Bba bba bbambbambbam bbarababba bbarababba bbabba bbabbabam.
“Uuuh…”
A familiar yet utterly disgusting sound,
It’s definitely the number one song that Korean men from my previous life would hate without fail.
However, thanks to that, the alarm sound was undeniably effective at waking me up, and I slowly got out of bed.
The current time was 6:30 AM.
Considering my usual waking time, it was quite early.
Still, I had to get up now.
Today was a very important day.
Perhaps it could be the most important day of my life.
“Uuuh…”
As I got up, I heard a small groan near my ear.
The sound reminded me of a cute little puppy whining because it didn’t want to get up, so adorable and lovable.
Listening to that, I gave a gentle smile toward the owner of that sound lying next to me.
Even while sleeping, the little hands were clutching my body tightly like delicate fern leaves.
The future world star who is now 7 years old, Chae Sunhwa.
By the way, she has the surname Chae—not Lee—because she took my family name.
This is partly because I was a man in my previous life, and mostly because I didn’t want to leave a trace of my deceased father in her name.
“Are you awake, our Sunhwa?”
The small child wriggling right next to me.
Looking at our good daughter, who had never caused any trouble and always showed an angelic side since she was little, I spoke gently as her mother.
“Mm… Sunhwa is still sleeping…”
“Really? Are you snoring?”
“Yeah… I’m snoring…”
As she says that, our princess rubs her face against my bare chest where my undergarment has slipped down.
Honestly, if this had happened with my favorite person in a past life, I probably would have died of a heart attack from sheer shock or happiness, rather than just embarrassment.
But now, seven years since my reincarnation, this level of contact is just a familiar, ordinary part of our daily life as mother and daughter.
Well… considering she also touched and suckled my breasts in her sleep last night, I can’t say it doesn’t feel a bit too much skin contact.
Still, since it’s a habit she’s had since childhood, I don’t consider it a major problem.
“First and foremost, even I, the person in question, have to admit they are large and splendid breasts.
Just like seeing a fluffy blanket makes you want to lie down on it, seeing breasts like this right in front of you makes you want to touch them – it’s an utterly natural law of nature.”
Especially when it’s the daughter I’ve legitimately nursed and suckled since she was a baby… Perhaps this phenomenon is an extremely natural thing…?
Or is it?
Anyway, coupled with the fact that our daughter grew up lonely without parents in her past life, this sight itself fills me, as a mother, with a sense of pride.
But.
“Hehe, sorry my princess. But it’s time to get up now, alright? As I said yesterday, today is an important day.”
“Uuunngh…”
My hand gently strokes her hair as I slowly lift her head away from where it’s buried in my chest.
With a slight bit of force in that action, our princess detaches from my bosom without resistance.
“Come on, get up, wash up, and let’s have breakfast.”
“Haahhhm… Okay, Mom.”
At my words, soft but leaving no room for argument, my daughter finally gives in.
Watching her rub her eyes and step out of bed like that, I also rise with a smile, adjusting the bra that feels somehow smaller now, before getting up.
Today’s big event.
For the first appearance of the future world star.
*
“Those here for ‘The Queen’s Tears’ audition, please come this way.”
A neatly dressed woman with a clean-cut impression.
Following her guidance, the crowd gathered in the broadcasting station lobby began to surge forward.
“That way, hurry up.”
“Mom… I need the bathroom…”
“You didn’t forget your lines, did you? Pull yourself together and do well.”
“Sleepy… I want to go home…”
“Ahh, what’s wrong with this kid again? Just stay still.”
The group of about 40 people gathered here.
Including us, mother and daughter, they were all mothers accompanied by young children, united here for a single purpose.
The child actor casting audition for a fusion historical drama called ‘The Queen’s Tears’ on ZTVC, a small-scale terrestrial broadcaster.
The role itself wasn’t a major supporting part, just a minor one.
The drama wasn’t particularly notable either, in this life or my past one.
Even this audition notice was handled rather poorly, and most participants were just here on a whim, thinking, ‘Maybe my kid can try being a celebrity too.’
In my case, if it weren’t for my past life memories.
If it weren’t for my strangely vivid memories related to the entertainment industry, clearer than other things, I wouldn’t even have known this audition existed.
Even that was only because a junior actor I knew had a supporting role here, giving me a bit of information.
However, despite it being just that kind of audition, I had been eagerly waiting for months for this opportunity for our daughter.
As soon as the notice went up, I applied immediately and came here.
It wasn’t specifically for our child to officially start an entertainment career through this.
Given the event-like nature of this audition, it was hard to expect real growth from it anyway.
What I was aiming for was experience.
Unlike child actors who often start as early as 4 or 5 years old, idols typically start preparing seriously in late elementary school at the earliest.
Singing, after all, is usually properly trained only after the voice has matured somewhat.
The sole reason I brought her here today was this:
To make her future life as an entertainer smoother.
As someone who spent over 20 years in the entertainment industry in my past life, I knew the inner workings of this world all too well.
Though less rigid than before, its hierarchy remained strictly intact—especially regarding debut seniority.
The so-called “lineage” of artists was non-negotiable.
Unless there was a significant age gap, every junior had to bow to their seniors, even if the junior was astronomically more popular.
Child actors were an exception, of course.
Most agreed that early acting credits counted toward seniority.
That’s why I’d entered this audition—both to secure a title for my daughter and to give her invaluable experience as a future star.
People’s stares had been drifting toward us—no, toward my beautiful daughter—since we arrived.
Gripping her hand tighter than usual, I reassured her.
“Mom. Sunhwa will do well. Watch me.”
“Heh, of course I will. Don’t stress too much.”
My 7-year-old balled her tiny hands into fists, eyes sparkling with determination.
To me, it was unbearably cute—a child’s earnestness that made me want to pinch her cheeks.
Honestly, I wasn’t worried.
I’d witnessed her acting talent firsthand in our past lives.
During rehearsals, I’d confirmed her genius still shone brightly despite her youth.
Even her looks outclassed the other children here—evident from their wary glances.
If she performs as practiced, she won’t fail. I was certain.
But then.
“Huh? Wh-what do you mean? Suddenly, that’s…”
“?”
At the studio’s edge, the suited woman who’d escorted us paled, flustered.
An uneasy tension prickled the air.
My instincts flared.
*
“What do you mean she’s not coming?!”
“She had an accident en route… Thankfully, her injuries aren’t severe, but she needs hospital care.”
“Damn it…”
Seo Jitae, PD for ZTVC’s drama division, scowled at the disastrous news.
The lead actress—scheduled for today’s audition—had been in a car crash.
This audition was technically a talent-scouting event, not high-stakes.
But with ratings plummeting and recent scandals souring the network’s mood, the accident felt like a final blow.
“What’s wrong? You look like death.”
“Sigh…”
Lee Dongchul—Jitae’s college friend and now his supervisor—leaned in, concerned.
Jitae briefed him.
“Seriously? First the food poisoning incident with the cast, now this?!”
“We need a replacement actor immediately. Who’s available—”
“No one. Everyone’s either filming or hospitalized.”
“Fck… We can’t delay filming. Are we canceling?”*
Child actors required adult counterparts for scenes.
Chemistry tests were essential, even for minor roles.
As Jitae agonized, assistant writer Lee Hanui—the woman from earlier—spoke cautiously:
“Then… what if we ask one of the guardians here to step in?”
“Huh?”
“What are you talking about?”
The two PDs began showing slight interest.
In response, Lee Hanui suggested what she believed to be the best possible solution.
“Since postponing is impossible, and canceling outright would be too burdensome… Why not just be honest about the situation and have them perform with their actual guardians? We could screen them that way.”
“Hmm. Now that you mention it, the scene is about the Queen Dowager speaking with a young princess, so…”
“But what about chemistry with the actors…?”
“Expecting that now is too much. It’s still better than facing a flood of complaints and posting an apology later. We can figure out the acting issues afterward…”
Though PD Seo Jitae was visibly reluctant, the suggestion from the junior writer (Lee Hanui) was ultimately accepted under the direction of Production Manager Lee Dongcheol.
While the root cause was an unexpected traffic accident, they still needed to show they’d “made every effort” to minimize backlash—especially considering the fierce reactions from mothers when it came to their children.
Immediately after the decision, the junior writer and PD Seo Jitae began explaining the situation honestly to the participants, apologizing and asking for their understanding.
Meanwhile, Dongcheol, having decided to observe the situation as the manager, began scanning the room at the participants.
Given the nature of the event, most participating children and their mothers had reasonably presentable appearances.
Still, as a drama PD, no one particularly stood out to Dongcheol at first glance.
‘Looks matter, but what’s truly important is aura.’
There’s a difference between simply being pretty and having a presence that commands attention—especially for actors who need to captivate audiences.
That aura is more crucial than mere beauty or acting skill.
Without that magnetic “force” to hold the room, it’s hard to become a major star.
‘We’re short on actors for the new project… but I doubt any of them here are ready for casting.’
Just then.
‘Huh?’
As Dongcheol scanned the room halfheartedly, his eyes suddenly landed on one person.
Jet-black hair.
Mysterious violet eyes.
A beauty radiating an almost unreal, youthful purity—unlike any other mother present.
She stood toward the back, so he hadn’t noticed her earlier.
Yet in that moment, she devoured the presence of everyone around her, seizing Dongcheol’s gaze completely.
The moment he saw her, Dongcheol’s eyes flickered with unconscious interest.
Tr Note : Lee Sunhwa and Chae Sunhwa are, in fact, the same person—simply seen through different moments in time. Happy reading.
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