YDCFGD 09

A few days later, at Actress Seong Hyesim’s home.

“Perfect. You mastered it in such a short time.”
“The hint you gave me really helped.”
“Even when I give hints, there are tons of juniors who still don’t get it. Being able to take it in right away is a talent, too.”

I had just finished showing her the ad-lib development assignment she’d given me last time.

“Saeyi, have you thought about joining a company?”
“A company?”
“One that would bring you scripts and take care of you.”

An agency, huh.
I hadn’t officially signed anywhere yet. To join Wave Actors, I first needed to secure a role.

When I hesitated, Actress Seong handed me a business card.

[Haedam ENT – CEO Song Wooseok]

“It’s our CEO’s card.”

She smiled gently and added,

“I’m not telling you to come. With your talent, companies will line up to give you their cards from your first script reading.”
“Then why give me this…?”
“Just saying I want to be first in line?”

Her expression turned serious, as if she were choosing her words carefully.

“Saeyi, let me tell you in advance—don’t trust anyone in this industry.”
“Not even you, ma’am?”
“Especially me. Don’t accept my offers carelessly.”

To someone who hadn’t even filmed her debut yet, she carefully explained all the things I needed to watch out for—like she truly believed I’d walk a smooth, successful path.

“A company can protect you. But it can also attack you. You have to remember that.”

I’d been worried she might pressure me to join her agency right away, but instead, she warned me not to blindly trust even Haedam ENT.

Feeling strangely reassured, I smiled.

As I put the card into my wallet, I whispered,

“Still… I want to trust you.”
“Ah, seriously…”

She looked at me like I was hopeless, then suddenly started gathering her things.

“You have time today, right?”
“I cleared my schedule, but why…?”

She even picked up my bag and nodded toward the door.

“Let’s go.”

“Go where…?”

“Didn’t I say I’d get you an audition for Your Blue Name? It’s today.”

…What?

Before I could even step back, she grabbed my hand.

And just like that, we were in a speeding car.

Without even knowing where we were headed, I kept rereading the script—already worn thin from analysis—over and over.

Director Woo Byeonghwa, who was in charge of KDS’s highly anticipated drama Your Blue Name, was feeling anxious.

That “box-office cheat code,” Seong Hyesim, had made a condition for appearing in the drama:
She wanted someone she recommended to audition for the female lead, “Doyeon.”

It wasn’t outright favoritism—just an audition—so he’d agreed.

But while Hyesim was still considering her participation, the production team had already narrowed down the final candidates for Doyeon. So they suggested she audition for Doyeon’s childhood role instead.

Hyesim accepted. She said the age would fit better, and that she’d let “that child” decide in the end.

However… there was one problem.

“Is Writer Choi here?”
“She didn’t want to come at all. She’s been burned too many times by Doyeon auditions.”

That picky writer in front of him—Choi Gijeong.

A star writer whose debut work had been a hit. Her firm opinions were the real problem.

“What if she keeps rejecting everyone?”
“There’s no one in the current pool who really feels like Doyeon. Especially for the child role. Today’s actress… I think we should lower our expectations.”
“Why not just cast a moderately famous child actor? The role isn’t that big.”
“If we can’t show Doyeon properly, it’s meaningless. The child actor has to hook viewers in episode one.”

They’d already auditioned more than ten top-tier child actors.

Would the person Seong Hyesim recommended satisfy Writer Choi?

Director Woo doubted it.

Even kids who’d acted since kindergarten had failed. How could some unknown rookie succeed?

“Her name was…?”

Joo Saeyi.

“That was it.”

“Sorry. You must’ve had high hopes.”

He glanced sideways at Writer Choi, who was checking the script with a sharp expression. She seemed especially irritating today.

Then—

Clink.

The wind chime on the door rang softly.

Seong Hyesim walked in, and both of them stood up politely.

“Did you wait long? I was late because I had to change her clothes again.”
She bowed slightly.

“Changed her clothes?”

Director Woo chuckled inwardly.

It was predictable. Many actresses came wearing school uniforms for student roles.

Then, someone followed behind her.

At the same time, Director Woo and Writer Choi’s gazes fixed on her.

“So that’s her… Her face is pretty good.”

Fair, clear skin. Distinct eyes. Light makeup that looked almost bare. A pure, neat atmosphere.

She looked just like Doyeon.

Maybe this time would be different.

His heart began to race.

Standing before the director and writer, Saeyi took off her outer jacket.

He assumed she’d be wearing a uniform underneath.

But—

“Huh?”

She wasn’t.

She was wearing an old, faded graphic T-shirt. The collar was slightly stretched, and her gym shorts were folded up twice.

While Saeyi introduced herself, Director Woo glanced at Writer Choi.

She was staring intently, unmoving.

“It’s a student role. Why didn’t you wear a uniform?”
“Uniforms only appear briefly at the beginning. After she moves to the countryside, it’s free dress.”

Saeyi continued confidently.

“Rather than just wearing a uniform, I wanted to match the script!”
“You know it’s meaningless if you can’t express it through acting, right?”

Despite the harsh tone, Saeyi didn’t flinch.

Director Woo rubbed his chin.

“No need for free acting. Did you memorize the script? I’ll pick a scene.”
“Yes! You can give me anything!”

Her voice was strong. Her clenched fists were full of determination.

“The scene with her mother is too cliché. Let’s do Scene 35. Doyeon and Hajin’s first meeting.”

It was the first meeting of Doyeon and Hajin in their school days.

After her brother’s death, Doyeon moved to the countryside with her mentally unstable mother.

There, she met Hajin—a brilliant boy from a rural town.

Adults placed great expectations on Hajin, which reminded Doyeon of her mother, who had driven her brother to death.

So she instinctively avoided Hajin.

But Hajin was deeply interested in her, secretly blushing whenever he saw her.

Their first meeting happened in front of her house on a rainy day.

At that moment, Saeyi’s expression and posture changed.

Her eyelids trembled intermittently, as if reacting to raindrops falling into her eyes, even as she spoke.

“Hey… why do you keep hanging around?”

Her slumped shoulders, pale face—
She looked starkly out of place in the fresh countryside scenery.

“Is it because of rumors that my mom’s crazy? Did you come to watch?”

She was no longer the passionate Joo Saeyi.

“Ugh, just get lost! I can’t stand you! Why won’t you leave us alone?! What are we, zoo monkeys?! My family had a funeral! We lost our minds! People keep coming, whispering about how we’re cursed because of a mother who killed her son…!”

Her voice shook uncontrollably.

Like rain washing away dirt, she poured out all her pent-up resentment.

Ironically, that very 모습 became Hajin’s unforgettable first love.

“…Do you think I wanted to come to this crappy town?!”

A child forced to leave everything behind.

“I hate it here too… You’re not the only ones who hate us.”

Her trembling lips closed.

Saeyi finished her performance.

Watching it all, Director Woo was convinced.

There could be no more perfect Doyeon than this.

“It’s over.”

Writer Choi closed her script.

That meant she’d decided.

“I’ve made up my mind. Joo Saeyi, this might surprise you, but…”
“…Yes?”
“If it’s not you, I’ll cancel the project.”

Thankfully, Director Woo wasn’t the only one who recognized Saeyi’s “Doyeon.”

“Will you join us?”

Writer Choi extended her hand.

It was the moment Joo Saeyi won her first role.