I Want to Be a VTuber

Getting her finger bitten or hearing that the smoke in the scene was “sexy”...

The recent filming of Kyungsung Lady had turned into a series of humiliations for Seoyeon that she would rather never experience again.

But, in truth, none of those things really mattered.

Seoyeon almost never made NGs (outtakes), so the staff were more surprised than anything else.

Director Baek Min seemed to regard it as merely part of the process of finding the right emotional tone.

So, there wasn’t any particular issue with the NG itself.

It was just a bit embarrassing, that’s all.

Especially since the reactions from the Japanese broadcasting team felt overwhelming at times.

"Wow~, did you see that performance just now, Tanaka-san? Korean acting is definitely different from Japanese acting."

"More than that, Ju Seoyeon’s acting is incredible. Even the part where she NGed—haha! Honestly, I found it kind of...cute."

"Oh, me too, me too. I was watching with my mouth open, and then I accidentally laughed at the end. Did you catch that on camera?"

"Of course! I was worried since I’d heard she rarely makes NGs, but wow, we scored big on the very first shoot."

Lately, Seoyeon had been learning some Japanese from Sora, as their exchanges had become more frequent.

Since she was already familiar with anime and games through various media, learning the language wasn’t too difficult.

She just needed to correct a few of the misused words.

Even so, understanding spoken Japanese had initially been a challenge, but she’d largely overcome that issue by now.

Thus, their conversation reached Seoyeon’s keen ears clearly.

Of course, there were still a few words she didn’t know, but she could grasp the general nuances and meaning.

“Is this going to air in Japan?”

The thought struck her naturally.

Was the footage from just now—

Could it be, the part where she was trembling after getting her finger bitten?

Should I stop it?

As she mulled over the idea, fidgeting nervously—

“Aw, that’s so cute.”

A voice came from beside her.

Turning her head, she saw Jo Seohui with her hands over her mouth.

“...What?”

“Oh, nothing. It just slipped out. But, well, I couldn’t help it. You’re so different from your usual self.”

Jo Seohui had unintentionally voiced her thoughts out loud.

At first, she felt a little embarrassed but wondered if she’d said anything wrong.

It was really cute, after all.

“Making that kind of comment while filming a same-sex love story feels a bit loaded, don’t you think?”

But then Lee Jiyeon, who had been quietly listening, chimed in with her own comment.

“Could you not twist my innocent words? I was just saying it was cute, that’s all.”

“Well, I’ll admit, it was a side of Ju Seoyeon we don’t usually see these days. It was refreshing.”

“Right? ...Wait, these days?”

Jo Seohui’s curiosity was piqued by Jiyeon’s words.

Was it common to see that side of Seoyeon in the past?

“I don’t think she had that kind of vibe during her child actor days?”

Back then, Seohui had felt a lot of resentment toward Seoyeon, so she’d heard plenty about her from the filming of The Moon That Hides the Sun.

Moreover, Seohui’s mentor, Jung Eunseon, frequently shared stories about Seoyeon.

The most common remark from back then was:

“She’s not like other kids.”

“Her emotional fluctuations are minimal, and she isn’t afraid of much.”

“She’s a dangerous child.”

Of course, there was room for misunderstanding in that statement. The “dangerous” part wasn’t ideological but rather physical.

Kids naturally lack fear.

That often leads them to recklessly engage in dangerous activities without thinking much of it.

For Seoyeon, this extended not just to her acting but also to her day-to-day behavior.

Because of her calm demeanor and limited emotional expression, actress Jung Eunseon had found her precarious in a unique way.

Seohui hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

“Our teacher really should have been more careful with her words.”

To be honest, Jo Seohui believed Jung Eunseon had a knack for saying the wrong things.

The type to make unnecessary enemies.

In any case, to Jo Seohui, who had heard Jung Eunseon’s stories, Seoyeon seemed anything but childlike back then.

She was a “steel girl,” as strong and unyielding as her demeanor suggested.

“Is this from that time when she disappeared for a while?”

“Yeah? Oh, right, it was during middle school. Ju Seoyeon was no joke back then.”

Seohui’s curiosity about Jiyeon’s words grew.

What had happened during middle school?

“Well, back then, she couldn’t control her emotions—mmph!”

As Jiyeon began to casually recount the events of that time, two pale hands clamped over her mouth.

Behind Jiyeon, Seoyeon had silently been listening and decided to intervene.

“...I just changed my sheets recently.”

“Your sheets?”

“With everything going on today, let’s not bring up the past... I mean, I was young back then.”

During her adolescence, Seoyeon had been hit by a whirlwind of emotions.

The hormonal changes left her unable to contain her feelings.

For better or worse, she was incredibly emotional during that period.

On top of that, her physical capabilities had undergone significant changes, making it a stormy time in every sense of the word.

Jiyeon, who had tagged along during those years, had witnessed the entire process.

Although, to be fair, she had instigated some of it herself.

“Pfft, you’re embarrassed over something so minor. That’s not like you, Ju Seoyeon.”

“Didn’t you say the same thing to my mom back then?”

“...Well, yeah, I guess I did.”

As the two exchanged words, Jo Seohui, who had been watching with interest, felt a peculiar sense of exclusion.

They were having a conversation filled with inside jokes, ones only they understood.

“Hmm, I wonder what happened. You caused quite a stir, huh?”

“Ah, that incident? Yeah, that one was really something, wasn’t it?”

The back-and-forth only piqued her curiosity further.

If they were going to talk about something she didn’t know, they might as well explain it properly.

As Seohui tugged at Seoyeon’s sleeve, signaling her desire to hear more—

“All right, moving to the next scene!”

Director Baek Min’s voice cut through the moment.

The next scene involved Seoyeon and Jiyeon, but it wasn’t the one directly following Yuina and Yeonseon’s initial encounter.

Instead, it was a scene set much later in the story, chosen to be filmed now due to the available set.

The scene marked a pivotal event occurring at Yuina’s mansion, and the director planned to shoot everything tied to this location in one go.

Seoyeon nodded, adapting to Baek Min’s filming style.

Each director had their own approach to shooting: some followed the story’s flow, while others worked based on sets and locations.

Baek Min’s method fell into both categories.

Thankfully, Seoyeon no longer adhered strictly to method acting. This allowed her to approach emotionally complex scenes with greater flexibility, bringing out only what was necessary for the role. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

The director began providing detailed guidance for the scene, numbered S#126—a scene occurring well into the movie’s second half.

While preparing, Seoyeon couldn’t help but remain distracted by the earlier events and the attention she continued to receive from the Japanese broadcasting team.

Still, as the scene began, Seoyeon found herself marveling at Jo Seohui’s seamless transition in portraying Michiko’s shifting emotions toward Yeonseon.

"Miss, please, it's a misunderstanding."

Lee Jiyeon's acting seemed a little shaky.

However, fortunately, it was a part of the scene that portrayed Yeonseon's anxious psyche, so it didn’t feel out of place.

Depending on the perspective, it even came across as natural.

Will this be okay?

While Seoyeon admired Jo Seohui’s performance, she couldn’t help but feel a bit concerned about Jiyeon’s acting.

After all, Director Baek Min was watching it very closely.

It was the kind of situation where it wouldn’t be surprising if the scene was cut off at any moment.

Thus, Seoyeon was tense as she observed the situation.

At least, that’s how things were up to that point.

"Ah, Miss, please let me go."

"No. Tell me first—what exactly happened between you and Yuina?"

"I-I swear, it was purely coincidental. W-what could a lowly Joseon maid like me possibly do?"

"Don’t lie to me, Yeonseon."

The heated exchange of words unfolded.

It was an intense scene brimming with complex emotions.

Watching with bated breath, Seoyeon began to feel a strange sensation creeping over her.

That was when she realized that the emotions exchanged between the two weren’t solely anger—there was something else mixed in.

"Why? Do you want to go back to Yuina now? Sorry, but that’s not going to happen. I’ve decided—I won’t let you go anymore."

"T-that’s not what I mean."

"I’ve known for a while that you had some connection to Yuina. Even so, I thought it didn’t matter. But I was wrong. The moment I saw you here, something entirely different stirred within me."

Michiko was far from a weak-willed young lady.

Even after noticing Yeonseon’s betrayal, she didn’t discard her.

"I thought I could simply let you go, like before. I’m sorry, Yeonseon. But you’ve missed your chance."

Instead, she tightened her grip, metaphorically extending a leash toward Yeonseon.

Michiko’s awakening to her feelings for Yeonseon was bold, unwavering.

A fierce lady without a hint of hesitation.

"Why, didn’t Yuina do something like this for you? I’m sorry, but I’m not a kind person."

And so, the subsequent scenes grew increasingly intense.

What...

Seoyeon unconsciously gaped as she watched.

Kyungsung Lady was rated 15+, but the kind of scenes permitted under this rating were anything but tame.

Of course, there was no nudity.

But still, how could one describe it?

This is... um... a bit much.

Yeonseon’s portrayal was based on Ramiel’s acting style, which had similar vocal nuances to begin with.

The tone had been slightly subdued, but the resemblance remained.

Thus, as Seoyeon watched the scene, she couldn’t help but overlay it with an image of Ramiel in a comparable situation.

No, no, that’s not it!!

Wait, all the way to that point? They’re going that far?

Jo Seohui’s acting was bold and uninhibited.

Michiko’s dense emotional scene left Seoyeon’s pupils shaking.

The love Michiko expressed was raw, intense, and all-encompassing.

Meanwhile, Jiyeon’s awkward acting amplified the disparity, portraying a naive girl crushed under the weight of such overwhelming emotions.

The mixture of feelings was indescribable, wrapping around Seoyeon.

Could she ever portray emotions this powerful herself?

But more than that—Ramiel.

My Ramiel.

This flurry of emotions left her utterly floored.

Was it... jealousy?

...No, not entirely.

It was a tangled mess of feelings.

It felt akin to how Yuina must have viewed Michiko and Yeonseon’s relationship.

In any case—

This... might not be enough.

Seoyeon realized her current interpretation of Yuina’s feelings might be lacking.

To stand as an equal to Michiko, Yuina’s emotions needed to burn just as fiercely.

If Michiko was a roaring fire, then the emotions Seoyeon had envisioned for Yuina were no more than the flicker of a match.

The feeling of loving someone.

Love.

It was a far more intense emotion than Seoyeon had imagined.

But why is Jo Seohui so good at this?

Suspicion welled up within her as she stared at Jo Seohui.

Why is she glaring at me now?

Jo Seohui, suddenly feeling wronged, hid behind Jiyeon.

Naturally, Seoyeon’s gaze only grew sharper.

Is she flaunting her skills at me? Their relationship? Michiko and Yeonseon’s dynamic?

Above all, the fact that Jo Seohui could portray such feelings so effortlessly while she struggled grated on Seoyeon’s pride as an actress.

Her sense of professional pride had grown significantly since her earlier days.

That’s why she decided to move up her meeting with Yeohee.

Kasugayama Yuina.

To perfectly embody a young lady harboring unrequited love for Yeonseon.

Why did it turn out like this?

Yeohee pondered as she looked at the girl sitting before her.

They had agreed to meet later.

But that was supposed to be with Jo Seohui or someone else in the group—not just the two of them.

Why is she here alone?

Clearly, Seoyeon must have heard bits and pieces about the past from Sua.

But for reasons unknown, Seoyeon silently listened to Yeohee, her expression impassive and gaze fixed.

Her lack of emotional shifts and her extraordinary beauty made Yeohee uncomfortable.

She’s Sua’s daughter, so why is she so devoid of emotion?

The Seoyeon she’d encountered in the drama Masked Singer had been emotional, clearly her mother’s daughter.

But now, this silent version of Seoyeon felt completely different, almost intimidating.

In truth, Seoyeon’s feelings weren’t too far from Yeohee’s.

What should I say first?

Although she’d come to meet Yeohee impulsively, starting with, “So, could you tell me about your first love?” seemed far too rude.

Even Seoyeon, who often missed social cues, knew that much.

What do I say?

I need to say something...

The silence stretched until Yeohee, feeling awkward, finally spoke up about some random recent events.

"Ah, um, so, recently, a friend of mine—oh, they’re a close friend and a web novel writer—had their work adapted into a drama!"

"A friend? Are they a high school friend of yours?"

"Ah, well..."

That was true.

Did I just say something unnecessary?

Yeohee squeezed her eyes shut, cringing at the thought of her limited social circle.

"What’s the drama’s title?"

"Uh? Oh, I think it’s the same as the web novel’s title?"

Should I have mentioned that?

Seoyeon’s curiosity piqued.

If it was a high school friend, perhaps it was someone who had been in a club with her mother.

It seemed plausible, which made her even more intrigued.

"I think the title was..."

Yeohee mentioned the title of the web novel, assuming Seoyeon wouldn’t know it.

But the moment Seoyeon heard the name—

What?

She couldn’t believe her ears.

Her memories from her past life were incredibly vivid, allowing her to recall movies and dramas with perfect clarity.

And among them was the drama Yeohee had just named.

Her shock stemmed from the details flooding her mind.

First, the drama had gained attention for its impactful plot.

But more importantly—

That drama flopped spectacularly.

It had been utterly ruined by the screenwriter’s adaptation, deviating entirely from the original web novel.