Chapter 19
From the very beginning, Hye-young had hated Kang Da-eun.
Her pretty face, her perfectly moderate height, her long limbs and ideal proportions—
whatever Da-eun wore or carried, she somehow made it look elegant.
And that, more than anything, irritated Hye-young.
What’s the difference between her and me, anyway?
Trying to catch even a little of that same aura, Hye-young began imitating her.
She grew her hair to a similar length, mimicked her facial expressions, her posture, her tone of voice, even the way she walked.
When people said the two of them had a similar image, or looked alike,
Da-eun just shrugged it off, thinking it was nothing special.
She even seemed to believe they’d become close because they had so much in common—naively.
Hye-young had tried desperately to steal and copy everything about her.
But acting was the one thing she could never imitate.
No matter how much she tried to mimic Da-eun, no matter how closely she observed her, she could never close the gap.
Kang Da-eun was, quite literally, a genius.
It was as if she instinctively understood the essence of acting.
Her expressiveness and emotional delivery drew people in effortlessly.
But Hye-young refused to admit it.
If she even slightly acknowledged Da-eun’s superiority aloud, it would feel like defeat.
So she brainwashed herself instead—telling herself Da-eun’s talent was common,
that with just a little more effort she could catch up,
that Da-eun’s success was only luck.
Clicking her tongue, Hye-young looked out the window.
The gossiping staff had long since disappeared.
“Maybe I should’ve backed out when they said there’d be auditions.”
If Da-eun’s luck held, she’d obviously land the lead role again.
Hye-young cursed herself for trusting CEO Hong so easily—but she had no other cards to play.
“Guess I’ll have to sweet-talk Hong into getting CEO Bae to pull some strings.”
She briefly considered giving up on this project altogether,
but her pride wouldn’t allow it.
Fine. I’ll stir things up in the media first.
Since the story’s about twin heroines,
I can market it as a dual-lead drama.
If I flood YouTube, social media, and entertainment articles
so that my name appears everywhere alongside hers,
I’ll be noticed just like the main lead.
“No Hye-young! We’re ready to shoot!”
A staff member who didn’t know where she was yelled down the hallway.
Creak—
Finishing her thoughts, Hye-young flung open the mansion door and stepped out.
Fine. Whatever Director Shin says, I’ll bite down and take it.
In the end, I’ll be the one who remains.
A little humiliation now was nothing—she could endure it
as long as she imagined herself soaring past Kang Da-eun when the drama aired.
The two-week shoot in New York was grueling beyond belief.
It was a string of all-nighters.
Director Shin Jung-geun was never satisfied with Hye-young’s acting.
As a result, not only the crew but also Da-eun—her co-star—had to stay up through the nights,
working hard to keep her tone consistent.
It was exhausting, but since it improved the project’s quality,
Da-eun followed every direction without complaint.
She even tried to keep spirits up with jokes and ad-libs.
After countless twists and sleepless nights,
the New York shoot finally wrapped.
Back in Korea, Da-eun immediately resumed filming We Must Be,
while squeezing time from her short sleep to prepare for the Jackpot audition.
“Good luck, Miss Da-eun!”
“Thanks!”
Da-eun clenched her fists to cheer herself up at her manager Ha-jeong’s words.
Today was the day of the Jackpot audition.
It was a same-day script audition—
meaning she’d only get the lines on the spot—so her palms were sweating from nerves.
Not only Director Ji Seung-gyun but also several confirmed senior actors
were serving as judges.
It was an audition for new actors,
but all other major roles were already cast—
only the role of Si-ho remained.
“Miss Kang Da-eun, please wait here.”
The audition was held at the film company’s office.
It was smaller than expected—
the line of waiting actors stretched through the hallway and down the stairs outside.
…Looks like at least thirty people.
Da-eun clasped her cold hands together, trying to calm herself.
She took a number and stood at the end of the line.
Five more people joined after her.
“We’ll begin the audition now.”
Contestant No. 1, trembling, entered the room.
Da-eun looked down at her waiting ticket—No. 32—and exhaled.
The thought that the actress who passed in her previous life
might be among them only made her more anxious.
“Ah… If only we’d been given the script beforehand, I could at least study it.”
She nodded slightly at the person in front of her,
who muttered exactly what she was thinking.
Everyone must have felt the same way.
Faint sounds of auditions leaked through the door—
the dialogue was indistinct.
She decided to keep rehearsing Si-ho’s character,
the one she’d prepared all this time.
Once she focused on Si-ho,
Da-eun no longer heard the noise around her.
“Thank you, you may go.”
Director Ji Seung-gyun pushed up his glasses and asked an assistant,
“How many are left?”
“About ten more.”
He sighed.
The long hours of auditions were tiring even for a man known in the film world
for his iron stamina.
Actor Park Byung-geun handed him a bottle of water.
“Come on, let’s hang in there. You never know—one of these last ten might be a gem.”
Hearing that from such a respected veteran,
Director Ji couldn’t show his fatigue.
At seventy, Park Byung-geun still sat straight,
watching his juniors with sharp eyes and even giving them advice between auditions.
Not only Park, but also Moon Sook-hee, Gil Jae-man, and Choi Hee-sung—
all seasoned stars—had taken time for Jackpot.
“All right. Next.”
After a sip of water, Director Ji straightened his posture.
An assistant bowed and went out to call the next actor.
About twenty minutes earlier, the next contestant—a rookie—
had been handed the script in a separate waiting room.
When she saw Moon Sook-hee sitting among the judges, she flinched.
The assigned scene came from the sitcom A Brilliant Moment,
famous for Moon’s meme line,
“See? I told you so earlier!”
To perform that scene in front of its original actress—
the pressure must have been enormous.
That was exactly what Director Ji intended.
Not only Moon but all the Jackpot judges were legendary figures in film.
He needed to find a newcomer who wouldn’t shrink beside such veterans,
who could hold her ground and show her full potential.
In the movie, Si-ho had to travel with the senior actors’ team,
and her character was cheeky yet warm-hearted—
so any sign of hesitation or timidity was unacceptable.
Originally, they hadn’t planned to cast a newcomer.
There were several young, talented actresses he’d wanted,
but scheduling conflicts made it impossible.
After that, they held private auditions based on recommendations,
but none of the candidates satisfied him.
“No, I’m telling you—Grandma next door said so, but no one listens, huh?”
Hearing a rookie deliver the line in an overly silly way,
Director Ji barely stifled a sigh and raised his hand.
The audition stopped.
He hadn’t smoked in years, but at that moment he craved a cigarette.
The Brilliant Moment wasn’t just slapstick comedy;
it was a satirical portrayal of its time.
At sixty, the mother character Sook-ja had endured a harsh life raising three daughters,
none of whom respected her.
Her husband ignored her as well.
No one ever listened to her words—
but events always unfolded exactly as she’d predicted.
Still, her family never acknowledged her quiet wisdom.
The character Si-ho was similar—
a dazzling beauty from the entertainment world,
concealing deep sadness behind her glittering exterior.
She seemed light-hearted and materialistic,
yet her pain and humanity were what mattered most.
That was why he had chosen Sook-ja’s scene for the audition.
Since the script was given out on the same day,
almost everyone had probably frozen when they received it.
They had all prepared for Si-ho-like characters,
so the sudden shift must have thrown them off completely.
“Number 32, please come in.”
He had even released parts of the script and character sheet beforehand,
hoping the applicants would study beyond the surface.
If anyone had truly dug deep,
they would’ve been able to express Sook-ja’s essence despite the surprise.
But no one had managed to show that.
It seemed this audition would be another failure.
In that case, he’d have to dig through the audition tapes
and find the least disappointing one.
Sighing, he pushed up his glasses again.
“Kang Da-eun.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll begin.”
Da-eun glanced at the weary judges, then beamed brightly.
“May I borrow a pen, please?”
When Director Ji nodded,
she stepped forward, borrowed a pen,
and used it to twist her long hair up into a bun.
“I’ll begin now.”
Her face looked familiar—
he checked her profile.
She’d done a vitamin drink commercial and appeared in the film Secret Letter.
Ah, that’s right. She was the child actress for Lee Ju-ran at the beginning of that movie.
He’d remembered her performance vividly.
His eyes lit up—and so did the other judges’.
It said she was currently filming a drama set to air next month.
Since Jackpot wouldn’t start shooting for another three months,
their schedules wouldn’t conflict.
Please, he thought, let her performance be as memorable as it was in Secret Letter.
“Phew.”
Pretending to carry something heavy in both hands,
Da-eun groaned and collapsed onto the floor with a thud.
The judges, knowing the script, watched her carefully.
Her pretty face and gestures carried an unexpected, natural roughness.
Director Ji’s lips twitched with interest.
Da-eun was following the script perfectly.
