Bad News!
A few days later, on a stretch of road a short walk from school.
The moment classes let out, I didn't head back to the dorm. I waited by the roadside instead. A familiar black van rolled to a stop in front of me, and when the door slid open, familiar faces looked out.
"Jiwoo-chan!"
The instant Tsuki spotted me, she flung both arms wide and launched herself straight at my chest. After several days of the same routine, I slipped past her hands and dropped into the front passenger seat.
"Jiwoo, good work today. Studying must've worn you out, huh?"
Kang Ho-yeon sat beside Tsuki, greeting me with a warm smile. I'd felt it before, but Ho-yeon was less a manager than a mom — the kind who was warm, duty-bound to look after us, and piled the love on besides. I couldn't help a little laugh.
"No, not at all. The teachers are all kind, and the pace isn't too fast. I'm fine."
I shook my head, thinking lightly of school. The only people I'd talked to in class today were Kim Woojin and Choi Wooseok. Ah... no, wait. I'd also spoken briefly with the class president while collecting handouts.
Whoa... I talked to a lot of people today, huh?
One more than yesterday. If I added one more person each day, there'd come a time when I'd have spoken with everyone in the class. Not that I planned on becoming friends with every student. Friends I could actually share my heart with, sitting right beside me — five was plenty.
"Hungry? It'll take a while to get where we're going. Eat this on the way."
Ho-yeon pulled a lunchbox from a black plastic bag. The moment I saw the bento from the restaurant I'd found, a smile came on its own. Lately it was school by day, lessons in the evening, and script work into the small hours; I barely had time to sit down anywhere. Being able to eat like this at all was something to be grateful for.
Come to think of it, that place... didn't even do takeout.
I'd eaten there so enthusiastically that the owner had made an exception — takeout for Jiwoo only. I offered a silent bow of thanks in his direction and popped the lid. Today's lunch was smoked duck. After yesterday's sausage-and-vegetable stir-fry, the sight of another delicious meal had me practically drooling.
"Whoa... that looks so good."
"Tsk! Tsuki, you already ate. No more. You've got to watch your figure."
"So-sono..."
Tsuki wilted, slipping into Japanese, and Ho-yeon's brow furrowed slightly.
"I told you to use Korean as much as possible. Japanese isn't a problem, but you need to make Korean a habit."
"Yes..."
Watching her get scolded, it was obvious this wasn't the first or second time.
"That's the third time just since we got in the van."
Choi Gayeong, driving, offered the information in her usual deadpan. Unlike me, Tsuki had singing and dance lessons booked from the morning. A manager had to ride along on those schedules, so of course Ho-yeon had been glued to her side. I filed away the sight of Tsuki being just a little afraid of her, and demolished the delicious lunchbox.
"So where are we going today? All I heard was to wait here instead of going back to the dorm."
"Ah... I didn't tell you, did I. We're going to shoot profile photos today."
"Pro... file photos?"
I tilted my head. If it was just photos, couldn't they pick a good one out of the gallery? Ho-yeon read the thought on my face and opened the subject.
"Next month... not even two weeks left now. You got the notice about Ghost Singer's premiere date, right?"
"Ah... yes. I did. May 3rd. Friday-Saturday weekend drama."
"Kang PD asked us to put together profile photos timed to that, so people can find you easily. I was so buried in the VTuber side of things I completely forgot."
Ah. That made sense. If I was going to keep working as an actress, apparently I needed profile photos. In this particular case I'd been scouted by Kang Wonseong himself, so I hadn't needed them — but applying elsewhere, or sitting an interview, would take a headshot, a resume, the works.
"So basically like an ID photo."
"Well... something like that."
Figuring we'd be in and out quickly, I leaned back, pulled the script I'd stashed in the passenger-side pocket, and started reading.
"That script... is it okay?"
Worry colored Ho-yeon's voice as she watched me take it out. I knew exactly what she was worried about. The title in my hands, Magnificent Bride, belonged to Shin Yo-han — a director who had currently fallen into complete disgrace. If I hadn't had memories of my past life, I would have tossed the script immediately too. After all.
"It's fine."
In my previous life, this was the film I remembered kicking up a storm over whether it would become the first Korean R-rated movie to crack ten million admissions.
Thinking back, the director was a younger guy, wasn't he?
I couldn't remember the name. I only remembered that he was a man much younger than Director Shin Yo-han.
"Well... if you're okay with it..."
Just then, Ho-yeon's phone buzzed loudly.
"Honestly, Manager Unnie. Don't you know about silent mode in public?"
"...Tsuki. We'll talk later."
"Eep!"
Leaving Tsuki behind — she'd just booked herself a scolding with that unnecessary remark — Ho-yeon took the call.
"Yes. Yes, sir... What? For real? Ah—sorry. Understood."
Looking at Ho-yeon's face, she had the expression of someone who had just received good news and bad news at the same time. What did I mean by that? In a word, she looked cornered.
"Jiwoo."
"Yes."
"Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"
Normally I would have taken the bad news first.
"The good news."
"That script you're holding... good thing you didn't throw it out. They've swapped directors and they're going ahead with the shoot. The agencies that dumped the script are apparently begging to have it back."
"Wow..."
I was surprised. I'd known this would happen, which was why I'd kept the script. Any other agency would have tossed it the second they caught a whiff of something off.
From what I remember, this director... cared more about the work than his pride...
He didn't look like the type to hand a fresh copy to the agencies that had already thrown it away.
"Then what's the bad news?"
"Uh... well."
Ho-yeon rolled her eyes this way and that, unable to meet mine.
"I'm fine with anything, as long as it's not getting kicked out of the company or something."
"No! If Jiwoo-chan gets kicked out, I'm leaving too!"
"...Look, even if you cause a decent-sized disaster, I'll cut it off with my own hands. Don't say things like that."
The reaction came out stronger than I'd expected.
"Then as long as I don't have to miss school, I'm okay."
"..."
Ho-yeon's mouth clamped shut, and she started avoiding my eyes again. Don't tell me...?
"You're kidding, right?"
"You know that drama you shot last time?"
"The drama? Ghost Singer?"
"Yeah, that. Apparently they need more additional filming. So... you might have to miss school again?"
"Wow..."
That really was bad news. In more ways than one.
A one-room apartment with every light off. The only glow in the space came from a monitor.
"AAAAARGH!!"
Inside, a man clawed roughly at his hair. Director Shin Yeomyeong.
"I can't think of anyone! Who the hell is supposed to play the lead in this thing?!"
Getting Magnificent Bride — the film Shin Yo-han had been shooting — back into his own hands had been the good part. The problem was that the actors originally lined up had, one by one, paid their penalty fees and walked.
Han Mi-young dropping out is fine. The problem is... haah...
Magnificent Bride had been packed with Top-Tier Actors through Shin Yo-han's connections, with the goal of becoming the first R-rated film to break ten million on the strength of his brilliant editing. Of the actors still remaining, they were all mid-tier. Not a single top-tier name left.
"At least the veteran actors are still on board. That's something."
Magnificent Bride told the story of a killer who presented as a devout believer on the surface, while inwardly remaining so vile she committed murder without hesitation in the name of God's will. It looked like a split personality. It wasn't anything of the sort. No matter how hard he thought, there was no one in the country who could handle a role this difficult.
"Haah..."
A heavy sigh escaped Director Shin Yeomyeong. Then came a knock at the door. Who was that? He pushed himself up from the chair and stretched hard — and in that moment someone punched in the passcode and the door opened.
"Who..."
"It's me. Kang PD."
"Ah... PD Kang? Why are you here — no, how did you even know the passcode?"
"Well... that's not important. I heard the news."
Kang Wonseong PD sat down on the sofa, smelling like a man who hadn't been home in days.
"Ah... the smell. Maybe you should wash up?"
"Smell...? Ah. Yeah, I haven't been home in four days already."
"That busy? I heard you've been shooting a drama lately."
Anyone would know a giant of the drama world like Kang Wonseong. Shin Yeomyeong pretended not to, making conversation — the implication being that he was this busy, so please leave already.
"Haah... yeah, busy..."
"Shoot not going smoothly?"
"The opposite, actually."
Kang Wonseong shook his head.
"The opposite?"
"The shoot itself is going great. It's the editing that's stuck. I need to lock Episode 1 soon, but every single take is too good to throw away. So I came to ask for your help."
"M-my help... but as you know, I..."
Before Shin Yeomyeong could finish, Kang Wonseong stood up from the sofa and plugged a USB into the computer.
"Hey! You can't just—"
"Quiet and watch this."
Faced with Kang Wonseong's gangster-like expression, Shin Yeomyeong shut his mouth and stared at the monitor. A file labeled unfinished draft appeared. Kang Wonseong hooked it into the editing program and hit play.
Ten minutes passed.
"Whoa... this actor. Who is she?"
Shin Yeomyeong was the one who broke the silence.
"Well? She can act, right?"
Kang Wonseong's shoulders lifted.
"You gonna tell me?"
"Ha... didn't you come here to ask me for a favor?"
"That's that, and this is this. You think I'd just hand over an actor I discovered?"
"Aah! Fine. I'm already dying from this project, and now you're doing this too, PD Kang. This is actually hard."
Shin Yeomyeong clutched his head. His mind was already packed full of the current production. He'd come for help — was this really the time?
"Forget it. If you won't tell me, I'm not helping."
"You sure you're okay with that? I can solve your casting problem."
"...What do you mean... wait. You don't mean—"
Kang Wonseong smiled faintly. His finger pointed at the monitor.