Focus on the Main Job (3)
Two actresses approached the trio as they chatted.
Jang Seung-won swallowed the last bite of food in his mouth and cracked a joke.
“Aren't these the two rare flowers of our Haegeuk? Why are you both so dressed up? I thought this was the year-end awards ceremony.”
Their smart casual outfits—artfully casual yet revealing their figures—radiated a powerful aura from the famously beautiful actresses.
An aura that made most men shrink back, too intimidated to even approach.
“You're both already tall, but with those killer heels? A hobbit like me is terrified of standing next to you and ending up in a humiliating photo.”
With that deadpan quip, Jang Seung-won slipped away.
“Now that the two queens have arrived, this humble servant will take his leave, Your Majesty.”
Kim Sang-hee left a giggle for Jeong Seo-hoon and departed as well.
“They're both making themselves scarce. I wanted to join whatever you two were talking about.”
Lee Seo-hyeon responded to Han Seo-hee's words with a calm expression.
“It's awkward drinking in front of you. Writer Kim Sang-hee is such a drinker, and PD Jang probably wants to indulge since it's a rare get-together.”
“Is that it? Sigh, being young really is a crime.”
“Still, only a few months left. Enjoy it while you can.”
“Yeah. Soon we'll have to carry our ID everywhere we go.”
A subtle tension flowed between them.
Jeong Seo-hoon momentarily pictured a concert stage.
From a singer's perspective, he wondered what colors and shapes their intertwined emotions would take.
“Did either of you hear anything specific from PD Jang?”
“I heard from the company that he's lining up another drama.”
“Word is out about his first project after going independent. Conditions are all settled—just needs the contract signed.”
Han Seo-hee glanced at her rival with competitive eyes, while Lee Seo-hyeon pretended not to notice and swallowed a sly smile.
Though they subtly checked each other without Jeong Seo-hoon knowing, his soldier's senses caught every bit.
“The writer mentioned trying something fresh. A romance comedy thriller action flick set on a college campus.”
“Rom-com thriller action? What kind of hybrid is that?”
Han Seo-hee reacted with mild disbelief, and Lee Seo-hyeon chimed in with a snort.
“You haven't read the script yet. It's actually fun once you do. I'm already looking forward to how PD Song directs it.”
“Oppa, you're the lead, right? Then I have to be in it too.”
“Your agency's atmosphere must be pretty soft. A rookie actress picking and choosing roles like that.”
“Right. Back in your day, you had to say yes to everything they told you, huh? If I'd debuted then, I'd have been bawling every day. Ugh, sounds brutal.”
They traded sharp barbs with edged voices, faces never losing their smiles.
To an outsider overhearing, it might sound like mutual concern and support.
“Seo-hyeon, you're playing the colleague professor, right?”
“Yeah. Ex-wife and colleague professor. What's this MSG? Oh, hilarious.”
They shared a light laugh.
In the actual drama, the couple wasn't divorced. It was just a joke riffing off their previous roles as a married pair.
“Professor? Oppa's character is a professor?”
“Yep. A super smart, incredibly talented genius scientist with a unique backstory.”
Lee Seo-hyeon explained with exaggerated flair.
Stung by how much she didn't know, Han Seo-hee bit her lip slightly.
“Seo-hee, you've probably gotten the offer for the grad student role under me. My disciple.”
“Oh, disciple. Even better. So we're secretly in love, then?”
“One thing's for sure: you and I are competing over 'Professor Jeong' in a love triangle. You know the rom-com setup, right?”
Lee Seo-hyeon said with arms crossed, and their gazes clashed in midair, sparks flying briefly.
Jeong Seo-hoon decided now was the time to share what he'd agreed with the PD and writer to deliver directly to the actresses.
“Yoo Jeong-ah and Chae Ji-hyeon have casting offers too. Consider them basically confirmed.”
“What? Jeong-ah and Ji-hyeon too...”
Not one, but two more rivals suddenly entering left the pair slightly stunned.
Lee Seo-hyeon, who'd been chewing her lip, whipped around to Han Seo-hee.
“How tall did you say you were again?”
“171. Why?”
“Shorter than me, but still in the 170 club.”
“Come to think of it, Unnie Yoo Jeong-ah and Unnie Chae Ji-hyeon are mid-to-late 160s, right?”
“Late my foot. To me, they're smack in the middle. Tiny things.”
Jeong Seo-hoon didn't point out that both exceeded the national average height for women.
“Our 170 squad can't lose to the 160 faction, right?”
“Exactly.”
“As the queen mother of the royal family, I'll enfeoff you as consort in Vienna. First, let's crush the 160 faction together, then figure out the rest.”
“But by that logic, I'm the queen consort too?”
“You got booted way before the rebellion, so you're just a nobleman's wife.”
“What kind of math is that? I played your 'child actress days.' We're the same queen consort, just age difference.”
“Did you just say 'child actress days'?”
Jeong Seo-hoon slipped away quietly without a sound. The two, deep in their banter and rivalry, didn't notice him leave.
* * *
Kim Sang-hee and Jang Seung-won watched the two actresses' subtle battle from afar, flanking a man between them, with pleased smiles.
“It's like a painting just watching from here.”
“No script needed—just toss them a situation, and these actresses will turn it into a fun turf war on their own.”
“It'd make a great variety show. Man, I wish I could film it.”
“Did you hear? The actresses eyeing Seo-hoon are no joke right now.”
“Seo-hoon's got that overflowing charm even top actresses can't resist. I admit it.”
“Sure, but the rumor that he only studied and did military service without ever dating? When Yoo Jeong-ah claimed his first kiss, you should've seen how many actresses wept.”
“Actor Jeong Seo-hoon's first love... Yeah, that's a tempting achievement.”
Kim Sang-hee giggled, downed her wine in one go, and popped a honey-glazed LA galbi rib into her mouth.
“Whoever grabs the achievement first is fine, or if it ripens long-term into something no one else achieves, that's fun too.”
“The latter might be too cruel to Seo-hoon, no?”
“Nah, it's not that he can't—it's his choice. Not cruel at all.”
Kim Sang-hee, in high spirits, refilled Jang Seung-won's empty glass.
“Whether one of those four snags it, or some third party swoops in—watching is pure entertainment.”
Jang Seung-won topped off her glass in return and voiced a quiet concern.
“Speaking of, he won't actually go singer later, right?”
Dramas and films take months to shoot.
But album recording? Pros can wrap in days.
Hit big, and streaming royalties roll in forever, plus massive concert side income.
The top three highest-earning individual entertainers in Korea aren't singers for nothing.
“No way. He loves acting too much.”
“Still worries me. Saw that producer drooling during his last recording session...”
“Then we make sure he gets paid big. How about 300 million per episode for Romantic Engineering?”
“That's a bit much...”
“It's Professor Lee Se-jong's money anyway. He'd probably say it's fine.”
* * *
Saturday, Seocho-gu, Seoul Arts Center.
Jeong Seo-hoon parked his emblem-hidden Volvo in the lot, donned a large mask, and stepped out.
Even so, passersby glanced his way.
By the time he entered the building, he counted exactly 561 gazes sweeping over him.
He tried not to tally them, but his ingrained battlefield senses scanned surroundings autonomously, like an autonomic nerve.
At least now, crowds of strangers no longer made him flinch.
Thanks to ranking up from private to major general?
He could afford such idle thoughts, projecting composure outward.
Occasional suspicious stares still made him tense.
Like now.
“...!”
Tensing as if facing a random attacker, Jeong Seo-hoon turned—and relaxed completely.
The triggering gaze came from high school girls in uniforms.
Tall, striking group—likely active arts high students, trainees, or aspiring idols.
“It's him, right?”
“Looks like it.”
“Should we say hi?”
“They might be here incognito. If we call him out, he might hate it. What if everyone suddenly rushes for autographs...?”
“Could ruin the performers' prep too.”
“Then sneak close and just wave secretly? Without anyone noticing.”
“Yeah.”
From quite a distance amid murmuring crowds, Jeong Seo-hoon pinpointed their whispers through the noise.
Pretending oblivious, he quickened his pace.
Urgent footsteps chased from his blind rear.
Walking briskly but calmly—not like prey—Jeong Seo-hoon rounded a corner and bolted up the stairs.
The late-turning group stamped in frustration at his sudden vanishing.
“What do we do? It was really Jeong Seo-hoon.”
“Should've snapped a pic. Could've bragged to the others.”
“He noticed us following. What if he thinks we're stalkers?”
“Nah, no way from just that...”
Jeong Seo-hoon harbored no ill will toward the fangirls. He just wanted to avoid a scene.
His goal: enjoy quietly and leave.
“Turn left and head straight to the third block for your seats... Oh? My goodness?”
The ticket-checker tilted her head, stared at his masked eyes, then beamed.
Recognizing him, Jeong Seo-hoon thought it impressive.
From eye shape alone? Killer eyesight. She'd make a top sniper.
What a peaceful world, such talent wasted on ushering.
He found and took his seat.
Felt a pondering gaze from beside, but ignored it, plugging in wireless earbuds and activating noise cancellation.
His don't-disturb vibe made the neighboring woman hesitate and close her mouth.
Soon, thousands filled seats up to the third balcony.
Jeong Seo-hoon's spot: front row.
Closest to the actors for their performance.
He'd gone through hell to snag this ticket.
Bang! Boom! Braprap!
Fireworks boomed, heralding the show's raucous start.
Actors leaped onstage, dancing, exchanging lines, singing—pouring out their preparations freely.
To Jeong Seo-hoon's eyes, the emotional hues from the musical actors' songs resonated hugely with the audience.
Closing his eyes, actors' gestures and movements overlaid as pure emotional clusters.
To others, he looked asleep in pricey front-row seats.
To him, it was savoring the musical's essence.
Eyes open: revel in multicolored emotions spreading over the staged mise-en-scène.
Eyes closed: feel actors' forms, perceive emotional resonance.
Alternating, the show soon ended.
Eyes still shut, he replayed the roughly 170-minute performance alone.
In the emptying silence, one cautious presence approached.
Likely staff urging him to leave.
“Seemed like you dozed the whole time. Was our show that boring?”
Familiar voice laced with apology and awkwardness—Jeong Seo-hoon snapped his eyes open.
Lead actor Bae Sang-hoon grinned sheepishly in costume.
“Felt like a fellow aspiring performer from the industry. Worried we seniors bored you too much.”