A fervent plea flickered across the screen-
Please cast your vote for our genius actor, Kwon Ha-bin! Voting link: http://program.tvsing.com/tvs/myactor/vote/Board/List.
The message blinked twice, a desperate beacon in the chaotic sea of online chatter.
Fans of the survival show (Casting With My Own Hand!) were in a frenzy, their keyboards clacking with devotion and dissent.
The comment section was a battlefield.
– ‘Who the heck is Kwon Ha-bin?’
One user demanded, their words sharp with curiosity.
A reply shot back, quick and casual.
– ‘Some kid who’s blowing up in a web drama. Used to be a child actor, but I guess he wasn’t a big deal back then.’
The thread spiraled, laughter punctuating the air like gunfire.
– ‘LOL, I’m watching his acting, and why do I feel like my resistance is running low?’
One user quipped, followed by a chorus of ‘Ha ha, same!’ and ‘I’m reaching my limit here!’
Another voice chimed in, pragmatic but teasing.
– ‘They always show the clumsy or funny ones early on. Just hang in there.’
The critiques were relentless, slicing through the hype.
– ‘There are talented kids, but most of their acting is just… meh’
Someone typed, their words heavy with disappointment.
Yet, amidst the snark, a spark of admiration flared.
– ‘Okay, but let’s be real—there are some seriously good-looking contestants.’
Another user exclaimed, their excitement spilling into a string of laughing emojis.
– ‘This isn’t some idol survival show; it’s a whole different vibe!’
The replies came fast—some playful, others sharp.
– ‘Careful, friend, that’s a sensitive topic.”
One cautioned, while another doubled down and typed.
– ‘What? It’s true! Don’t be so dramatic.’
Then, a single word shifted the tide:
– ‘Dalkong.”
Confusion rippled through the thread.
– ‘What the…….Dalkong’s gotten way too hot!’
Someone gasped, their shock palpable.
The name Kim Jae-ha surfaced, trailing whispers of intrigue.
– ‘Kim Jae-ha… so much to say, so little space.’Â
One user teased cryptically.
Questions erupted in the comments
– ‘What’s up with him? Spill!’
But the thread veered into warnings.
– ‘Let’s not spread rumors. He’s starting fresh, with a bright future ahead.’
Another voice rallied.
-‘Kim Jae-ha, fighting!’
The replies grew heated, a tangle of loyalty and suspicion.
The praise for Jae-ha’s acting was undeniable.
– ‘He’s good.’
Someone admitted, their tone tinged with awe.
– ‘Even as a kid, he had skills.’
Another chimed in.
– ‘Kim Jae-ha’s acting is top-tier!’
A new fan confessed.
– ‘First time seeing him, but he’s killing it. He’s going places!’
Yet, not all were satisfied.
– ‘B-grade? Are you kidding me? He deserves an A!’
One user fumed, their frustration raw.
– ‘Is it because he’s unaffiliated? Feels like he’s already being sidelined,’
Another lamented, their words heavy with a sigh.
The comments were a mess, a chaotic swirl of admiration and shade.
Across the city, a young woman sat before twin monitors.
On one monitor she was streaming (Casting With Your Own Hand!) live, the other open to the very thread she’d started.
Her brow furrowed as she scrolled, the shifting tone of the comments unsettling her.
She was the original poster, the one who’d ignited this firestorm.
With a sigh, she grabbed her phone and opened a group chat with old friends—fellow drama and actor enthusiasts.
The chat was buzzing with (Casting With Your Own Hand!) talk.
[I’m watching the thread I started, and the second Kim Jae-ha shows up, the comments get weird] she typed, her fingers flying.
A reply pinged back: [Wait, you made that thread? I’m watching too, lol. Feels like Jae-ha’s got paid commenters or something…]
Another friend agreed: [Right? He’s unaffiliated, isn’t he? What’s going on?]
The consensus was clear—they all sensed something off.
“Hmph,” she muttered, her lips curling.
“I knew something was fishy the moment they announced Kim Jae-ha.”
She didn’t like him, never had.
His abrupt switch from acting to idol life had rubbed her the wrong way, though she couldn’t fault his choice.
What really grated was the storm of controversies that followed, tainting the reputation of child actors like him.
‘Because of him, people started saying all child actors are brats!’ she thought, her old fondness for another child actor soured by Jae-ha’s shadow.
Still, she couldn’t deny it.
“Something is weird,” she murmured, her gaze flickering between screens.
Anyone who’d ever stanned an actor or idol knew Kim Jae-ha—Dalkong—had a tarnished image.
Back then, the internet had been a cesspool of hate for him, as if someone had orchestrated it.
‘Could opinions really flip this fast after a few controversy-free years?’ she wondered.
‘Unless someone was pulling strings. But an unaffiliated actor? It didn’t add up.’
Her thoughts scattered as a new message popped up: [Jae-ha’s acting isn’t half bad, though.]
She snorted, dismissing it.
“Not bad? A former child actor should be better than that!”
Her mind drifted to a long-forgotten child actor she’d once adored, his face now a blurry memory.
She glanced at Jae-ha on the screen.
“Fine, I’ll admit he’s good-looking, even if he’s got that icy vibe.”
It was a grudging concession.
***
The hype for (Casting With Your Own Hand!) was electric, fueled by more than just the star power of Seo Eun-jae, the center of the idol group Dreamer.
The show’s premise—a chance to cast actors for a remake of the beloved drama (Amelia’s Flower Shop), a summer binge-watch staple—had captured hearts.
Unlike the disappointing remakes of the past, this one promised fans the power to choose.
Add to that the contestants’ striking looks, and the show was a visual feast.
Initial skepticism had melted away; the first episode proved the hype was deserved.
Headlines screamed praise:
[(Casting With Your Own Hand!) dominates buzz from episode one!]
[(Casting With Your Own Hand!), the ultimate face-value buffet!]
[A fresh twist on a familiar flavor: actors meet survival audition.]
For Kim Jae-ha, though, the headlines meant little.
What mattered was the public’s reaction to him.
He’d braced himself with a calming pill before diving into the comments, but what he found left him uneasy.
“Something’s off,” he muttered, setting his phone down with a heavy expression.
The online love was overwhelming—too perfect.
Major forums and SNS platforms showered him with praise, a stark contrast to the vitriol of his idol days.
Even searching his old nickname, “Jaeng,” turned up only mild nostalgia from former fans, not venom.
Yet, the accounts gushing over him were suspicious—newly created or mindlessly retweeting.
His gut churned.
The episode’s edit had been oddly kind, too.
He’d expected them to exploit his idol-era controversies, to pit him against Seo Eun-jae or Kwon Ha-bin.
Instead, the rumors were blurred out, dismissed as “unintended misunderstandings.”
His interview clips were cut to paint him as a sympathetic figure, not a villain.
The preview for episode two was worse.
“A true leader of our time!” the subtitle gushed, dedicating a chunk of the teaser to Jae-ha taking charge.
It felt wrong, like a carefully constructed façade.
Years of harsh scrutiny had left him paranoid, but this felt like more than paranoia.
It was as if someone had built a tower of compliments around him, dazzling but hollow, ready to collapse at the slightest push.
A faint suspicion he’d buried long ago resurfaced—memories of malicious public opinion, his mother’s odd behavior days earlier.
They coalesced into a chilling realization.
“No way,” he whispered, burying his face in his hands.
“That’s insane.”
To shake it off, he forced himself to think of something good.
Good memories were rare, like needles in a desert, but today he had one.
His mother had watched (Casting With Your Own Hand!) with him, and though he’d feared her reaction, he’d caught her faint smile at the end, her eyes glistening under the light.
She’d left without a word, but it was enough.
‘My acting… it wasn’t so bad to her,’ he thought, clinging to that fleeting warmth.
Tomorrow, he’d return to the (Casting With Your Own Hand!) set for the first public greeting.
He needed to focus.
***
That afternoon, a bus pulled up near SGV in Sangam-dong.
The back door hissed open, and a stream of passengers spilled out, among them a college student with a face alight with excitement.
She scanned the familiar broadcast buildings, her heart racing as she spotted her destination: SGV.
“There it is,” she breathed, relieved to find it without getting lost.
Checking her phone, she pulled up her mobile ticket: [(Casting With Your Own Hand!) patio, April 5, 13:00, SGV Theater 7, Row A, Seat 7.]
She’d checked it countless times, but the A-row seat still felt unreal—a hard-won victory in the brutal ticket war.
‘Finally, I’ll see Jae-ha ,’ she thought, her heart fluttering.
She’d fallen for Kim Jae-ha at thirteen, when he debuted in a project group.
It was love at first sight, an all-consuming fever that filled her days with thoughts of him.
She became the school’s most vocal Jae-ha fan, but meeting him was impossible back then.
Living in the provinces due to her father’s job, she couldn’t attend fan events.
So, she’d vowed to get into a top Seoul university and live independently in the city, all to see him.
She’d made it to a prestigious university, but idol Jae-ha was gone—his group disbanded, his career shifted to acting.
Seeing him meant settling for fleeting TV cameos, often minor roles in lackluster dramas.
Rumors had driven most fans away, leaving no one to compile his clips or make photocards.
Undeterred, she took matters into her own hands, editing videos and printing high-quality photos herself.
It was grueling, but it was her joy.
Her seven-year devotion wasn’t easy.
As a project group member, Jae-ha faced criticism from other members’ fans.
She never backed down, defending him fiercely until she reached a zen-like acceptance: “That’s your path, and this is mine.”
Now, standing before SGV, ticket in hand, she was one step closer to her dream.