The Scripts I Was Never Meant to See
When I arrived at the office, a mountain of scripts was waiting to greet me.
Looks like my market value has gone up quite a bit.
I ran my fingers over the figure written on the last page of one proposal. It was easily more than ten times what I'd received for my previous work, and a hollow laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Making money really is easy.
Of course, making a name for yourself as a celebrity is no walk in the park. But to think that an amount I'd only managed to scrape together after every kind of backbreaking hustle as a loan shark could now be earned with a single acting gig — the feeling was strange, to say the least.
Some places even offered more than this.
And there wasn't just one or two of them. Offers had apparently been flooding in even before the drama ended, judging by the sheer volume of scripts piled up here.
"Anything in there you want to do?"
Hyun Jin-gae asked, watching my face carefully out of the corner of his eye.
"Hmm…."
I deliberately swept an indifferent gaze across the graveyard of scripts.
Sure enough, Hyun Jin-gae grew antsy and started rubbing his hands together.
"None of them any good? Should I bring you something else? We do need to start locking in your next project soon."
"Hyung."
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Can't I just rest a little longer?"
"Seul-ho…."
At my words, Hyun Jin-gae pulled a doleful face. It had been a heartless thing to say, and seeing him so crestfallen made me feel guilty too… not. Why on earth would I feel bad about this?
Still, I should manage my expression at least.
The moment I let the corners of my mouth sag, the man flinched.
"You know as well as I do that now is the time to be grinding, right?"
My sulky face seemed to decide him. My manager squeezed his eyes shut and spoke with sudden firmness.
"You've only just started getting recognized! How can you rest now? It takes years before your position is truly secure."
"I know that. But I could still take a little break, couldn't I? I haven't rested in months."
"I'd love for you to rest too! But Director Shin said— MMPH!"
Mid-shout, his face pinched with frustration, Hyun Jin-gae clapped a hand over his own mouth.
His eyes rolled around warily, darting to read my expression, while his free hand flapped in frantic denial.
"Never mind. It's not exactly a secret anymore."
"S-sorry."
"If you're really sorry, give me a little hint about where Director Shin stands. What does he want me to do with all these projects?"
"Uh…."
Watching him hesitate, I let the corners of my mouth droop again, listlessly.
Hyun Jin-gae hastily jabbed a finger at one of the scripts.
"This one! He wants you to do this one!"
It was the very first script Hyun Jin-gae had ever handed me. So that was the play all along.
Huh. Unexpected, though.
The project in question was an extremely safe, middle-of-the-road genre piece. Neither the director nor the writer was anyone famous, it wasn't some mega-budget blockbuster, and I wasn't even the lead.
In other words, the paycheck coming back to me would be small.
If Director Shin really sees me as merchandise, I figured he'd at least know how to do the math.
I'd assumed he'd tell me to take whichever project offered the highest appearance fee. That's how the company raked in the biggest commission, after all.
"Why does he want me to do this one?"
"Uh… it's not a reason you'd like hearing."
Sweat beaded on Hyun Jin-gae's face as he squirmed.
Unbelievable.
I couldn't hold back a laugh.
"Since when have you ever hedged because a word might be hard for me to hear? Just say it straight."
"Well… Director Shin says the bigger you get, the better it is for the company — and the harder you become to manage."
My manager recited it all in one breath, as if he'd been waiting to unburden himself.
"He said you might get ahead of yourself and start pitching a fit about wanting to move to another agency, so it's important to make you understand your place first. He also said if he wants to keep you around for a long time, it's better to hand you safe, unremarkable projects."
Ha.
Even at my hollow laugh, the man kept talking.
"And he said this time you got lucky and your acting got good reviews, but your lack of real talent is bound to show in your next project. So rather than getting greedy and losing everything, stretching things out with a project that can fool the eye for a while — that's how you'd lengthen your career as an entertainer."
Hyun Jin-gae was genuinely guileless.
He's actually relaying this word for word.
Did Director Shin know? That his loyal little lapdog was spilling all of this to me?
I suppose this is how everything I say gets relayed to Director Shin too.
The absurdity must have shown plainly on my face, because the man blurted out in a panic,
"It's not that I think that! It's what Director Shin said! I don't think your acting is fake!"
"Well, thanks for that."
At my lukewarm response, he bounced around agitatedly, as if he'd been wrongly accused. Ignoring him, I stared down at the script and sank into thought.
Then again….
If I'd been Director Shin, I probably would have thought something similar. An ordinary agency executive would want his talent to succeed — the better they did, the more benefits flowed back to him.
But Director Shin isn't an ordinary man.
Someone who genuinely wanted his actors to rise wouldn't go around planting ugly rumors about them all over the industry in the first place. He was the type who only wanted an entertainer to flourish thanks to him — never one who could abide an entertainer flourishing without him.
"So what are you going to do?"
At Hyun Jin-gae's cautious voice, I shrugged.
"I'll read this script for now."
"Really?!"
The moment I pointed at the script he'd indicated, his face lit up in an instant. He looked ready to start hopping up and down, which was grating enough that I told him to get lost, and he scurried away like a happy little cockroach.
"Sorry to disappoint you with how happy that made me."
It would have stung Hyun Jin-gae to hear it, but I was never going to choose this script.
No — to be precise, not a single script in this room was an option for me.
There have to be other scripts out there.
I was a hundred percent certain: the scripts piled up here were not the entirety of what had come my way.
Just like with Space of You and Me, Director Shin would have sifted out only the projects within his reach — the ones his influence could touch, the ones he could keep some measure of control over — and passed those along to me.
And how did I know that?
Hello, this is Yoo Seul-ho. Is this Director Baek Jin-hee?
Because I'd picked up the phone and called him myself, yesterday.
"PD Jang introduced us, so I thought I'd reach out. Is now a good time to talk?"
After scanning down my list, I'd called the director who seemed like the best fit. It wasn't meant to be anything significant — just a courtesy call, really.
I'd braced myself for the man to be annoyed at the sudden call, or to brush me off with lukewarm politeness….
"Seul-ho-ssi! Was my script really that terrible?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
The question caught me completely off guard, and I could only blink in confusion.
As it turned out, Director Baek Jin-hee had heard me praised by PD Jang countless times, and had sent his script straight over to me on his own initiative. When he mentioned that this had happened before the very first episode of Space of You and Me even aired, I was genuinely startled.
"So you were trying to cast me based on what PD Jang said alone? Without seeing anything?"
"I trust that man's eye. He's not the kind of person who hands out praise lightly. Granted, when I said I wanted you, everyone tried to talk me out of it. But I dug my heels in, insisted we at least do a meeting, and sent you the script! And then how could you not even reply?"
Apparently, right around the time he'd started wondering at my silence, the premiere of Space of You and Me aired. My acting became the talk of the town, directors all over the industry began buzzing about me, and Director Baek concluded, Ah — so he anticipated the attention and was deliberating carefully.
Still, he admitted he'd been a little irritated. A simple I'll be sure to read it wouldn't have killed anyone, and flat-out ghosting struck him as arrogant.
But honestly, this kind of thing happened constantly in the industry, so he said he hadn't felt the need to call and chew me out over it.
"I see. Although — Director, I never actually got to read that script."
"Riiight. I figured you'd say something like that, tsk."
"No, I truly never received it. There was no Baek Jin-hee project among the scripts my agency gave me."
At first he thought I was lying and answered absently, but after I repeated myself several times, the anger hit him in full, if belatedly.
"You really never got it? Ha, unbelievable. What is this — do they think I'm not on PD Jang's level, so they can just snub me? Don't you worry, I'm going to give this Director Shin person a piece of my mind. The nerve of that man!"
"I'm sure there were circumstances on his end. Please don't be too upset."
"You've taken plenty of knocks from that side yourself, Seul-ho-ssi. Why would you cover for them? I've heard more than one or two stories."
When he asked how I was even holding up in there, I just laughed.
It's fine. There's not much left of it now, anyway.
"Hmm… Seul-ho-ssi. This is just me asking on the off chance."
A call I'd made as a light courtesy had somehow drifted into deep waters.
Dropping his voice as if sharing some whispered secret, Director Baek asked,
"Have you ever thought about changing agencies?"
The tone was pointed enough that I fell silent for a moment.
It was true that I'd been planning to stoke rumors that Yoo Seul-ho was looking for a new agency anyway. But I wasn't sure this man was the right place to draw first blood.
Yet he seemed to read my hesitation, and made the opening move himself.
"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not just tossing out gossip for fun. I have a connection I could introduce you to, that's all."
A certain agency's name slipped out of Director Baek's mouth.
"Really?"
And before I could give it a second's thought, I asked reflexively,
"Could you genuinely introduce me to them?"
"Of course. As far as I'm concerned, they're the finest actor management outfit there is. It would hardly be a bad offer for you. Ah, but…."
Mid-boast, Director Baek faltered.
"Actually, I'm not sure. You know, there's your parents, Seul-ho-ssi. I've heard there was a rather serious clash between them and this agency. If you joined, your parents might have some choice words for you."
"A clash? What kind of…."
"Eh, it doesn't sit right with me to say it myself."
Director Baek deflected and quickly changed the subject.
"Anyway, don't misunderstand. I can introduce you — it's not like I have the kind of pull to wedge you in by force. All I can do is arrange the seat. The rest is up to you."
"That alone is more than enough. I'll work hard for the rest. That's the only way I could face you with my head high when I appear in one of your films, Director."
He jeered at me — who talks like that? — but his voice was warm with laughter all the same.
"I'll put in the word, so keep your phone close. We'll talk about the script after that."
"Understood."
Barely any time had passed after we hung up before I got a call from an unknown number.
Such speed. Impressive.
Hiding my surprise, I swiftly arranged a meeting place. And the very next day, I headed to the agreed location.
"Right this way, sir. I'll show you in."
Escorted by a staff member into the private room, I found a man standing there who looked well over 190 centimeters tall.
A deep, thick eyebrow with a stylish notch in it caught my eye immediately.
"Hello. I'm Yoo Seul-ho."
"Yes. A pleasure to meet you at last."
Despite an easygoing, slightly roguish face, the man bowed with impeccable manners, then produced a business card from inside his suit jacket.
"I'm Ahn Jin-bae. I currently head up Team 1."
The card he offered with both hands was elegant and understated. And the words printed on its paper gleamed with startling clarity:
Wooyeon Entertainment.