she was satisfied with today’s performance.

An entirely different kind of performance from her commercials, showcasing her own unique style.

A moment of transformation into something other than herself.

Just like her VTuber identity.

‘I hope I get the role.’

Of course, that was unlikely. Seohui Jo was extraordinarily talented.

Her out-of-the-box performance came from feeling overshadowed by Seohui’s acting prowess.

Convinced she could never win following conventional methods, she gambled.

Whether it was a move that resonated with the judges remained to be seen.

‘Nevertheless…’

A week later, the audition results for “The Moon That Hid the Sun” were announced.

Through a making video, to the public.

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