Chapter 179

“Lately, I started watching *Sky Garden*, but it was cut off rather abruptly in episode 10.”

“Yeah, me too. Luckily, the next episode airs tomorrow, so I’m really looking forward!”

The ripple effect that began with *Masked Singer* naturally spread to *Sky Garden*.

This was only natural.

This season, *Masked Singer* contestant Seoyeon, who made it all the way to the King of Masks battle, turned out to be the protagonist of *Sky Garden*. Moreover, it was recently revealed that the performer behind *Sky Garden*’s currently trending insert song was none other than Seoyeon herself.

At first, it was mere curiosity.

But once you start watching, it’s actually quite engaging.

“There’s a bit of an exaggeration though…”

“Well, it is a drama.”

“So, who’s playing the male lead?”

“Isn’t Lee Min-hyeok the male lead?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if he fits the role of a male lead…”

“True, he doesn’t quite fit…”

Talk about *Sky Garden* can be overheard just about anywhere, from cafes to online communities. Previously, discussions were largely focused on *Grand Game*, but now *Sky Garden* is starting to encroach on that space.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Of course, if the drama wasn’t interesting, the opportunity could have easily been wasted.

“You don’t need to worry too much.”

The Drama Department of KMB Broadcasting, which has mostly split from Drama Department 2, heard someone mention this offhandedly.

“Even though, this week *Grand Game* got a good response. What’s our current viewership?”

“This week we’re at 16%.”

“Yes, but *Sky Garden*, riding on the momentum from *Masked Singer*, came out this week at 12%. It’ll probably rise a little this week but will likely hover around 14%, or at most 15-16%.”

“Honestly, I think that’s threatening enough.”

“True, but our air dates don’t overlap anyway, you know? Starting next week, we’ll be upping the ante.”

In response to the PD’s words, other employees nodded.

The rising popularity of *Sky Garden* was terrifying.

However, was *Grand Game* faltering in the ratings? Absolutely not.

“Han Jeong-min PD.”

Just then, someone addressed a silent PD. This was a PD who had transferred from Drama Department 2 along with PD Baek Tae-soo, now the department head. Already acclaimed for his accomplishments in various dramas, this young PD was rapidly rising as one of KMB’s most promising talents.

“What do you think about *Sky Garden*?”

“I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

A casual good or bad reaction was expected, but it was rare for someone as clearly opinionated as Han Jeong-min to answer, “I don’t know.”

To their curious stares,

“Honestly, actors are merely seasonings for a drama’s success. It’s not something any individual can control. No matter how good the acting may be, word-of-mouth or audience choice is not something you can force. Drama success is more about the script and its overall quality.”

This is why Han Jeong-min couldn’t fully comprehend the situation. There were several things that didn’t add up for him.

“For instance, take Aids. The chair company, right?”

“Oh, yes. They’ve been aggressively advertising lately.”

“But they launched an ad campaign based on *Sky Garden*’, even casting Seoyeon as their model.”

Recently, it’s risky to use a currently airing drama’s concept for advertising. If the drama hits, you get a big effect. But if not, the results could backfire. Yet, even before word spread, from episode 4, they launched ads tied to *Sky Garden*, fully backing its star, Seoyeon.

“To the point, this time with *Masked Singer*, it almost feels like everything was arranged to focus solely on Seoyeon.”

“That was due to ‘Ashen Crow.'”

“Right, Ashen Crow turned out to be Yeo-hee, who has deep ties to actress Seoyeon, didn’t they?”

And thus, search volumes for *Sky Garden* have already surpassed *Grand Game*. Most people are saying it’s a temporary spike due to *Masked Singer*, but is it really?

This is what Han Jeong-min cannot understand—every single aspect of it.

Before *Masked Singer* there was *Golden Duckling*, leading viewers into *Masked Singer*. It felt almost like watching a single play unfold.

Could one actor really wield this much influence over a drama? It was beyond Han Jeong-min’s comprehension.

“What do you think, PD Baek?”

Up until now, PD Baek had been silently observing as Han Jeong-min asked cautiously. Despite his impressive career and credentials, Baek was well-liked within the drama department, not prone to outbursts, and had recently reassured and guided those who grew nervous about *Sky Garden*’s competition with *Grand Game*.

“*Sky Garden* is a good drama. But we should focus on our own show, shouldn’t we?”

With a faint smile, Baek answered simply, declining to elaborate further.

Because Baek had spoken, no one else dared say anything either.

‘ *Sky Garden* and Seoyeon.’

Baek PD frowned subtly in private. Just as Han Jeong-min had said, it’s rare for one actor to influence a show to this extent.

It’s especially challenging to boost ratings when the drama already maintains steady viewership due to entrenched expectations.

If there had been no competition, *Sky Garden* might have easily surged higher with its current momentum.

But with *Grand Game* also capturing public attention, it makes it harder.

‘Public response tends to come slowly.’

For now, there wasn’t much difference, but Baek was confident. He believed the next week for *Sky Garden* would be different. The week after that, even more so.

PD Baek crumpled the *Grand Game* script he had read countless times. He wasn’t about to blame anyone else; ultimately, he had made the final decision.

Perhaps he should have embraced taking risks without fear.

In front of his monitor, Baek rewound the currently playing video. It was a scene from *Sky Garden* episode 10, broadcast last Tuesday.

He wanted to prepare before this week’s episode 11 aired.

***

“Why are you so clueless?”

Lee Min-hyeok glared at Yoo-joo as he spoke. This sudden family vacation, arranged during the vacation break, was something Lee Min-hyeok didn’t want to participate in, especially not with Yoo-joo.

“Why? How is this not just using you?”

“It’s not about using me, is it?”

Upon hearing this, Yoo-joo merely shrugged, though inside, she wished she could tear herself away and curse.

But she couldn’t.

This trip was planned by Min-hyeok’s mother, Gil Soo-jin, to help her and Yoo-joo grow closer.

In fact, it wasn’t really a “family” trip but an opportunity designed specifically for Yoo-joo. If it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t be at a resort by the stream. The Lee family weren’t particularly fond of such places to begin with—it was all tailored to Yoo-joo’s preferences.

“Why are you so against it? Maybe it’ll end up fun.”

Said with a bright smile by Min-hyeok’s younger sister Min-seo.

“Yeah, exactly,” replied Yoo-joo, addressing Min-hyeok’s retreating back.

“I want to use this chance to get closer.”

At her completely unbelievable statement, Min-hyeok turned to her with disdain.

But Yoo-joo only grinned.

“It’s almost exam time, isn’t it? You won last time, but how about this time?”

By “you,” she meant Min-seo, Min-hyeok’s twin sister.

The student Yoo-joo personally tutored and managed, whose growth has been remarkable enough to draw Gil Soo-jin’s attention.

“None of your business.”

With that, Min-hyeok left, leaving Yoo-joo to smile at his back. Min-seo was the only one visibly uneasy.

“You didn’t need to provoke him that way.”

“Huh? It wasn’t provocation. I said I wanted to get closer to Min-hyeok.”

Yoo-joo was dead serious.

She knew both their parents were using her.

No, it wasn’t just the two of them.

Min-hyeok and Min-seo’s friends of the same age were all after Yoo-joo’s portfolio.

She had noticed how they had been persistently prying into Min-seo recently.

Forcing someone to choose isn’t right.

It was necessary for her to lower her head and approach personally.

A twisted smile formed on Yoo-joo’s lips.

“Lee Yoo-joo, tell me…”

“Hmm?”

“Never mind.”

Min-seo averted her eyes awkwardly.

Yoo-joo paid it no heed, as her gaze was already fixed on Min-hyek.

Min-seo’s eyes watching from the side gleamed strangely.

A scene was prepared for the Lee family’s vacation.

Yoo-joo humming a tune while packing her luggage at home.

And the Lee household.

Someone packing a deadly weapon.

A knife, and duct tape.

Without revealing their identity, *Sky Garden* episode 10 came to an end.

“What the hell was that?”

“What? Why would a knife suddenly show up?”

“Who was it?”

The last five minutes captured the audience’s attention completely.

The drama had been building a strange tension from the beginning.

But in the final moments, a person leaving with a weapon in hand was revealed.

Of course, everyone was flabbergasted.

The question lingered: why, for what purpose, and who?

With episode 10 ended, discussions in the *Sky Garden* community were going wild.

“Holy crap, so what happened?!?”

“Isn’t this supposed to be a romance with Min-hyeok?”

“Is it really okay for knives to appear in a show with students? A bit uncomfortable…”

“Ah, damn. I only started watching because of *Masked Singer*.”

“I should have started earlier…”

From the first episode through to the tenth, the show maintained a strange, taut tension.

At the halfway point through the drama,

adults manipulating Yoo-joo and students reluctantly extending hands toward her were at the center of the plot.

And the underhanded struggles they engaged in behind the scenes.

Even though it’s not entirely of their own will, they must fight.

Within this, Min-seo was proving Yoo-joo’s value.

Originally, Min-seo was never considered competition.

The dim-witted twin sister of Min-hyeok,

just a girl who liked to dress up and never thought about the future.

That’s how everyone saw her.

But that changed after she met Yoo-joo.

Min-seo had become one of their main competitors.

To the point that others previously ranked higher in school assessments had fallen behind,

including in mock exams.

And much like a ghost managing every possible extra credit point,

Yoo-joo handed them all to Min-seo.

It made no sense.

An absurd story was unfolding.

Despite such murmurs, ultimately, this is what appeals to the public.

Plausibility aside, this drama focused solely on fun.

*Sky Garden*’s rebound began for all these reasons.

“This could win…”

As she watched all this unfold, Jo Seo-hui tapped her cheek with her fingers, only briefly startled when she realized touching her face might trigger a pimple.

Still, it was a hard habit to break.

“*Grand Game* has the romance that’s been mentioned since the beginning…”

Apparently, *Grand Game* was ready to deliver a major event this week.

A steady buildup leading to a big moment in this episode.

Clearly, it was the kind of content the main audience would enjoy.

But, would the *Grand Game* audience actually like it?

“*Sky Garden* effectively declared war on romance.”

This week’s content confirmed this. Episode 10 marked the halfway point of the series.

Given that, the choice to include this kind of content clearly signaled that *Sky Garden* was excluding romance entirely.

“…You’ve improved.”

Jo Seo-hui watched Seoyeon’s portrayal of Yoo-joo. She’d compiled clips of Seoyeon’s acting, extracting only the performances,

for the simple reason that there was much to learn in those scenes.

“Even though her acting was already complete from the moment she returned after 10 years…”

It seemed Seoyeon had practiced rigorously during those years. Vocalization and body language—those aspects were beyond reproach.

But acting isn’t just about technique.

In the past, Seoyeon often relied on method acting, but now she rarely employs that approach. Back then, it was her only option, but now it’s unnecessary.

However, the vestiges of that method are still evident.

“Even in *Masked Singer*, it was clear.”

Seoyeon’s strongest asset is her ability to convey emotion. She’s exceptionally skilled at resonating with her audience by appealing to their emotions through her performances.

This was vividly demonstrated in her *Masked Singer* performances, with Cha Na-hee adapting her pieces accordingly. Her songs were, in a way, performances too.

It’s a style suited for competitions. The live audience would be moved, leading to favorable scores, even if her technical skills weren’t the absolute best.

Her performances on the competition stage moved TV audiences differently.

“Including this portrayal of Yoo-joo…”

Yoo-joo, frankly speaking, was an unlikeable character.

Someone who probably reminded people of their own difficult younger selves.

But the reason the audience watched Yoo-joo with bated breath isn’t her unlikability.

“An unsteady child.”

Something communicated through her acting.

Yoo-joo is like a hedgehog.

She consistently uses sarcasm and mockery, but that’s like the hedgehog raising its spines.

Her mockery of the powerful and wealthy stems from her deeply-rooted inferiority complex.

And this was distinctly reflected in Seoyeon’s portrayal of Yoo-joo.

Her mouth may be smiling, but her eyes are trembling.

Her voice might sound casual, but her hands and feet betray her unease.

Subtle details that one might easily overlook.

But viewers, watching from various angles, picked up on these minute emotional fluctuations in Yoo-joo.

Empathy.

It’s common for people to feel inferior about something they lack.

Seoyeon effectively elicited that empathy.

Yoo-joo had recently evolved from a character once labeled all-powerful, obnoxious, and static, into something more multidimensional.

It was as if the show was revealing that, for all her supposed strength and perfection, Yoo-joo was ultimately just a child.

“Shouldn’t you say that kind of stuff when I’m not around?”

“Huh? But it’s praise!”

Seoyeon, who generally loves praise, bit her lower lip and scowled at Jo Seo-hui, more from embarrassment than actual dislike.

Even though she enjoyed being praised, there was no denying it was awkward, too.

Seoyeon was well aware of Jo Seo-hui’s acting prowess.

Being competitive by nature, Seo-hui’s comments were currently grating on Seoyeon a bit.

The fact that Seo-hui’s omnipresent advertisements had influenced Seoyeon’s decision to return to the entertainment world didn’t help either.

“Did you invite me to watch the drama today for that reason?”

“Wait and see. By the way, Yoo-joo is coming over tonight, remember? Let’s get some things done beforehand.”

“Things?”

Seoyeon tilted her head curiously.

What could it be?

Jo Seo-hui glanced at her briefly.

That sly girl really knows how to push one’s buttons, doesn’t she?

‘Still, it’s nice how she comes over without hesitation now. The bond has strengthened, it seems.’

Jo Seo-hui chuckled quietly when Seoyeon wasn’t looking, though her laugh was unsettling enough to make Seoyeon shiver despite herself.

‘Really, Lee Yoo-joo wasn’t wrong. This isn’t bad at all.’

Jo Seo-hui knew that Seoyeon had been recently enthusiastic about giving generous Super Chats, which significantly improved her mood during streams.

Still, it annoyed her a bit, since Seoyeon’s reactions during joint streams with Ramiel were particularly intense.

‘That’s not something to worry about, though.’

With that thought, Jo Seo-hui cleared her throat.

“Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Recently, our family’s corporation opened a new amusement park.”

“Huh?”

An amusement park? And family corporation?

Seoyeon stared blankly.

“When we stage an interactive children’s play, how about you join in part-time? Your sibling would love it.”

Jo Seo-hui glanced at Seoyeon’s recent shorts—*Magical Girl Harara*.

The material Jo Seo-hui had proposed was clearly in the same vein.

And as expected, Seoyeon’s eyes began to flicker excitedly.

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