Let Go of Him, You Lump!

The next day, I woke up at the dormitory and got started on my morning routine.

Today's dinner wasn't a gathering for the leads alone. Supporting players and extras with real screen time were all invited, and with a crowd that size, we had no choice but to rent out an entire barbecue restaurant.

Could you even book a place like that overnight? I had my doubts. Then again, I had a cheat code named Grandma.

Yesterday, on the way back to the dorm after filming wrapped, I called her. I made a point of laying on the aegyo while I talked. It worked on Mom, and it worked on Kumongdan — one hit of that sugary voice was all it took.

Grandma went down in a single KO from my aegyo too. Not that I couldn't understand it. She had three children, all sons, and my Eldest Uncle's and Third Uncle's kids were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all boys as well. I was the only girl in the entire family, so of course Grandma doted on me.

In less than ten minutes, a reservation-complete message arrived with an address attached. I blasted the location to Director Shin Yeomyeong and the rest of the principal cast in a group chat.

That was yesterday.

"Unnie, you ready?"

"I'm ready, but do I have to go? I've got a shift today."

"Don't worry about that. I already got you out of it!"

"...How?"

"That's..."

I'd slipped. The members still didn't know I had been placed in the successor's seat at Dohan Group. Not that I had any intention of becoming the heir. I hadn't taken a single lesson in succeeding anyone, and the shares I'd been given were something I planned to hold onto ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and sell later. My Eldest Uncle and Third Uncle, both hungry for the chairman's seat, would come around asking me to sell soon enough. I'd keep the stock safe until then, and I had no particular intention of formally withdrawing, either. I simply hadn't brought it up because I didn't want the members worrying.

"I... I called your bosses! I even found a replacement!"

"And that uptight boss of mine just said yes?"

"Yeah. I turned on the charm a few times, and they nodded right away."

The person who had actually turned on the charm was Grandma, and it was Grandma's subordinates talking the boss into a nod after a few words — which was also true. So I hadn't lied.

"Anyway! Get ready! We don't have time to stand around. We're definitely taking pictures today, and you'll get to know the other actors! Come on~ come on!"

I shoved Yuwol toward the bathroom by the small of her back. The thought that all our morning racket might have woken Jina made me glance toward the door — and then I remembered.

"Ah... Jina unnie already left for school."

She was twenty, but she was still a high school senior, and she'd started attending from the day of the opening ceremony.

"I want to go to school too."

Would I even make the overnight retreat next month? I'd driven the nail in and sworn I was going no matter what.

"If filming doesn't get delayed the way it did yesterday, it should be doable."

Or I could ask them to pull my scenes forward. When shooting started I was still a rookie, and stepping on a director's toes had been out of the question. Things were different now. I had brought in the sponsorships myself, and we were filming in comfort because of it. A little rudeness would be fine.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Yuwol stepped out, patting her face dry with a towel.

"Jiwoo. Didn't you say it was at two? It's not even ten. Do we really need to get ready this early..."

"We do."

I cut her off. We had a scant three hours, and once you subtracted travel time, that was all that was left.

"We're already ridiculously late. Let's go!"

I grabbed her hand and started dragging her.

"W-wait! My clothes! Let me put on clothes! I'm in my pajamas!"

Ah. Now that she mentioned it, she was in her sleepwear. If it had been winter, she could have thrown a puffer over it and walked out, but this was blazing summer. Put on a puffer in this heat and you'd drop from the humidity.

"I'll change real quick."

"Mm... no. Change in the car. Just come."

As I'd already said: we were out of time. In the end, Yuwol climbed into the van waiting on the first floor in her pajamas and had no choice but to change inside it.

From there we went to the salon, got our hair done, put on the sponsored outfits, and headed to the two o'clock dinner.

"We're late."

"Tell me about it. I didn't think it would take this long."

Yuwol almost never went to salons. The one time she had was so the three of us — Tsuki, her, and me — could go to an amusement park. That had been it. Ordinary people didn't exactly frequent places like that, and this was a salon celebrities used. Of course it had taken forever.

"It's fine, though. I'm the lead of this movie. If the lead shows up first, the director gives you a look for getting there too early. Right?"

"True. This is my first time managing an actor, so I asked someone I know. We almost made a huge mistake."

Reputation mattered in the industry. So did the unwritten rules. Being a rookie didn't mean you always arrived early and waited on your seniors hand and foot.

"So most of the stuff in dramas was actually true."

"It was. I was surprised too."

Yuwol nodded, equal parts fascinated and convinced.

"Shall we go in? It's already past two-thirty."

"Yeah."

The van door rattled as Yuwol pushed it open and stepped out first. I followed.

The pork barbecue house sat a little way outside Seoul — a place Grandma apparently took her executives for dinners often enough. The food, at least, was guaranteed.

The door rattled again as we opened it. People were already eating; the inside was thick with hazy smoke.

"Oh? Jiwoo, you finally made it! Running late today!"

"It's the protagonist's entrance, isn't it."

"Well, something like that."

I tossed a light greeting to the staff who'd come to welcome me and asked after Director Shin Yeomyeong.

"Same as always. Leads and the director upstairs. We're downstairs, aren't we?"

When a place was split by floors like this, the leads and the crew dined separately. The only crew member who got to go upstairs was the director. You'd think people would complain, but surprisingly, not a single person was airing grievances. The work was hard, but they were doing it because they loved it, and it gave them a goal — make it upstairs someday.

This team's atmosphere really is the best.

That lively energy was exactly why I — why all of us actors — could show up and shoot in good spirits.

Yuwol and I headed for the second floor.

"Am I even allowed up here?"

"It's fine. I'm right here."

Leaving behind the Yuwol who had been worrying since morning, I went up — and found the second floor no different from the first. Hazy smoke, wall to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wall.

"Jiwoo, you're here. Perfect timing. We were just talking about you."

Director Shin Yeomyeong waved me over the moment he saw me. I greeted the actors and the cinematographers on my way to his table. Besides the director, Kim Haseong and the rest of the actors who could reasonably be called leads were already seated there.

"Hello, Director. You were talking about me? What about?"

"Ah, we were wondering where you even found a barbecue place this good. I've been dragged through plenty of meat restaurants running errands for that damn bastard, and I've never had anything this tasty. How about you, Haseong?"

"Yes. It's good."

"Your face says otherwise."

Kim Haseong's expression was locked stiff. For a second I wondered if it actually tasted bad.

"It really is delicious. I think my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠face just froze from the surprise."

"So Haseong's got this side to him too. You're usually so stone-faced I can never tell what you're thinking."

"I'm a person. I have emotions, and my expression changes. I just choose not to."

"How many people can even do that... Come on, don't just stand there — sit. You too, Yuwol. I'm not... well, I'm not paying, it's a company card, but eat as much as you want!"

"Yes!!"

"Thank you. And Jiwoo, you eat just a little. If you pig out here, your stomach will stick out when we shoot."

I flinched. There was an edge in Yuwol's voice, and my shoulders twitched before I could stop them.

"Th-that's a joke, right?"

"Does it sound like a joke? It's not. Eat a little."

"Yeees...."

The excitement that had been bubbling in me a minute ago died on the spot. Still. The meat was good. Maybe because it was the Dohan Group chairwoman's pick — it was the best I'd ever had.

We talked and sampled our way through the grill for a good while.

"Are you kidding me?!"

A racket exploded from downstairs. We all went quiet at once, tilting our heads with matching looks of what now?

"I'll go check."

"No. It's dangerous. I'll go."

I started to stand, but Director Shin Yeomyeong blocked me and got up himself.

I've got a bad feeling about this.

Charitably, Shin Yeomyeong was an anchovy. Uncharitably, he was a dried-out anchovy. Once the cameras rolled, his eyes changed and he radiated a genuinely frightening presence. Off-camera, he looked like he might lose a fight to the neighborhood middle schoolers.

I can't just sit here.

I got up and went downstairs — and walked into an astonishing sight.

"Th-that crazy bastard!"

A hulking slab of a man had Director Shin Yeomyeong by the collar.

I launched myself and threw out a kick.