I Want to Be a VTuber

What thoughts crossed Yeonhwa, the princess, as she stood with her back to the sun?

Seo-yeon needed several days to ponder over it.

An actor must grasp the role they’re playing.

Method acting, deeply immersed in emotion, ultimately stems from that understanding.

“Usually, in such cases, it would be easier to think from the character’s perspective, right?”

When I asked Yoon Jong-hyuk, who was resting in his disguise as Jo Young-dae, he replied that way.

“Hmm, it’s a bit cliché, but that’s the simplest method. Alternatively, you can project your own experiences onto it, but… that’s probably a bit too challenging for a young one like Seo-yeon.”

The truth is, there’s no definitive answer to acting.

Yoon Jong-hyuk said this while patting Seo-yeon’s head.

It seemed admirable that the young child actor was trying to interpret the role in her own way.

“Putting too much of your own thoughts into a character isn’t good.”

Then, when I slyly asked actress Jeong Eun-seon, she replied in this manner.

“The script has the written words. It details the character’s description and setup. Anything beyond that is usually too greedy. Plus, ‘The Moon That Hid the Sun’ is a work based on an original piece.”

For works based on originals, fans of the piece tend to be harsher in their interpretations of the characters.

If an actor or director imposes too much of their subjectivity, the character can end up completely different.

That’s surely not the result the fans desire.

However, the drama’s audience likely contains those who haven’t read the original.

The original might often seem correct, but one can’t be absolutely certain it won’t be wrong.

The reactions of novel readers and TV viewers can certainly differ.

“Of course, there’s a truckload of dramas that got trashed for adapting the novels too freely.”

Seo-yeon nodded in agreement as she thought this.

Although Jeong Eun-seon was an actress who took method acting seriously, she still said that.

Perhaps it meant that for young Seo-yeon, doing more than that would be excessive.

“Who knows?”

After all, Seo-yeon had never learned acting properly.

So she had no choice but to ask herself questions and tackle them.

Just as Yoon Jong-hyuk mentioned, she tried thinking from the character’s standpoint.

She attempted to recall similar experiences from Yeonhwa’s perspective.

But amusingly, she didn’t have any.

Even reflecting on her past life didn’t help, as she couldn’t really understand emotions back then.

Joo Seo-yeon was so young that she didn’t really have anything to call experience.

So Seo-yeon turned to the original novel.

She wanted to know what feelings Yeonhwa had.

She read the script several times.

She expressed emotions in various forms.

Practice.

And more practice.

She could only ascertain what the right answer was by acting it out herself.

It was incredibly challenging.

For young Seo-yeon.

For a child who had never understood emotions, this was perhaps a harsh ordeal.

But.

“Seoil.”

Standing with her back to the sun, Yeonhwa was like the moon.

“I believed you would come here.”

Yeonhwa, or Lee Hye-wol, said that with a mournful smile unlike when she had been angry at Jo Young-dae.

It was an overwhelmingly difficult emotion for the young Yoon Seoil.

Perhaps Hye-wol herself wouldn’t be able to understand.

Anger.

Resentment.

These feelings weren’t directed only at Jo Young-dae, but also toward herself.

“Why?”

To such a Hye-wol, Yoon Seoil said.

“Why must you leave? Isn’t this wrong?”

Yoon Seoil said this, his lips moving.

He had a lot he wanted to say.

“Why on earth!”

But young Yoon Seoil couldn’t express those feelings and thoughts.

He was still a child.

Even being the son of the Great Scholar of Sungkyunkwan felt laughable.

Seoil’s thoughts and feelings couldn’t turn into words.

“Don’t leave, Your Highness. You can’t go. Please, don’t leave me behind.”

In the end, the words that flowed from Seoil’s mouth were merely a child’s whiny pleas.

He knew it was impossible, of course.

Still, the young Yoon Seoil expressed it like that.

“Don’t leave!”

Just like that.

“Seo-yeon, are you really okay?”

That scene overlapped with what Sua had said.

Sua, who had asked if she was really okay multiple times.

And the worried look on Young-bin’s face came to mind.

Yoon Jong-hyuk said.

If you want to know the character’s emotions, drawing from past experiences is also a method.

Fortunately.

Seo-yeon was in a situation similar to Yeonhwa.

“Actors can still act while playing child roles. After all, an opportunity like this has come, hasn’t it?”

Director Ha Tae-oh was trying to persuade Seo-yeon.

How about trying a bit more?

Certainly, child actors have short lifespans and it can be tough, but that’s not true for everyone, he said.

He asked if it wasn’t a waste.

He pressed her, asking if she would really let go of something others dreamt about, now that it was in her hands.

Just one work.

Just one drama.

Seo-yeon had only done that.

With that alone, she gained more fame than she deserved.

It was unlikely she would be this lucky again.

That’s why Director Ha Tae-oh was saying this.

Of course, Seo-yeon knew that.

“Seoil.”

Yeonhwa exhaled.

Lee Hye-wol closed her eyes.

Joo Seo-yeon closed her eyes.

For Seo-yeon, emotions were a beautiful aquarium.

A little fishbowl that wanted to resemble the sea.

“For we are still young.”

For Seo-yeon, emotions were the sun reflected on the water’s surface.

It shone dazzlingly, yet something unknown.

“There are many things we still don’t know.”

The sun on the water, while resembling the real thing, was infinitely different.

It wasn’t warm, and if the surface rippled, it would easily be distorted.

“There are certainly many things we cannot do.”

Now Seo-yeon was able to stroll on the water’s surface.

She was able to look up at the real sun, not just the reflection on the surface.

There were many things she wanted to do.

Regrettably, she wasn’t a person with great talents.

She couldn’t grasp many things all at once.

Remembering her past life.

She felt the gap between her mind and body grow larger.

Certainly, it would only worsen when she hit puberty.

“But.”

Lee Hye-wol smiled.

Seo-yeon and Yeonhwa could be different.

There was no way that the Yeonhwa who was cast out by force could be comparable to the Seo-yeon who was leaving of her own will.

“For we are still young, we have time to learn many things.”

Seo-yeon read books to slightly understand Yeonhwa’s feelings.

Anger, resentment.

Those feelings were buried deeply in her heart when she left.

The young Lee Hye-wol possessed a strong heart.

Certainly even stronger than Seo-yeon.

“There will surely be many opportunities to do more.”

So, surely, despite their different situations, she would say this.

“For we are still young.”

She hadn’t given up.

She could surely return.

Because she had resolved to return, she could say those words.

Seo-yeon, just like herself.

So right now, at this moment.

Seo-yeon could act.

She could be the young Lee Hye-wol.

She could wet her body in the sea and look out to that deep sea.

Not the false emotions reflected on the surface.

But the deep feelings hidden beneath the surface.

Real acting.

“So I promise.”

Lee Hye-wol’s voice trembled.

With the sun behind her.

Becoming the moon that hid the sun.

“I will definitely.”

Facing Yoon Seoil, and toward herself, Lee Hye-wol said.

“I will definitely return.”

The princess’s lips smiled softly, trembling gently.

Tears flowed down her cheeks.

Lee Hye-wol grasped her heart and exhaled.

“No matter what happens, I will surely return.”

Then she smiled at the dazed Yoon Seoil.

“Please don’t forget and wait for me.”

One step, then another step.

Under the sky painted red by the sunset, Lee Hye-wol reached out her hand towards Yoon Seoil, who stood there speechless.

“Will you promise? A promise.”

A hand signifying a promise.

“I won’t forget.”

Young Yoon Seoil.

And young Park Jung-woo snapped back to reality.

“That’s… nothing like the audition.”

It was the first time.

He gazed blankly at the performance of the same child actor.

Forgetting even his lines, staring blankly at the other’s face.

So, the only thing young Yoon Seoil could say was one thing.

“Yes, definitely.”

Saying just that, he intertwined his pinky with the princess’s.

A promise as pure as a child’s.

And then.

The screen zoomed out, showcasing the two.

The palace visible below the hill.

The sorrowful face of Queen Dowager Eun-hye.

Lastly, the figure of Jo Young-dae sitting on the throne appeared.

And thus.

The third episode of “The Moon That Hid the Sun” came to an end.

*

“Director Ha…”

In the KMB Drama Department.

As the third episode of “The Moon That Hid the Sun” ended, a melancholic silence enveloped.

No one dared to ask what the results were.

They were momentarily too scared to glance at the community posts.

“…It’s a hit.”

Only then did everyone’s eyes shift.

The face of an employee trying to suppress a laugh.

The freshly tallied viewership ratings were prominently displayed before him.

It was only the third episode.

Everyone clearly hoped for a hit.

“My goodness.”

Ha Tae-oh rubbed his eyes.

What was displayed there couldn’t possibly be the ratings for the third episode.

*

“Oh wow…”

Yoon Jong-hyuk, who had seen the footage once already, marveled anew.

He recalled how Seo-yeon had been downcast for a while after filming this.

Her acting had been that deeply emotionally intertwined.

The only acting Seo-yeon could currently perform.

It was a scene where she pushed it to its limits.

Seeing this, Sua wept quietly, wiping her tears.

“Our daughter, you’ve worked hard.”

Her last performance as a child actor.

Thinking of it that way brought tears to Sua’s eyes.

Seo-yeon smiled seeing Sua like that.

“I’m okay.”

Really, she was okay.

She had already thought ahead about what to do.

“First, I need to attend a voice acting academy and find an acting academy as well.”

Of course, Seo-yeon had no clue.

While it was one thing to join a voice acting academy, how they would accept her at the acting academy was uncertain.

Although there was a feeling of regret, there were much more parts filled with expectation.

“Senior.”

From a slightly distant spot, Yoon Jong-hyuk called out to her.

“Which side do you lean towards? The regret side? Or do you think it’s right?”

“Well…”

Park Sun-woong pondered after glancing back and forth between Seo-yeon and her mother, Sua.

Popularity was originally like a spark.

Something that could be extinguished at any moment, needing constant care lest the flame flickers away.

So most people rush forward with all their might when the spark flares up.

Until even the embers burn out, leaving only dark remains.

“To be honest, it would be a lie if I said I didn’t regret it.”

It was an opportunity that everyone wishes to grasp.

How many people could easily let it slip away?

Of course, they understood that Seo-yeon had her own struggles.

That sharp-minded girl wouldn’t have made such a decision lightly.

Perhaps she truly came to this decision because there was no other choice.

But people can’t easily let go of what they’ve gained.

So Park Sun-woong stated.

“Yet, there are those who, even time cannot tarnish.”

Not merely a spark, but starlight.

Those who can shine brightly without ever flickering out.

“I believe that girl is one of them.”

And the world calls such people.

Stars.

---