Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Accident.
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I'd head to the convenience store every time my stomach growled, grabbing a triangle kimbap and a cola.
That's when I'd run into that guy.
The first day we crossed paths. The next day, I spotted him lingering near the store.
That evening, I saw him trailing the exact route I'd taken from the convenience store to my place, like he was mapping my movements.
Up to that point, I chalked it up to paranoia.
I figured my nerves were just frayed from suddenly waking up in a woman's body, everything feeling off-kilter.
Probably just someone who lived nearby.
Maybe a resident from another building close to home, or heck, even the convenience store owner in a new light.
That was as far as my suspicions went... until I spotted him again at the dinner gathering.
If it had only been twice—first day and today—I'd have brushed it off as coincidence.
But this made four times already.
Seoul's got about 9.5 million people. Sure, Nonhyeon-dong and Sinsa-dong are neighboring hoods, but what are the odds of bumping into the same stranger this often?
Running into the guy who seemed to be shadowing me everywhere felt downright ominous.
'...What if it's not coincidence?'
A whirlwind of dark thoughts flooded my mind, news headlines flashing by like a montage: random knife attacks, acid terrorism, blindside beatings.
My hands started shaking, my face freezing into a rigid mask—I couldn't even force a smile.
Judging someone I'd never even spoken to was rude, no doubt, but the situation was straight-up fucked.
And of all things, he was the very first creep whose gaze had felt so alien on the day I first entered this body.
"Is there a problem? Do you need something from our staff?"
CEO Kim Seulgi must've picked up on the weird vibe.
She rose smoothly, stepping between me and the man.
"...If I've been rude, I apologize. Name's Bae Jongwook. I'm a screenwriter. I was over at that table, dining with colleagues."
He seemed to sense my unease, my racing thoughts.
Palms up, he took a step back and introduced himself, stressing that he was there with his group. Yeah, that confirmed it.
He knew exactly how stalkerish he looked.
Any normal person would've backed off the second they realized it.
But this guy didn't just hover around me—he'd come straight over.
And... screenwriter Bae Jongwook?
I knew most big-name writers and directors, but Bae Jongwook? Drew a blank.
Was this some ploy to put me and CEO Kim Seulgi at ease?
With a first impression this sour, every little move of his screamed suspicious...
"Ah..."
This world wasn't mine anymore.
The names I knew? They might not even exist here.
I was a total outsider here.
An industry newbie with zero intel.
No clue who Screenwriter Bae Jongwook was or what he'd written.
Hell, he might not even do film or drama scripts.
Could be a web novel author or a literary type.
"...! You know me! Right? Whew, what a relief. I thought I was done for, pegged as a stalker."
The guy misread my reaction, relaxing and stepping closer—but CEO Kim Seulgi wasn't budging from in front of me.
"Sorry, but could you please not approach our staff for now? We need to hear both sides first."
I was just a part-timer who'd shot with them for one measly day.
Yet here she was, shielding me without even knowing who this guy was.
The tension had my heart pounding, but her protectiveness eased it a notch.
Maybe that's why my body started to calm, my vision clearing.
Lee Arang had slid into the seat next to where Kim Seulgi stood, gripping my hand.
The designer was filming everything on her phone.
Staff had hands jammed in bags, clutching something tight; Atelier employees gripped forks and knives.
Even most of the other patrons and shop staff couldn't peel their eyes off our table.
Me, the one at the center of it all, frozen like a deer in headlights.
And these people were all ready to defend me.
Time to snap out of it.
If he turned out to be a creep and shit hit the fan, that was on me to handle.
No need for anyone else to get hurt on my account.
Back in the day, I'd have shut this down before it escalated.
Was my weakened body dragging my mind down too?
I steeled myself and stood.
"CEO, let me handle this."
"You sure? You still look shaken."
"It's my problem. I should deal with it."
Dumping my mess on Kim Seulgi or the others? No way.
"Uh, wait, I think there's a misunderstanding. I didn't come over with bad intentions..."
"...Jongwook, you said you were stepping out—what the hell's going on?"
"Screenwriter! No way you're the one stalking her lately?!"
"No! I'm telling you, it's not like that!"
Now that I was calm enough to talk, his side was blowing up again.
Bae Jongwook desperately explained to his colleagues before we could even chat.
We'd already drawn a crowd and bothered the place, so we agreed to step outside.
Luckily, the staff got it and were cool about it.
They even told us to signal if things went south outside.
"Phew... that was a close one. You don't still think I'm a stalker, right? Sorry again."
"...What do you want?"
"A few days back, we bumped into each other in front of the convenience store. Remember?"
Of course. That's why I was on edge.
If he'd just been some pickup artist with an "I know you from somewhere..." line, I'd have shut him down easy.
No, the problem was he really was a familiar face.
"Yeah, and I've seen you a lot since then too. Sorry, but that's why I'm wary."
"...I get it. If you'd spotted me after that, yeah, it'd freak you out. Truth is, I tried talking to you then but missed my shot, so I've been hunting you down for days."
"..."
Sudden confession?
He caught my weird look and bowed deep.
"I'm truly sorry. Once I fixate on something, I tune out everything else... Not bragging, but I'm known as the industry weirdo."
Maybe not a total bad guy.
Or maybe the roundabout talk screamed shady.
Couldn't help the curt tone.
"So... what do you want?"
"Star in our movie!"
"...Come again?"
Movie? Me, who'd wasted twelve years and got blacklisted in that world?
Asking me now? Sure, my face was beyond pretty—stunning, even.
But you cast actors for talent, not looks! And without even seeing me act?!
I'm done with that crap—get lost! I'll call the cops!
That's what I wanted to unload before storming back inside.
"...What movie?"
Damn curiosity.
What flick had its screenwriter stalking—er, pursuing—me this hard?
I showed interest, and Screenwriter Bae Jongwook lit up, launching in.
Not lying about being a writer—talking shop made him look years younger, vibrant.
"Okay, it's an action noir. Told from the daughter of a NIS black ops dad. He barely visited once a year, then one day he dies. She teams with her uncle to uncover the truth behind it, pulling in NIS, politics, crime syndicates..."
"Sounds kinda clichéd..."
'Not big on movies, but seems solid.'
Bae Jongwook's script screamed standard revenge noir.
Clichés everywhere, predictable as hell.
Ten years ago? Maybe. But I'd seen plenty like this.
Lost interest the second he started pitching.
"Clichéd... Yeah, I get that! But read my script yourself, and you'll change your tune!"
...Did he read my mind? Psychic too?
Shit, I'd slipped—internal thought blurted out.
Ruined my poker face.
Not on purpose.
Probably...
His face hardened, serious.
Staying like this felt like tempting fate.
Think I'd hit a nerve.
"Anyway, I'm not an actress. Sorry."
Tried wrapping it quick and heading in...
"Wait! Hold on! Not like this!"
Bae Jongwook stopped me, hand diving into his inner pocket.
Pulling something out.
Finally noticed the bulge under his jacket.
About 30cm long, vertical.
No kitchen knife. This was lethal.
Wrist twist suggested grabbing the handle.
Definitely a blade.
'...Dropped my guard.'
Can't run in this crowd.
Can't overpower him either.
Die this pathetically?
Stabbed for turning down a role? Overkill.
Brain scrambling, but body moved first.
Punched his forearm as his hand emerged.
Not much power, but enough to delay the draw.
Then, sneaker to the shin.
Should've been heels, but sneakers would do—hoping.
Pain reflex: anyone hunches and grabs their shin.
"Gahk!"
Expected the bend, and he did.
Next flowed natural as water.
'Now!'
Folded arm in, slamming elbow—humanity's best weapon—into his face.
"Urk!"
"...It worked?"
Last-ditch desperation hit home.
Learned it playing a chaebol heir's bodyguard in a bit part.
Action director drilled it into me with passion.
Didn't make the final cut.
But he taught hard; I learned harder.
Saw potential, pushed action school—last talk we had.
But this move? Stuck with me, tied to those memories.
The thug—Bae Jongwook—crumpled screaming.
From his pocket tumbled...
A stack of stapled A4 sheets.
The script, no doubt.
I'd fucked up big time.
"Hic."