I Want to Be a VTuber-Chapter 271: The Psychic (2)

Seoyeon had already played "Jin Yeonseo" in Hyper Action Star. Of course, back then, the character was named "Yeohwa."

But the current "Yeonseo" was different from "Yeohwa."

Not because the character traits had changed, but because the context had.

"Yeonseo grew up in a laboratory, never having the chance to interact properly with people."

Perhaps because she was a test subject, she had never learned the emotions most people pick up naturally.

That was precisely her current state.

"In a way, she’s similar to me."

When Seoyeon first received the complete script for Mine, that thought struck her.

She resembled Yeonseo.

"This time, it’s not my past life—it’s me, now."

It might sound ridiculous, but Seoyeon felt her mental state had regressed compared to her previous life.

No, saying "regressed" was misleading.

It was more like reclaiming her original self.

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When she was first born into this world, she was closer to her past self than to "Ju Seoyeon."

A being who mistakenly believed she couldn’t feel emotions.

As she grew and came to understand differently, she became who she was now.

Thus, those who knew Seoyeon’s past often said:

"Seoyeon was so mature and composed as a child."

She was aware of this. It was true.

She had been that way until she gradually learned emotions, up until adolescence.

After going through her teenage years, she became the person she was now. But Seoyeon didn’t particularly miss her old self.

Sure, she might have been composed and mature back then, but she hadn’t truly been an adult.

Even if she sometimes cringed looking back, she liked who she was now—a teenage girl with a vibrant emotional spectrum.

"And young Yeonseo is like who I was before I became myself now."

She was like a younger version of herself, closer to her past life.

A child who didn’t know how to mimic emotions, who didn’t know what expression to wear or how to react based on feelings.

Seoyeon lowered her gaze.

The white dress. Her disheveled hair.

"Action!"

When the director’s shout rang out and the cameras rolled, Seoyeon wondered how to proceed.

She steadied herself.

No, there wasn’t even a need for that.

In a way, it was like playing Cha Seo-ah.

It came naturally, as if she already knew how.

"Eve, why aren’t you saying anything? We don’t have time—hurry, we need to get out of here—"

Arthur’s line, delivered as Adam, faltered mid-sentence.

His pupils dilated, and subtle shifts in his expression betrayed his emotions.

Acting?

No, Seoyeon doubted that.

Arthur’s eyes showed genuine fear, even if just for a moment.

"It’s been a while since I’ve seen that kind of look."

Humans instinctively feel discomfort when they encounter something resembling a person but not quite human.

And when that feeling intensifies, it becomes fear.

Take, for example, the classic movie Terminator.

It tapped into this primal fear—the terror evoked by machines that mimic humans.

In her past life, Seoyeon had been such an entity.

She hadn’t understood emotions, mimicked human behavior, but was fundamentally different.

This first became evident when she was a young child attending kindergarten.

Her mother, from her past life, once told her:

"Act normal. Behave like everyone else. Don’t do anything weird."

At the time, Seoyeon hadn’t yet realized she had a condition.

Don’t act weird. Behave like others.

Those words stuck with her, and she tried to act accordingly.

She tried, but it wasn’t something that could be done so easily.

"That kid’s a bit creepy, isn’t she?"

"She looks like a doll. Really... something feels off."

These were the comments she’d heard most often growing up.

Even now, as Ju Seoyeon, she often heard people say, "You’re like a doll."

Though it still made her flinch inwardly, she now understood it was intended as a compliment.

Still, it lingered in her mind.

In her past life, when people said such things, they weren’t admiring her beauty.

"I smile when others smile, cry when others cry—so what’s so strange?"

At the time, she didn’t understand.

But now she did.

She had been a half-beat late in mimicking others’ reactions—smiling just a moment after everyone else, crying a moment too late.

Her face had merely imitated an emotion, not expressed it.

People’s unease came from recognizing the crude, childlike imitation of emotions.

Just as she’d learned to mimic emotions over time, recreating her past self wasn’t difficult.

She now understood which parts of her old self had unnerved others.

All she had to do was show that in her performance.

For Seoyeon, this role was simple.

Playing "Yeohwa" had been straightforward for the same reason.

A character who didn’t understand emotions, stepping into the world and gradually becoming an ordinary person.

In many ways, she was deeply similar to herself.

"Outside? What do you mean?"

As Yeonseo, Seoyeon spoke to the frozen Adam, her gaze fixed on him.

Her voice was devoid of emotion, its tone flat, almost mechanical, like a poorly synthesized recording.

"Adam?"

The latter part was an ad-lib. Tilting her head, Yeonseo’s innocent expression broke Adam from his stupor.

"Don’t be ridiculous."

Arthur gritted his teeth as he stared at Seoyeon.

When Oliver had jokingly said she might be an esper, he’d dismissed it as nonsense.

But now, watching her, he found it hard to call it a joke.

"Don’t be ridiculous."

Arthur had felt real fear just now.

Fear, from Seoyeon’s "acting"?

No.

"This isn’t acting."

He knew it couldn’t be. But her behavior didn’t feel like acting.

It felt as though the person before him wasn’t Seoyeon at all, but Jin Yeonseo.

And it wasn’t because of method acting.

She hadn’t shown any signs of preparation.

She simply began performing and became someone else.

It was absurd. If this were a superpower, Arthur would have accepted it.

"Was she telling the truth?"

More than that, one other person came to Arthur’s mind as he looked at Seoyeon.

"This is unexpected."

Someone else on set was having the same thought.

"Stella Baldwin."

Han Ye-geon rubbed his chin as he listened to the actors’ dialogue.

There was only one film that had genuinely impressed him before.

"She reminds me of young Stella in Removing."

A film that delved into the grim realities of the American foster care system, following the tragic life of a child who bounced between guardians.

Stella Baldwin had won the Berlinale Silver Bear for Best Actress at the youngest age ever for her role in that film.

When it was later revealed that Stella, the child actor in the film, had been a real victim of the foster care system, people dismissed her performance as "easily relatable acting." But Han Ye-geon thought otherwise as he watched her back then.

"It wasn’t just about the foster care system. The protagonist herself was a deeply flawed character."

In the movie, Stella didn’t feel like a mere child. She felt like a monster.

She evoked fear in others simply by existing, making it impossible for people to genuinely see her as a child.

Seoyeon exuded the same aura now.

Just her presence was enough to induce fear.

Even though everyone knew it was acting.

Even though nothing about her actions seemed overtly unnatural.

"That’s the kind of performance that stems from experience."

Han Ye-geon recalled feeling a similar impression during Cha Seo-ah.

To be honest, it was disorienting.

People only have one life, yet Ju Seoyeon seemed to have lived several.

"And yet, she’s even better than she was as Cha Seo-ah."

The performance that had earned her the Best Actress Award at the Berlin International Film Festival came to mind immediately.

The fact that her current portrayal could draw such a comparison highlighted just how otherworldly her acting was now.

The scenes continued, reinforcing these sentiments more strongly.

"Where are we going? What’s outside? Is it the blue sky Adam spoke of? A field, perhaps?"

Yeonseo didn’t know where she was, which country she was in, or even the land she stood on.

The concept of "outside" held no tangible meaning for her. She had no idea where to go.

"Don’t worry. Just follow me, Yeonseo. I’ll show you everything I’ve told you about."

Despite the momentary fear he had felt, Arthur seamlessly delivered his lines, as though the terror Yeonseo had evoked was merely part of the act.

The hesitation in his earlier line delivery, the shift in his expression—what could have easily become an NG now seemed like deliberate acting.

Other actors on set noticed this, murmuring quietly among themselves.

If they had been in Arthur’s position, would they have reacted the same way after facing Seoyeon’s performance?

"Honestly, probably not."

Han Ye-geon’s direction had been clear: act like a girl who didn’t understand emotions, like a machine.

"Really? That makes me happy."

Yeonseo’s voice, flat and detached, was accompanied by a smile.

It was then that everyone realized how unsettling a human smile could be.

Her eyes didn’t smile; only her facial muscles moved, mimicking the shape of a grin.

Her face looked like a mask—an imitation of a smile crafted from human skin.

And with that:

"Cut! That was perfect," Han Ye-geon called out.

The scene ended, leaving a faint sense of unease in the air.

*****

"Good work today."

After the shoot, Seoyeon emerged in her school uniform and spoke to Arthur.

Arthur stared at her in silence for a moment before replying.

"You too, Seoyeon."

"Your ad-lib earlier was great. Honestly, I thought it might’ve been an NG at first."

Well, it almost was.

Arthur recalled the moment and clenched his jaw.

A peculiar sense of humiliation filled his chest.

He hadn’t expected to experience such emotions from another actor.

Especially not from someone from a small country like this.

He had dismissed the constant "genius" praise surrounding her as empty flattery.

"It’ll be different next time."

"What?"

"I was just a little caught off guard today. Next time..."

Arthur stopped himself.

He had been about to say, I won’t lose to you again. But doing so would have been an admission that he’d lost today.

"Forget it. Let’s meet again at the next shoot."

The scenes they filmed that day concluded with Yeonseo and Adam escaping the lab. There hadn’t been any action sequences for either of them yet.

"Things will be different when it comes to action and acting combined."

Being a man would give him an edge, or so he thought.

But the thought felt petty, and he clicked his tongue in frustration.

Most of the action that day had involved supporting characters or extras—chasing the two leads or fighting among themselves. Arthur felt like he hadn’t been able to fully show what he was capable of.

The atmosphere on set felt dominated by Ju Seoyeon rather than him.

Considering how he usually commanded script readings, this gnawed at him.

"Arthur."

"Enough, Oliver. I get it now. That really was some esper-like acting."

That woman had been on his mind all day.

Watching Arthur grind his teeth, Oliver closed his mouth.

"That’s not what I meant."

Oliver’s comment had been literal—Seoyeon’s performance felt like she truly had supernatural powers. After all, he’d seen her press a pull-up bar with such force that it bent.

"If that’s not esp-like, then what is?"

"Guess we’ll see during the next shoot."

Even so, today’s performance was extraordinary.

Few actors in Hollywood could deliver what Seoyeon had shown today.

In fact, her performance had momentarily frozen even Oliver.

"Ju Seoyeon..."

Oliver murmured her name.

Somehow, he doubted this drama would be the last connection between them.

*****

"At least the first shoot went well."

It felt like she’d cheated her way through the acting.

Drawing from memories of her past life and present one, she couldn’t help but feel like she had an unfair advantage.

With The Chaser, Seoyeon had already intended to lean on those memories, but Mine had caught her off guard.

She hadn’t expected the protagonist’s backstory to align so closely with hers.

"Even if the original script had been released, I think it would’ve gotten a good reception."

Though, of course, much depended on the CGI quality.

As she flipped through the script, she found herself looking forward to several scenes.

For instance, a high-speed motorcycle chase or a one-versus-many combat sequence.

The script was brimming with promising scenes.

Unlike Cha Seo-ah, a psychopath devoid of emotion, Jin Yeonseo was simply someone who hadn’t learned emotions yet—a normal person who grew into a high school girl.

Though, during combat, glimpses of her childhood self would resurface.

"I like it."

Was this what they called a dark hero?

If so, Seoyeon was satisfied.

It wouldn’t tarnish her image, and it might even tone down her current lighthearted reputation.

As she thought this:

"Seoyeon, how about this dress? It’s for the school party."

Park Eunha asked, looking at Seoyeon with an amused smile.

"So kids these days do things like this," Seoyeon thought.

Back in her time, pajama parties were as fancy as it got. Times had clearly changed.

"Oh, it looks nice."

Seoyeon spun around in front of the mirror, inspecting the dress.

It didn’t look bad.

"For an end-of-year party, this kind of dress makes sense, right?"

It felt a little excessive, but Gilda Hyun had described it as a Western-style party.

And sure enough, plenty of videos showed ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) similar dresses.

Before tailoring a gown for an awards ceremony, Seoyeon had decided to get this one made first.

A sleek, jet-black dress.

It reminded her of the one she’d worn at the high-society party she attended with Sehee.