Who Ordered the Eggs

“I seriously don't know anything. Seul-ho, I swear.”

“Who put you up to it?”

“I'm telling you, I don't know! I don't know anything!”

“Who put you up to it?”

“Please, have mercy. I really have no idea what you're talking about…”

“Who put you up to it?”

“…Sniff.”

Every time I repeated the same words with a blank face, Hyun Jin-gae's chin trembled and his eyes welled up. Fear brimmed in the eyes he kept fixing on me, and yet to the very end he refused to spill what was really going on—like a dog serving a different master. And that, more than anything, genuinely pissed me off.

Been a while since something got under my skin like this.

Feeling the slow burn of anger climbing my spine, I broke into a bright, sunny smile.

“…? W-why are you smiling?”

“Hyung, would you help me with something?”

“With… what?”

“My practice. I just can't get into the Kang Min-woo character all of a sudden. How do you even play a piece of garbage who beats on people? Help me run lines. Like last time—”

“No! No, no. You're already way too in character. It's giving me chills! No practice necessary!”

Hyun Jin-gae squirmed like a man in the grip of a seizure. Apparently the memory had just come flooding back of how badly I'd worked him over under the pretense of “practice,” back when I'd first landed in Yoo Seul-ho's body.

I'd figured a scare of this caliber would loosen his tongue, but he'd denied knowing anything right up to the end. This little snake, honestly.

If you're going to deceive someone, at least deceive them properly. A manager wasn't a bodyguard; he had no obligation to shield a celebrity from airborne eggs. Even so, as a courtesy, he could have mumbled some flattery along the lines of a mild apology. But apologizing for failing to stop it? Now that was a strange choice of words, wasn't it?

“Haaah.”

At my long, deliberate sigh, Hyun Jin-gae hiccupped in fright. Watching him, it dawned on me that even if I beat him black and blue, his mouth would stay shut. Fine, then. There was no point wasting any more time here.

“Understood. I'd like to be alone now, so please leave.”

“O-oh, of course? Then let me at least buy you something—”

“Get out.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hyun Jin-gae snatched up his things and fled the hotel room with remarkable speed. In the sudden quiet, I picked up my phone. As expected, the internet was boiling over.

The articles kept flooding in without pause. The first one had gone up barely minutes after the egg hit me. Was there a reporter standing right there on the street? How did they know that fast? It was honestly impressive. And once the press moved that quickly, the YouTube recap channels were quick to follow.

Every single video bore a “NEW” tag, which meant the related uploads were still rolling in. I clicked into the comment sections, and everyone was good and furious.

Oho.

Reading that last comment, I felt a lightbulb flick on somewhere behind my eyes. I could definitely use that when I switch agencies down the line. Without even trying, I'd stumbled onto a hint for what strategy to run when it came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time for some media maneuvering.

There were also plenty of takes on my having gone on the variety shoot in the first place.

Wondering what on earth that meant, I went digging, and it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seemed someone had gone through the official behind-the-scenes footage and cut out only the clips featuring Choi Ran and Woo Jun-seo into a single video. Its title? “Thank You for Your Hard Work, Mr. Editor…….”

It was a video that cut straight through the broadcaster's official behind-the-scenes footage—which the network's editor had labored over, framing Choi Ran and Woo Jun-seo as the picture of on-set harmony. The editor had scrubbed out every scene of the two openly at each other's throats, but there was no way to account for every stray moment caught at the edge of the frame. Some fan had gathered every one of those meticulous little details into a single compilation. The comment count matched the sky-high view count.

And the most-liked comment of all turned out to be a tell-all from a bit-part actor. They'd made a brief appearance in the early episodes of You and My Space, and claimed that without Yoo Seul-ho, the drama would have collapsed before it was half-finished.

Replies under it warned against believing unverified gossip, but the phrasing “tantrum-throwing princess” told me this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠person was telling the truth with pretty high odds. In any case, the way the comments and videos multiplied with every refresh made it clear our drama was the hottest topic in the country right now. People said they'd never seen a drama wade through this much controversy before. Well, sure.

The hate aimed at Yoo Seul-ho really has dropped off compared to last month, though.

Feeling like I'd earned a sliver of recognition put me in a decent mood.

Ha. So—back to the question. Who ordered the egg thrown?

Who stands to gain if I get hit with an egg?

I was turning the question over in my head when my phone let out a sharp chirp. A call.

“Hello.”

—Oh, Actor Seul-ho. It's me.

PD Jang. I figured he'd heard the news late and was checking in, and I was about to answer with something suitably vague when he barreled straight to the point.

—I'm sorry. About what happened. The thing is… it looks like it was arranged by one of our investors.

“I'm sorry, what?”

—Ever since the controversy over your acting died down, the ratings have been slipping. So the opinion came up that we needed to drum up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠more attention.

According to PD Jang's account, it went like this: since the drama dealt with domestic violence, one of the investors had proposed paying off a person carrying related trauma to throw an egg at me. PD Jang had gone ballistic—these crazy old fossils have finally lost their minds—and the network executives sitting in on the meeting had agreed it was a step too far and shot the idea down on the spot.

—But then I saw the article earlier and nearly had a heart attack. I went straight to my department head, and he told me he'd already made the calls. And you know what the old man does? He plays completely innocent. Says they agreed not to do it, so he never did, and what's all the noise about.

“Who is this investor?”

PD Jang hesitated, then gave me the investor's identity and contact information. He knew it could land him in hot water, and still he never once asked me to let it slide.

Well, fair enough. A man who'd ask that wouldn't have told me in the first place.

I dialed the number immediately. No answer. So I left a text—This is Yoo Seul-ho.—and called again a minute later.

—…Hello.

“Good afternoon. This is Yoo Seul-ho.”

I greeted him as calmly as I could manage. PD Jang had probably expected me to fly off the handle the moment I got through, but frankly, this wasn't the kind of thing worth losing my composure over.

So I take an egg to the face. If it helped the drama do better, I could stand there and take a hundred of them.

But warn me in advance—why make a fool out of me? The fact that I, the intended target, had known absolutely nothing—that was the part that stuck in my throat.

So I conveyed my position to him with impeccable courtesy: should he happen to have ideas like this in the future, I would appreciate being kept in the loop. I had no way of knowing how much influence this man wielded in the industry, and making an enemy of an investor over a single egg seemed like poor business.

It's just information. A courtesy call, informing him not to treat me like some simple pawn on his board.

Granted, from my current standing, no investor was going to hear this and think, Ah, I simply must consult him next time! Even so, it planted the impression that I was no clueless kid—and it would make a pleasant little memory for the two of us to smile over someday, when I came to the table proposing a deal between equals.

This much, he'll concede.

But the response that came back through the receiver was nothing I'd anticipated.

—I beg your pardon? What exactly do you mean by that?

The man's voice brimmed with genuine bafflement. And then, the words that followed—

—Didn't Director Shin tell you?