Chapter 133

Though it was a bit late in coming, Seoyeon felt a sense of burden at having been cast as the lead in *Sky Garden*.

Of course, it wasn’t that she disliked it.

It was simply that during a prior meeting, she had come to understand what it really meant to be cast ahead of time.

“Looking back, I’ve mostly gone through auditions.”

Even her current project, *Hyper Action Star*, was essentially an audition of sorts, despite its strong variety show elements. Though there were numerous opportunities for acting to play a role, at its core it was still an audition.

Each episode, the participants were scored, and someone was eliminated.

Only, Seoyeon had a considerable advantage in this audition.

It was clear that GH Group anticipated this and deliberately arranged this kind of audition.

The average ratings for the show hovered around six percent, a solid result given its status as a cable variety show.

Moreover, thanks to the widespread circulation of short clips, it garnered recognition exceeding its ratings. If a film were to premiere this way, it would undoubtedly generate significant promotional value.

“But even so, it was still technically an audition.”

Though they trusted her abilities, nothing was a hundred percent sure. After all, unforeseen factors could always emerge in an audition.

However, in the case of *Sky Garden*, the casting had been set beforehand, with no audition involved.

Thus, it wasn’t hard to understand why other actors might harbor resentment. After all, while reputation was an important skill for actors, such a process might seem unfair to young, less established talents.

Hence, she had to give her all. If she failed to meet expectations after being cast upfront, it would surely invite criticism.

“Still, the seniors have been rather kind.”

The veteran actors present, who would play the parental roles and effectively serve as the show’s other protagonists, generally viewed her positively. They mentioned having been deeply moved by her performances in *The Chaser* and *Dream Future*.

But if she couldn’t demonstrate that same ability on set, their goodwill would crumble.

Seoyeon sighed, crossing her arms. She was currently in a practice room arranged by Nova Entertainment, studying the script and practicing her lines alone. Though she’d considered asking Jiyeon for help, the latter was busy with auditions for *Gyeongseong Yeong-nyeo*. And Ramiel was regularly appearing on broadcasts as well.

“Heroine Yoo-joo of *Sky Garden* is a rather cynical character.”

She had an impeccable resume left behind by her older brother. Her family was a typical middle-class household, but her brother was a top scorer in national exams and the valedictorian of Seoul’s prestigious Baekyeon University.

This was possible because her father had once been a renowned college admissions consultant. However, his reputation diminished when several of his students failed their exams.

Thus, her brother’s top-tier admission was a source of pride, and her father hoped Yoo-joo would follow in his footsteps.

As a result, Yoo-joo became a perfectionist at self-management, akin to a college admissions consultant herself. She had memorized an impeccable admissions plan.

Incidentally, simply approaching Yoo-joo’s father wouldn’t work because of past rejections by Yoo-joo’s father.

So, the parents viewed her as a way to build a relationship with him.

“…A college admissions consultant?”

It was difficult for Seoyeon to empathize with such a character. She wasn’t particularly academic, and her parents were satisfied so long as she studied diligently.

Seoyeon herself had never tried private tutoring, largely because she had already chosen the path of acting…

Even if she hadn’t, she wasn’t sure she would have gone to such extremes.

She tilted her head, checking her phone for information on admissions consultants. Were there really people like this who meticulously managed a student’s private life?

Such consultants helped with not only managing student stress but also ensuring high-quality evaluations on school records.

“Do rich people do this?”

If she asked Min Se-hee, the screenwriter, she’d say:

“Of course, there’s some exaggeration.”

“Somewhat?”

“To be honest, real rich people could probably buy their way in, couldn’t they?”

“Still, there are those who prefer to purchase prestige. This drama focuses more on that idea.”

Though exaggerated, it wasn’t entirely fabricated. Min Se-hee had conducted her research to craft the story.

Nevertheless, Seoyeon found it hard to immerse herself in the *Sky Garden* script.

Was this really how things worked?

It felt like she was shooting a fictional tale, or perhaps something akin to a historical drama.

Mostly because, like in historical dramas, much of the reality here had to be imagined.

“Privatized education and the life of the upper class.”

Even as someone playing a middle-class character like Yoo-joo—someone so cynical, who knows only academics—it seemed distant.

She finally understood why the top student was brought up.

The only person she could reference was her class president, Gil Da-hyun.

“But there’s a need for deeper emotions.”

Yoo-joo’s emotions were among the hardest Seoyeon had ever portrayed. Cynical by nature, Yoo-joo disliked the attention and praise others lavished on her, unlike Seoyeon who enjoyed the spotlight.

Eventually, Yoo-joo grew repulsed by people trying to build relationships with her, as well as their unwarranted expectations.

Repulsion, that was the root of her cynical tendencies.

Seoyeon had never truly disliked anyone. She became angry with the “Summer Girl” who bullied Cha Na-hee but had never hated.

“If only I understood this feeling better…”

It wasn’t a feeling she was particularly eager to explore; it seemed altogether unsettling.

Still, her curiosity about the upper class depicted in *Sky Garden* persisted.

Was this how they really were, or was it exaggerated?

That curiosity. If she could grasp it, it might help her performance.

Thinking this, Seoyeon reached out to someone who might know—someone she recently discovered had a weakness.

“Is this how the upper class lives?”

Seohui Jo arrived in a hurry upon Seoyeon’s request. Interestingly, she didn’t arrive in her usual limousine but on a bicycle.

She was drenched in sweat from the strenuous ride.

“…”

Staring at her less-than-upper-class appearance, Seoyeon could only gawk.

Her gaze seemed to say, “Something about this isn’t right.”

In response, Jo Seohui crossed her arms proudly.

“This thing costs thirty million won.”

“?”

“This bicycle.”

Seoyeon’s eyes widened. What kind of bicycle could cost so much?

“Is it really different from the three-thousand-ride bikes?”

From the look of it, it was indistinguishable. Still, hearing the price, Seoyeon could suddenly perceive Jo Seohui sitting on the saddle as wealthy and upper-class.

“Hmm, so what do you want?”

Though she had heard the gist of it over the phone, Jo Seohui glanced at Seoyeon anxiously. No matter how she tried to act casual, she was clearly watching Seoyeon’s reactions closely.

It wasn’t immediately obvious if she was pleased or upset.

Seoyeon, on the other hand, was largely expressionless, responding to most things with indifference.

And often, the only reply to her messages was an emoji.

Especially after the fifth episode of *Hyper Action Star* aired, things worsened.

“I don’t regret betraying her.”

It was a thought that seemed familiar, but it was sincere. The double betrayal in the show had shocked her, and Jo Seohui herself started to develop a “betrayer” image.

“But it’s a portrayal on a variety show.”

That she didn’t dwell too much on. After all, Seoyeon was different.

According to Jiyeon:

“She’s seriously upset.”

“R-really?”

“You can tell from the emojis.”

Could you?

Seoyeon mostly stuck to a bland tone in her communication, which seemed to support the idea that she was certainly upset.

Thus, Jo Seohui hurried over when called, hoping to mend their relationship!

“Something you want to ask?”

“Upper class.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s related to the drama I’m shooting.”

Seoyeon finally elaborated. The drama she was working on portrayed some aspects of upper-class life.

“…Sounds fun.”

It definitely sounded like something exciting, especially since it could have originally been a cable variety show.

“Now that I think about it, Jung-woo senior did mention it.”

Min Se-hee, careful as she might be, was undoubtedly a very talented screenwriter. Perhaps she was indeed the daughter of a great actor.

She definitely had a keen eye for talent.

“Hmm…”

Jo Seohui pondered Seoyeon’s request. While showing her wasn’t difficult, the question of *how* to show it was a bit more complicated.

Truthfully, she wasn’t particularly involved with the upper class. They generally didn’t favor flaunting their faces, so they viewed her work as an actress with a mix of curiosity and mild disdain.

Though they occasionally elevated her celebrity-like status, she wasn’t one to seek such things.

“Alright.”

Jo Seohui nodded, relieved that she had an acceptable option.

***

Thus, Seoyeon found herself attending a party hosted by the upper class.

It was, in fact, a birthday party, supposedly of the daughter of some company magnate. Jo Seohui had been invited and ensured that it was fine for Seoyeon to come along.

“But they aren’t refusing, right?”

“Why would they?”

Jo Seohui laughed, cradling her chin inside a limousine as she fiddled with the fabric of her white dress.

“These things, they’re technically birthdays, but they’re really just showcases of connections. If a rising star like you shows up, they’d be desperate to invite you in one way or another.”

“…”

While musing on that, Seoyeon gently smoothed the black dress she wore, feeling it was a little too extravagant for a high schooler.

Still, Seoyeon had no real aversion to skirts. After all, she’d heard they were used as combat attire in Scotland, and they offered distinct advantages for kicks.

More precisely, pants often tore during kicks—somehow, that seemed to be the reason.

“But these dress codes can be annoying. Usually, they just give basic guidelines.”

On hearing Jo Seohui grumble, Seoyeon was genuinely surprised. Apparently, there was indeed such a thing as a dress code for these events. She had simply thought the dress was chosen because of the nature of the party, but according to Jo Seohui, the host typically assigned a dress code.

It could be something like a formal ball, or specific colors like white or black.

Today, the guideline was formal attire and dresses.

“Such a vanity display. I know the girl, by the way. She’s in high school but acts like she’s a fully blossomed adult.”

Jo Seohui tapped her white fan against her palm.

“Fan, huh?”

Indeed, she somewhat resembled a villainous heiress. With her hair neatly pulled up, her striking looks could command attention simply with a glance.

Though Seoyeon might not have differed greatly in terms of presence.

“Let’s go.”

They entered the opulent hotel, one of the most famous in Seoul for its delicious food.

“Rented the whole hotel for the party.”

Honestly, the level of extravagance was beyond what Seoyeon could easily imagine.

Upon entering the hall, it was undeniably lavish, though Seoyeon barely recognized the attendees.

People dressed just like celebrities mingled about, with actual celebrities sprinkled among them.

They stared wide-eyed at Jo Seohui and Seoyeon’s sudden appearance.

“Is that Jo Seohui?”

“Next to her, isn’t that Sooyeon Joo?”

“Min-yeong wasn’t lying when she said she knew Jo Seohui.”

Such whispers reached Seoyeon’s ears, sharp enough to catch even what ordinary people would miss.

However, their approach wasn’t out of sheer curiosity but rather as they clutched their smartphones, trying to inch closer.

Before coming, Jo Seohui had reminded Seoyeon.

“Be careful. Don’t just let them take pictures.”

“Yes?”

“They’ll try to snap one with you, to post on Instagram or similar. They’ll want to show off their connection to you.”

This wasn’t a characteristic unique to the upper class. Rather, it reflected the traits of confident individuals who liked to put themselves on display.

“Imagine yourself as a walking jewel.”

Jo Seohui adjusted Seoyeon’s dress while explaining.

“They each carry a jewelry box, hoping to encase you inside.”

Their methods varied, but ultimately, the purpose of jewels was to flaunt them.

Thus, they’d surely attempt to reach out to Seoyeon in various ways.

“Hmm, what is it?”

However, those who tried were typically deterred when Jo Seohui unfolded her fan in a dismissive gesture.

As both a privileged heir and an actor, Jo Seohui stood as a top-tier predator in this social arena. Seoyeon clearly sensed the dynamics: many wanted to approach Jo Seohui but dared not.

“Stay close.”

Jo Seohui whispered to Seoyeon, fanning herself subtly. Seoyeon silently nodded.

Meanwhile, while somewhat flustered, Seoyeon wasn’t overly tense.

More than anything, she absorbed the experience: *So this is what upper-class parties are like.*

More notably, however:

“There are a lot of celebrities here.”

Seoyeon’s gaze sharpened, focusing on a cluster of men chatting and laughing.

Among them was someone she recognized.

“Ro, wasn’t it?”

Leader of *Just X* and sometimes called the ‘drug-taking idol.’

“For this, I’m opening a club. Please come, everyone.”

Seoyeon’s expression soured at the sight.

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