Why Are You Crying?
[Why are you crying?]
“Mom….”
I'm sorry. Mom, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be the daughter you were proud of back then. You believed I could become a great actress, and I'm sorry I couldn't live up to that….
All the words I'd never managed to say came surging up in a choke. With trembling hands, I finally managed to speak.
“I filmed a commercial today…. *hic*. And I got Mom a gift, some shoes…. But I don't know the address of the, the place you're staying right now…. *sob*.”
[You filmed a commercial? What commercial?]
“You know those Pi Chae-won sneakers? I signed a modeling contract with them.”
[You have an agency now, and you're doing commercials…. Our Yeo-reum is a real celebrity, huh?]
I nodded. My vision kept blurring over, and I couldn't see Mom's face properly anymore.
Whatever she was signing, her hands were too blurry for me to follow. She must have been so happy to see my face after so long, because her fingers never stopped moving.
“She's asking if you're eating properly, and how school is going—whether you're doing okay. Oh, and she said Not Interested At All was so much fun.”
Han Tae-yang translated from beside me, watching the screen on my behalf. I moved my hands in reply.
“Wasn't it boring without subtitles?”
[No way. It was so, so much fun once you showed up. I even told people around me that you're my daughter.]
The brat who never even called me—what got into her, bragging like that? I kept wiping at my burning eyes, and only then did Mom's face on the phone screen come back into focus.
“Mom, later on I'm going to be in tons and tons of dramas and movies—so how about I put subtitles on everything, just for you?”
Mom burst out laughing, apparently thinking I was joking.
It's not a joke, Mom. It's really not. Once the OTT market opens up, you'll be able to watch everything. You won't need to depend on other people to translate foreign shows for you.
[Then I'll wait for that day, okay?]
Before my regression or after it, Mom never changed. She had always, always waited for me.
'But this time, I won't make you wait so long.'
Even after the call ended, the tears kept coming. The warm seaweed soup had gone cold without my noticing.
“Pick one, Yeo-reum. Cry or eat.”
“This seaweed soup is so damn salty…. Han Tae-yang, your cooking is total garbage….”
“What the hell are you saying? It tastes fine.”
Han Tae-yang pressed a hand to his forehead as he watched me eat dinner in a steady stream of tears.
How was I supposed to stop crying? If I'd called after finishing my meal, I wouldn't be suffering through this brine of a soup right now. So really, this was—
“You're doing the dishes too…. And this soju is way too harsh, ugh….”
“She's actually lost it.”
The photos arrived one after another, and every single one was my face. N-Brand's advertisement, wrapped around the side of an entire bus. And it wasn't just the buses—my face was plastered across storefront walls and the brand's website alike. And above all, in the shopping tab of the portal sites.
1. Pi Chae-won Sneakers
2. Sweatshirts
3. Fall Knitwear
There it was again—my name, all over the place.
'A shame it's not "Han Yeo-reum sneakers," though….'
Still, no words could describe what it felt like to have engraved a character—the first lead role of my life—into people's minds this deeply.
Sales had only just begun, yet reviews were already pouring in, and 'Pi Chae-won sneakers' were popping up all over social media. As N-Brand's very first actress model, I couldn't have asked for a better start.
“Someday, they'll be renaming them the Han Yeo-reum sneakers.”
Mission: The You Inside My Head
Keyword: Image
What matters most to a celebrity? It's their image. The stars who are loved for decades all share one thing: an unmistakable image that comes to mind the moment you hear their name. Etch your own specialness into the world.
🎯 Success Condition: Strengthen the title 'Iconic Rookie' in the hearts of 100,000+ members of the public.
🎁 Rewards: Increase in Recognition / Title acquisition / 1,000 Lucky Points
And right on cue, my next mission arrived.
The licensing deal for Strange Tales had finally closed. Jegal Rok, having purchased the web novel's rights, dove straight into production meetings.
“Our target is broadcast next summer. This will be fully pre-produced, so let's push through the pre-production phase as quickly as possible.”
The schedule was exactly what everyone had expected. It was a ghost story, after all—a genre made for summer.
“What scale of investment are you envisioning? If you tell me, I'll narrow down the list and circulate it. The Chinese partners who backed our recent investments have already expressed interest in Strange Tales.”
“We will not be accepting a single won of Chinese investment.”
No one saw it coming. The room erupted into murmurs.
“You're saying JC ENM will produce it alone?”
“Period dramas offer almost no brand sponsorships or product placement to begin with. If we go this route, recovering our investment will be….”
It was the era when K-dramas, led by K-pop, were riding high across Asia. To propose abandoning the Chinese market bordered on lunacy.
Not a single person in that room could understand why anyone would gamble away a perfectly healthy revenue stream.
“Korean-Chinese co-productions have never been easier to arrange than right now. As you know, the returns relative to investment are substantial. Director, I beg you to reconsider, just once—”
Jegal Rok gave a short shake of his head.
It meant there would be no reversing the decision. The executives around the table let out quiet groans.
“China's avenues for Korean content will close before long. If we carelessly take their money now, capital management will only become harder. In the worst case, production collapses midway and we can't recover the investment at all.”
He spoke with something close to certainty. But not one person in that room could follow where Jegal Rok was going.
“Director! The love calls China is sending Korea right now are astronomical. Their fans are pouring money into our celebrities' fandoms, and even shows that flopped domestically are pulling in huge numbers over there.”
“He's right. The market is only growing. Investment firms and distributors alike are seeing bigger and bigger Chinese revenue—”
“And that is exactly the problem.”
Jegal Rok's voice thundered through the conference room.
“Is there a single madman alive who smiles while watching his own money drain out the door?”
“….”
"I asked whether there's a madman alive who wouldn't get greedy after pouring hundreds of billions of won—money that should be in my pocket—into someone else's wallet."
The argument that China would never keep sending Korea its blind money indefinitely held a disturbing logic.
“And they've been watching for their opening too. An opening to cut off the flow of money into Korea. When a market swells abnormally—that is when it's most dangerous.”
Only then did uneasy glances begin darting through the air. If Jegal Rok's prediction came true, the domestic media landscape was bound to be thrown violently off balance.
"Strange Tales goes into production with JC ENM as sole producer. We will make no deal whatsoever with Chinese investors. JC, and JC alone. As for where it airs—we'll worry about that later."
Jegal Rok laid out a plan he had evidently been preparing for some time.
“We carve out a different overseas market. Thailand, Indonesia, Vietnam—let's break into Southeast Asia.”
“You expect purchasing power from Southeast Asian fandoms?”
One of the executives, still unwilling to let go of the Chinese market, shot back. It was a fair jab—Blu-ray and merchandise sales in Southeast Asia had always been conspicuously low.
“Director. It's a period drama built on ghost stories—it'll be a struggle just to pull ratings from overseas viewers, let alone revenue.”
“Agreed. I understand your reasoning, Director, but this is a fusion period drama with zero sponsorship or product placement to fall back on. A Southeast Asian audience base that's active on social media but spends almost nothing—”
Their voices carried a helpless plea: please, think it over one more time. Jegal Rok gave a small nod, and for one brief moment, hope flickered across the room.
“Which is exactly why.”
“…I'm sorry?”