The Eldest Son’s Gentle Return
Namhun and Jo Wonhyeong had slipped back into the old days of Evil Spirits, letting the old emotion wash over them like warm milk. But then Kang Seokho returned from his break. He looked fresh, camera still slung over one shoulder.
“Team Leader Huh. How was it?” he asked, voice warm and teasing.
“The dance part was the one I was worried about,” she replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, “but it’s fine. Thanks to you, the Elixer version should come together in no time. Should we keep rolling and do the Belly Coffee sipping cut next?”
“That’s a good idea. The singing is solid… it’s the acting that gave us trouble. Spending time on that section makes sense.” He glanced around the set. “Who’s still at the company today?”
“Sim Sangjin.”
“Perfect. Go grab him for me.”
“Sure thing.”
The moment Heo Jueun left, Namhun leaned over to Kang Seokho. “Sim Sangjin? Who is he?”
“It’s one of the ads we’re shooting. We often use idols as models, right?” Kang Seokho answered easily. “Our agency’s got deep connections in that world. Since I used to run music videos, I know a lot of them.”
“Ah, right. Nowadays even when we teach acting to debut them, the kids are so young that acting becomes an issue. So we keep a friend on staff who gives them acting lessons. Not a real employee—just an albatross we bring in.”
A nearby staff member chuckled. “President, your excuse is getting longer by the second.”
Kang Seokho glanced sideways, lips twitching. “It’s basically a cover for handing out pocket money to old school buddies of mine. Still helps us, though…”
“Do we really need to dig into that?” Kang Seokho muttered, but the staff member only grinned wider.
Watching the two banter, Namhun felt the company atmosphere settle warmly around him.
* * *
“Sim Oppa, no schedule today?” a young female staff member asked, voice light.
“Not just today. Tomorrow and the day after too. Looks like I’ll be here for the whole week.”
“Then Belly Coffee is definitely yours this weekend. Perfect, since no one else is free.”
“Really? That’d be great. I’m barely scraping by on rent this month.”
The surrounding female staff sighed in sympathy, faces full of pity.
“I still don’t understand why Sim Oppa hasn’t broken out. He’s such an amazing actor.”
“Yeah, I saw his last drama too. Even when he had a small role he totally stole the scene.”
“Haha, thanks. But this isn’t working. This isn’t working at all.”
Sim Sangjin ran a hand over his face, exasperated. The women immediately protested.
“Sim Oppa, what’s the problem?”
“The camera just isn’t catching me. I’m tall, I’m handsome—don’t you hear my heart beating? It’s not even registering!”
The women’s fussing only made him grin. “Really?”
“Yes! I’m serious, Oppa.”
“Then I’m better looking than Namhun-ssi?”
The women around him immediately clamped their mouths shut.
Sim Sangjin doubled over laughing, belly shaking. “See? I know I’m not bad-looking, but in the entertainment world I’m like a pebble under someone’s foot.”
The women fiddled with their empty coffee cups, helpless.
They would have said anything to make him feel better… but the words only stung.
Sim Sangjin had decent looks, but nothing special for an actor. At that moment the break-room door opened and Heo Jueun stepped in.
“Sangjin-ah, why is your phone off?”
“Sorry. Couldn’t charge it on the way here.”
“Then charge it here.”
“Everyone’s so busy today, I felt bad. And I’m not even a regular employee.”
Heo Jueun clicked her tongue. “You’re trying to become an actor and you’re being this careful? That’s something we need to fix. How are you supposed to stand in front of an audience like that?”
“Yes… I’ll work on it.”
“Anyway, finish up and head to the rooftop. Today I want you to watch Namhun-ssi act.”
The day’s goal was simple. As ad experts they could have handled it themselves, but the help of a real actor would let them capture finer details.
It was half Kang Seokho’s perfectionism, half support for a nameless actor like Sim Sangjin.
“Understood. I’ll do my best.”
“Not best—well. You’re getting paid.”
“Ah, yes.”
The moment Heo Jueun left, sighs filled the break room.
“I want to become someone like Team Leader Huh…”
“She’s the perfect example of a successful career woman.”
Watching the women stare after her with admiration, Sim Sangjin shook his head.
“I’m terrified. I hope none of them become exactly like her. One would be enough—I’d suffocate.”
* * *
“You’re shooting the whole Elixer version today? Without any prep?”
“It’s just coffee. What prep do you need? Just imagine we’re taking a photoshoot pose.”
“Easy to say! Me, a beginner?”
“Just try. Since you’re an idol, keep it cute.”
“I’m not an idol—I’ve got three kids.”
“You’re not even my kid, yet you’re acting like it.”
“Both of you are the ones who raised me. Even before I could walk.”
At that moment Heo Jueun returned, eyes sparkling. “I heard about it, but you’re that big of an age difference?”
“Yes… I’ve had a rough life. Raising a baby was the hardest part.”
“Oh my. I always wanted to have a child. I’ll have to think about marriage again. I’m so career-driven.”
Someone nearby chimed in. “Still, you’re living because of your kids.”
Namhun chuckled softly. “You’re right. I live for my kids.”
“Here’s the married man talking big while I’m single.”
“I don’t have kids yet.”
“Oh… that’s true.”
Kang Seokho, arriving on the rooftop, waved them over loudly. “Hey, Sangjin! Come here!”
“Good afternoon.”
Sim Sangjin bowed deeply toward the camera. “This is Sim Sangjin, an actor. I’ve worked as a teacher at an acting academy and have a lot of theater and musical experience.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Sim Sangjin. I’m not quite an actor yet. I’ve appeared in a few dramas as a supporting actor. Right now I mostly do musical ensembles.”
“Haha. Don’t worry, we’ll make it work.”
Namhun treated him like a senior and bowed even deeper.
Sim Sangjin startled, waving both hands. “Whoa, I’m only a year younger! Treat me casually.”
“Ah… is that so?”
“Yes. My face looks older than yours, but it’s true.”
Kang Seokho’s expression soured as he watched them. “This is annoying. Watching arrogant people bow and scrape like that.”
Jo Wonhyeong stepped back with a grin. “I’m not on the same level as President Kang.”
“Hey, that’s a bit of an insult. So, Composer Jo, who are you closer to—me or the other side?”
Jo Wonhyeong looked between the three of them, then lowered his head. “Yes… I admit it.”
It turned out Sim Sangjin was a year behind Namhun at Yehyun High School.
“Oh, Yehyun High? You went to the dance department?”
“Yes.”
“Then since I’m the senior, I’ll speak comfortably.”
Namhun’s rebellious days and sudden idol debut meant he barely remembered his junior, but the reverse was different.
“So you know exactly who Elixer is, huh?”
“Yes. Haha, he was famous at school.”
Namhun suddenly felt exposed, like standing naked in front of a male junior. His chest tightened.
‘Damn it.’
A mid-90s outfit, a long wig that made him look feminine, and acting he’d never rehearsed—right in front of a male junior who was only a year younger.
Crushing a man’s pride like that.
But he had no choice.
‘For the kids.’
That was the weight of being the eldest.
“Anyway, please take care of me. I’ve never done acting before… I’ve done one sitcom camera test, but that’s it.”
“Ah, I saw that too.”
“You saw it?”
“Everyone at school watched it, right? We’re not an entertainment high school… it’s a classical school. The first time anyone from our school debuted as an idol was me. That’s why…”
That was the truth. Unlike some “entertainment high schools,” Yehyun High graduates rarely entered the industry. And the first one to debut while still in school was Namhun.
So among kids his age, no one didn’t know Elixer or Jang Nam.
“You should just call me Eomma-hyung. Easier that way.”
“You changed your name to Namhun, right?”
“When I debut as a trot singer I’ll use my old name as a stage name.”
“Ah, not bad.”
Sim Sangjin nodded approvingly at the idea of “Jang Nam” as a stage name.
“It’s a memorable name.”
“Right?”
“Especially for trot singers.”
“Enough talk. Don’t slack off—get some sweat in.”
Kang Seokho stepped between them.
“Sweat?”
“We’re shooting the feel of someone tired after a performance.”
“Ah.”
Namhun grimaced at the thought of the long road ahead.
* * *
“Cut! The dance scene is done.”
Kang Seokho checked the sweat beading on Namhun’s forehead and gave the signal.
Now came acting. He stepped down from the stage; a staff member handed him a disposable cup of drink. Namhun gulped it down.
“Hoo-ah~!”
Then he smiled brightly.
“Cut!”
Namhun glanced around. Kang Seokho and Heo Jueun looked puzzled, but Sim Sangjin looked genuinely uncomfortable.
‘How am I supposed to say this?’
Honestly, he didn’t know what he’d done wrong. But he wasn’t worried.
He had something to believe in.
A moment later the expected prompt appeared.
【Performance – Bright 17-year-old idol smile】
【Comprehension / Understanding】 60
【Proficiency / Mastery】 50
【Immersion / Focus】 20
【Digestibility / Execution / Expressiveness】 30
【Condition】 90
【Audience reaction】 70
【Overall score】 60
Kang Seokho’s only request was simple: come down naturally, sip the iced Top Belly, and smile.
Namhun had simply followed the instruction. It was just too plain.
“Hmm… not bad. The mask helps the vibe come through.”
Sim Sangjin looked at Namhun’s face first and gave praise. That was the polite thing to do.
“But smiling a little brighter would be better. Like, exhausted, then the sugar from the Top Belly kicks in and energy shoots up…”
Beginners couldn’t nail a perfect take on the first try. They would have to guide and hope.
If they missed, they would still use the best B-take and fix it later. Idols didn’t have time for that, and ads didn’t need deep acting anyway.
But for Namhun, they had to try.
‘It’s a bit awkward.’
Kang Seokho glanced at Kim Dae-ri, the Belly Coffee producer. Namhun’s acting was too natural for a singer, so it felt flat.
‘Time might run out.’
‘Yes.’
Sim Sangjin nodded slightly toward Kang Seokho.
But Namhun, completely calm, blurted out, “So… showing the bright 17-year-old idol smile is enough?”
“What?”
“Did I understand correctly, Sangjin?”
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”