Selection and Focus
The age of short-form videos and challenges was about to dawn. This was precisely the moment when Tritter users would surge upward and displace the old community boards.
‘We’re about to gain almost ten times our current user base, exactly.’
As long as the clips got rettrited, the timing could not have been better for making a face known through short videos.
"I need to build a fresh-rookie image too, so I'll have to follow the choreography during the show — but for those parts, I-deun, you can handle about eighty percent of it. Honestly, this dance is so cute. If there are any moves that strike you as 'oh, this would look adorable if she did it,' just throw them all my way. Anything that makes me look cute."
"…Did you, by any chance, pretend not to know the choreography earlier on purpose?"
"Yep. I'm an actress, after all — it's not like I can't move my body. But I want to focus on the moves that'll capture well on camera."
"And that comment you made earlier about having practiced with me — was that also…"
"Details, details, let them go. Even if I follow the choreography perfectly, I won't match you anyway. Anyway, you get the plan, right? We each take the parts where our own professions can shine. Selection and focus!"
Seo I-deun wore the expression of a man wondering what on earth was wrong with this person, but he nodded along dutifully all the same.
"Yep. Understood."
"Great. Let's keep doing well together, okay?"
From far across the studio, a staff member shouted.
"Live broadcast, standby — ninety seconds! Please stand by!"
Seo I-deun moved toward his mark, then double-checked with me.
"Are you sure you don't want to go over the cue cards one more time?"
I gave the cards in my hand a light little wave.
"I'm fine."
Honestly, I'd been waiting for him to ask. I'd been dying to deliver that exact answer.
"Because I memorized all my lines."
Ah, Han Yeo-reum. Even I have to admit that was cool. Who am I, after all? Jury Special Newcomer at the Seoul International Drama Awar—
"Live broadcast, standby — one minute!"
Here I go. Going.
Click- click-.
Inside a dark room with the lights off, slender fingers busied themselves across the keyboard. They clicked again and again, but at some point the posts had sunk far down the page.
"…Ugh, annoying."
Contrasting with the pitch-black room, the bright monitor displayed screenshots from today's live broadcast of Music N. A post with 137 upvotes and 88 comments was dangling precariously at the very tail end of the Best board.
It's a LIVE show, and if you couldn't memorize it you could've at least looked at the cue cards lmaooo. Just staring dead into the camera while fumbling — how does that fix anything? T_T You could tell even before this how desperate he was for solo activities, but he gets everything spoon-fed and still can't deliver. Instant turn-off.
(Capture of Yeo-reum smoothly stepping in to save the situation.jpg)
Honestly, if it weren't for Pi Chae-won, she'd have gone completely unnoticed.
The post, which had failed to climb to number one, had already spread far and wide across every corner of the internet.
Stacked browser windows carried uploads under nearly identical titles. And every single one featured the same photograph.
Seo I-deun, nearly causing a broadcast disaster in his panic. And Han Yeo-reum, set up in contrast against that incompetent Seo I-deun.
"Ah, damn it…."
But the framing hadn't stuck. Far fewer comments had poured in than expected.
Setting aside a few vicious comments, the rest consisted of corrections insisting there had in fact been a problem with the cue cards, and remarks mocking the original poster.
The button was pressed, the comment reported — but it refused to disappear easily.
The fingers that had been darting about so busily just moments before drifted, almost unconsciously, toward a mouth. Dissatisfied lips took the fingernail between them and gnawed.
"If only it had been the other way around…."
If it had been incompetent Han Yeo-reum against a Seo I-deun working hard all on his own, the comment section would have burned far hotter — and the thought of that missed opportunity left a bitter taste.
"Next week, then. Han Yeo-reum pretending to be close to Seo I-deun…. I just have to hook onto something. Anything."
The owner of that dark shadow was not a fan of Han Yeo-reum's, either. What showed through was nothing more than a petty wish for whichever of the two would just catch some flak.
Scrolling down to stare at Han Yeo-reum's face, the shadow slammed every browser window shut the instant footsteps sounded in the hall.
A moment later, the door burst open.
"What is this pigsty! I told you to turn the light on, you'll ruin your eyes!"
"Ah, Mom—. I keep telling you to knock."
"Knock, schmock. Here, eat an apple. Are you watching that drama again? Don't binge the whole thing in one day — pace yourself, take breaks."
"Yes, yes."
Click-.
The moment Mom flicked the light on and left, brightness flooded a room that had known none of it — spilling across the desk, the door, the walls, the laptop wallpaper.
Do Gyeo-ul was everywhere.
"I wonder when Gyeo-ul's drama is finally coming out…."
A murmured hum lingered in the air of the room.
Soon enough came the crisp, cheerful crunch of an apple being bitten into. It was a peaceful slice of everyday life — nothing like the person who had been writing such sinister posts.
Jegal Rok had monitored Han Yeo-reum's performance today. No excess, not a single flaw to pick at. To sum it up in one phrase:
"Usable."
His judgment had never once been wrong. Whatever the endeavor. He found himself thinking, once again, that he had made the right call bringing Han Yeo-reum into JC ENM.
‘The way she handled the on-air crisis was natural. Flawless, even.’
Jegal Rok had already been informed that there had never been any problem with the cue cards. From beginning to end, it had been a play Han Yeo-reum had staged herself.
Perhaps that was what made her an actress — she understood situation-building to a masterful degree.
‘And handing the public a controversy isn't a bad look, either.’
Had she instead recited from memory, refusing to touch the cue cards just to prove she'd memorized the script, Seo I-deun's attitude would have landed at the very center of a scandal.
When one side looked excessively capable, the other looked comparatively incompetent, after all.
But Han Yeo-reum had manufactured it so that Seo I-deun appeared wholly blameless. That was not the posture of a rookie hungry to stand out, unused to on-air emergencies.
Click-.
Clicking to the next file, Jegal Rok reviewed the documents Manager Ma had handed over. They contained the final terms each broadcaster had submitted for the broadcasting rights to Strange Tales. Skimming the neatly organized files, he reached his conclusion.
‘Their collective IQ is questionable, at best.’
Declining Chinese investment amounted to letting go of the Chinese export market as well. The terms were bound to rub the Chinese investors the wrong way.
The terrestrial networks, MBS included, had taken a passive stance. He'd hoped otherwise, but things had unfolded exactly as predicted.
And within that gap, Jegal Rok chose the broadcaster that would air Strange Tales.
> No further coordination with other broadcasters. Relay that the contract has fallen through.
Without further deliberation, Jegal Rok ended his selection.
The choice: TVM. Having intended to pick a terrestrial network for the sake of Han Yeo-reum's mainstream reach, Jegal Rok ultimately decided to air Strange Tales on JC ENM's own cable channel.
‘It may, in fact, be the more rational choice.’
Unlike terrestrial broadcasting, cable faced lighter regulation from the Korea Communications Commission. Given the occult subject matter, going with cable might well draw out Director Jjang's trend-savvy sensibilities to their fullest.
> The male lead has also been decided. Contact the relevant celebrity's agency tomorrow morning.
Jegal Rok was not a man who allowed his brain idle time. Across the spiderweb-fine lattice of his mind, countless options were struck away, and the names he had shortlisted snapped into sharp focus.
> Kwon Jun-hyeok.
Six years into his idol career. Strong demand from overseas fans. A low, husky voice. A pleasingly sun-darkened complexion framed by sharp monolids — and even a scar above one eyebrow.
The optimal choice to become the Royal Inspector of Strange Tales.