Chapter – 03
Inside Jaedamjae—specifically, the study that no one could enter without Chairman Joo’s permission.
“……That child came here?”
Chairman Joo Taebaek asked back in a startled tone as he set down his teacup, looking at his youngest daughter who had come to see him.
He had thought the child, having lost her mother, would cut ties with her maternal family for good.
Yet she had come on her own.
And she had almost been turned away at the door.
“Sudeok must’ve been too busy fooling around to notice. Just call him in and scold him, that’ll be the end of it.”
“You’re really going to step in yourself, Father? My brother’s going to be furious.”
Hearing that, the youngest daughter did have a point. Chairman Joo nodded lightly.
“If I scold him for no reason, the wrong child might end up being humiliated. Then I’ll just watch for now.”
“That’s better.”
“Jeonghee, you check what that child is really after.”
“Me? Saei, that kid?”
“Yes. What she was looking for at Dongwoogwan, and why she stepped back in here after all this time. I’m curious.”
With a small groan, Joo Jeonghee nodded.
Well, it’s not like meeting her would be that awkward.
She picked up her phone and contacted her secretary.
[Give me my sister’s daughter’s number. This is Father’s order, so make sure it doesn’t leak anywhere.]
A reply came immediately. She showed the screen with Joo Saei’s number to Chairman Joo.
“Since you’re seeing her anyway, be good to her. She’s at an age where she needs affection.”
“When have you ever cared about things like that?”
Jeonghee replied curtly, then added as she left the study,
“Is it okay if I give her some pocket money? Just a little. Nothing burdensome.”
Of course, the answer was already decided.
There was a problem.
She had obtained the script, and she could read every word written in it.
But then—
How am I supposed to get into the dinner party?
After her mother died, her father and she had separated themselves from the Joo family. There had been no reason for them to attend.
Invitations had come for about two years at first, but after ignoring them, even news had stopped.
Should she ask for one now? And from whom? Her uncle would fight tooth and nail to stop it. Was there really nothing she could grab onto…?
While she was holding her head in worry—
Ko-tok!
A CocoaTalk notification rang once.
[It’s Aunt Jeonghee. I’d like to meet and talk.]
Found it.
The lifeline I could grab.
She wanted to ask if “Aunt Jeonghee” instead of “Aunt Joo Jeonghee” wasn’t getting a little too familiar, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that.
[I’m free from now on! I’ll come whenever it’s convenient for you :>]
Someone who wouldn’t be pushed around by her uncle.
Through her aunt, she could make it to her grandfather’s dinner party…
[Tomorrow at 3 p.m. VIP Lounge, Haeum Atrium.]
She had to persuade her.
At Haeum Atrium—practically her aunt’s home base.
The next day, Saei prepared for the meeting the moment she woke up and arrived at Haeum Atrium thirty minutes early.
Though she was part of Dongwoo Group, there was no driver waiting for her. To move around without her father knowing, she had to take the bus. In other words, this was all because of Gyeonggi-do resident time calculations…
Anyway.
When Saei gave her aunt’s name—the owner of the atrium—she was easily allowed into the lounge.
Should I tell her I arrived early?
As she looked around while debating, she spotted her aunt with another person.
I can’t just walk up and greet them…
She sent a light message saying she had arrived. After checking it, her aunt turned her head around, clearly looking for Saei.
Then—
“Come sit here.”
In an instant, Saei was pulled into the seat beside her aunt. Across from them sat a woman who looked slightly younger than her aunt.
“Ah?”
Their eyes met, and the woman smiled lightly at Saei.
The moment Saei met her gaze, she knew who she was.
“Are you Actress Sung Hyesim?”
A renowned Korean actress known for her acting skills.
Later, she would even become a theater director—and in her previous life, she had praised Saei as a genius and personally chosen her as a troupe member.
That person was sitting right in front of her.
Looking younger than when Saei had met her in her past life.
“You recognized me right away? Do you watch a lot of TV?”
“You’re very famous… I didn’t know the two of you were close.”
Sung Hyesim being acquainted with her aunt—Saei was still stunned when her aunt introduced her.
Sung Hyesim held out her hand.
For no reason, memories of being acknowledged by her came flooding back, and tears welled up. Saei lowered her head deeply and shook her hand.
After asking her to wait a moment, her aunt continued talking with Sung Hyesim.
“Since it’s your taste, I thought you’d pick well…”
“How many scripts are there?”
“One I like. The rest… I’m not sure.”
From the sound of it, she was 고민ing over her next project.
Saei sat quietly, replaying their conversation.
What did Sung Hyesim film around this time?
Nothing, right?
Despite being known for constant work, she hadn’t filmed anything during this period. It was what people called a hiatus.
If she had so many scripts but didn’t choose any…
That meant none were worth enduring the break for.
In other words—a slump.
So it was this time.
Saei knew why Sung Hyesim had fallen into a slump. She had read the interview where she talked about it after returning with a ten-million-viewer film.
She said she lost interest.
Sung Hyesim had nearly quit acting, only to rediscover her passion after finding a genius named Seo Hajoon and working with him.
What if… I step in here?
This was a chance to stop Sung Hyesim’s slump—and at the same time, to make a good impression on her aunt.
Saei, who had only been listening, cleared her tight throat and spoke.
“Um, may I read the script too?”
“You?”
Her aunt asked immediately. Sung Hyesim also looked at her with curiosity.
“There’s only one script I brought today… Are you interested, Saei?”
“Yes. I want to read it opposite you.”
“You mean, act in front of me?”
Sung Hyesim’s eyes widened.
Saei met her gaze with the straightest eyes imaginable, then nodded.
As if possessed, she took the script and flipped through it, quickly spreading it open.
Her aunt called Saei several times with a curious look, but there was no response—she was fully immersed.
Meanwhile—
I know this script.
A massive hit from KDS, <Your Blue Name>.
Shortened to Neopureum, it had drawn huge audiences as iconic scenes and lines from episode one spread across social media.
The role offered to Sung Hyesim was the protagonist’s mother.
A woman who mourns her dead son, neglects her only remaining daughter, and belatedly realizes her mistakes. In Saei’s previous life, a famous “national mom” actress had played this role.
I’m done reading.
After one pass, the lines came flooding back. In her previous life, she had memorized scripts instantly—she was confident in her memory.
Sung Hyesim watched Saei closely.
It was an actor’s instinct.
That child is raw talent.
She had been seriously considering retirement. Acting had stopped being fun. What she once enjoyed had become nothing more than a tiresome chore.
Could that child break my boredom?
It might be a foolish fantasy, but Sung Hyesim allowed herself a small hope.
Soon, Saei closed the script.
“I’m ready.”
“You finished already? Which part do you want?”
“Any is fine. I’ll match whatever you choose.”
“Anywhere?”
Saei answered with a smile.
Sung Hyesim tilted her head in disbelief. The child hadn’t even looked at the script for long.
Just forty minutes.
And she claimed she could match any part.
“Ms. Saei, I’ll ask just in case…”
“Yes?”
“Do you expect me to indulge you like a niece? I thought you meant as an actor.”
“Please treat me as an actor.”
What was she relying on? What was she trying to show me?
Sung Hyesim’s gentle expression sharpened.
“You said you’d match whatever I choose.”
Then—
“Mom… what should Mom do. What should Mom do…”
In an instant, Sung Hyesim’s voice changed—from soft to rough. The acting began.
It was the mother’s line.
But there was a trap—one test.
“Mom did everything wrong… Open the door, please? Son…”
The partner in this scene wasn’t the daughter, but the son—a special appearance role.
How would she respond? Had she memorized even this scene where the protagonist didn’t appear? Could a young girl portray a boy resolved to die?
Sung Hyesim swallowed and fixed her gaze on Saei before her next line.
Then her eyes widened.
Her son was there.
Joo Saei had become the son who had decided to die, staring at her with a desolate expression.
“Ha, ah…”
Sung Hyesim let out a breath.
Before a single line was exchanged—
This was the first time her acting had broken.
