How a Loan Shark Survives as an Actor — Episode 49
After visiting Yoo Seul-ho's family home, I'd spent the past few days in a whirlwind of filming schedules. Once I'd finished shooting my drama scenes, I was immediately shipped off to film variety shows here, there, and everywhere.
At this point, I'm not promoting the drama — I'm promoting myself.
That was how much solo screen time I was getting. And there was a reason for it.
Woo Jun-seo hates both me and Choi Ran.
At first, the three of us had been pushed together under a "best friends" image, but ever since the I'm a Freshman Again Today shoot, he'd flat-out ignored both Choi Ran and me. Worse, it seemed he'd lost all affection for the drama itself — despite it posting the highest ratings of his entire career, he was refusing to appear in any promotional activities whatsoever.
Of course, no matter how he felt about it personally, he couldn't simply ignore the terms of his contract.
Standard drama contracts include a clause requiring actors to faithfully participate in promotion.
It was in mine, in Choi Ran's, and in Woo Jun-seo's. Which meant that if the production company decided to hold the male lead legally accountable for his uncooperative attitude toward the drama's publicity, Woo Jun-seo would have no leg to stand on.
But PD Jang didn't go that route.
"Goddammit. Let that bastard do whatever the hell he wants."
The man who almost never swore clenched his jaw and continued.
"I can't even stand the sight of him. So what if he becomes some crazy Hallyu star someday? I will never work with that punk again. You have no idea how much hair I've torn out over him these past few days."
And with that, he canceled every one of Woo Jun-seo's variety show appearances.
With the finale just around the corner, marketing was really the only lever left for boosting ratings in the final stretch. For the main PD to scrap his lead actor's publicity schedule anyway — that alone said everything about how far things had gone.
Still, it'd be awkward if it was just Choi Ran and me going out there.
With a proper male lead on the roster, it wasn't exactly ideal for a supporting actor — not even a second male lead, mind you, a supporting one — to appear on variety shows alongside the female lead.
By now, most people had caught on that Choi Ran and Woo Jun-seo despised each other. But the folks who didn't spend their lives on the internet were still watching the drama and squealing about how well the two of them looked together.
Anything that might disrupt the audience's immersion needed to be kept to a minimum.
But I can't just send Choi Ran out alone, either.
Unless she switched agencies, her future variety appearances would always come with strings attached. To keep pushing her with that fresh, understated mask and her reserved image, the best move was to minimize her variety exposure as much as possible.
Honestly, I agreed with that call.
No matter how good an actress she is, she can't perform twenty-four hours a day.
Choi Ran tried hard to keep her expression in check during outdoor shoots, but the moment she laid eyes on Woo Jun-seo, the odds of her slipping were sky-high. She broadcasted I want to punch this bastard right now so loudly through her eyes that I'd had to hastily wedge myself between them more times than I could count.
So in the end, going out solo is the only option.
Not that I was complaining. Drama pay is measured per episode no matter how long or grueling the shoot is. Variety shows, by contrast, paid out appearance fees on the spot regardless of how short the filming was — which made them all the more satisfying.
If only my contract with my agency were in proper order, it'd be even sweeter.
The contract currently binding me to Star Actors was brutally lopsided in Yoo Seul-ho's disfavor. To be fair, it gave me that much more ammunition when the time came to jump ship, but the hefty commission the agency was skimming off the top right now was genuinely painful to watch.
"Seul-ho, I'm heading straight to the next schedule's location."
"Sounds good."
"Want to grab something at a rest stop on the way? Big brother will buy you whatever you want."
Hyun Jin-gae, behind the wheel, kept checking my reflection in the rearview mirror.
If I didn't know what I knew, I might have let that kicked-puppy act slide right past me.
Tch.
Knowing I might actually have fallen for it once upon a time sent a flash of irritation through me.
"Not necessary."
"Hey, are you still mad? I seriously didn't know anything, I told you I had no idea—"
"I already know it was Director Shin's idea, so you can drop the act."
At my icy tone, Hyun Jin-gae flinched. The eyes darting around frantically in the rearview mirror chose to lie yet again.
"D-director Shin said that? Really?"
The cracked, off-key voice was excruciatingly amateurish. You should never pursue acting, my friend.
"Is that, is that really true? I had, I had no idea whatsoever—"
"Go tell Director Shin this from me: he'd better watch out for flying eggs on the street. If you throw an egg at someone else's head, you'd better be prepared to take one to your own."
"……"
"Now let's keep it quiet, shall we? Actually, I do want a hot dog with you, big brother. But I'm terrified Director Shin's going to write in his personal diary, 'Yoo Seul-ho's favorite food: hot dogs.'"
Hyun Jin-gae went completely rigid.
From the look on his face, it had never once occurred to him that I might know every dirty little errand he'd been running behind my back.
Wasn't planning on dropping hints this soon, honestly.
The original plan had been to play dumb about Director Shin, keeping him from getting a read on my situation for as long as possible. But after reading Yoo Seul-ho's diary, my thinking changed.
Having moved into the body of a kid who'd spent his whole life biting his tongue and taking it — well… exorcism? Hmm, what's the right word for it? Ah — payback. Payback sounds about right. Anyway, I decided to settle some scores and stop living so damned politely.
Unspoken words pile up and turn to poison in the body, so whatever needs saying, you say it early.
Come to think of it, the timing is perfect.
I planned to switch agencies the moment the drama wrapped. Sure, staying mum until the very end and springing a surprise on them would've been satisfying too, but showing a bit of rebellious streak now made it far easier for them to keep collecting "evidence" against themselves.
Mind made up, I dozed off somewhere along the highway.
"Seul-ho, rest stop."
Hyun Jin-gae shook me awake partway through and asked if I needed the bathroom. I shook my head. He hopped out, muttering something about running to grab a bite, and I shut my eyes tight to shake off the fatigue.
Ah, that food smell is making me hungry.
Maybe I'd grab a hot dog at the convenience store once filming wrapped.
I was mid-thought when I noticed the smell of food growing strangely stronger and stronger. The moment I cracked my eyes open at how odd that was, there stood Hyun Jin-gae — back already — holding out a hot dog.
"What's this?"
"……You said you wanted a hot dog."
Hyun Jin-gae mumbled, refusing to meet my eyes.
I said nothing, made no move, just stared at him until he muttered gloomily,
"I won't tell anyone about this. So just eat it."
Haah.
Turns out I had no right to call those kids snot-nosed brats.
Only recently I'd been thinking Cho Kyung-beom and Hwang Tae-jun at the agency were way too attached to me. Tch. I'm no better myself. Side effect of riding in Yoo Seul-ho's body? Ever since I moved in, my sentimental side had gotten noticeably stronger.
"Thanks. I'll enjoy it."
"…!"
The moment I took the hot dog, Hyun Jin-gae's face lit up like a sunrise.
Well, fair enough — in his mind, that was probably the best play for surviving at the company. I couldn't even blame him for it.
Still, selling out a kid twenty-five years old is a bit much, no?
Granted, the guy actually inside this body was a good ten years older than that — but hey, that part Hyun Jin-gae didn't need to know.
"Why didn't you buy one for yourself? Here, we'll split it."
As Hyun Jin-gae set off with a beaming face, I tore the hot dog in half and handed him a piece. The telltale wetness welling up in his eyes, I dutifully ignored.
We drove for hours more before finally arriving at the filming location. We'd shot until the small hours of the morning only to relocate to a different region, so the schedule was punishing.
If this were my old body, no way I'd have lasted.
Was it because I'd moved into a body ten years younger? Lately I was noticing the gap in stamina between the two more and more often. To be fair, I'd kept myself in decent shape even during my loan shark days, so I was never exactly wheezing.
Still, different is different.
No matter how well I'd maintained myself, there was no comparing it to a twenty-five-year-old's body. My head stayed clear without a drop of coffee, and my muscles moved sharp and springy without any stretching.
The lighter body is the best part.
Yoo Seul-ho's body was about ten centimeters shorter than my original one, and much leaner. Back in the day I'd have sneered at a man being that skinny, but these days I figured it was different strokes for different folks.
"Seul-ho-ssi, you're here~!"
"Hello, everyone."
With all the on-location shoots I'd been visiting lately, the shift was impossible to miss: people's eyes on Yoo Seul-ho had genuinely changed. There were still plenty who glared at me like something stuck to their shoe, but nobody could ignore that I was at the center of the conversation these days. Some were even trying to get on my good side.
This is how you climb, one rung at a time.
And for that, finishing the drama strong was everything.
The frantic days flew by, and before I knew it, the drama shoot was over. The twelve-episode series had reached episode eleven with a staggering 8.2 percent rating. In an era when big-budget epics with hundreds of billions in production costs scraped together 4 to 6 percent, this was a colossal hit.
"One, two, three! Geonbae~!"
"GEONBAE~!!"
An hour before the final episode aired, the production staff and every actor gathered at a barbecue restaurant. Everyone wore the same expression — we went through an absolute shitload of hell, but dammit, we DID it!! — as glasses clinked all around.
Just as the mood was climbing and glasses were crashing together in a happy chaos—
"Hello?"
Woo Jun-seo, who'd been sitting there wearing a face like he was chewing shit all evening, answered his phone.
Woo Jun-seo, who'd come alone without his manager, for some reason felt like a ticking time bomb today.
No flunky around to stroke his ego, that's why.
PD Jang had cut him loose the instant filming wrapped, so aside from his manager, there was nobody left to pander to Woo Jun-seo's moods.
Just go home already.
Whoever was on that phone, I was silently praying they'd haul him out of here fast—
"What? What article??"
At those incredulous words from Woo Jun-seo, every head in the room whipped around.
Article.
The single most feared word in this industry. And in the same breath, everyone's phones began screaming at once. Group chat after group chat was burning up, sharing links to one article. The article in question—
It was an article in which Woo Jun-seo's manager had laid bare exactly what kind of man he really was.
And that was the moment PD Jang — who had endured the man like long-suffering in-laws for months — finally exploded.
"Wh-what is this…. Actor Jun-seo, what the hell is going on?"
"……"
"You bastard, ANSWER ME!!"
Woo Jun-seo just stood there in front of him, face blank, dazed and staring at nothing.
His fingers moved, scrolling through the article again and again. But like a man who couldn't understand the words on the page, all he could do was murmur blankly,
"I told him today was his day off…."
While he was still stuck processing reality, everyone around him had descended into chaos.
"What do we DO??"
"PD-nim! The bureau chief is calling!!"
Everyone was panicking and shouting over one another when Choi Ran, seated beside me, murmured quietly.
"It's starting."
Her words pulled my gaze to the TV mounted on the wall.
The curtain was rising on the final episode.