You… Want to Do Me a Favor?
—You… want to do me a favor?
On the screen, a scene from Freshman Welcome Party replayed over and over without end.
"Why did she change the line?"
It was different from what Yeo-reum had delivered that day. Surely this was the correct answer—and yet something in the back of Do Gyeo-ul's mind refused to settle.
…I don't understand why.
The characters scribbled from the tip of Do Gyeo-ul's pen had begun flying across the page with less and less care.
Scritch—
She dragged her pen in a long, furious stroke right through the tangle of words.
Trying to reanalyze a film whose every reading had already been exhausted—by Han Yeo-reum, no less—was suffocating.
"I have to know."
Do Gyeo-ul had a habit: once a question hooked into her, she would pick it apart to the very end. And right now, the thing she most wanted to dissect was Han Yeo-reum. She couldn't forget the audience's reaction in the instant Yeo-reum finished her performance.
Every single gaze was on Han Yeo-reum. I'm certain of it….
She wanted to see that performance again. She wanted to comb through it, analyze every frame, and confirm it with her own eyes.
…Because only then can I make sure it never happens again.
It had lasted only a moment, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being reduced to a supporting role in her own scene. If she let it go, she might repeat the exact same mistake from years ago.
Do Gyeo-ul recalled the reason she'd had to step away from acting, however briefly, back then.
For a piece by a famous critic, it hadn't made much of a ripple. Few people agreed with it.
Because back then, Do Gyeo-ul's acting had been flawless. Nothing about it was lacking.
But still….
It had pierced straight through her. After endless observation, Do Gyeo-ul had always performed only the choices closest to the "correct answer."
Judgment instead of empathy. Analysis instead of understanding. That was the actress Do Gyeo-ul had built herself into.
"I'm scared."
For years she'd believed she was finally within arm's reach of perfection. But the moment she decided to make her comeback, a variable appeared right in front of her.
"…I need to analyze this further."
That was why she needed Han Yeo-reum. Or, to be precise, Han Yeo-reum's acting.
Protagonist on Stage — Rank B
Dominator of Gazes — Rank B+
Above Do Gyeo-ul's head, as she smiled quietly to herself, her status window glowed with a fierce light.
Apparently a new semester really was a new semester.
"Yeoooo-reum! Come on, just one drink!"
"We've hung out without you how many times now… Han Yeo-reum, your attendance rate is a disappointment."
My classmates, still riding the adrenaline of the term's start, grabbed my arm and shook it. The problem was that they'd formed a group chat the instant we were all admitted and had met up every single day since.
I bolt out the door the second class ends, every day, and they still won't give up.
No matter what, I was going to keep faithfully skipping.
Conveniently, I've just been handed the perfect excuse, too.
Perfect. Time for a little humble-bragging session.
"Can't. I've got something coming up soon. Rain check, okay? Later."
At my refusal, my classmates erupted into theatrical outrage.
"What is it? What is it?"
"A movie? A drama? Holy crap…!"
"Nothing fancy. Just a small web drama."
And honestly, I meant that from the bottom of my heart. The night I signed the contract, I was so giddy I couldn't sleep a wink.
The first lead role of my entire life…!
Yes, everyone, carry on. Hype me up even more.
Under the barrage of questions, I forced down the corners of my mouth, which kept trying to curl upward, and showed them my phone.
A schedule sheet with Lead: Han Yeo-reum written on it, my name sitting proud and unapologetic at the top of the cast list.
"Even a web drama, but you're the lead? Hey, this is great, Yeo-reum!"
"You're debuting before any of us—should we start calling you sunbae-nim now?"
I soaked up their fawning with a modest little smile plastered on my face.
A little more, a little more… keep it coming….
That was when it happened. A soft trace of perfume brushed past the tip of my nose, and I froze for a beat.
…Expensive. Top-shelf. Where have I smelled this before…?
A scent like this wasn't common. Where on earth had I encountered it?
The first floor of a department store, obviously?
It felt like one of those scent-test strips a clerk hands out had suddenly come to life and started walking. The product description practically wrote itself in my head:
The bitter-sweet edge of grapefruit, unfolding with a sparkling coolness.
Assam tea layered over the fruit, lending the warmth of a full-bodied malt note.
And at the finish, a deep, sensual woody base whose lingering trail stays with you long after.
Takes me back to my days working the perfume pop-up store. The hourly wage was honestly great.
I was still savoring that rare, luxurious fragrance when—
"Yeo-reum's doing a web drama?"
The voice, arriving right beside my ear, made my whole body shudder.
I'm dead. It's Myeong Je-ha…!
No wonder the scent seemed impossibly expensive. There was no way it could come from just anyone.
Every time we crossed paths on campus, I had fled for my life to avoid talking to him—and I'd finally been caught.
This is why small departments are a curse.
"Je-ha!"
"Oh, Myeong Je-ha's here."
In an instant, everyone's attention swung to him.
I couldn't even bring myself to turn my head. I just stood there, frozen solid.
Smile first. Deal with the rest later….
My face twitched like it might cramp, but I smiled anyway.
"Haha. Well then! I should—go! Rehearse! My script! Reading! For the table read! Bye!"
Doomed. That sounded exactly like a kid reciting a school textbook.
But my classmates, whose nerves were fully occupied by the arrival of an actual celebrity, didn't seem to notice anything.
"See you later! Catch you guys soon, classmates!"
I whipped out my hard-trained escape skill and bolted—
"When are you going to tell me your lie? I've been waiting."
—but Myeong Je-ha matched my pace and glued himself to my side, walking even faster than me.
Correction: Myeong Je-ha was walking at his usual, perfectly normal speed.
I'm the only one here burning calories trying to speed up.
I kept my head bowed for dear life and walked forward.
"What was that? I didn't quite… catch… that…?"
"Yeo-reum."
Myeong Je-ha called my name in a calm, level voice. And threaded through that voice was a strange, quiet pressure.
"Don't bother. Swapping out a lead role in some tiny web drama is barely an errand."
My feet stopped on their own.
Fssshaaa. For a moment, it felt like every drop of blood drained from my body.
You absolute lunatic….
Nobody knew better than I did how routine recasting was in this industry.
After all, I had two hands' worth of productions I'd been bumped from, and then some.
"Look at that. She finally meets my eyes."
Myeong Je-ha grinned down at me, the picture of a friend offering a perfectly friendly hello. My fists clenched without my permission.
"Yeo-reum, your expression is scary."
"Touch my casting and you're dead."
"Tell me the title of the web drama, and I'll let you go."
I stared up at Myeong Je-ha with eyes full of distrust.
For someone extorting me like a schoolyard bully, his face was unfairly, infuriatingly handsome.
But I wasn't falling for it.
"And what exactly am I supposed to trust about you?"
"Then don't."
Myeong Je-ha shrugged and breezed right past me.
That breezy willingness to walk away was somehow more terrifying than any threat would have been.
Wait, is he actually leaving?
His retreating back radiated the confidence of a man who could dig up the title of a piddly web drama any time he pleased.
What if he actually goes and changes the casting?
The thought of the schedule sheet flying out the window, of getting booted from the cast group chat, made my legs move before my brain did.
Anything but that.
"…You're really not going to change the casting? Just say it. Out loud."
I scrambled after Myeong Je-ha, panting. How had he gotten this far ahead in just a few seconds?
"Hmm… I was about to change my mind, but now I'm not so sure."
Myeong Je-ha showed not the slightest courtesy of slowing his stride.
I half-jogged to match his long, easy steps as I shouted my answer.
"The Cherry on the Parfait Belongs to the Heroine!!! There!!! Happy?!!!"
A title I was embarrassed to even say out loud. Perhaps that finally satisfied him, because Myeong Je-ha adjusted his stride to match mine. Having barely caught up, I waited for his verdict between heaving breaths.
Myeong Je-ha wore a thoughtful look for a moment, then tilted his head and asked:
"Why… are you doing that one?"
"What do you mean, why?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
It seemed Myeong Je-ha had already concluded, in the privacy of his own head, that I was a regressor. The whole exchange had the unmistakable flavor of why would you choose that over a better opportunity?
He's speaking on the assumption that I already know the answer.
I hesitated.
Depending on what I said next, I might as well be confessing outright that I was a regressor.