Time to Move On
Woo Jun-seo's image recovery was good news for the drama team as well.
The controversy article had broken right before the final episode aired, and attention zeroed in on the show overnight — it even climbed onto the real-time trending searches.
Everyone had been cursing, asking if the man had lost his mind, until someone pointed out, 'Wait, the finale is airing right now, isn't it?' — and then they all went off to watch the last episode together.
Which meant, in other words…
The drama had wrapped up with a staggering record to its name.
For a show that had been treated as filler between big-budget productions, it was an embarrassment of riches. The broadcasting station was giddy with joy, bursting into happy laughter at the flood of contract offers pouring in.
Of course, PD Jang and the rest of the production staff felt a bittersweetness along with their happiness.
"It feels like we blew up because of the scandal more than the drama itself, honestly."
"Nothing we can do about it. Early on, back when we were still proving Seul-ho's acting chops, plenty of people were actually focused on the story."
The crew members, whose love for the project had deepened the longer they shot it, couldn't help feeling a strange, quiet pang of disappointment.
But there was no denying it was a better outcome than 'a drama that got buried without so much as a kind comment or a hateful one.'
It was a drama that handed PD Jang the leverage to push his next project exactly the way he wanted, gave the staff a much beefier portfolio, and offered the actors a chance to raise their public profile and recognition.
It had been pure chaos from start to finish, and mind-numbingly exhausting — but everyone got their happy ending.
"Great work, everyone~!"
"You too~!"
Today, the entire cast of the drama had gathered for a photo shoot that would run in a magazine.
Once this was done, there would be no more official schedules tied to the drama. Ever.
"So it's really over…."
At the murmur that slipped out of me — a feeling I couldn't quite put a name to — Choi Ran made a surprised face.
"What, are you going to miss it?"
"It's less that I'll miss it and more that it feels strange."
Maybe because it had been a relentless months-long march, there were moments I'd been convinced it would never end — so I could hardly believe it actually had.
It was a good thing; to raise my standing as an actor I needed to shoot more projects. And yet somehow I kept looking back over my shoulder.
"There are takes I'm sad about, honestly. Ones I know I could nail better if we shot them now."
"Like what?"
"The scene where Kang Min-woo swings a fist at the male lead at the end? If you told me to do it now, I could go at it even more ferociously than I did back then."
I glanced over at Woo Jun-seo's little clique, snickering away in the corner of the studio.
Choi Ran followed my gaze, then scrunched up her whole face.
"Right? You really should have just decked him when you had the chance."
"I did consider throwing a punch and playing it off as an accident. But there was a kid there, so I held back. It's an age where seeing anything good isn't enough, you know? Am I wrong?"
"…What is wrong with you. I didn't know you could even say things like that, Oppa."
Choi Ran scratched at her own arm like the words had given her hives. Then, for reasons I couldn't begin to guess, she put on an embarrassed expression and said,
"I appreciate you looking out for me and all, but I'm not that young. There's only two years between us, Oppa. You keep—"
"What? I was talking about Wooju."
I stroked the head of the dog that had been glued to my feet since a while ago.
Maybe he was extra happy to see me after so long, because he'd shown zero intention of leaving my side.
"Wooju's nine, isn't he? That's super young. In human years he's barely an elementary schooler."
"……"
Dog or not, you've got to respect the young ones.
I had genuinely agonized, all the way to the final shoot, over that scene where Kang Min-woo swings his fist at the male lead. But the reason I ultimately pulled my speed back was this guy, right here.
— Hah, hah.
Whether he understood all my hard work on his behalf or not, the dog grinned his wide, goofy grin and luxuriated under my hand.
"Oh… I see."
Choi Ran, who had gone quiet for a long moment, wiped a dry face and said,
"Here's what you don't seem to get, Oppa. Nine years old in dog years isn't young at all."
"No?"
"I'm no expert, but one of their years is like seven of ours, right? So at nine… that puts him at roughly sixty-three."
Wait, what. He's my senior by decades?
I lowered my head and looked down into the dog's bright, alert eyes.
And here I'd thought he was just a pup — turns out he was older than me.
'He's even older than I was back in my loan shark days.'
At the sudden sense of distance that crept over me, the hand petting him stilled.
Apparently he didn't approve of that, because he gave my hand a couple of firm taps — keep going.
"That's enough for now. It's time for you to go home."
The shoot had wrapped without my noticing, and I pointed toward the trainer who'd come to collect him.
The moment the dog spotted the trainer, he pressed himself even tighter against my feet, as if to say he wasn't going.
"Wooju, you have to say goodbye to the actors, remember? See you next time. Say bye~."
The trainer spoke in that gentle tone people use with other humans, not animals. Then, after flashing a warm smile at Choi Ran, her eyes flicked over and she grabbed my hand.
"Seul-ho-ssi, truly, thank you so much for everything this time. Wooju's never once buckled on any set, but he had a hard time adjusting on this one. Thanks to you, though, he pulled through beautifully."
"That wasn't because of me. He's simply a good actor, that's all."
"If you ever have the chance, we'd be honored to have you visit our training center. Wooju would miss you terribly."
I answered that with a smile and nothing more.
I hated throwing around promises I had no way of keeping.
"Take care, Wooju."
— Bark!
And so I exchanged my last farewell with the dog and let him go.
Choi Ran, who'd been standing quietly beside me, shot me a sidelong glance.
"You're parting with him more cleanly than I expected. I was hoping for actual tears."
"Why, does it make you sad?"
"Nope? We'll just meet again, won't we."
Typical Choi Ran. I nodded.
"Exactly. So let's meet again too, you and I."
She faltered for a beat at my words — then broke into a smile.
"Deal. You'd better keep that promise."
With that, Choi Ran left the set as well.
Although right before she left, Choi Yoon — her manager and her actual older sister — held me captive for the better part of half an hour, droning on and on about how grateful she'd been for everything.
'It's really over, huh.'
My manager, who'd dropped me off at the studio and immediately gone off on an errand, still hadn't come back.
I debated just hailing a cab and heading home, but then I remembered Hyun Jin-gae on the phone, sobbing and begging — please, just a few more minutes — and decided to wait.
That was when it happened.
"Yoo Seul-ho."
At Woo Jun-seo's low voice, I turned my head slowly.
Part of me was even curious what kind of provocation he'd come up with this time. But—
"I realized I never actually said it. Thanks for all your hard work. You had a rough time early on, didn't you?"
Woo Jun-seo gave me a warm, friendly smile and patted me on the shoulder.
'What is this?'
Unexpected behavior — no. I couldn't call it unexpected, because I knew every single word that had just come out of this bastard's mouth was a lie.
I'd seen enough filth in my time to know people don't actually change just because they've been through something big.
'Is he in a good mood, then?'
The most plausible theory was that Woo Jun-seo's current mood was absolutely soaring.
You only had to look at how he'd spent the entire back half of the shoot practically vibrating with frustration that he couldn't kill me — and now here he was, magnanimously approaching me first with this oh-so-generous act.
"That's right. Seul-ho worked very hard."
Right on cue, Park Sang-in — having reclaimed his spot as Woo Jun-seo's lackey — sidled up with a smirk.
"Still, it all worked out. Thanks to Jun-seo, the drama wrapped up a success. Must've been overwhelming for a supporting actor to get that much attention, huh. Hard to handle, I bet?"
The spite layered under those words was blatant.
'Ahh, I see.'
So now that he had a servant back to stroke his ego, his mood had improved. It was laughable how transparent he was — I had to fight down a smile.
'That's right. Enjoy it while it lasts.'
You should savor the good times while you can.
From where I stood — knowing exactly what was coming for him — it was nothing short of comedy.
"Hey, you gonna answer or what? Jun-seo spoke to you first. You should be grateful."
When I just stared at him in silence, Park Sang-in's face twisted ugly.
'This guy found his true calling.'
Being a lackey suited him far better than acting ever did.
"Acting all high and mighty like that — you think you're somebody now? Whatever you do, the one who carried this drama to a hit at the end was Jun-seo."
"Got it. Your hyung-nim is amazing. Impressive. The best."
I reeled off the praise for Woo Jun-seo in one breathless stream, then let out a sigh.
"Now would you kindly leave? I'm exhausted."
By all means, go pat each other on the back in private.
What I didn't understand was why they needed to come drag validation out of me too.
"Ha! You little—!"
Maybe my indifference finally lit a fire under him, because Park Sang-in lunged at me with a face full of fury.
That was the moment.
"Let's get going. You shouldn't torment someone who says he's tired."
Woo Jun-seo, smile still fixed in place, gave Park Sang-in's arm a light tap.
And just like that, Park Sang-in's scowl melted away.
"That's our Jun-seo. Big-hearted as always. Real leading men aren't made just anyone."
"Ah, don't lay it on so thick."
Woo Jun-seo snickered and slung an arm around Park Sang-in's shoulders.
It was a friendship that looked so close you'd never guess they'd had a cold war at all.
'But a relationship that's cracked once can shatter again at any moment.'
Worse — it could break from the smallest provocation.
Park Sang-in believed I'd missed the seat he was sitting in now. From what I could see, it was quite the opposite.
'In time, he'll realize he swallowed poison with his own hands.'
Not that I had any intention of giving him a heads-up.
"Jun-seo, want to go grab drinks? I've already rounded up some girls I know."
"Are they pretty?"
"Would I ever introduce you to one that wasn't?"
"Ah, fine. I'll trust you one more time. Last chance."
Woo Jun-seo, laughing along with Park Sang-in as the two of them headed for the exit, flicked a sidelong glance over me for an instant.
Our eyes met at the same moment, but he snickered as if he'd never seen me in his life and walked out.
'Well, at least I won't have to look at him for a while.'
My stomach felt a whole lot lighter.
'This is just the beginning, though.'
Considering the villains I'd have to deal with going forward, Woo Jun-seo was practically the mildest flavor on the menu.
And there would be no shortage of obstacles in the way of everything I planned to set in motion from here.
Calling to mind the faces I could expect, I opened my phone.
"Let's see."
On the screen was a list filled with the names of various people.
It was also a gift from PD Jang.
Just last week, he'd sent everyone a text — 'I'm off to seclude myself in the mountains for a while to train my mind and spirit' — and then promptly vanished.
And, precisely right before he did, he'd sent me a separate email.
One that said he was a man of his word.
"That's quite a list."
This was the roster of directors PD Jang had promised to introduce me to. Contact details for people who, even now, were supposedly out there desperately searching for an actor like me.
"Who do I call first?"
I whistled as I scanned the list.
Of course, I had no intention of deciding on my next project just yet.
'There's something I need to do first.'
And that was—
'The time has come.'
Time to change agencies.