YDCFGD 15

Chapter 15

It’s over!

I slipped the script back into my bag. Getting praised—and even applauded—made me feel like I was about to float off the ground.

Honestly, I couldn’t even remember how I’d read through it.

I had the script memorized well enough that I could recite the lines nonstop if someone poked me.
What worried me was coordinating with others—it was my first time—but it felt like Yeon Doyeon had briefly passed through me.

Maybe it was because Do Jaehyun’s dismissal had properly fired me up.
Either way, I’d pulled it off successfully, so all was well.

Still…

“Why… why do you keep staring at me like that?”

Do Jaehyun was still acting strange. He hadn’t packed his things, just stood there silently staring at me—for five whole minutes now.

When I finally asked why he was looking at me, it was only then that he seemed to snap back to reality and lowered his gaze.

“…You were good. It was just a reading, but it felt like being on set.”

Why was he suddenly complimenting me again?
And he was still speaking casually.

“Did you notice that Seojun hyung got overwhelmed by your presence earlier?”

Did he?

It did feel like the flow broke for a moment, but I was too busy thinking about Yeon Doyeon to notice anything else.

When I didn’t answer, Do Jaehyun placed his hand on top of my bag, looking frustrated.

“Ah—uh—sorry about earlier. I should’ve watched my attitude.”

That model-student face saying ‘attitude’!
The image of Do Jaehyun as a polite, upright guy was starting to crack inside my mind.

Soon, he began laying out what he’d been thinking.

He said that since I got the role of Yeon Doyeon so easily, he’d assumed I was a nepotism hire—maybe someone important was backing me.

Given how long he’d been in the entertainment industry, I could see why he’d imagine that.

Well… technically, someone important is backing me.

I hadn’t told anyone, but I was going to be the very first actor under the agency founded by the chairman of Dongwoo Group.

Still, this role was something I’d earned through auditions myself, so it didn’t matter.

“I was wrong. The writer wouldn’t even accept nepotism in the first place.”
“She really values child actors.”
“Yeah. She must’ve known the moment she saw you. That you were Yeon Doyeon.”
“You were Ha-jin too, sunbae.”
“Huh? Ah… was I?”

Again.
Do Jaehyun froze like a malfunctioning robot.

I wasn’t just being polite. Do Jaehyun really was a good actor—I’d known that even before I went back in time.

In my past life, people said he was incredible in genre works but a bit lacking in romance roles.

Is it because he’s still young?

Unlike the future version of him who avoided romantic male lead roles, his Yoo Hajin now had no issues with emotional depth. Just from the script reading alone, he’d perfectly embodied Yoo Hajin.

A boy so bewitched by his first love that he stakes his entire future on her.
That was exactly the feeling.

Scratching his cheek awkwardly at my praise, he pulled out his phone and held it out to me.

“Joo Saei, give me your number.”
“Why…?”
“D-don’t get the wrong idea. No ulterior motives.”
“…How exactly was I looking at you?”
“I—I don’t know! Anyway! There’ll be a lot to talk about regarding filming. Like I said, it’s business. Strictly business.”

When I gave him my number without protest, he continued.

“Let’s be more comfortable with each other from now on. Speak casually. It’ll help with immersion.”

Be comfortable.

Hearing that, there was something I wanted to ask.

“…Then why have you been talking casually this whole time?”
“What?”
“You said to be comfortable, so I am. But you keep calling me ‘you.’”

Wow, thinking about it again made me irritated.
If you count my past life, I’ve lived years longer than you! Even without that, I’m still a year older.

Do Jaehyun looked utterly stunned. He only moved his lips soundlessly before finally answering.

“…Aren’t you younger than me?”
“I’m a year older.”
“So… noona?”

I nodded.

Do Jaehyun staggered back. Covering his mouth in disbelief, he blinked rapidly.

Was it really that surprising?

Seeing how flustered he was made me laugh lightly. Avoiding my gaze, he turned away sharply and snapped,

“Ah—anyway! I’ve got a schedule, so I’m leaving! We’ll talk again next time!”

Talk about what again?
No matter what, I’m still your noona.

I waved as Do Jaehyun hurried away.

Still… he doesn’t seem like a bad kid.

He’d been wary of me because he thought I was a nepotism hire, but once he realized he was wrong, he admitted it and apologized first. Compared to his first impression, he wasn’t that obnoxious.

The reason he hated nepotism was probably because… he truly cared about acting.

Someone who values acting over playing nice with people was better for me anyway. That would help me too.

All things considered, having Do Jaehyun as my first co-star felt perfect.

The script reading room, now empty of actors.

Writer Choi Gijeong slowly scanned the seat where Joo Saei had been sitting, then spoke toward the staff.

“So? What did you think?”

She wasn’t addressing the staff.

The question was aimed at her older sister, Choi Giyoung, who’d been hiding among them wearing sunglasses.

“…How did you know? My disguise was perfect.”

A shirt she never usually wore. Slacks. Even her hair was styled to throw people off. Afraid of making eye contact, she’d even put on sunglasses.

Removing them and tucking them into her shirt, Choi Giyoung ruffled her hair in defeat.

She often snuck into sets like this to observe her younger sister’s work.

This time was no exception. She’d roped Director Woo Byeonghwa into getting her a seat at the script reading for Your Blue Name.

She was curious about her sister’s new work—but that wasn’t the main reason.

“Director Woo kept sneaking glances this way.”
“Hah. That man can’t act to save his life.”
“So? What did you think?”
“Your writing? No need to say anything. You’re good, Writer Choi Gijeong.”
“Not the script.”
“…Then what? If not my work, what do you think I came here to see?”
“Doyeon.”
“…!”

Honestly, her sister’s intuition was terrifyingly sharp.

She’d tried to gloss over it by talking about the script, but it seemed she’d been found out completely.

Shrugging in surrender, Choi Giyoung rested a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

In this industry, she’d occasionally seen actors who memorized entire scripts.

But a rookie showing that level of boldness on their first-ever project, first official schedule… that was a first.

“Your Doyeon—her name was Joo Saei, right?”

Choi Gijeong nodded silently, clearly eager to hear her industry-veteran sister’s evaluation.

Choi Giyoung closed her eyes.

In the darkness, the rookie’s acting replayed vividly.

With no props, no staging—just sitting at a desk and delivering lines—she transformed the air itself.

It wasn’t acting Yeon Doyeon. She became Yeon Doyeon.

During the monologue at her brother’s funeral, there was the scent of burning incense.
When she met Yoo Hajin in the rain, the smell of wet, muddy earth.
When she smiled at Hajin for the first time—warm countryside sunlight.

Ah… I want her.

Had there ever been an actor who evoked such layered sensations through a mere script reading?

In the life of Choi Giyoung—one of Korea’s top drama writers—Joo Saei was the first.

In a voice steeped in awe, she said quietly,

“…She’s a monster. A future giant.”

When she’d first heard about Joo Saei from her sister, she’d never imagined her heart would race like this.

Now, she even wondered if she’d been born as Choi Gijeong’s sister just to meet Joo Saei while she was still a fresh rookie.

I have to make her my Seo Jimin.

Seo Jimin—the female lead of her next project, and a new challenge she was attempting as a drama writer.

The latter half of the script, which had stalled endlessly, began pouring into her mind the moment she saw Joo Saei.

She had to write it down before the inspiration faded. Pulling out a notebook from her pocket, she scribbled furiously as she hurried out of the reading room.

“Where are you going? You still need to tell me more!”
“My studio! If I don’t write this now, I’m losing millions!”

She had finally found the real Seo Jimin.