The Night Before the Broadcast
“That's right.”
Ran stopped chewing, spat out a chicken foot bone, and nodded again, her enunciation noticeably clearer now.
“That's exactly what I mean. Your acting was really good today, Oppa.”
“See? Miranda's the coldest one out there. When it comes to acting, she never says anything she doesn't mean.”
Lee Seul-gi pretended to sob, wailing that I couldn't even imagine how brutal Choi Ran's feedback used to be back when she was an aspiring actress herself.
“Sorry to repeat myself, but I was honestly shocked earlier. I'd heard from Ran plenty of times that you could act, and it still floored me.”
“Ran said that about me?”
“Of course. She's been talking about you nonstop lately—”
“Eat this.”
Choi Ran stuffed a chicken foot straight into Lee Seul-gi's mouth.
While Lee Seul-gi gagged and struggled to swallow, Choi Ran offered one to me as well.
“You too, Oppa.”
“Thanks. Sorry for tricking you today, even if it wasn't intentional. It wasn't my call.”
“That's just how broadcasts are. No need to apologize. I wasn't fooled anyway.”
Choi Ran said it flatly, like it was nothing.
Before I could respond, Lee Seul-gi, having finally polished off her chicken foot, burst out shouting.
“Hey, don't lie through your teeth! You fell for it hook, line, and sinker!”
“Did not.”
“Yeah, right. Go count pebbles in the Han River while you're at it. The cameras caught everything.”
“Not. Fooled.”
Choi Ran sealed Lee Seul-gi's mouth with a soju glass, then, apparently out of things to say herself, hurriedly downed her drink. I snorted at the sight.
“You two are really close. How'd you meet?”
“High school friends. The only person I can trust in this cutthroat entertainment industry.”
“That's not true.”
“Ah, come on.”
Lee Seul-gi clicked her tongue at Choi Ran.
“Are you allergic to wholesomeness or something? You just can't stand it, can you?”
“Why should I have to put up with it? What's so great about someone who lies to my face?”
“Aigoo, were you that hurt? Did you think I secretly got a boyfriend behind your back? Relax. When would I ever keep secrets from you?”
Lee Seul-gi grinned and pinched Choi Ran's cheek. There was a giddy edge to her voice—not sloshed, but definitely a few drinks in.
Time to wrap this up.
Choi Ran's chopsticks were slowing down at the chicken foot plate, too. Watching her cheeks flush noticeably redder than they'd been at the start of the night, I suggested we call it and get everyone home.
“Mm, okay. Can't get blackout drunk in front of someone I just met. Let's do a longer one next time, Oppa.”
“Sounds good.”
“Wow, but how are you completely fine? We each killed three bottles of soju.”
Lee Seul-gi shook her head in disbelief.
“I'll grant that Miranda's a lightweight, but I usually hold my own at the table. Still, I've never seen anyone this sober. Most people at least feel a buzz after this much.”
Tell me about it.
So Yoo Seul-ho's a heavy drinker too, huh.
Even back in my loan shark days, it took a ridiculous amount of booze to get me tipsy. Given how many drinking tables my line of work put me at, it had been a handy talent.
So three bottles of soju is still within safe range, then.
I'd deliberately paced myself since this wasn't my original body, but I didn't feel the slightest bit of alcohol. I had no idea how much drinking I'd be doing as Yoo Seul-ho going forward, but this was a relief.
A strong liver beats a weak one any day of the week.
“Come to think of it, I've never once heard a rumor about you going out drinking. So that's why you never get drunk—you're saving the money. Drinking's too expensive for you.”
“Everything's a waste with you, huh. Alright, let's get up.”
We sent the visibly flushed Choi Ran off first. Her manager, Choi Yoon, had made me promise not to put her in a taxi under any circumstances and to call her directly instead, so that's exactly what I did.
“Ran, see you on set. Drive safe, Miss Yoon.”
“Night night, Miranda~”
Choi Ran and Lee Seul-gi exchanged a friendly goodbye, and I helped Choi Ran into the car. She mumbled something indistinct as the vehicle pulled away, and in an instant, Lee Seul-gi and I were the only two left on the roadside.
“What about you? Taxi?”
“Oh, I've got a second round with another friend starting here, so I'm heading back inside.”
“You sure you can keep drinking?”
“It's a little embarrassing to say this in front of you, Oppa, but… I can actually put it away? I'm only tipsy right now—this hasn't even touched my liver yet.”
Lee Seul-gi laughed, saying she'd toss and turn all night with regret if she went home like this.
Part of me wanted to nag her not to, but she was a grown adult—who was I to lecture her about what to do?
“Alright, then. I'm heading in. Have fun, and stay safe.”
“Yes, sir. Please take good care of our Miranda, Oppa.”
Lee Seul-gi paused, seeming to weigh something, then added:
“You know how Ran is, Oppa. She doesn't open up to people easily. She carries a lot of scars too…. So when she started talking about you all the time, honestly, I was so relieved. It's not easy to have someone on set you see every day that you can actually count on, right?”
“Same here. No one's more dependable than Ran.”
“Really? If she finds out I said this, I'm dead. She'll chew me out for running my mouth about useless things. I know it's none of my business, but I just wanted to say thank you. Once.”
Lee Seul-gi gave a small bow. Her face said she had more to say, but in the end, she never opened her mouth again.
Good call.
I wasn't an idiot. I could tell exactly what she'd swallowed back.
So she thinks Choi Ran's got feelings for me.
If that were actually true, then stopping herself there had been the right move. Best friend or not, prying into someone else's heart crosses a line.
But still….
On my way back to the hotel after parting with Lee Seul-gi, I turned it over in my head.
Does Choi Ran actually like me?
I'd spent my entire life as a loan shark about as far from romance as a man could get. Sure, I'd played the doting boyfriend today with Lee Seul-ho, but that was just me copying male leads from every romance drama I'd ever sat through—an imitation, nothing more.
As Choi Ran herself once said, you don't need to be genuinely in love to act like you are.
I was just parroting what I'd seen on TV, and people bought it. Funny.
Then again, maybe that said something about how overrated love really was.
Do I even need to date?
Choi Ran was a kid, first of all.
Granted, that was purely from my point of view. To her, I wasn't a 'loan shark twelve years her senior'—I was 'Yoo Seul-ho, a fellow actor two years older.'
But even if I'd decided to live the rest of my life as Yoo Seul-ho, I couldn't just ignore the years I'd spent as a loan shark.
Looking fine on the outside doesn't mean you're fine all the way through.
It wasn't as if I could lecture her about raising her standards for men, either.
…Hold on. Wait a second. Am I…?
Kinda not into that idea?
Not a little. A lot.
The whole thing was absurd—I was borrowing trouble over feelings Choi Ran hadn't even confirmed having.
Is this it? Is this Young Forty?
Disgusting. Truly.
For the first time in ages, I felt genuine revulsion at myself.
Let's just assume I was drunk that night….
Times like this called for emptying your head and locking onto the goal in front of you.
My objective was simple: make Yoo Seul-ho a bigger star and make more money.
Romance and everything else were nothing but obstacles.
I just have to hope Choi Ran meets someone good.
Man or woman, people were all just people. Humans were meant to hang out with humans—no need to go digging through the trash.
Focus on tomorrow's shoot.
I sent Director Jang a thank-you text from the number I had, telling him the day had gone well thanks to him, then spread the script out on the desk.
The first broadcast wasn't far off now.
D-Day.
Time slipped by, and the premiere of You and My Space finally arrived.
Since we happened to have a shoot that day, the moment the clock struck eight, the whole crew stampeded off to a barbecue restaurant.
“Our leads, sit here with me! This table's perfect for three!”
Beaming, PD Jang herded me, Choi Ran, and Woo Jun-seo into a single table.
“PD-nim, why don't you sit with—”
“Oop, phone call. Excuse me a moment.”
Despite my invitation, he pretended not to hear and bolted for another table.
“…….”
Unlike the rowdy tables around us, ours sat in dead silence—thanks to the two leads who were gnawing at their meat without so much as a word.
After the war they'd waged against each other throughout the last filming stretch, the two of them now wouldn't even make eye contact.
Fine by me.
They'd apparently both realized that saving their energy for acting beat wasting it on each other. The set had only gone quiet once they signed their little peace accord: any time they made eye contact, a fight broke out, so unless cameras were rolling, they would treat each other as invisible.
“Seul-ho, I'm ordering more skin. Want some?”
“I'm good. Ran, more skin for you?”
“Yes please. Just one serving.”
“Then we'll add two servings. Boss!”
My role as permanent buffer between the two of them did mean more work for me, but for the sake of everyone's peace, it was a sacrifice worth making.
And as for Choi Ran, whom I was seeing for the first time since the variety shoot…
“Oppa, could you pass the ssamjang?”
“Sure.”
…Completely normal.
Not so much as a flicker of romantic interest. She just wore the expression of someone dead on her feet from a brutal shooting schedule, and honestly, it made me embarrassed on my own behalf.
So I really was drunk that night.
I'd been stone-cold sober when I said all that, and admitting it stung.
Swearing to myself—once again—that I would stop acting like an idiot, I stuffed a big bite of meat into my mouth.
That's when it happened.
“Uh, uh—our show's coming on!”
At a staff member's shout, every head turned toward the TV.
Nine p.m. Airtime had come at last.
It was also the first time I would ever watch myself act on a television screen.
Hm.
I knew I had almost no screen time in episode one, but I couldn't help feeling a little on edge.
How did they edit it?
And what would people think of it?