Chapter 8 - News
Chae-ah stepped out of the CEO's office and slipped into the emergency stairwell.
She leaned back against the concrete wall and pulled out her phone. At the top of the call log: Seo Ian.
"Unnie?"
"Ian, where are you right now?"
"Practice room. Why?"
"The CEO wants you in her office."
A brief silence.
"…Why?"
"You'll find out when you get here."
"Ugh, Unnie, come on! Now I'm even more curious."
It was a playful whine.
"It's not bad news."
After saying that, Chae-ah pressed her back harder against the wall.
"I'll be there in ten minutes."
The call ended.
Ian pushed open the door to the CEO's office. Jung Sia gestured to the chair across from her with one hand.
Ian walked over and sat down. As always, she didn't lean back against the chair. Her upper body naturally tilted forward.
"What is it, CEO?"
"Good news."
Jung Sia smiled. It was the smile Ian had seen for three years. Whether this expression accompanying "good news" truly meant good news or just what Sia deemed good, Ian had long given up trying to tell the difference.
"This morning, we signed an exclusive contract. A rookie model."
"…Okay."
Rookies joining RASCA happened every season. Ian's reaction was subdued.
"Yoo Harin."
"…What did you say?"
"Yoo Harin signed today."
Ian's back fully lifted from the backrest. Her weight shifted forward on the chair. Her hands gripped her knees.
Harin.
The name spun through Ian's mind three times.
Harin here. Harin at RASCA. Harin with an exclusive contract.
"You know her, right, Ian?"
Sia's gaze slowly scanned Ian's face. Ian knew her expression was slipping out of control. She knew, but she couldn't fix it.
"…How?"
"I approached her first."
Of course. Harin wouldn't have come looking. She had no connections to talent agencies. The word "agency" didn't exist in Harin's daily life. It meant someone had reached out first—and that someone was sitting right in front of her.
"How do you know Harin?"
"I know you went to Everland."
Ian's breath hitched short.
"There were sightings on SNS. As your agency's actor on an unofficial outing, it was natural to check. In the process, we identified the person you were with, and that's when I saw Harin's visuals."
Sia lifted her coffee cup, took a sip, and set it down. The cup met the desk with a small, precise clink.
"Honestly, even in the security cam capture quality, she stood out. I've been in this business ten years—this level of visuals isn't common."
"You investigated Harin?"
Ian's voice dropped a tone.
"Risk assessment. Knowing who's around our actors is basic agency protocol…"
"Without consent?"
Ian cut Sia off. It wasn't something she did often. In three years, Ian had always let the CEO finish speaking first.
Sia's smile held steady. It was the look of someone who'd anticipated the pushback.
"Ian."
"Yes."
"You know better than anyone what it means to enter this industry."
Sia's tone shifted. Firm yet soft, laced with persuasion.
"You know how many people line up with numbers at auditions? Do you think it's common for a mid-tier agency like RASCA to offer full support to a rookie?"
Ian shut her mouth. Sia wasn't wrong. RASCA was solid mid-tier, with a strong lineup. Ian herself had become a top actress under their full backing. She knew how grueling that path was.
"Harin's visuals are exceptional, even by my standards. Pair that with RASCA's system, and she's got real potential."
Sia looked at Ian. Seriousness overlaid her smile.
"If you truly care about Harin, you'd know what this opportunity means. Is it worth getting this upset over?"
Sia's logic was airtight. It was good for Harin. Objectively good. An opportunity. Support. Potential. Getting angry made Ian the irrational one.
But different scenes flashed in Ian's mind.
Three nights ago. She'd messaged Harin. Replies usually came in minutes, but that night it took nearly an hour. Then a single line.
'Busy day today.'
Ian had brushed it off. Everyone has busy days. But now, it must have been the day Sia approached Harin.
Harin never lied to Ian.
She just couldn't say.
Harin didn't tell me anything because she couldn't.
Ian looked up, meeting Sia's eyes directly.
"Harin didn't say a word to me."
"Pardon?"
"About the contract. She didn't contact me first. Not in three days."
Ian's voice was quiet. Quiet, but edged sharp.
"Harin tells me everything. Even trivial stuff. For her not to mention this for three days…"
Ian paused for breath.
"You told her not to, didn't you?"
"We coordinated the timing. It made sense for me to tell you directly."
"Timing?"
The formality faded from the end of Ian's sentence.
"You blocked her from contacting me, made her wait three days, and then told me yourself? That's 'timing'?"
Sia toyed with her coffee cup, then stopped. Her gaze on Ian had changed. The smile remained, but its purpose had shifted from kindness to observation.
"Ian."
"Yes."
"When you get emotional, you miss the point."
Sia's voice dropped half a tone. Still soft, but with a line drawn beneath.
"Harin read the contract herself, asked about clauses, requested changes, and then signed. No one forced her. It was her judgment."
Ian bit her lip.
Sia continued.
"Are you angry for Harin's sake right now? Or because she didn't tell you first and it hurt?"
Sia hit the nail exactly. The line Ian couldn't separate herself.
Between anger for Harin and hurt that she hadn't been told first.
Ian's hands slowly clenched on her lap.
"…Both."
Ian looked up at Sia.
"I know it's a good opportunity for Harin. That's true. But pressuring her in the process is a separate issue. Giving her a chance doesn't justify silencing her."
Sia's smile flickered for a split second, then returned.
"Chae-ah will manage Harin."
Sia changed the subject.
"Since she's also your manager, it'll create natural overlap."
"Will you keep interfering in our relationship?"
Ian didn't back down. She stared straight at Sia from her chair. An invisible tension pulled taut between Sia's smile and Ian's gaze.
"Ian."
"Yes."
"Harin's with RASCA now. The agency has management rights over our talents. That includes you and her."
A layer of softness peeled from Sia's voice. What remained was clear statement of fact.
"Just be a good senior to her. That's enough."
Senior.
The word sank cold inside Ian.
Senior. Agency senior. That was the limit Sia was allowing.
Ian stood.
"Thank you."
She opened the door and left without looking back.
The hallway was empty.
Ian leaned her shoulder against the wall by the CEO's office and pulled out her phone. She tapped Harin's name.
"Ian?"
Slightly breathless. The voice of someone who'd grabbed the phone in a hurry.
"Harin."
Ian's first syllable came out lower than usual. She'd tried to steady it, but failed.
"I heard from the CEO."
Harin's breathing stopped on the other end.
"…Yeah."
Harin's voice was small.
"Why didn't you tell me first?"
"…Ian, I wanted to."
Harin's voice grew even smaller. As if her mouth was close to the phone.
"That night when you messaged, I was going to tell you everything."
"The CEO said no, right."
Silence answered. Silence that confirmed it.
Ian peeled away from the wall and walked to the hallway window. Beyond the glass, June's overcast sky stretched out.
Three days Harin had wanted to tell her but couldn't. For those three days, they'd messaged every night. Everyday chat. What'd you eat today, weather's hot, saw the new PV. Ian hadn't known that beneath those casual words, Harin had been holding back.
"Harin."
"Yeah."
"No matter what the CEO says, tell me first if anything's wrong. Promise."
Harin's breath trembled over the line.
"…Yeah. I promise."
Ian closed her eyes.
"Good for you."
Ian's voice changed. The one she used only for Harin.
"Same agency now. We can see each other more."
"…Yeah."
Something loosened in Harin's voice too.
"Ian, sorry. For not telling you first."
"Not your fault. Let's grab food later. There's a good spot near the office."
"Okay."
"Gonna hang up."
"Ian."
"Yeah?"
"…Thanks."
Ian stayed still, phone to her ear.
The call ended.
When Ian pushed open the glass door to the seventh-floor office, Chae-ah was organizing the schedule app at the manager's desk. Ian's afternoon schedule glowed on the monitor, with one empty slot below.
Ian stood right beside Chae-ah's desk.
"Unnie."
Chae-ah's hands froze over the keyboard.
"Did you know about Harin?"
"…The CEO said she'd tell you herself."
"That's not an answer."
Ian's voice was low. Not angry, which made it heavier.
Chae-ah looked up from the monitor.
"…I knew."
Ian stared at her silently.
"You could've told me first."
"The CEO…"
"I know."
Ian cut her off.
"…You're my unnie."
Those words dropped Chae-ah's hands to her lap.
To Ian, Chae-ah was unnie before manager. The one who'd pulled all-nighters on set, comforted her through hate comments.
"…Sorry."
Ian exhaled once. The kind held back to avoid blame.
"…It's fine. I know you couldn't help it."
Ian stepped back from the desk.
"You're Harin's manager too?"
"Yes."
"If anything happens with Harin next time, tell me too. No matter what the CEO says."
Chae-ah couldn't reply. They both knew it clashed head-on with the CEO's orders.
Ian didn't wait. She pushed through the glass door and left.
Chae-ah stared at her reflection in the blank monitor. Under Ian's name, the empty slot. Before typing Yoo Harin, her fingers hovered in the air, then fell.
Ian didn't return to the practice room.
First-floor lobby corner. Two vending machines, low table. Lunchtime, so nearly empty.
She got a canned coffee, sat at the table, took a sip, and set it down. Pulled out her phone.
Opened the Notes app.
A folder named Harin. Things Ian had compiled about her even before meeting offline.
A few lines added after Everland.
[Everland notes...]
…
6/27: Signed exclusive with RASCA. Model. CEO approached first. CEO instructed Harin not to tell me.
She scrolled to the bottom, made a new line, typed it out. Took another sip of coffee. Her eye caught another note.
Yoo Hajoon: Cousin oppa? The bit that bugged her at Everland. A guy in his twenties should have an online trail.
She closed the app. Home screen appeared. Search app icon at the bottom.
Ian's thumb tapped it. Search bar opened, cursor blinking.
She typed, letter by letter.
Y. Yu. Yoo Ha. Yoo Hajoon.
Ian's thumb hovered over the search button.