CHAPTER 009: Confidential
CHAPTER 009: Confidential
On the way to the address Seo Yoonha gave me, I checked my stats.
To pass the audition, I’d have to show acting good enough to satisfy them. They probably wouldn’t make me do running acting, either.
‘First, let’s raise my acting stat.’
Luckily, I had three stat points.
Teacher Jo Sangdeuk’s acting was B+, and Seo Yoonha’s acting was A.
My acting right now was C-rank.
If I put all three points into acting and raise it to B, wouldn’t that at least make me decent enough for a supporting role?
Thinking that, I tried to adjust my acting—only for an unexpected screen to appear.
[Acting Detailed Stats]
Emotional Expression: C
Line Delivery: B+
Physical Acting: C-
Damn it.
So it splits into subcategories.
Is it because it’s a stat directly tied to my profession?
Among them, the one that stood out was the B+ in line delivery.
‘Because of my past-life experience?’
I’d had to give presentations constantly at an ad agency, so I’d kept up pronunciation correction and vocal training. If you wanted to persuade clients with an idea, speech ability mattered a lot.
‘It took a long way around, but it wasn’t all wasted.’
So line delivery was fine.
If I had to choose between emotional expression and physical acting—
‘If it’s an audition and not a shoot… they probably won’t scrutinize blocking and movement that hard.’
Then I’d go all-in on emotional expression.
[Emotional Expression: C → B]
[Remaining Stat Points: 0]
Ding-dong—
I arrived at the writing studio.
“The role you’ll be taking is Kang Seoho.”
I read through the script.
Early Kang Seoho was a straightforward, good, kind character.
But the moment I read the part where everything changed later—
My emotions surged violently.
“…!”
Seoho’s story of suffering burns shocked me for a moment, but—
‘Focus. I’m here to audition.’
Writer Park Eunju gave the first acting instruction.
Seoho before the burns—good and diligent.
I thought I’d put effort into emotional expression, but Park Eunju’s reaction was lukewarm.
‘Even B-level isn’t enough for her, huh.’
Yeah. This won’t be easy.
But the later part—Seoho after the burns—
That… I was confident about.
I just had to pull up my own past emotions.
For the past ten years, I’d worked in advertising and packaged myself as a confident creative director.
But inside, I’d been suppressing deep frustration and anger—deep self-consciousness, fear of the world’s gaze.
Now I would take out the fragile inner self I’d hidden inside that tough shell and face it.
‘Let’s do it.’
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then slowly opened them.
In that instant, the air changed.
“…His eyes completely changed.”
I heard a low voice.
It wasn’t the gaze of a confident young man anymore—it became the eyes of someone raging at life and wandering.
My shoulders hunched slightly, and my face turned cold and mad.
A face that had been kind just moments ago twisted into something warped and distorted with negativity.
Sssh—
I slowly raised my hand.
The brief stiffness when my hand brushed my face without thinking.
The faint tremor as my fingers traced along my skin.
The complex emotions of touching the place where I imagined the scar would be.
Those were emotions I’d felt every morning in front of the mirror.
Moments where I mourned the fate of never being able to become an actor.
Anger I’d buried deep inside.
The feelings I’d suppressed just to keep from going insane—
I didn’t hold them down anymore. I finally pulled them out and faced them.
“You said it was the will of the gods. Then the gods should feel what it’s like to burn, too.”
“…This is it. This is ittt!!!”
Park Eunju’s mind spun at full speed.
‘He’s the best among everyone I’ve auditioned. No—forget auditions. I’ve worked with countless top actors, but have I ever been this shocked? That performance he showed in the back half—if you gathered the best actors in the country and compared, it’s easily top-tier…!’
She barely swallowed the praise that was about to burst out.
Because Seo Yoonha was right there.
An actress with strong pride and self-esteem about acting—if she heard something like that, she’d make a pretty uncomfortable face.
Park Eunju glanced at Seo Yoonha.
Seo Yoonha had been staring at Ryu Sunho’s right cheek.
‘There’s nothing there.’
Of course there wasn’t. There couldn’t be any burn scars.
But during that performance, it genuinely looked like there was a scar there.
No special makeup.
‘He made me mistake it for a second…?’
Without realizing it, she bit her nails.
“That’s bizarre…”
The muttered words carried a faint wave of competitiveness and strange jealousy.
Director Chae Wongi nodded like he agreed.
‘Right. It really is bizarre. That he manages to surprise you every time.’
When Sunho had suddenly insisted on a one-take at the commercial set, Chae had thought it was just a rookie’s reckless passion.
‘But now I see it’s not.’
It was a proposal meant to produce the best possible result.
He had that kind of confidence in his acting—enough to make that suggestion in front of professionals.
And then he proved it with skill.
‘Good… but solid.’
There’s a negative stereotype that good people are soft and spineless.
But this kid was different.
In his own field, he calculated sharply and had the firmness to produce the best outcome.
Maybe he could act like that because he trusted the effort he’d built over a long time.
‘Young, but not someone you can take lightly.’
The three of them finished their private impressions, then their mouths moved at the same time.
“Seoho himself…”
“How are his facial muscles even doing that…”
“A master…”
They exchanged looks.
They all clearly wanted to speak first, but since today’s purpose was Park Eunju’s decision, the other two yielded.
“You expressed it even better than I imagined—no, far better. Only now does Seoho feel like he’s alive and breathing.”
Ryu Sunho smiled modestly.
After pulling up such dense emotion, he returned almost instantly to his usual pure expression.
That kind of emotional control was possible thanks to his S-rank mental, but the three of them couldn’t imagine that—they just marveled again, thinking he recovered fast.
Director Chae asked, “Was being an actor always your dream? The Brave Citizen Award only made you a topic recently, but you jumped straight into a commercial too—it seems like you were prepared.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Wow! Then you really are something. If you’d gotten a burn scar on your face, it would’ve been a disaster, but you still rushed in to save the driver—so you were ready to risk it.”
Park Eunju clapped, impressed.
Sunho wore a strange expression again and slowly nodded.
“How long did you study acting with Teacher Jo Sangdeuk? About five years?”
That question showed how highly Seo Yoonha rated him.
That level of acting wasn’t easy even after ten years of practice—so she lowered it to five, acknowledging his talent.
But Sunho’s answer threw her into shock all over again.
“About one year now.”
“…One year?”
She shook her head like it was impossible—then suddenly went, “Ah!” and asked again.
“Then who did you study with before that?”
“Only Teacher Jo Sangdeuk. I came up to Seoul a year ago, and he was the first teacher I found.”
“…!”
It shattered her on the spot.
‘One year… in just one year he can act at this level…?’
Leaving the mentally collapsing Seo Yoonha behind, Park Eunju held out her hand.
“Congratulations, Sunho. I’m casting you as Kang Seoho. I’ll call the production manager right now and have them bring the contract—”
At that moment, Sunho’s lips curved into a smile.
Seeing Park Eunju’s reaction, he became certain the initiative had shifted to him.
Her entire body had tilted toward him.
Not just her head—her torso and even the direction of her legs.
‘That’s a sign of high interest and immersion.’
Also, Park Eunju was lightly pressing her lower lip while keeping eye contact.
That was a common sign of anxious focus—especially right before an important decision.
‘And on top of that.’
If Seo Yoonha had gone so far as to recommend an audition to someone she’d just met, that meant they’d already gone through countless auditions and still hadn’t found anyone they liked.
‘Then…’
There was no need to undersell my price.
A brand’s first price isn’t just a number—it’s a signal of “how you’re allowed to treat this.”
People are the same.
I needed to show the right amount of confidence, while also planting the image that I was special.
It was time to use the experience I’d earned fighting to raise my value in the advertising world.
Ryu Sunho kept a modest smile, but spoke in a firm, unwavering voice.
“Thank you, Writer. But could we talk briefly about the contract terms?”
Park Eunju stormed into StudioPlus’s office and spoke with the production manager in a meeting room.
The point was simple.
“I cast the actor for Seoho.”
“Huh? Really? Who? Park Kyungjun? Lee Sihun?”
The production manager’s face brightened.
He’d been suffering under Park Eunju’s pickiness, so the news that casting was done clearly relieved him.
“No. A rookie named Ryu Sunho. You know—the handsome guy who recently got the Brave Citizen Award.”
“Oh? He’s an actor? No wonder his visuals weren’t ordinary. But can he act that well?”
“He can. A lot. Extremely. So listen—his contract terms should be generous. I don’t think ordinary terms will satisfy him.”
“Huh? What? Did he say that? He asked for more money?”
“What are you saying? What do you take me for? I loved his acting so much I promised him good conditions. He’s a rookie I personally picked—he needs special treatment!”
The production manager’s face flickered with confusion.
He stared at Park Eunju, who shrugged like she couldn’t understand what was so strange.
“And I like rookies who believe in their own skill. Rookies who grovel and say they’ll be grateful just to get the chance look like they have no confidence—less charm. If he were mediocre, I wouldn’t have picked him. I’m saying this because he has clear merit!”
At Park Eunju’s sudden rant, the production manager panicked again.
He’d worked with her for five years now, but her emotional whiplash was still hard to get used to.
“Anyway! Don’t think about saving money—write generous contract terms and finalize the casting. That’s how we can start production!”
Meanwhile, Director Park Seongyeol of Big Blue Entertainment called the head of StudioPlus’s casting director team.
It was to secure Kang Seoho—the only remaining unconfirmed role in Possessed Investigation.
He’d proposed rookies and young actors his company had carefully raised, but all of them had been rejected.
‘Writer Park Eunju being picky about casting—I knew that already.’
But this time it was extreme.
The acting ability she demanded was way too high for the age range she wanted.
In the end, he assumed Park Eunju would compromise.
No matter how hard she searched, there wouldn’t be a young actor who could act like that.
And sure enough, for two months the news stayed the same—casting still in progress, no confirmation.
Which meant his prediction was probably right.
‘That’s why I prepared.’
Big Blue Entertainment’s strong acting talent, Seo Juhak.
He was 31—slightly older than Park Eunju wanted—but he had a baby face. With styling, he could pass for twenty.
He’d debuted in drama the moment he became an adult, so his career and acting were more than enough.
But the answer he got from casting was deflating.
-Kang Seoho has been cast already.
“…What? It’s cast? Who?”
No way.
Someone who met Park Eunju’s standards existed?
‘Don’t tell me… Lee Sihun?’
He’d heard Lee Sihun—who recently appeared in the ten-million-viewer film Our Spring—wanted the Kang Seoho role too.
Also older, also baby-faced, also highly skilled.
But the response shattered his expectation.
-It’s confidential, so I can’t tell you exactly who. But it isn’t Lee Sihun. Writer Park Eunju cut him for age without even auditioning him.
Then who the hell…?
A talent in their early twenties who could deliver that kind of acting?
Who?
A theater actor?
A former child actor?
As his thoughts spiraled, Park Seongyeol muttered softly.
“Who the hell is it…?”
The next day.
A conference room on the 15th floor of Mate’s headquarters in Jongno.
A giant screen covered one wall, and tension hung in the air.
Mate Beverage executives sat around the table, while the advertising agency people took seats on one side.
Client screenings were always tense.
It was where you showed the finished commercial and received final approval.
That meant the client watched with hawk eyes and sharp feedback flew back and forth.
But the advertising company’s CD with the thick beard had a fierce gaze today.
For once, he wasn’t nervous at all.
With a confident face, he opened his laptop.
“Alright. We’ll now show you the edited version of Mate’s new commercial.”
Tap—
He hit play.
The conference room lights dimmed, and the video appeared on the screen.
Then Ryu Sunho appeared in the footage.
After about a minute—
Mate Beverage’s executive director leaned forward and asked,
“…What’s the contract situation with that model? Can we do an exclusive contract?”