"A Nepotism Baby? Well, good luck."
Jo Seohui had said those words while looking at the doll-like girl before her.
Jet-black hair, porcelain skin.
And those mysterious eyes tinged with a crimson hue.
She looked like a character straight out of a fairy tale. Her appearance was so striking that it seed obvious: they’d chosen her for her looks.
Everyone who saw her thought so. The staff, Seohui’s manager—even strangers who caught a glimpse of her.
And so, Seohui had said it: a nepotism baby.
It was a phrase that young Jo Seohui detested more than anything.
It made her feel as though opportunities were being handed to people who weren’t truly passionate about the craft she held dear.
It felt like this girl was an impurity, an intruder in the world where her mother had once made her mark.
At the ti, Jo Seohui had thought she disliked her.
At least until she saw her act.
The Morning Routine
Bzzzz. Bzzzzzz!
Clack! Thud. Thunk!
The sound of her phone clattering to the floor roused Jo Seohui from her sleep. Half-lidded eyes glanced at the clock on the wall.
“…Not an easy morning already,” she muttered, letting out a long sigh.
She got out of bed and moved through her usual routine: a light workout, breakfast, and preparation for school.
As she was putting on her uniform, the housekeeper approached with a comnt.
“You’ve been looking quite cheerful lately, Miss Seohui.”
It was a casual remark, but Seohui shot her a sharp look.
“Just speak normally, Auntie.”
“Oh my, isn’t this normal?”
The middle-aged woman smiled warmly, her words laced with teasing affection. Seohui sighed.
This woman had been with her family since she was a baby, hired during a period when her mother had been at the height of her career. She had been managing the household ever since.
“Is filming going smoothly these days?”
“Yes, it’s all going well,” Seohui replied as she adjusted her uniform.
Smoothly.
Yes, that was the word for it.
Kyungsung Lady had been going smoothly in every way—filming, promotion, even distribution. It all seed to be falling into place.
“It’s hard to believe the chaos at the beginning ever happened,” she thought.
Back then, the cast had undergone significant changes, and even investors had voiced concerns.
To be honest, when the actor playing Gotō Isamu pulled out, Seohui had felt a mont of panic.
It wasn’t easy to replace soone of that caliber—not for a minor role but for the main antagonist.
The actor needed both talent and recognition. Despite her efforts to find a replacent, no suitable candidate erged.
The character’s villainous role, coupled with Director Baek Min’s reputation for unconventional storytelling, had turned many actors away.
For veteran actors who might have been ideal for Gotō Isamu, there was an added layer of aversion.
“Not to ntion the homoerotic subtext,” she thought.
All those factors combined to create a challenging situation.
And yet, the issue had been resolved so effortlessly.
Seoyeon had sohow brought in the legendary actor Lee Sangsoo.
“How does she manage things like that so casually?”
To Seohui, Seoyeon was an enigma.
Even as a child, she had been extraordinary—pulling off performances far beyond her years, leaving a lasting legacy with just one drama.
“And then she vanished without a trace.”
As she sat through her classes at school, Seohui grumbled inwardly.
When Seoyeon had disappeared, it had been a shock to her.
The performance Seoyeon had delivered at the end—the one that had captivated everyone—was the kind of brilliance Seohui had always longed for.
It was like the starlight her mother had once shown her.
The Set and the Unexpected Encounter
When Seoyeon arrived at the set, she noticed an air of mild commotion.
Curious, she quietly approached the group, only to elicit a startled reaction.
“Gah! Oh my goodness!”
“Huh?”
One of the staff mbers leaped back in fright at her sudden appearance.
He hadn’t heard her footsteps, nor sensed her presence at all.
“Did she pick up sothing from Japan?” he wondered, imagining ninjas and secret techniques.
Seoyeon narrowed her eyes at the overreaction. Sure, she had approached quietly, but was that really the appropriate response to seeing an actress?
“A-ah, I’m sorry! There’s just been a lot going on lately.”
“Sothing going on?”
“Yes, Actor Kang Seo-hyuk ca by to et Director Baek Min.”
Kang Seo-hyuk. One of Korea’s most esteed veteran actors.
What was soone like him doing here?
“It seems the filming location for his latest movie is nearby. Their schedules overlapped.”
“I see.”
The current location in Nonsan, Chungcheongnam-do, was a popular filming site for historical dramas set during the Japanese colonial era. It wasn’t unusual for productions to overlap here.
Still, Seoyeon mused, Director Baek Min doesn’t seem like the type to allow schedule overlaps like this.
As she walked onto the set, Seoyeon saw Director Baek Min and Kang Seo-hyuk deep in conversation, surrounded by staff. Approaching them wasn’t an option, so she stayed at a distance, focusing on their exchange.
“I heard you were filming nearby, so I ca to say hello.”
“I take it your new project is also set during the Japanese colonial period?”
“Haha, yes, it just happened that way. Quite the coincidence.”
The conversation wasn’t particularly tense, but the scene felt odd given the circumstances.
Kang Seo-hyuk had abruptly withdrawn from Kyungsung Lady just before filming began. It wasn’t a dramatic departure—he and a few other actors had simply dropped out. While problematic, it wasn’t entirely uncommon in the industry.
Still, Seoyeon thought, He’s here to apologize for that, isn’t he?
It seed that he had already conveyed his apologies several tis, likely to avoid damaging his reputation.
Yet Kang Seo-hyuk probably hadn’t expected Director Baek Min to receive him so calmly.
Kang Seo-hyuk wasn’t naïve. He knew Director Baek Min wasn’t the type to let things slide easily.
The director’s ticulous approach was what had drawn him to the project in the first place. But when another production offered conditions that were too good to refuse, Kang had taken the deal.
The pay was more than double, he recalled.
The alternative project boasted a much larger budget and scale than Kyungsung Lady, which focused on intimate settings like two mansions and a small street.
By comparison, Kyungsung Lady was essentially a low-budget film, relying entirely on its cast rather than special effects or elaborate set designs.
Kang understood why Director Baek Min would have been furious—his departure had left a significant gap in the cast.
But today, Kang wasn’t just here to apologize. He was also curious.
Who ended up playing my role, Gotō Isamu?
He scanned the set, but no familiar faces caught his attention.
They must’ve gone with a lesser-known actor, he concluded.
If a prominent veteran had taken the part, it would have been a major selling point for the investors and heavily promoted. The lack of buzz suggested otherwise.
“It’s all right. Things worked out well in the end,” Director Baek Min reassured him.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Kang Seo-hyuk replied.
“Well, we need to get back to filming, so…”
“Ah, of course. My apologies.”
After exchanging farewells, Kang Seo-hyuk left the set. As he exited, he crossed paths with Seoyeon.
Ju Seoyeon?
He recognized her as one of the lead actresses in Kyungsung Lady.
The rising star, he thought.
Seoyeon had beco a household na in the industry, celebrated for her uncanny ability to revive struggling productions.
Her track record was so remarkable that so joked it was almost supernatural—rumors even suggested her success was exaggerated or manipulated, born from jealousy.
Those who were wise sought to align themselves with her rather than oppose her.
“Pleasure to et you. I’m Kang Seo-hyuk. I’ve heard much about you from Actress Jung Eunseon.”
Though his words were polite, his eyes betrayed his wariness.
After all, Kyungsung Lady would be competing directly against his own film at the box office.
“Hello, Kang Seo-hyuk,” ca another voice as a woman joined the conversation.
Jo Seohui, smiling brightly, had just arrived on set. Her deanor seed almost protective of Seoyeon as she addressed Kang.
“Good to see you again, Seohui. It’s been a long ti,” Kang said, his gaze softening slightly as he rembered her.
The last ti he’d seen her was at her mother’s funeral ten years ago.
“It’s reassuring to see you doing well.”
“Thank you,” Seohui replied, her smile unfaltering.
“I’m sure your mother would be proud to see you carrying on her legacy.”
At that, Seohui’s eyes narrowed briefly before her smile returned.
“Thank you for saying so.”
With that, Kang Seo-hyuk departed.
“Carrying on her legacy?” Seoyeon mulled over his words.
She had never asked Seohui about her family, and Seohui had never volunteered information. But Kang’s comnt seed to carry a deeper aning.
“Don’t mind him. That’s just how he is,” a familiar voice said.
Seoyeon turned to see Lee Sangsoo approaching, dressed casually.
“Ah, hello, Mr. Lee,” she greeted, bowing politely.
“I had to avoid him earlier. He’s always trying to keep things under wraps,” Sangsoo said with a wry smile.
“Anyway,” he continued, “today’s the day of your first scene with .”
There was a glint of excitent in his eyes. After all, the main reason for his return to the film industry was to act alongside Seoyeon.
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said earnestly.
“So am I,” Seoyeon replied with a confident smile, as if to say, You won’t be disappointed.
With that, the commotion on set subsided, and the day’s filming began in earnest.
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