Cast in the Summer Special Play

Well, "stuck on" wasn't quite the right word, either...

A handprint?

It looked like the kind of print someone would leave by coating their palm in black ash and pressing it against a person's back.

If it had been Maeng Woo-shin who'd left that mark on her back, Rembrary would have been happy to pretend he hadn't seen it. But Lim Yu-han had bought him coffee on several occasions, she smelled of the same incense as Shi-eun, and she had never once snapped at him.

Having finished his calculations, Rembrary cheerfully chased after Lim Yu-han to inform her.

"Senior. Did you wear that without washing it?"

Lim Yu-han, who had been hunting for somewhere to toss her disposable coffee cup, answered vaguely. "I really couldn't say. I've barely ever done laundry myself."

"There's something on your back."

Lim Yu-han reached behind herself and made a vague swatting motion, then happened to catch sight of her own manager, who had come looking for her. "Unnie, is there something on my back?"

"Something on your back? Oh no, that's terrible—I'm supposed to wear this costume on set right away!"

Lim Yu-han's manager went wide-eyed, spun her around, and then shook her head. "Huh? No?"

Then she smacked Lim Yu-han square on the back a few times and said again, "There's nothing on it."

Rembrary furrowed his brow. Thanks to the manager's vigorous swatting, he now understood the situation perfectly.

That black handprint on her back—it hadn't been placed there. No, technically "placed" was still an accurate word for it. It just hadn't been placed by a person.

He couldn't say what it was, but it did not give off a pleasant feeling at all.

Instinct was a real thing. And that handprint set off every alarm he had.

Rembrary resolved to brush it off with his Divine Power and asked Lim Yu-han, "Senior. Would you permit me to tap your back, just once?"

"My back?"

Lim Yu-han chuckled—"Yeon-woo, you really are a strange one."—but gave her permission all the same.

Rembrary hurriedly gathered Divine Power into his hand.

"How hard are you planning to hit me that you need to take a ready stance first?"

But before Rembrary could brush the black handprint from her back, Jong-woo—who had gone off to fetch him the warm water he'd asked for—came bounding over and yanked him away with a scolding.

It was frustrating, but after that the director called Lim Yu-han away, their shooting schedules no longer overlapped, and then the two of them were rushed into separate cars due to scheduling conflicts. In the end, Rembrary never got his chance to brush that black handprint off of her.

What on earth was it?

There was simply too much on Rembrary's schedule right now to dwell on what that mark on Lim Yu-han's back had been.

Case in point: the very next day.

Music Music had announced that for its summer special, it would gather up the trendiest, most talked-about idols and stage a short play based on a fairy tale—and Rembrary had received a request to appear in it.

Music Music was the music show that had barred Wild Animal from all appearances after Rembrary's little incident of walking off the stage mid-performance. Which meant this summer special play invitation was, for all intents and purposes, an olive branch—a promise not to block Wild Animal from music show appearances anymore.

Jong-woo accepted without a second's hesitation, and Rembrary's schedule swelled even further against his will. To make matters worse, the special's broadcast date was right around the corner, so he was summoned to the broadcasting station that very evening.

Both Rembrary and Jong-woo were caught off guard, but according to another manager they met there later, this was all part of the concept.

"A bit of luck-of-the-draw? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠That's what you're watching alongside the performance. If the timing doesn't work out, the appearance falls through. They'll even air the casting scene on the broadcast. The play itself isn't anything serious—more of a half-joke, sitcom-style thing, you know?"

"Two Christmases ago, during the holiday special, every popular idol jetted off to overseas tours and year-end galas, so booking anyone was a nightmare. They ended up slotting in one comparatively less famous idol—and the guy absolutely exploded in popularity overnight."

When he and Rembrary were alone again later, Jong-woo muttered this last part in a daze.

"Ah... now that you mention it, I think I heard about that idol."

"And you call yourself an idol manager without even knowing the idol special's concept?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Wild Animal wouldn't have made the list of understudies even as a punchline. This is my first time dealing with any of it. Still, I looked up last year's special and the one from two years ago."

"And how were they?"

"Just like those managers said—half of it's done for laughs. It's nothing like Dear God, so you can relax."

"Am I permitted to do it well, then?"

"Do it well if you want. It'd be good for you—people might start believing you're not actually incapable of acting after that Dear God fiasco."

Rembrary nodded, then lifted his chin with confidence.

His acting confidence had grown by leaps and bounds while filming Dear God; something at this level seemed easy enough.

The handprint on Lim Yu-han's back had long since vanished from his mind.

It did grate on him that Oh Jung-shin was among the other idols cast, but since the second day of the temple stay the man had, irritatingly enough, behaved himself relatively well. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠So, fine.

"Ah, is everyone here?"

As they waited, the door opened and a person entered the room with a sheaf of A4 paper clamped under one arm.

It was someone Rembrary had never seen before, but several of the managers and idols evidently recognized the face, immediately bowing at a crisp ninety degrees.

From the chatter around him, Rembrary gathered it was Director Oh Ki-yong.

"One, two, three, four, five... that's everyone."

Having counted the heads one by one on his fingers, Director Oh Ki-yong greeted everyone warmly—"Looking forward to working with you all. Let's do a great job this time, too."—then added with a sly grin, "Like I said before, nobody watch the live broadcast. Your fingers and toes will curl right off."

With that, he began distributing the A4 sheets he'd carried in under his arm to the assembled idols.

It was about a dozen pages, hastily stapled together. Rembrary gave them a quick flip-through and gathered that this was the entirety of the play's content.

The strange thing was that the script contained almost no lines of dialogue.

Why are there so few lines?

The format was completely different from a Dear God script. Puzzled, Rembrary showed it to Jong-woo.

Jong-woo looked just as startled. The good news was that this time, every other idol and manager in the room wore the same expression.

"We're doing a story everyone knows. Snow White. You all know it, right?"

Which country's princess was Snow White, again? Rembrary arched an eyebrow—but astonishingly, chorus after chorus of "Yes, yes, of course!" erupted from all around him.

"I've written out only some of the lines on purpose. This time, I want each of you to show off your own individual charm."

Jong-woo, what in the world is he saying? Rembrary whispered under his breath, and Jong-woo signaled him to keep quiet for now.

Meanwhile, Director Oh Ki-yong pressed on.

"Every spot where a line should go has an explanation written in. Read the explanation and write the line yourselves. If it were you, in this situation, what would you say—how would you deliver it? Something like that. If your concept is a regional dialect, write it in dialect. If you're the quiet, steely type, cut your words to the bone. If you're the bubbly type, write something bright and lively."

Jong-woo, who had just been telling him to hush, let out a small strangled scream of "No!"

"Write your lines right here, right now. Hand them in, and I'll polish them just a teensy bit to smooth them out and fax them to your agencies' offices. Memorize them over the week, we shoot, and the episode airs that very week."

While everyone sat there bewildered, Director Oh Ki-yong flashed his sly grin and asked the managers to step outside.

Apparently it was to keep them from hovering at the idols' elbows, steering them away from "individuality" toward whatever would earn the least public backlash.

Jong-woo squirmed and dawdled, clearly reluctant to leave, but there was no way for him to stay behind alone. Instead, just before stepping out, he went up to Director Oh Ki-yong and explained.

"Sir, our Yeon-woo has never read Snow White, so he probably doesn't know it. Could you walk him through the story?"

"He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠doesn't know Snow White?"

Director Oh Ki-yong made a flabbergasted face, but soon smiled and answered, "No problem. The plot's all laid out in the script."

Though inwardly, he didn't believe a word of it.

It wasn't as if the kid came from some other world—how could anyone not know Snow White?

He figured Jong-woo was being clever, angling to hear the director's own interpretation of the story so he could coach his idol accordingly. It was a thought that ran far ahead of the truth.

And so Rembrary was left to piece the plot together through Snow White, adapted as it was for idol fan service.

Rembrary studied the script with great care.

Hmm...

Here is what the script's plot contained:

But as the princess's limbs grew long, the birth pangs of a new dance powerhouse began.

The princess, it turned out, had been blessed with a innate talent for dance.

And then, inevitably, the fateful day arrived.

Catching the new queen dancing before her mirror, the princess found herself unable to contain the smoldering fire within—she snuck into the queen's chambers and busted out breakdance moves.

That evening, the mirror betrayed the new queen.

Shaken to her core, the new queen ordered a woodcutter to kill the princess.

If the princess died, she believed, she would remain the undisputed master of the dance.

But when the woodcutter led the princess into the forest to slay her, the princess began to sing—and so moved was he that he let her go.

For the princess could sing beautifully, too.

When the woodcutter returned and falsely reported the princess dead, the new queen declared the woodcutter far too handsome to let slip away and took him as her lover.

I beg your pardon?

In any case, the princess, having survived, was shocked to learn her stepmother had tried to kill her, and fled—stumbling upon a tiny little house.

The princess broke in, ate every bit of the food laid out on the table, claimed a bed for herself, and fell fast asleep.

But the house belonged to seven dwarves.

The seven dwarves were furious at the trespasser—until the princess repaired their roof, which stood beyond the reach of even their tallest ladder, at which point they were so touched they agreed to let her join the household.

Thereafter the eight housemates lived happily, until trouble stirred once more.

The mirror had tattled to the new queen that the princess was still alive.

Furious, the new queen dumped the woodcutter and set out to deal with the princess once and for all.

She challenged the princess to a one-on-one dance battle before the dwarves, who served as judges.

But the dwarves were on the princess's side, and their judging was shamelessly, catastrophically biased.

Enraged, the new queen shouted for the princess to eat dirt and stomped back to the palace.

Yet the injustice of it all kept her tossing and turning, sleepless—so she grabbed a poisoned apple and went to find the princess, proposing a deathmatch.

The princess fought valiantly—but this time the new queen had brought her entire entourage, and seven dwarves were badly outnumbered.

In the end, the princess lost the wager, ate the poisoned apple, and collapsed.

Overjoyed, the new queen returned to her palace, while the dwarves wept as they laid the princess in a glass case.

A prince, happening to pass by, saw the scene and approached the dwarves to ask how long the princess had been dead.

Four days dead, they said—and yet her body remained uncorrupted. Anyone could see she must be alive, the prince declared, and he proceeded to treat her.

For it turned out the prince was a physician of considerable skill.

Awakened, the princess beheld the prince and fell in love at first sight, singing him a song of love; and hearing her song, the prince fell in love in turn and proposed on the spot.

Already?

Absurdly, that was the end.

Rembrary clicked his tongue. To him—a man who had actually lived in a real class-based society—the fairy tales of this other world looked more than a little strange.

So the people of this world truly do love their song and dance.

They said a dead person woke at a kiss, and that a single song could bring peace to the world.

It suddenly made sense why the people of this world clung to such superstitions.

They'd been brainwashed with fairy tales like this since childhood, that was why.

But even as Rembrary floundered, time kept ticking relentlessly away.

He let out a sigh and examined the roles listed on the last page. One way or another, if he'd been ordered to do this, he would do it.

So which role is mine?

— End of Chapter 77: Cast in the Summer Special Play —