Everyone's Too Perceptive for Their Own Good
“Sorry. It was a joke.”
“What the hell?”
Lee Hyun tried to backpedal, but Siren—who had seized the opening—had zero intention of letting him off the hook. And so, the next day, Siren marched straight into the special-effects studio herself.
Kim Min-seok, president and PD of Magical Studio, had been losing sleep lately. In a world where real mages existed, chasing romance with nothing but a magical girl had its limits. The flood of vicious comments from snot-nosed brats was especially brutal, ripping his heart to shreds.
“These little shits can’t even spell right…!”
Ever since Siren’s open-eye enlightenment let everyone and their mother use magic, the armchair-expert population had exploded. If that were the only problem, Min-seok might have endured it. But the real source of his gastritis was something else entirely.
“Give me a raise.”
“What? We settled that last quarter.”
“I’m out here selling my face and spitting out cringey lines. I thought about it long and hard, and it still feels short.”
“…Hey.”
“If you won’t raise it, I quit. Pay my severance.”
“….”
That was their very own magical girl, Ma Hye-jin. She had been pure and innocent when they first met at her interview. Yet after only two seasons she had fallen completely to the dark side—trading dreams and hope for money and benefits, swapping magic for strikes.
‘This bitch. She barely knows any real spells anyway.’
The trolls weren’t entirely wrong. Min-seok wanted to film jaw-dropping magic too. But what could he do when their magical girl was straight-up trash?
What, just hire a high-level mage? Easy to say, but why would a real top-tier mage agree to play magical girl on a kids’ show when corporate research gigs guaranteed them nine-figure salaries?
Given the gap between true mage skill and the tiny budget of a mid-tier studio, choosing the moderately talented but very pretty Ma Hye-jin had been inevitable. That inevitability, however, had summoned a disaster.
“Contact me by tomorrow.”
“…The filming schedule is already locked. We finished prep for tomorrow’s shoot.”
“And?”
“Let’s finish this quarter and I’ll definitely raise it next time.”
“No.”
“…Hey. If you refuse to film, that means canceling every single scheduled day. We already secured all the locations!”
“Not my problem. Why did you overbook the schedule in the first place?”
“…This is a clear contract violation. I’ll win any civil suit.”
“Then sue me. I’ll drag it out forever. Let’s see who bleeds more.”
“….”
With those final words, Ma Hye-jin walked out of the office.
“Ha.”
Min-seok wanted to fire her on the spot, but this was a serialized show. Replacing the lead was the absolute last and worst possible move. A sudden change would confuse the audience and tank the ratings. The numbers were already scraping the bottom of the 0.% range—did he really want to drop into the 0.0x zone? Investors were already jumping ship one by one. At this point he might as well leap off the cliff himself.
“There is… one allowed exception.”
Replacing her with an overwhelmingly popular star. In their narrow industry such a person seemed unlikely, yet one existed. Not an actor—a streamer. So Min-seok had secretly sent Siren an appearance offer via email. No reply, as expected… until now.
Knock knock—!
“…Come in.”
“P-President! We have a huge problem…!”
“What is it? Who’s here?”
“Y-yes.”
“Ugh. Is it Director Kim? Tell him I’m out. He’s obviously here to nag about the break-even point again.”
“No…!”
“Then is it CEO Han? Whoever it is, just say I’m not here. My head is killing me…”
“It’s Siren…!”
“Ah, forget it. Tell her I’m not here.”
The employee slapped the back of Min-seok’s head as he slumped onto his desk.
“Ow! What the—have you gone crazy too?!”
“You’re the one who’s crazy…!”
“W-what?”
“Siren is here! She says she wants to appear on our Bani Bani Run!”
One. Two. Three. Exactly three seconds later—
Crash—!
He shot upright. “Where is she?!”
“Th-this way!”
He met Siren in the guest reception room. She smiled brightly and greeted him.
“I’m Siren.”
“Huk.”
“I came in person because I’d like to appear in your special-effects show.”
“Huuuuk.”
“Would that be all right?”
“Huuuuuuuuaaaack.”
The employee pinched the now-brainless director’s side. Only then did Min-seok snap back to his senses and have a serious conversation with Siren. The discussion moved at lightning speed because their goals aligned perfectly. Min-seok desperately needed a new magical girl, and Siren… well, anyway.
“We do have a shoot scheduled for tomorrow.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Huk.”
“That was fast. I like it.”
“Then… could we do a script reading today?”
“Of course.”
“Huuuuk.”
What is she, an angel? Min-seok thought, watching her adjust to his schedule without complaint. Even though it was their first meeting, respect for her bloomed wildly inside him.
A man fidgeting like a dog holding in a poop was standing beside her, but he was completely hidden behind Siren’s radiant halo. Still… there was one problem.
“Siren, I’m truly sorry, but with our budget we won’t be able to offer an appearance fee that would satisfy you.”
He was honest. He had heard the rumors about her earnings. Even if only ten percent of the gossip was true, Magical Studio could never afford her. Siren had come saying she would do it anyway, but a business relationship built on one-sided gain did not exist—at least not in Min-seok’s philosophy. Therefore he intended to compensate her as much as possible, even if the payment wasn’t purely monetary.
“I saw your posting for an editor. Although we specialize in special-effects editing, I’m confident in general video editing as well.”
The most valuable thing Min-seok possessed was his own editing skill and his studio. In addition to a set appearance fee, he promised to provide personnel.
“Perfect!”
“Thank you.”
With the most important matter—the fee—settled, everything else flew by.
“Everyone, conference room—now!!!”
He gathered the entire staff.
“Ah, I need to make one quick phone call. One minute.”
Right before the script reading, he excused himself with a bright smile and stepped outside.
“Have you finally decided? Just so you know, I’m not here to comp—”
“Get lost, you fucking bitch. I don’t need you.”
“…Director. Have you lost your mind?”
“You’re the one who’s crazy. Like always, the one with zero skill is the one who acts the most arrogant.”
“…Do you really think you can film the series without me?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna film it just fine, you brain-dead idiot. You bug-like bitch. Money-obsessed crazy bitch. Go drop dead, you money-grubbing insect. And you’re not even that good. You’re not that pretty either.”
“Y-you—! I won’t let you get away with this!”
“Your mom.”
Click.
Min-seok’s complexion brightened as if a thousand-year-old lump of indigestion had finally cleared. He returned to the conference room with a refreshed smile.
“All right, let’s start the reading!”
The story required massive revisions after changing the lead, yet everything progressed smoothly. There were many new settings, lines, and details Siren had to memorize, but who was she? A legendary archmage.
“I’ve memorized it all.”
“Huuuuk.”
The new storyline was completed in no time. They had already finished filming up to the scene where the magical girl is captured by the villain. The original plan had been a classic tale of good triumphing over evil—the heroine escaping and defeating the villain. But Kim Min-seok made a bold decision: kill the previous magical girl and have a new, enraged magical girl appear to slaughter the villain in revenge.
The new magical girl was, of course, Siren. The show had drifted from moral justice to a revenge story. The staff worried whether this was acceptable, yet at the same time their hearts raced. The idea of completely shattering the narrow-minded belief of those bratty kids—“the protagonist never dies, it’s just kids’ stuff, the plot is so predictable”—felt insanely thrilling just to imagine.
Perhaps that was why the plot and script flowed so easily.
“A plain evil villain feels a little flat.”
“What if we give the villain a backstory?”
“…How about making him her long-lost lover who went missing?”
“You… exactly how far do you plan to break the viewers’ hearts? Our main audience is those kids!”
“Ugh, too much?”
“Put it in right now.”
“Good.”
“And after he realizes she’s his lover, they share a farewell kiss while she says, ‘I’m glad the last person I see is you…’ How’s that line?”
“Are you Shakespeare?”
The ideas kept pouring out—until Lee Hyun raised his hand.
“Isn’t the kiss scene a bit much?”
“Ah… I’m sorry. We got a little too excited.”
Although the script belonged to the writers, the performer in question was Siren, so they naturally watched her reaction. The writers apologized, and Kim Min-seok quickly added,
“We apologize for not considering Siren’s image. It might sound like an excuse, but for any skinship including kisses we use either a meticulously crafted doll or CG.”
“No, the kiss scene is fine.”
“Yes, then we’ll rem—huh?”
Siren cut off both Lee Hyun and Min-seok. She glanced at Lee Hyun and smiled. A chill crawled up the back of his neck. He tried to cover her mouth, but she was faster.
“Can I choose the stand-in for the kiss scene? Not the doll.”
“Ah, of course!”
“I’ll use that person over there.”
“…?”
Siren’s finger pointed straight at Lee Hyun. Min-seok knew a fair amount about Siren and about Lee Hyun. He knew the two had grown up like siblings after losing their parents. Yet she had just named him as the kiss-scene stand-in…
Min-seok’s greatest talent after editing was his ability to read the room. He instantly sensed the subtle current flowing between them. Precisely because he understood, he pretended not to. In fact, he went far beyond pretending—he clapped his hands and stood up.
Clap clap clap clap—!!
“An excellent choice. I was actually debating whether to cast Mr. Lee Hyun after seeing his outstanding physique and visuals.”
“Oh my. What a refined eye you have.”
“W-wait a second—”
“Everyone, applause!”
Clap clap clap clap—!!
The entire conference room rose in a standing ovation. At that exact moment, Association President Yu Gang-hyeok opened the door and stepped inside. No one knew how he had found out, but both hands were full of drinks—truly the model of a perfect manager.
In this place where Lee Hyun had no allies, the one person he could call his own had appeared. Without thinking, Lee Hyun moved toward him.
“President…!”
“Ah, Mr. Lee Hyun…?”
But when it came to reading the room, Yu Gang-hyeok was just as sharp. The moment he entered he saw Siren and immediately realized she was directing the atmosphere. From Lee Hyun’s teary expression, whatever was happening was bad for him and good for her. On top of that, Siren was watching him over Lee Hyun’s shoulder.
He would have to pick a side. Whichever he chose would be problematic. Supporting Siren would cost him Lee Hyun’s trust. Supporting Lee Hyun would earn him Siren’s cold glare for the foreseeable future. However, Yu Gang-hyeok—who had only just opened the door—had one more option.
“Oops, my apologies. You’re in the middle of a meeting.”
“Huh…?”
He reversed direction in the exact same posture he had entered with, closed the conference-room door, and left without looking back. His footsteps were slightly hurried—uncharacteristic for the president of the Association.