The scene between Yeonseonye and Michiko, where they overcame their conflicts and confirmed their feelings for each other—
It just so happened to occur at the moment when Michiko had resolved to take her own life.
And once their feelings were laid bare, there was nothing left to hold them back.
“But seriously, jumping straight to a kiss? That’s not normal.”
That was Jiyeon’s only complaint about her script.
She kept stealing glances at Seohui, curious about her take on the matter.
But as for Seohui—
“Hmm, isn’t it fine? Actors can’t avoid this kind of thing anyway. Better to do it with someone you’re already comfortable with.”
“Isn’t it harder with someone you’re comfortable with?”
“Stop whining.”
Even though Seohui was usually the most flustered one in their trio,
when it came to acting, she was all professionalism.
Sensing Jiyeon’s nervousness about the kiss scene,
Seohui narrowed her already sly eyes and said—
“The audience has been waiting for this moment, watching their relationship build up to this point.
If you let personal feelings ruin the scene, what do you think will happen?”
“I’m not saying I can’t do it!”
Watching their exchange, Seoyeon had only one thought at the time:
‘Thank god I don’t have to do that.’
She happily continued eating her ice cream.
Unrequited love was tricky to act out, sure,
but Yuina’s role still seemed much easier.
If she had taken the lead role, she wouldn’t be playing unrequited love—
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She’d be acting out full-blown romance.
And that definitely sounded harder.
‘I’m not ready for scenes like that yet.’
Seoyeon nodded to herself.
With her knowledge of the future,
she figured she could probably keep dodging scenes like that forever.
Content with that thought, she leisurely tapped away at her phone game.
“NG!! Let’s try that again. Seohui, your performance keeps faltering.”
“Wait, no, that’s not—”
For the first time, Jiyeon was overwhelming Seohui in a scene.
Seoyeon should’ve been applauding her best friend’s improvement—
“Didn’t you say this was an important scene? That the audience would be waiting for it?”
“I—I know that!”
“Then stop stuttering.”
Jiyeon oozed confidence, while Seohui’s face burned red as she struggled to collect herself.
After repeatedly messing up during the kiss scene,
Seohui was visibly shaken.
Even the staff, who were surprised to see Seohui making mistakes—rare as that was—couldn’t help but find it endearing.
But Seoyeon—
“...”
Seoyeon slumped in her chair, just watching it all unfold.
With no scenes to shoot that day,
she had just tagged along with Jiyeon,
and now there was nothing to do but sit and observe.
“Jiyeon, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Why are you acting like an amateur?”
“But still!”
With that, the filming resumed.
Maybe because of Seohui’s embarrassment,
Jiyeon seemed even more energized than usual.
This might’ve been the most relaxed Jiyeon had felt during the entire Kyungsung Lady shoot.
『My lady, I remember when I first helped you wash.』
Yeonseonye gently tugged on Michiko’s collar,
her smile tinged with amusement.
『I thought to myself—how could something so beautiful exist?』
Her hand traced Michiko’s collar,
gliding up to brush her shoulder before caressing her earlobe.
Michiko flinched, and Yeonseonye laughed softly, clearly enjoying herself.
And—
‘L-Lamiel and Alice...’
Seoyeon clamped both hands over her mouth as she watched the scene unfold.
She couldn’t make a sound.
Even though they were right in front of her,
it felt like she couldn’t approach them.
Yes, this was clearly Yeonseonye and Michiko.
Their acting was so in sync that they had completely become their characters.
But in Seoyeon’s eyes,
Lamiel and Alice’s faces kept overlapping with them.
‘No, turn off the filter—turn it off!’
If only it were that simple.
Seoyeon’s red eyes widened as the two leaned in closer.
The script required their feelings to be mutual.
But Jiyeon was clearly steering the scene with far more confidence.
And then—
“I actually like the ad-lib you added earlier. Let’s keep it.”
“Huh? I thought you were scolding me for it?”
“Normally I would. And honestly, you probably still deserve it. But the line works well.”
Even Director Baek Min was impressed by Jiyeon’s ad-libbing.
Actors sometimes improvised lines when they were deeply immersed in their roles.
It was a natural way of interpreting their characters.
And in this case, Jiyeon’s line was perfect.
『My lady, you must’ve been born for this... How are you so perfect at it?』
Yeonseonye smirked as she silenced Michiko with another kiss.
Her mischievous tone drew laughter from the crew.
How could she come up with that line in the moment?
“She’s got great instincts, doesn’t she? No wonder Director Baek keeps letting it slide.”
“Seriously, how does she have so many tricks up her sleeve? But her character interpretation is spot-on.”
“Exactly.”
In a corner away from the set,
the staff murmured amongst themselves.
At first, they had doubted whether Jiyeon could handle the lead role.
But the more they watched, the more they saw how perfectly she fit.
“Seoyeon, what do you think—?”
The staff member stopped mid-sentence.
Seoyeon’s bloodshot red eyes were staring straight ahead.
They were unnervingly intense.
The staff member swallowed hard.
‘Thank god this isn’t a horror movie set...’
If it had been dark,
they might’ve wet themselves on the spot.
The redness of her eyes, combined with their natural hue, made her look downright eerie—
like blood was about to drip from them.
‘She’d be amazing in a horror film.’
As a ghost, maybe.
Her crimson eyes made her look like she was crying blood.
It was terrifying.
“S-Seoyeon? Are you okay? What’s wrong...?”
Finally, Seoyeon opened her mouth.
“Turn off... the filter. The horns are broken...”
“...What?”
Seoyeon adored Lamiel and Alice,
but this was something else entirely.
She was such a diehard unicorn fan that she avoided even hinting at romantic pairings between them.
And now, she had fainted on the spot.
*****
“Seoyeon’s schedule must have been too exhausting.”
“Take some time to rest.”
Due to the intense, back-to-back filming schedule, Seoyeon was effectively done with her scenes.
Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t sneak over to watch Jiyeon and Seohui shoot their remaining parts.
‘Seriously... Jiyeon... Was she up to something behind my back?’
The fact that Yeonseonye’s performance mirrored Lamiel’s so closely meant Seoyeon couldn’t turn off the mental filter.
For the first time, she resented her ability to perceive others’ emotions so vividly.
‘It’s exactly like Lamiel’s performance back then.’
It brought back memories.
In her past life, Lamiel had been part of a corporate-sponsored VTuber group, frequently collaborating with fellow SevenLive members.
The performance she gave back then was eerily similar to Jiyeon’s now.
The smooth emotional flow—paired with such a convincing kiss scene—
Seoyeon grew suspicious.
Jiyeon wasn’t just acting—she was dominating.
“I wasn’t dominating her!”
“Huh?”
Lost in thought while staring out the window, Seoyeon turned to find Seohui had returned at some point.
Incidentally, Seoyeon and Seohui were sharing a ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) hotel room for this trip.
Meanwhile, Jiyeon was bunking with Seoyeon’s manager, Park Eunha.
“When did you get back?”
“...I rushed over when I heard you collapsed.”
“And Jiyeon? Why didn’t she come?”
“She just said, ‘Ju Seoyeon always does this,’ and didn’t bother. Can you believe her?”
Seohui pouted, though her face was still flushed.
The shoot must have left quite an impression.
Seeing her like that, Seoyeon started to understand Jiyeon’s behavior a bit more.
Normally, Seohui carried herself like a composed, aristocratic lady—
A poker face as solid as Seoyeon’s own.
Though she softened a little around Seoyeon,
that was probably because she didn’t have many friends she could be completely candid with.
Still, watching her practically hopping around during the shoot was definitely eye-catching.
‘Maybe it’s because her reactions were so good?’
It must’ve made Jiyeon go all in, feeding off the energy.
“Anyway, Seoyeon. Did you get any calls?”
“Huh? Me?”
Calls?
Who would contact her in Japan?
After a brief thought, Seoyeon shook her head.
The only new person she’d met recently was Stella.
‘Wait, we didn’t even exchange numbers.’
And after all that, Stella even stayed over at her house.
‘That whole thing was ridiculous.’
Specifically, when Stella visited her place the day before they left for Japan.
Park Eunha had asked Seoyeon to let Stella crash at her place for the night.
“Where is everyone?”
When Seoyeon brought Stella home, the house was completely empty.
Apparently, her parents and younger sister Suyeon had gone out for the weekend.
‘Why didn’t they invite me?’
That thought crossed her mind briefly.
Still, having the house to herself meant guilt-free gaming.
“Hmm~, do you like games?”
If only Stella hadn’t been there.
‘Oops.’
Out of habit, Seoyeon had booted up her console the moment they got home—
and then immediately regretted it.
Turning it off now would’ve been even weirder.
“Yeah, it’s not like there’s much else to do.”
“True.”
Seoyeon prided herself on reading others’ emotions,
but Stella was an enigma—difficult to pin down.
There was a strange sense of familiarity about her,
but she remained unpredictable.
‘Might as well just play games instead.’
With no other topics to talk about,
Seoyeon settled in for a round of Souls-like games.
‘Maybe I can impress her if I show off my skills.’
Fueled by determination, Seoyeon got to work.
Big stages always brought out her best.
She could already picture Stella admiring her gameplay—
“Wait, is this game supposed to be this hard?”
“...”
Stella’s remark hit Seoyeon right where it hurt.
“Then why don’t you try?”
“Me? I’ve never played before.”
Despite saying that, Stella confidently took the controller—
as if she believed she could do better.
‘Hold on.’
Seoyeon paused.
Most people around her, Park Jungwoo included, always ended up outplaying her.
No matter how bad they were at first,
they somehow improved and surpassed her in no time.
‘Not this time.’
Seoyeon watched Stella warily.
There was something about her relaxed demeanor that screamed potential.
‘I won’t let her show me up.’
But, thankfully—
“What the hell? Why would anyone play this?”
For the first time, Stella sounded genuinely frustrated.
Even after multiple attempts,
she kept getting hit and dying.
Focused entirely on the game,
she didn’t even look at Seoyeon.
‘She’s worse than me.’
Seoyeon was thoroughly pleased.
Finally, someone who wasn’t a natural at everything.
“I’m gonna shower. Keep playing.”
“Sure.”
Seoyeon left Stella glued to the game,
immersed in her struggle.
While Seoyeon was gone, her family returned from their trip.
“Hey, Suyeon’s back!”
“Mom, Dad! We’re home!”
Thanks to Seohui’s connections, Seoyeon’s family frequently visited Mirinae Park.
Today was no exception.
“Seriously? Gaming the moment we get back? Wow, dodged that attack—wait, what? Our daughter’s skills got even worse.”
Her dad, Youngbin, plopped down on the couch next to Stella,
casually jabbing her side with his elbow—
a habit he and Seoyeon shared when teasing each other.
But then—
“Eek!”
A strange squeal escaped Stella,
and she immediately curled up, clutching her ribs.
“...?”
‘Wait, my daughter doesn’t squeal like that.’
Feeling something was off, Youngbin turned to look—
and froze.
A blonde girl with an angelic face stared back at him,
still holding her side.
There was something oddly familiar about her.
“Uh... Who... Who are you?”
All Youngbin could do was stammer dumbly.