When Koh Yoonjung first saw Kang Myungwoo, the child actor who had recently become famous, she was genuinely shocked inside.
He looks familiar.
It wasn’t his face or features that resembled someone.
It was his aura, the overall feeling he gave off—so similar to someone she had known long ago.
Han Minwoo…
That actor who had passed away about ten years ago.
What is this?
How can a mere ten-year-old resemble that person so much?
It didn’t make any sense.
…Could he be a blood relative?
An illegitimate child?
But that couldn’t be it.
His face was far too handsome for that.
Han Minwoo’s face—well, it was difficult to call it handsome, even as a compliment.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence?
She could’ve brushed it off that way.
But her instincts, honed through more than fifty years of life and acting experience, whispered otherwise.
Ah.
Lost in thought, Koh Yoonjung suddenly realized she’d been staring fixedly at Kang Myungwoo without saying a word.
How unbecoming of me.
The title of “actress” would cry if it saw me now.
What was a fifty-year-old actress doing, standing awkwardly before a ten-year-old boy?
She felt a flush of embarrassment rise in her cheeks.
“Oh my, the young actor knows who I am? Nice to meet you, Kang Myungwoo… was it?”
With that, Koh Yoonjung put on her usual composed mask—the image of a senior actress kindly greeting a promising child actor.
Of course, it wasn’t that she didn’t feel any warmth. In fact, as an actress, that emotion was even stronger.
But as a person—
Still… he really is similar.
After talking to him for a while, she was convinced.
He, Kang Myungwoo, truly resembled Han Minwoo.
“But what brings you here? I don’t recall seeing your name on the cast list.”
“Oh, Chaeyoung is the main lead in this drama, so I came to appear in a cameo.”
Outwardly, their conversation appeared perfectly friendly and pleasant.
But in truth, both of their hearts were unsettled.
…Calm down, Kang Myungwoo.
He really looks like him…
Myungwoo was struggling to suppress the emotions roiling inside, while Koh Yoonjung couldn’t help recalling memories of Han Minwoo as she looked at him.
“Oh, Ms. Koh Yoonjung! Long time no see! Haha!”
“Oh, Director! What a pleasant surprise—it’s been a while.”
“It has indeed. What, two years already?”
“Yes, I suppose it has been that long.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the director’s sudden approach, breaking the delicate tension between Myungwoo and Yoonjung.
Myungwoo quietly stepped back, observing her.
…She hasn’t changed at all.
Even without any deep conversation, he could tell right away.
Of course. How could he not? He had admired her for years in his past life.
Koh Yoonjung looked just as beautiful as she had when he had once loved her.
It’s been a while. I should watch her act again.
The biggest reason Myungwoo had admired her was simple—her acting.
Her dedication and attitude toward her craft had always been dazzling to him.
Even if it was just a cameo, knowing her nature, she would never perform half-heartedly.
That thought alone made Myungwoo’s heart beat a little faster.
“Hyung.”
“Ah, Myungwoo. Shall we get going soon?”
“No.”
When Myungwoo approached, his manager tried to take him home, but the boy firmly shook his head.
“I want to stay and watch their acting.”
“Huh? …You mean Ms. Yoo Chaeyoung and Ms. Koh Yoonjung?”
“Yes.”
Myungwoo smiled faintly, nodding with determination.
“Well, your shoot’s done early, so I guess it’s fine…”
“Then I’ll stay and watch, if that’s okay?”
“Sure, sure.”
The manager looked a bit flustered at the rare display of stubbornness but nodded anyway.
With permission granted, Myungwoo’s face brightened—he was genuinely excited.
In his previous life as Han Minwoo, he had seen the performances of countless top actors from the sidelines as a supporting actor.
But Koh Yoonjung’s acting—hers had been something else entirely.
When acting surpassed a certain level, it became a matter of taste.
And hers was exactly his taste.
As someone who loved acting more than anything, how could he not fall for a beautiful actress whose performance style was his ideal?
Of course, that was all in the past.
Still… I can’t help but look forward to this.
People might not change much, but acting did.
After ten more years as an actress, how much further could she have grown?
How much more could her performance make his heart race?
His anticipation didn’t have to wait long.
Soon, the male lead arrived, and the filming began.
“All right, let’s begin shooting~!”
shouted the director. Koh Yoonjung and Yoo Chaeyoung took their positions before the camera.
Gone were their earlier smiles and chatter; both now wore focused, serious expressions.
“Ready, action—!”
And the scene began.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“This is the place. Where my brother and I first met.”
Yoo Chaeyoung smiled softly as she spoke.
While focusing on Koh Yoonjung’s performance, Myungwoo also analyzed Chaeyoung’s acting.
Not bad. Quite good, actually. She’s beautiful too. I can see why she’s popular.
“Oh, really? So this is where my daughter and her future husband first met?”
“Yes.”
“A place full of memories. I see why you wanted to bring me here.”
Following Chaeyoung’s bashful expression, Koh Yoonjung perfectly matched her tone and rhythm.
That’s it. That’s the part I’ve always admired.
The thing Myungwoo loved most about Koh Yoonjung’s acting was exactly that—
She never acted to stand out.
She always prioritized harmony with her co-actors, freely adjusting her emotions to fit theirs, performing like it was magic.
It wasn’t just “good acting.” It was living, breathing character portrayal.
In his past life, even Han Minwoo had been deeply moved by her art and had honed his own craft because of her.
Now, seeing her act again before his eyes, Myungwoo’s gaze softened.
Tears began to glisten faintly at the corners of his eyes.
Ha… this is amazing.
As Myungwoo was lost in emotion, their performance continued.
“Yes. So… I said I want to have the wedding here, Mom.”
Yoo Chaeyoung beamed brightly, her expression radiating pure happiness.
And in response—
“Wow.”
Koh Yoonjung’s eyes gently curved, her lips lifting into a smile.
Fine wrinkles lined the corners of her eyes—traces of time—but to Myungwoo, she looked even more beautiful.
Beautiful.
To express such a smile, so full of emotion, through acting alone…
How could she act so vividly, in perfect sync with her partner?
Her performance truly was the most beautiful form of acting Myungwoo had ever known.
“You’ve grown well, my daughter. Truly, you’ve grown up so beautifully.”
“Mom…”
“Already at the age to marry, to choose the place where you’ll wed…”
“Mom, stop, you’re embarrassing me…”
“Really… hmm…”
“Ah, Mom! Why are you crying?!”
And then, Koh Yoonjung shed tears.
Myungwoo stared, entranced by the sight of her crying.
How does she do that?
Was this what it meant for an actor’s performance to draw people in?
It was exactly his kind of acting—so perfect it sent chills down his spine.
It felt as though someone had sculpted his ideal performance into human form.
Her emotional peak—her crying scene—was utterly breathtaking.
I want to become an actor like that.
Myungwoo’s dream of becoming an actor had been his own choice, but the spark that ignited it had been Koh Yoonjung’s acting.
Even ten years ago, when her performance was still unrefined, her strengths had shone through—
her ability to blend with others, never seeking the spotlight, yet effortlessly drawing people in.
Now, with time and experience added, her performance was nothing short of sublime.
Watching her again after so long, Myungwoo felt his heart pounding wildly.
I want to captivate people like that.
As many as possible.
To become an actor loved by all—a true top star.
With tearful eyes, Myungwoo smiled faintly.
Thank you—for reminding me of this feeling again.
After Koh Yoonjung married, Han Minwoo—now Myungwoo—had consciously tried to forget her.
His passion for acting had remained, but its source had grown dim.
Now, seeing her again, he felt as though his forgotten motivation had been reborn.
While he was lost in thought, the shoot ended.
Before long, as a ten-year-old child, it was time for him to head home.
Well, there was no reason to stay any longer anyway.
“Hyung.”
“Ah, Myungwoo. Shall we go now?”
“Yes. I’ll just say goodbye first.”
“Right, of course. You should.”
Myungwoo ran over to Yoo Chaeyoung and Koh Yoonjung.
The two actresses were chatting and laughing as if their emotional scene had never happened.
“Um, hello.”
“Oh, Myungwoo! You’re still here?”
The ever-bright Yoo Chaeyoung greeted him first.
“Why are you still around? It’s getting dark soon.”
Koh Yoonjung followed, her eyes full of gentle concern.
“I should go soon, but… I wanted to see the seniors’ acting a bit longer.”
“My, listen to this kid. Ms. Yoonjung, what do we even say to that?”
“Indeed. He’s something else.”
The two actresses exchanged amused looks as they observed him.
Myungwoo met their gazes calmly, then smiled and bowed deeply.
“Thank you.”
“Huh?”
“Thanks to you, I feel like I’ve grown a little more as an actor.”
And he meant every word.
It was because of Koh Yoonjung’s performance today that Myungwoo had rediscovered the light that once guided him.
“Oh, come now, no need to be so formal, Myungwoo. Stand up.”
“‘Grown,’ you say?”
Yoo Chaeyoung fidgeted, helping him to his feet, but Koh Yoonjung just looked at him quietly, her eyes deep and thoughtful.
“Yes.”
At her calm voice, Myungwoo straightened his back and met her gaze.
“Thanks to you. Truly, thank you.”
Their eyes met in the air—
And for a brief moment, Koh Yoonjung’s lips curved into a soft, graceful smile.