Chapter 91

Joo Ha-rin was a girl who had just graduated from high school in a rural town far away from the city.

Defying her parents’ advice to attend college, she boldly journeyed alone to Seoul—a country girl arriving in the city with bright-eyed determination.

Of course, her move to Seoul wasn’t without thought. Unlike what her parents wished for—a stable office job—Joo Ha-rin had always aspired to be something else since her childhood.

Nor did she arrive in Seoul without any preparation.

“Produce Star 200…”

Muttering these words to herself, she let out an anxious sigh. A massive audition show that gathered 200 aspiring idols from across Korea, and beyond. Thousands applied, including contestants from overseas, all vying for a spot on the program.

Joo Ha-rin had triumphed through the preliminary rounds, beating thousands of other hopefuls to secure a spot on the regular broadcast.

“Yeah, I can definitely do this,” she whispered to herself, nodding with an almost foolish determination. Her big, bright eyes gave her an endearing charm that made people instinctively want to protect her.

Looking at the somewhat old pictures saved on her mobile phone, she nodded her head again. But this, too, lasted for only a moment.

“But…”

Her eyes flickered with hesitation as a reality check hit her. Her flight into fantasy was meeting its limits.

“Where am I even?”

Seoul, to her, was overwhelming in its complexity. This was just two hours before the filming of “Produce Star 200” was set to begin.

In the middle of Gangnam-daero, Joo Ha-rin quietly wondered aloud to herself.

“Wow, she seems a bit… clueless.”

“Definitely gonna get cut.”

“Who was responsible for her makeup? Is this right??”

“She’s from the countryside, so they styled her to look rustic.”

As Joo Ha-rin appeared on-screen, real-time comments from viewers began flooding in. Despite the plainness of her character—yet another country girl dreaming of becoming an idol—this trope often resonated well with audiences.

Currently, Joo Ha-rin was wearing oversized frames and had her hair tied up simply. Her baggy outfits highlighted her awkwardness. To viewers already familiar with Sooyeon’s good looks, the styling seemed somewhat out of place.

“What can I do!”

The drama, shifting between different characters’ moments, returned quickly to Joo Ha-rin. The first episode of *Dream Future* was focused primarily on introducing the key characters, with only about 10 minutes dedicated to her scene.

There wasn’t much room for Joo Ha-rin to show what she could do. Moreover, with only a limited time left until the drama ended, she had precious little time to shine. Her personal screen time was now limited to, at most, five minutes.

Yet, there was still a scene where all the characters would appear together, possibly extending her time slightly. However…

“Is this a relic from years ago?”

“Seriously… this is a typical ‘villain’ character from a decade ago.”

Joo Ha-rin, by her character’s very nature, was destined to have her fair share of detractors. Many disliked bubbly personalities outright, and her backstory—having moved from the countryside—gave her a slightly frustrating edge. Combined with her rustic styling, which didn’t cast her in the best light, real-time comments about her were harsh.

“Are you okay?”

A voice called out to her, breaking her from her thoughts. It was Kim Si-hwan, observing her frantic behavior with cautious concern.

“Y-Yes?”

Joo Ha-rin’s wide eyes met Kim Si-hwan’s, who, compared to her countryside life, seemed almost impossibly handsome. She couldn’t even form coherent words.

“Oh, I-I… was trying to get here,” she stammered.

Finally, her first bit of kindness since arriving in Seoul. As she hesitantly explained her destination, Kim Si-hwan’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Oh, coincidentally, I’m heading there too.”

“Me?”

“Shall we go together?”

Joo Ha-rin, despite her usual politeness, hesitated. It felt too forward.

“That’s too much trouble…”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s go together.”

“Huh?”

Kim Si-hwan, despite his gentle demeanor, revealed a persistent streak by tossing her a motorcycle helmet.

“Get on.”

“Wait, hold on…”

“Let’s go!”

Without further ado, Joo Ha-rin found herself on the back of Kim Si-hwan’s motorcycle, speeding toward the filming set. It was a blur; the inexperienced Ha-rin felt as if her world was spinning as she clutched tightly to him.

“Looks like we’re rivals now.”

Arriving at the filming set, Kim Si-hwan casually remarked before striding off, as if his job was done. It was entirely natural; they had only just met.

Ordinarily, Joo Ha-rin might have bowed politely and gone her separate way. But impulsively, she stepped forward, pulling at the edge of his jacket.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you help me?”

Joo Ha-rin was genuinely curious. For him, it might have been a small act of kindness, but it was her first instance of kindness since coming to Seoul. To her, he felt like the first person to reach out in a foreign world.

Kim Si-hwan smiled faintly at her question.

“Because I thought it might bring me good luck.”

“Huh?”

“Something just told me it would be good.”

That was all he said. It was an amusing answer, but Joo Ha-rin watched him leave, her eyes shining brightly beneath her thick glasses.

Her trembling lips parted slightly, her cheeks flushed with warmth, and her eyes glistened—revealing an array of emotions.

“Is that… right?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

As Kim Si-hwan coolly turned away, Joo Ha-rin smiled. She knew. She saw right through his casual response. He didn’t have any specific reason for helping her—he simply did.

It was pure kindness.

This realization brought a soft laughter from her lips at his innocent pretext.

That radiant smile of hers…

– Huh?

– Whoa…

Viewers, momentarily forgetting to type in the chat, watched her intently. There were no elaborate dialogues, yet her emotions transcended the screen.

A moment of falling in love… or perhaps the first spark of affection, was unmistakably conveyed without a single line.

“Love at first sight.”

The connection between Joo Ha-rin and Kim Si-hwan was a clumsy start—a setup where she impulsively falls in love with the boy who helped her, and their love story begins.

If this scene didn’t resonate or came across as laughable to the audience, it could simply feel contrived. And with that, the drama’s rating could plummet.

Director Kim Pil-seok commented:

“Isn’t it a bit contrived?”

“Can’t people instantly fall in love?”

Although the camera director offered this response, Kim Pil-seok shook his head.

“It’s a work of fiction, yes, but we need more plausibility.”

Even if reality contains many absurdities, in fiction, plausibility is even more critical.

“Plausibility.”

A necessity in fictional storytelling.

“Seoyeon, I can try to direct this properly, but acting is key.”

“Understood.”

“Joo Ha-rin and Kim Si-hwan’s conversation will amount to just a few lines of script, barely two minutes or less on screen.”

During this short time, viewers must feel Joo Ha-rin’s emotions, her plausible attraction toward Kim Si-hwan. The internal shift must be vivid enough to see.

“Can you do it? Otherwise, I’ll discuss this with writer Im.”

At this, Seoyeon shook her head.

“I’ll try.”

“Hmm.”

Honestly, Im Jin-ha’s script was juvenile yet oddly flavorful. A hit film once, no simple feat.

“Alright.”

Director Kim Pil-seok’s style was to trust the actor if they believed they could manage it. He was also curious about what this youthful actress had to offer.

And so, Seoyeon, after several NGs, successfully captured the scene.

This was probably the shoot with the most NGs in her life. The acting was unfamiliar and required simulating an uncomfortable emotion—affection, love.

Had she never harbored such feelings?

Not exactly.

Friendship and fondness were within the same emotional sphere. But after watching countless movies and video content, they seemed a bit different somehow.

Love was a profoundly intense emotion, and the moment of falling into it was special.

Because of this, she wasn’t ready.

Seoyeon couldn’t empathize with it.

“Sometimes, imagining can be more beautiful.”

Actor Jeong Eun-seon said.

“The vague yearning for love Seoyeon mentioned; crafting the beautiful form she imagines can sometimes be better than reality.”

Occasionally, romance writers and actors find themselves unable to properly express emotions after experiencing heartbreak.

“It’s similar to this.”

Jeong Eun-seon smiled at the young Seoyeon.

“At some point, you too might experience a wonderful love. Save that feeling for then.”

Though seemingly casual, these words struck deeply with Seoyeon.

“Emotional simulation.”

A process now second nature to Seoyeon. She knew how people behaved and smiled when in love. Yet, it wasn’t enough for her.

“Ah, so you’re candidate number 178, Joo Ha-rin?”

With the support of Kim Si-hwan, Joo Ha-rin stood confidently before five panelists on the stage of *Produce Star 200*.

“I heard you’re from the countryside. That must have been a tough decision.”

“Yes.”

Ha-rin smiled while replying to the panelist.

“A little.”

“I see.”

The stern-looking panelist continued.

“Alright, let’s see then.”

Even though the panelists smiled, their demeanor suggested they weren’t expecting much. Clips from other competitors scrolled, including familiar faces like Song So-ha and Park Min-yul.

Among them, Kim Si-hwan watching Joo Ha-rin closely as she took the mic.

A singing performance preceded her dance routine.

“Wait…”

The chat burst into activity as viewers who’d seen Seoyeon’s singing on a variety show braced themselves. While they admitted she wasn’t terrible, such skills in a drama might feel overdone and less convincing.

But remember—it wasn’t Seoyeon. It was Joo Ha-rin, a girl who’d recently fallen in love.

“I don’t know exactly what this emotion feels like.”

She gathered her impressions from various media, though sometimes its manifestations were grotesque. But overall, it was beautiful—a desire many yearned to feel someday.

Seoyeon’s singing lacked emotional depth, everyone said.

It came across as forced. Particularly from a wizard, Han Da-young, whom she met through Jiyeon.

“Adding emotions naturally flows.”

Seoyeon was overthinking things, they said.

“A human, not a robot, naturally injects emotion into words, and the same goes for singing.”

Consciously adding emotion often backfires.

“Singing is ultimately an extension of speech. If you’re overly conscious, you’re liable to miss much.”

Like Seoyeon does now.

Han Da-young taught her the art of effortless singing.

“Joo Ha-rin’s feeling.”

It wasn’t precisely real, just a sketch of what it might feel like. Not method-acting but closer to emotional simulation—an imagined landscape painted with yearning.

“Huh?”

A flicker of surprise rippled through the chat. Her delicate voice spread across the stage.

The formerly indifferent panelists now paid attention, as did the audience tuning in.

The love song Joo Ha-rin sang was a soft ballad. Though technically lacking, her voice was pleasant. Her pure smile and gentle sway conveyed a young girl in love, painting a scene as blossoming flowers.

Radiant and heartwarming emotions spilled from the screen.

The judges’ reactions as well as those of Kim Si-hwan and Song So-ha flashed briefly, hinting at fierce rivalry and subtle script changes.

This wasn’t part of the original script. In it, Joo Ha-rin’s performance was clumsy but redeemed by her dancing. Yet after discussions with the writer, Kim Pil-seok adapted the scene into Ha-rin’s high point.

And his choice?

[Beyond a simple comedy, *Dream Future* launches with a solid 15% viewership!]

[Is the singing an act? Joo Ha-rin’s unexpected charm!]

[Peak Ratings at 21%—Signs of *Dream Future*’s blockbuster success!]

It ignited overwhelming responses.

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