For the Muse (1)
Hold on. I'll pull up with the van in a sec.
"Hyung, we could just take a taxi."
-No way. This is what managers do. It's what they pay me for. Compared to idol schedules, there's barely anything to handle, so I gotta do stuff like this just to save face.
"Alright, I'll wait."
He'd messaged his manager thinking he should at least know the actor's schedule, and Ha Tae-soo showed up with the van right away.
"I'll park nearby and wait in the van, so text me when you're done."
"Hyung, don't bother—just head home first."
"Hey, hey. Do you know how much you're worth now? If I let you drink and take a taxi alone and something happens, how am I supposed to eat? I came here to be your personal road manager for you."
Ha Tae-soo emphasized it like there was no way in hell he'd let that slide.
"This is for my own livelihood, so don't feel bad about it at all. You might not know since you're still a rookie, but managers are supposed to handle all this cleanup—day and night."
"Kang Byung-cheol hyung really recommended a great manager. I should treat him to something nice."
"If you're doing that, just treat me. I'm the one working, not him."
"Then I'll treat both of you."
He parked the van at the Cheongdam-dong bar they'd become regulars at, and Ha Tae-soo vanished with a "Have a good time."
Did this place even care about turning a profit?
Jeong Seo-hoon spotted Kim Sang-hee sipping her drink at the high bar stool as he entered the main room.
She held a glass in her left hand and her phone in her right, giggling nonstop at whatever she was seeing.
"Actor Jeong Seo-hoon, welcome."
The bartender and nominal owner, Kim Min-seok, greeted him warmly, and Kim Sang-hee turned with a chuckle.
"You're here? Sit down."
"The usual?"
"Yes, the usual."
"But isn't your 'usual' more than one or two things?"
"That's up to the bartender's sense, writer."
Kim Min-seok smoothly deflected and started preparing the drinks.
Kim Sang-hee asked,
"You don't do SNS, right?"
"No."
"That's fine. The mysterious vibe works. Stick with that concept. And don't make promises like viewer count guarantees."
"Noona said I should try it."
"I think you can do that later. Right now, the mystery suits you perfectly. Fans want to stan you and dig into you, but there's nothing to grab onto—they're just stomping their feet."
Kim Sang-hee showed him reactions from the fan cafe on her phone.
The posts and comments overflowed with fans dying to know more about him.
"If you say it's good, writer, I'll follow that. Nothing you've told me to do has gone wrong."
"Aigoo, so cute."
Kim Sang-hee's smile as she looked at Jeong Seo-hoon brimmed with sincerity.
It wasn't the gaze of a woman seeing a man romantically—it was more like a fan eyeing her ultimate fave. Or a sculptor admiring a fine hunk of marble.
"How's it feel? Exploding your first movie like this."
"Couldn't be better."
"Liar."
"That obvious?"
"I know you're super chill about it right now. Anyone would think it was some other movie blowing up, not yours. Come to think of it, you were the same during Illegal."
"How was I?"
"You weren't focused on the show's success—just your acting. How to make the role more natural, how to dive deeper into the character. Right?"
"I'll drink as punishment."
Jeong Seo-hoon chuckled softly and tossed back his drink.
Now he could even lighten the mood like this on purpose.
"Su-jang-go sequel—even rushing crank-in, it'll take at least two years. Script comes out, revisions, Hwang In-jun needs time to conceptualize. Investment goes without saying."
"That long?"
"This is already super fast. Minimum is usually three years. Su-jang-go 2 wasn't even planned originally."
Su-jang-go was meant to be a one-off.
But when Jeong Seo-hoon stepped in as a last-minute replacement for the scandal actor Yoon Hyeong-sik, Hwang In-jun got inspired to expand the story at the end.
"Two years..."
Jeong Seo-hoon muttered like a soft groan.
The gap was too damn long.
How long had it been since the movie wrapped? He was already itching to get back in front of the camera.
Kim Sang-hee gave a knowing smile, like she got it.
"I know. That feeling."
"Yeah, it's too long. I want to jump into the next film ASAP."
"That's a perk of being a writer. Pen, phone, laptop—anytime, anywhere, I can build my world."
"True."
"Secret, but I'm serializing a novel too."
"Really? Must be popular."
"Nah, low views. It's just for stress relief, hidden away. Super niche genre."
"Can you at least tell me the genre?"
Kim Sang-hee giggled, drained her glass, and fixed him with slightly loosened eyes.
"What do you think? Guess."
"You said it's maniacal, so maybe thriller?"
"Nope. Space opera. Space war stuff."
"...Wow."
Jeong Seo-hoon let out a genuine exclamation.
Total curveball.
"Your fans would freak if they knew."
"Won't happen. Keeping it secret. Maybe reveal it if I break into Hollywood?"
"Thinking that far?"
"Every screenwriter dreams of Hollywood at least once. You? Imagined yourself going there?"
"No."
Not humility—he'd never even considered it.
Acting wasn't about box office, fame, or money.
The main goal was capturing Rashid's world through the camera lens.
"Start mentally preparing. You're already on their radar."
"Eh. I want more domestic experience first."
"Just prep your mind. Who knows? If Su-jang-go sells big overseas, Hollywood might tap you for a supporting role in a mega-blockbuster eyeing the Korean market."
Not unrealistic.
Korea's box office was a key global indicator for Hollywood.
Hit here, hit worldwide—that was the formula.
They could cast him in a small supporting part to chase Korean buzz.
"Next project's script is done."
"...!"
His heart pounded wildly at those words.
Not even a kitten eyeing its favorite treat could beat this thrill.
"Just polished an existing one."
"Congrats. Song Jeong-woo PD must be thrilled."
"Doubt it."
"Huh?"
"Gonna have to part ways with him for a bit."
Jeong Seo-hoon stared in surprise, and Kim Sang-hee giggled like it was hilarious.
"Don't look at me like that. We didn't fight. We're good."
"But parting ways..."
"Just this once."
He recalled Song Jeong-woo bragging they'd do the next one together too.
"He doesn't know yet."
"Gotta tell him. I feel kinda bad."
"He'll be shocked."
"What can I do? I dropped hints, but he didn't get it. Thought I was joking?"
"Ah."
Now it clicked—Kim Sang-hee's cool, aloof reactions whenever Song Jeong-woo brought up the next project.
He'd figured it was just teasing between friends.
But hearing this, those were loaded hints.
'Why my next project? It's our next project.'
'Yeah, yeah. The Kim Sang-hee script.'
'Huh? Why dodge it? You blowing me off for another PD?'
'You might not snag the slot.'
And it wasn't just once.
She'd never planned to work with him from the start.
"He'll be devastated."
"Maybe not. He's not clueless. Could be he knew but hoped I'd change my mind and pitched it anyway."
"Why not with Song Jeong-woo PD?"
No fight, still on good terms—personal issues were out.
Programming slot?
"Remember what I said? 2.5 billion per episode."
"Yeah. Only for places that pay that."
Jeong Seo-hoon recalled instantly.
"But Song Jeong-woo PD could pull that budget, right?"
"He could. But the production company won't want him."
"Why?"
"This project doesn't suit him. He can't direct it. It's a genre he's never touched. Same for me, but..."
"A challenge for both of you."
"Gotta minimize risk. I trust my script, but not him fully. Broadcaster'll say the same—ditch Song PD."
Jeong Seo-hoon cooled his surging curiosity with cold liquor.
Bartender Kim Min-seok refilled their glasses with a quiet smile, like he knew.
Right now, Kim Sang-hee was dangling bait right in front of him.
He couldn't help a wry chuckle at the obvious ploy.
'Playing along this much is nothing...'
They'd already agreed he'd lead from the start—this tease was just her artistic flair.
The actor decided to indulge it.
"Song Jeong-woo PD will be bummed."
"Can't tank my work's quality for loyalty. He could hit a baseline, sure, but you know my personality."
"Always aiming for the top."
"Exactly. I want the best for my script. PD, actor—doesn't matter."
"..."
Not drunk, but her voice sounded impossibly sweet.
If this passion were love, it'd be an epic romance for the ages.
Of course, it wasn't—and she wasn't seducing him as a woman.
"Kim boss. Bring what I ordered."
"Right away, writer."
Kim Min-seok pulled out a new bottle like he'd been waiting.
Premium whiskey with an unfamiliar name—looked exorbitantly expensive at a glance.
"This the super pricey one you mentioned?"
"Guess the price."
"No clue."
Instead of answering, Kim Sang-hee grinned wide and poured into a fresh glass.
He went to pour for her, but she waved it off and self-poured.
He didn't ask why.
There was a reason.
"Share a shot each? Wonder how many we'll down."
"We'll see."
"Tastes great. Not harsh."
Clink—they downed them in one go.
Not harsh? Lie.
Fire bloomed pleasantly from the throat down.
But his ever-strengthening body had long lost the sense of intoxication.
He'd never been a heavy drinker, but now even gallons of poison wouldn't faze him.
The comet's remnants affected not just mind, but body.
One shot, two, three, four...
The liquor kept flowing, and soon words faded.
In Kim Sang-hee's eyes, Jeong Seo-hoon read the artist's burning greed.
His reflection in her clear retinas: a musician's priceless violin, a sculptor's dream marble.
"Hey, your value shot up, huh?"
Casual banmal now, naturally slipped in.
Both knew it'd revert when the night or buzz ended.
"Thanks to you, writer."
"Good boy, good boy. As your #1 fan, I'm so proud. You did great. One more shot, come on."
"Pour away."
Another round...
"Kim boss, how many have we had?"
"Fifteen each. This'll be the last."
"Hic! Sixteen? Ugh, not sure I can stretch it. Whatever, let's try."
Kim Sang-hee was slurring, hands unsteady.
Jeong Seo-hoon gripped his glass steady as ever.
Before clinking, she repeated her earlier question.
"Hey, know how much this booze costs?"
"Dunno. Million per shot?"
"That cheap?"
"More?"
"150 million a shot."
"..."
He knew liquor, but that was absurd.
Not literal—a symbol, a metaphor.
"150 mil a shot, sixteen shots—you just drank 2.4 billion."
"One left. Gotta finish for sixteen."
"Drink up. Cheers."
As he went to down it, she grabbed his elbow.
He paused, glass to lips, and met her eyes.
"Finish this, and you're in my drama?"
His breath quickened.
Even knowing the gift inside, unwrapping was electric.
"You wrap presents like this, writer."
"Kinda twisted hobby?"
"As an actor, I love it. Explains roles like Lee Jin-wook."
He drained the last shot. Kim Sang-hee, gazing endlessly at her favorite muse, grinned wide.
"150 million per episode. Noona's got you covered."
"Figures—booze from a rich, talented writer starts expensive from the price tag."