I Want to Be a VTuber

Han Yegun couldn’t describe the atmosphere on set as good.

Most of the actors seemed overly conscious of Arthur Diaz.

Even the veteran supporting actors, experienced in numerous films, weren’t immune to the tension. As for the newcomers who had stood out during auditions, the situation was even worse.

Through the script readings, Han Yegun had confirmed this unease. It would have been better if it were just his imagination, but even now, everyone seemed to be closely monitoring Arthur Diaz’s every move.

"The only one not affected seems to be Ju Seoyeon."

She was, without a doubt, not an ordinary actor.

Rumors had it that she was timid, but her behavior didn’t reflect that at all.

If anything, her attitude appeared composed—perhaps even indifferent.

Arthur’s persistent attempts at conversation seemed to annoy her more than anything else.

Of course, this calm demeanor from Seoyeon only heightened the nervousness of the other actors.

"But Seoyeon’s behavior is what’s normal."

After all, Arthur Diaz was just another actor.

No matter how incredible his reputation was, the director was the one in charge on set.

While Arthur could break his contract and pay the penalty if he chose to, such an action was unlikely unless there was an extraordinary reason. For a professional actor, it would be an irresponsible move, and Arthur wasn’t the kind of person to lack that sense of professionalism.

"Ju Seoyeon and Arthur, please come here."

Han Yegun leisurely plopped down on a chair prepared on set—a simple, metal folding chair.

Opposite him, two more identical chairs stood empty.

At his call, both Seoyeon and Arthur approached, glancing between Han and the vacant chairs.

"Take a seat. These are the only chairs available."

"Alright."

The setup felt very raw.

Seoyeon thought as much as she sat down.

She glanced at Arthur, noticing his polite expression—so different from when he interacted with her.

"Why is it just me?"

Whether it was Stella or Arthur, they seemed to act this way only around her.

Arthur, in particular, appeared to be meticulous about managing his image with others, though perhaps he did the same with her.

It was just that she had seen through his real personality.

"Seoyeon, you missed the script reading earlier, so I wanted to ask if the two of you would need additional time to rehearse before filming starts."

Han didn’t think they needed it.

Seoyeon’s role, Jin Yeonseo, had already been partially revealed during Hyper Action Star. Arthur had likely seen it and understood the character well enough.

The role didn’t require much more development.

"The name has changed."

Seoyeon realized that the character’s original name, Yeohwa, had been altered.

The abilities were still the same—regeneration—but there was now a slight addition of physical enhancement.

It was still a modest power for a protagonist.

"Back then, there was another character with a similar name, so it was confusing."

The change was a relief. Seoyeon turned to Arthur, curious about his response.

"I don’t think additional rehearsals are necessary. It would be better to fine-tune things during the actual shoot."

Arthur’s tone was calm, but his gaze was fixed on Seoyeon.

Though he tried to conceal it, Han Yegun wasn’t oblivious to the intensity in Arthur’s eyes.

"Hot. It’s heating up here. Hollywood actors sure seem to take a particular interest in Seoyeon."

Han recalled how Stella Baldwin had also been drawn to Seoyeon. Stella frequently mentioned her time in Korea in interviews, often bringing up Seoyeon.

And now, Arthur Diaz seemed to share that fascination.

"Are you okay with this, Seoyeon?"

"Yes."

Her reply was succinct, almost indifferent, as if saying, Do whatever you want.

Han scratched his cheek and nodded.

"Great, then let’s get started."

The first day of filming wasn’t going to be anything extraordinary.

Han Yegun preferred building scenes organically during shooting.

"To be honest, I also find it easier to jump straight into filming. It’s more convenient."

Though there was a script, Han’s directing style allowed for spontaneous changes on set. Pre-rehearsals weren’t particularly meaningful for him.

Actors had to adjust to evolving circumstances, and Han prioritized creating good scenes over their comfort.

"He’s the complete opposite of Director Baek Min."

Seoyeon realized that while Director Baek meticulously followed his storyboard, Han was much freer—some might even call it unstructured.

This approach created more work for actors, but Han wasn’t concerned about their fatigue.

For him, producing the best possible scene mattered most, even if it meant deviating from his own plans.

"Alright, everyone, gather around. I’ll explain what we’re shooting today."

Han clapped his hands, drawing the attention of the staff and actors.

"Are they really jumping straight into filming without a reading?"

"Arthur Diaz might manage, but what’s Ju Seoyeon thinking?"

The cast was bewildered.

They had assumed that at least a brief reading would occur before filming began.

Arthur had already participated in several readings, but Seoyeon hadn’t done any.

And yet, they were diving straight into filming?

"What kind of mindset does she have? Is she fearless or just clueless?"

Among the supporting actors, Min Doha—who had been hiding among the extras—watched Seoyeon nervously while biting her thumb.

Min Doha had witnessed Arthur’s performance during the readings.

Before Stella Baldwin, Arthur had been hailed worldwide as a genius actor.

His reputation wasn’t undeserved. Even veteran actors had struggled to hold their ground against him.

Arthur didn’t need dramatic gestures—his mere presence embodied the character he played.

"It’s like standing before a method actor in their element."

Despite not having shared a scene with him, Min Doha had felt suffocated by his intensity.

"Even the one who performed well against Seoyeon in the finals couldn’t handle him..."

"Wait, are we starting filming already?"

Min Doha’s thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice.

She turned to see Narumi Sora, her gentle face framed with slight hesitation.

Though she had said she’d be late, it seemed Narumi had just arrived.

"...Ju Seoyeon’s lackey!"

Min Doha’s body stiffened.

The actress who had been seen sticking close to Seoyeon ever since the cast first gathered—and reportedly even accompanied her to Japan—was now approaching.

For Min Doha, she was the second-most-avoided person after Seoyeon. Considering what this person had shown during the finals, there was no way she could be ordinary.

"Why is she talking to me?"

She wanted to say something like, “Do we even know each other?”

But since they had been part of Hyper Action Star together, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

Of course, Min Doha wished she could avoid this situation altogether.

"Oh, yes. Both actors said they’re fine starting right away. Apparently, that’s easier for them."

"Really? Well, that does make sense."

"Sorry?"

"Hyper Action Star had even more intense moments. Remember the finals?"

The finals?

Min Doha looked at Narumi Sora, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» confused.

"That was action acting. Today’s performance should be much simpler in comparison."

Sora’s mind wandered back to Seoyeon’s performance during the finals.

Despite her attempts to coordinate with Seoyeon, it hadn’t even been necessary.

"And just thinking about her cameo performance in Japan..."

Seoyeon wasn’t the type of actress who needed long preparation times. Sora had learned that during their time in Japan.

She had read lines for Seoyeon, whose tone and delivery had immediately reflected them with uncanny accuracy. Improvising a scene together was nothing for her.

"You speak Korean so fluently, Sora."

"......"

"You sound like a native!"

Min Doha, having no idea what Sora had just said, was simply fascinated by her fluency.

"Am I supposed to sound more like a foreigner?"

Sora pondered nervously.

Her agency had once suggested that she adopt a more "characteristic" image, leaning into her identity as a Japanese actress.

Most Japanese actors exaggerated their accents, even speaking with intentional awkwardness on broadcast.

"Should I do that too?"

In real life, she could pass for a native Korean. But on-screen, many foreign actors seemed to lose half their tongue whenever they spoke.

It was an easy way to establish a recognizable character, but the idea made Sora uneasy.

The two lead actors stood on the set.

The scene being filmed today was the prologue of the film—a pivotal moment where Arthur’s character, a scientist, helps Seoyeon’s character escape from the laboratory.

"The protagonist, Jin Yeonseo, is a superhuman created through the Darwin’s Project, a research program exploring human potential."

The Darwin’s Project, led by the United States, was a study on superhumans. Its true purpose would only be revealed later in the story.

Initially, the protagonist was merely an experimental subject confined within the facility. Jin Yeonseo, the project’s first successful test subject, manages to escape with the help of a young researcher, Adam.

"The protagonist begins as a girl who knows nothing about the world."

Born and raised within the laboratory, Yeonseo had no concept of normal life. Adam was the one who introduced her to the world, teaching her basic human knowledge.

Just as Seoyeon’s character grew up in the laboratory, Arthur’s character had been raised in its shadow. Following his father, the facility’s director, he had worked there since his youth.

"In just two years, Yeonseo adapted to the outside world and became an ordinary girl."

But the surface narrative concealed deeper twists, ones that needed subtle foreshadowing in the prologue.

Narumi Sora observed Seoyeon carefully.

The contrast between the early and late stages of Yeonseo’s character would need to be starkly evident.

"Alright, let’s start filming."

Seoyeon, now in costume, wore a plain white lab coat. She was barefoot, her hair untidy and loose—giving her an entirely different impression from her usual polished self.

"Finally."

Arthur, also in a white lab coat, looked at her.

He had been waiting to showcase the performance he had refined over the course of the script readings.

"Did Oliver really call her an Esper?"

Arthur recalled his friend’s oddly serious comment and smirked.

"What does it matter? At the end of the day, this is about acting."

He calmed himself, focusing on the precise emotions he needed to convey.

Arthur’s performance required duality.

"The hints in your acting need to be subtle, Arthur. Later, when the audience looks back, they should think, ‘Ah, so that’s what it was.’ Not, ‘What was that?’"

"I understand."

As for Seoyeon, Han Yegun observed her fiddling with her costume and scratched his chin.

"Seoyeon, you need to act like a girl who doesn’t understand emotions—almost mechanical."

"Understood."

"If you make a mistake, we’ll reshoot. Don’t feel too pressured."

"Yes, I understand."

Seoyeon’s calm response made the surrounding staff click their tongues sympathetically.

"They say that, but they’ll reshoot over and over if it doesn’t look good."

"Asking her to act like she doesn’t feel emotions without even a script reading? That’s a lot of pressure."

"Exactly."

Acting like a girl who didn’t understand emotions might sound simple, but it wasn’t.

Done poorly, it could come off as awkward or ridiculous.

Han Yegun raised his hand.

"Action!"

The clapboard snapped sharply, signaling the start of the first scene.

"Eve."

The name given to Jin Yeonseo by the laboratory: Eve-001.

It symbolized the project’s first success and the origin of its research.

Adam, the young researcher, approached Yeonseo, who stood by a flower bed, always gazing at the plants. He had come to get her out of the lab.

"Eve, why aren’t you responding? We need to leave quickly before..."

Arthur—Adam—stopped mid-sentence.

Crimson eyes gazed back at him.

A quiet, unfeeling stare from the girl.

It was unsettling.

As if a monster, incapable of understanding human emotions, was looking back at him.