"Harara Shorts? What’s that?"

    Ko Mieun, the lead actress of Grand Game, let out a chuckle as she watched the new video that popped up on her YouTube feed. It was a short clip from the recent Mirinae Land play.

    There were two versions: one was a promotional video uploaded directly by Mirinae Land, and the other was a compilation filmed by an audience member from various angles.

    Since it was a children’s play, they hadn’t strictly monitored video recording, allowing these videos to circulate.

    "Ju Seoyeon?"

    For a moment, Ko Mieun couldn’t believe her eyes. The main character of the Harara play was none other than Ju Seoyeon.

    Did she actually manage to squeeze in a play while filming Sky Garden?

    When did she even practice? In the promotional video, Seoyeon was practically flying around while performing action scenes with a giant bear puppet. That kind of wire action isn’t something you can do with just a few rehearsals.

    Which means she probably practiced in her spare time, all while filming Sky Garden. Honestly, kids’ plays don’t pay well.

    Actors of Seoyeon’s caliber wouldn’t usually appear in such productions unless there was a special reason. Granted, Ju Seoyeon wasn’t exactly a top-tier star—she was a young actress who’d only been in the spotlight for about a year.

    But she’s in a position to demand a decent fee.

    Yet she wouldn’t just do a children’s play for free. She’s one of the current trending stars, so it’s not like she needed the exposure.

    "Haha, she really did it! First that Harara Shorts, and now an actual performance!""Told ya! The Harara Shorts were obviously a promo tactic.""Maybe they cast her after seeing the first video?""Regret not going to the Harara play. I heard Jo Seohui was there too.""It was a hit with adults and kids alike."

    Ko Mieun frowned as she read the comments. One name stuck out.

    Jo Seohui?

    Of course, she knew who that was. Seohui had gained prominence right around the same time Mieun was filming her own drama.

    Within just three years, Jo Seohui and Park Jungwoo had become the most talked-about young actors. It was to the point that you could turn on any channel and see her in a drama or movie.

    Very few actresses her age had Seohui’s talent. Almost every role involving high school students seemed to go to her.

    She was even briefly mentioned as the “nation’s little sister.”

    "Sure, Jo Seohui is pretty, but little sister material? Not really." "If I had a little sister like that at home, I wouldn’t know what to say."

    With such opinions, Jo Seohui never quite claimed the title. And though she sulked about it at home, Ko Mieun wouldn’t have known.

    Why was Jo Seohui at Mirinae Land?

    Ju Seoyeon aside, Jo Seohui really had no reason to do a children’s play. Now that she thought about it, there’d been rumors that Seohui was a chaebol’s daughter.

    There had been guesses, though no one had confirmed any connections with specific corporations.

    "Looks like Ju Seoyeon and Jo Seohui are really close, lol.""Anyone could tell during Hyper Action Star. When Seohui betrayed Seoyeon, Seoyeon’s reaction was hilarious.""Probably invited Seoyeon to do the play together this time too.""Lucky fans who saw it live. Rumor has it the play’s quality won’t be matched anytime soon.""I thought it’d be low-budget since they’re not seasoned theater actors, but it was better than expected!""They don’t call them genius actors for nothing."

    Could they actually be friends? It wasn’t impossible, considering their similar ages. Jo Seohui was untouchable for Ko Mieun.

    As an actress and a chaebol’s daughter, Seohui was beyond reach.

    And if Ju Seoyeon was close to such a powerful figure...

    This was also beyond Mieun’s control. She gritted her teeth.

    “Mieun, are you reading internet comments again? Don’t worry so much.” “Yeah, Grand Game is only trailing by one percent.” “Today will be different. We’ve added a lot more romance now, so it’ll really grab attention.”

    Seeing Mieun’s tense expression, her fellow actors and crew members tried to lift her spirits, thinking her mood was soured by last week’s lower ratings.

    And they were right. Mieun was going through all of Ju Seoyeon’s content because of Sky Garden.

    “Honestly, I don’t understand it.” “What do you mean?” “Sky Garden. I watched it because it’s all the rage, but is it really worth the hype?” “Oh, I thought I was the only one. And then in the latest episode, they suddenly push someone off a cliff.”

    The staff continued to bad-mouth Sky Garden. Ironically, it only showed how much of a threat Sky Garden posed to Grand Game.

    Until the previous week, Sky Garden had barely been discussed. When it was, people only said it was an interesting show.

    People criticize either because it’s genuinely bad or because they feel threatened and competitive.

    In this case, it was the latter. Everyone here could feel it.

    “They just grabbed some ratings with that ridiculous twist last week. And Ju Seoyeon was on Mask Singer too. Since it was the finals, of course viewers flocked to it.” “That kind of shortcut won’t last. If the drama isn’t good, they won’t keep those ratings.” “Exactly.”

    Hearing their words, Ko Mieun’s mood lifted slightly. Even if they were just words of consolation, they felt convincing.

    [Sky Garden Hot on Grand Game’s Heels!]

    [Sky Garden Declares This Season’s Victory! Internal Battle Heating Up]

    [Trailing by 1%. Who Will Prevail This Week?]

    Ko Mieun turned off her phone after checking the news again.

    It was still only a 1% difference. Given the frenzy last week, that gap wasn’t too bad.

    This has to be my year.

    With that resolution, Mieun walked onto the set, determined not to lose to Ju Seoyeon.

    But...

    [Sky Garden Episode 13 Ratings Soar to 20%!]

    [Grand Game Trails by 6%. The Magic of Sky Garden’s Ratings Surge]

    [Sky Garden Hits a Record 22% with Episode 14!]

    [What’s Behind Sky Garden’s Record-Breaking Ratings?]

    [Grand Game Stumbles with a 2% Drop in Ratings]

    Life doesn’t always go the way you plan.

    “Congratulations.”

    "Bongsik, you’ve lost it!""Might as well become a fortune teller!""King of the season! You nailed it!""So that’s why she appeared in episode 11!""But isn’t it unrealistic? Wouldn’t she get injured from a fall like that?""She’s human, come on!""Guys, it’s Yiju, not Ju Seoyeon."

    “Yiju only sees me as a stepping stone, right? I’m not a bad person.”

    Muttering to herself, Minseo rationalized her actions.

    She knew that Yiju only acted friendly because her ultimate goal was Minhyuk—the favored son of the Lee household, her twin brother.

    Yiju had used Minseo as a stepping stone to reach higher, and though Minseo was aware and had allowed it, she couldn’t bear to see Yiju pass her by.

    And so...

    “I did it. I really did it.”

    Minseo collapsed, her face twisted in a terrified smile as she looked at Yiju lying at the bottom of the cliff.

    The story then shifted back to Yiju’s perspective.

    After being rescued by Song Gayon, Yiju was taken to the hospital. She couldn’t understand why Gayon had helped her, grateful but questioning Gayon’s motives.

    What did she stand to gain?

    But when she confronted Gayon, the girl just smiled.

    “Friends help each other, right?”

    Gayon wasn’t from a powerful family, though she moved in high society as a resident of Sky Garden. She was the daughter of a small-town doctor.

    Since Yiju had never felt any personal benefit from knowing Gayon, she considered her a ghost at school—barely there.

    Yet, Gayon’s words caused a shift in Yiju’s heart.

    “What do you want to do, Yiju?”

    “Huh?”

    “You’re so smart and talented. You must have something you want to do.”

    In the small hospital run by Gayon’s father, the two had this conversation.

    Gayon didn’t envy Yiju; she was just genuinely curious.

    What do you want to do?

    “I...”

    For a moment, Yiju was at a loss for words. She knew deep down what she wanted, but for some reason, she couldn’t answer.

    And with Yiju’s trembling gaze locked on Gayon, episode 14 ended, leaving viewers uncertain about the future.

    "Seoyeon’s acting was insane in this scene.""The emotional depth was just... wow."

    Amid the usual chatter, a few serious comments came through. Bongsik agreed.

    “Her portrayal of Yiju here felt different—more emotionally powerful.”

    He couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it just an instinctive choice?

    She must’ve put a lot of thought into it.

    It felt like method acting, completely immersing herself in the role. The fact that she could evoke such emotions from viewers showed how deeply she connected with the character.

    She’d always been talented, but now she was on a whole new level.

    This shift had started after her appearance on Mask Singer, around the middle of the season.

    I wonder if something happened then?

    Whatever it was, Seoyeon’s performance was resonating deeply. The ratings spoke for themselves.

    “It’s hard to believe she’s the same person.”

    With that, Bongsik pulled up the Harara Shorts. It was the latest clip from Harara’s play at Mirinae Park.

    It was an unofficial edit of audience-filmed footage from various angles.

    One clip captured Harara’s face turned away from the audience—a moment you couldn’t usually see.

    Seoyeon’s face, flushed with embarrassment, wasn’t something typically shown on screen.

    With her hand trembling as she bit her lower lip, her face was bright red.

    "Haha, this is it!""Does Harara make you nervous, Ju Seoyeon?""At least she kept her cool in front of the audience, lol.""Even gorillas can be cute, apparently.""Stop calling her a gorilla, lol."

    It was no surprise that these clips spread across various communities. And when Seoyeon eventually saw them...

    “H-hey, Seoyeon...”

    “Yesterday’s play was... good.”

    “...”

    All Seoyeon could do was bury her head in her desk as her classmates greeted her.

    How am I supposed to show my face at school now?

    As she pressed her forehead to the desk, Seoyeon’s ears flushed red.

    It was perhaps the most embarrassing moment of her life.