Reflecting on the terms of her contract, Ha-eun recalled a clause: after filming was complete, she was expected to actively participate in the movie’s promotions.

    However, when she had signed on to play Kim Ji-ah, all she’d focused on was the acting itself. Somewhere along the line, she’d come to assume that her responsibilities as a child actor ended once she finished her scenes on set.

    After the last scene, she thought she’d return to her kindergarten, play hospital games with her classmates, or maybe get back to singing lessons with Double Lee after their overseas tour. But that wasn’t how it turned out.

    "Ha-eun, I got a message from MakeFuture...”

    "?"

    Hearing from Joo Jung-yoon that she’d have to attend *The Man Next Door*’s press conference was the moment she realized that an actor’s job extended beyond the set.

    Time flew, and soon enough, the day of the *The Man Next Door* press conference arrived.

    “...My daughter should’ve been a model, not an actress.”

    Ha-eun had been at the makeup salon since early that morning, styled to match the image of a “real actress.” She looked completely different from the plain Kim Ji-ah.

    In a white blouse, navy skirt, and with her hair styled to look voluminous and refined, Ha-eun’s face was adorned with an elegance that fit perfectly.@@@@

    The constant sound of her mother’s camera snapping was understandable given how she looked. The makeup, meant to highlight her features, left her looking almost unrecognizable from the character she’d portrayed these past few months.

    ‘...Will they even recognize me?’

    She thought it wouldn’t be surprising if Director Kwon or Kang Sun-woo mistook her for someone else.

    Still, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with her appearance. Accepting the girl staring back at her from the mirror as herself was something that would take time.

    Only about two hours remained until the press conference, so she and her manager headed to the Apgujeong OGV, where it would be held.

    When they arrived and made their way through the underground parking lot, then took the elevator up, Ha-eun found herself wondering how Director Kwon and Kang Sun-woo would react to seeing her like this.

    Then, something else caught her off guard.

    ‘...Why are there so many people?’

    The OGV lobby was packed, almost to the level of an amusement park on Children’s Day. Thankfully, a staff member met her as soon as she arrived and guided her to the waiting room without incident.

    “Wow, it looks like Kang Sun-woo’s here. So crowded.”

    As they walked, she overheard the staff muttering, which helped her realize why so many people had come early to the OGV. She met the very reason behind the crowd five minutes later.

    “Hello, Ha-eun. It’s been a while!”

    “...Hello.”

    Recognizing her instantly despite her concerns, Kang Sun-woo, her co-star and the other lead in *The Man Next Door*, was, without a doubt, a star. His immense popularity even before joining the film made it natural for people to gather just to catch a glimpse of him.

    Joo-eun was momentarily taken aback by Ha-eun’s striking appearance, which bore little resemblance to the somber Kim Ji-ah in the trailer.

    The host began asking a series of questions to Director Kwon and Kang Sun-woo, with no disruptions from the audience so far.

    “Ha-eun, what kind of performance did you aim to deliver in *The Man Next Door*?”

    When the host directed a question to Ha-eun, she answered confidently, without stuttering, and Joo-eun thought this might actually be a rare, smooth press conference.

    But about 20 minutes later, during the reporters’ Q&A, things started to shift.

    “As you know, *The Man Next Door* is rated for mature audiences. Did Ha-eun’s parents have any concerns about her acting in such a film?”

    A question came from a reporter seated behind Joo-eun, seemingly unrelated to the movie’s content. Soon, a few more reporters joined in, targeting Ha-eun with similar, pointless questions.

    ‘Did these people get bribed to ask such ridiculous questions?’

    Although most questions were normal, these few reporters seemed intent on provoking a reaction.

    Some journalists sought statements they could twist into sensational headlines. And young actors like Ha-eun, who lacked media experience, were easy targets.

    “Was portraying Kim Ji-ah emotionally challenging? This is your first film, after all.”

    The question was framed as if it were about her experience but hinted at deeper implications.

    If Ha-eun said it wasn’t challenging, it might imply her acting lacked depth. If she admitted it was difficult, they could spin it as her being overwhelmed by a mature film set.

    Noticing this, Director Kwon and Kang Sun-woo both raised their microphones to intervene.

    “What exactly do you mean by ‘challenging’?” Ha-eun spoke up first, turning to the reporter with a wide-eyed innocence, flipping the question back at him.

    Momentarily thrown off, the reporter hesitated before replying, “Well, it’s the kind of performance that leaves you feeling heavy, as if a weight is on your chest. It’s the type of acting you’d rather not experience again.”

    A vague, unclear answer. But Ha-eun, unfazed, continued.

    “So then, does that mean a performance you can do over and over, feeling comfortable each time, is a ‘good’ performance?”

    Her question left the reporter speechless.

    She looked at him with a serene smile and continued, “If acting feels challenging, doesn’t that mean I put my heart into it?”

    Poised with a refined smile, she added, “So I’m grateful that playing Kim Ji-ah was challenging for me.”

    The reporter’s mouth shut even tighter. Ha-eun glanced toward the next question with calm composure, showing not a hint of anxiety.

    *Click.*

    At that moment, Joo-eun snapped a picture, confident she’d found the main focus for her article. Her camera captured Ha-eun’s poised expression as she answered the next question with ease, showing the confidence of an actor far beyond her years.