The Final Effort (3)
I made the right choice picking Wine Talk as my first variety show!
Kang Min felt deeply satisfied.
There was no reason not to.
The guest who'd started with some light personal questions to loosen things up had quickly fallen silent, and the others were clearly choosing their words with caution.
For Kang Min, who'd braced himself for the cutthroat world of variety TV, this kind of considerate atmosphere was a huge relief.
No, no. This isn't the time to relax. I have to make the most of this opportunity.
He steadied his mind with effort.
He wasn't here to successfully debut on variety today. He was here to pour out how serious he was about Unbelievable.
Of course, blurting it out at the start would mean nothing. He had to wait until the mood was right, until everyone was fully tuned in—that's when it would hit hard.
He had to time it perfectly.
Kang Min worked to calm his excitement, carefully gauging the room.
—Of course, from Choi Dan-yong's perspective, everything was a nightmare.
As Kang Min's words continued, his mouth gaped open like Munch's The Scream.
"Yes, I was in the facility for a while."
"No, it wasn't particularly bad. Sure, plenty of friends turned rough after hitting reality's walls, but not everyone did. Most understood after a good hour-long talk. Though... they did scream a bit."
"Ah, that fan... Honestly, I'm reflecting on it now. It reminded me of my little siblings."
"Yes, I still feel the same. People can waste their lives. But they should do it on their own terms."
Talulla...!
A massive Talulla...!
Just casually touching on past incidents that could fill hundreds of lines under "Wine Talk/Criticism and Controversies" on Wiki, all delivered in a calm tone.
A few audience members teared up at these ant-tear-worthy stories, while the guest who'd kicked things off aggressively was now pale and trembling.
For him, the moment filming ended, that controversy section would definitely get added. Probably preserved for posterity, too.
Cold sweat dripped down Choi Dan-yong's neck.
Damn it! Goddamn it...! Why does this shit only happen to me...!!
If he had to pinpoint blame, it was his own fault for eagerly snatching Kang Min up the second he expressed interest. But at this point, needling Kang Min wasn't the issue.
The guests were shrinking back from the mood, and no one was generating any usable footage.
Choi Dan-yong gritted his teeth.
Fuck, I completely fucked up the setup...!
If he'd known stories like this would come up, he never would've gone for this chaotic talk format. He'd have done a small group with mood-setting BGM and emotional close-ups.
As it was, he'd dragged Kang Min here for nothing, and he'd be writing apology reports over tanked ratings.
But sticking to the planned chaotic diss battle format would just spawn controversies no matter what.
No—anyone with the personality to diss those stories wouldn't survive in this industry anyway!
Damn it, what popular actor hides a past like that...! You blow that shit up early for marketing!
Trapped in this no-win dilemma, PD Choi Dan-yong's eyes wavered.
The AD, reading the room, stammered, "Wh-what do we do, PD...? Should we switch formats and reshoot now...?"
"No way, you idiot! The second those audience members leave, it'll spread everywhere!"
"We can make them sign NDAs...!"
"You think that'll stick with an actor who nailed a 40% drama on his debut?!"
What to do.
What the hell could he do—
Choi Dan-yong was cornered.
But hey, 20 years of experience wasn't for show like a bad go-stop hand. In his frantic scan of the room, his eyes landed on one panelist blankly staring at Kang Min.
Jo Yun-a.
The no-name he'd seated nearby because her pre-filming anecdote seemed useful.
But seeing her sparked a massive scheme in Choi Dan-yong's mind.
That's it! Perfect!
He whipped around to the AD.
"Didn't Jo Yun-a appear in Black Forest or something?"
"Uh...? Oh, yeah. I had no memory of it, thought it was bullshit, but she did pop up. Basically extra-level screentime."
"Experience?"
"Three years and five months in. Honestly, for a rookie—"
"Perfect, great visual!"
"Huh?"
Choi Dan-yong grinned wickedly.
He'd already mapped out a new dynamic in his head.
If I can't make Kang Min the scapegoat, just trot out a new one!
Black Forest—tanked from over 30% to single digits. And she's extra-tier there.
What better setup was there?
He barked orders.
"Shift focus. Grab that Jo-whatever and straight-up compare her to Kang Min. A third-year nobody forcing a polite greeting out of spite on a third-month top star. Great visual, right? And she's tight with agency-mate Seo Bom."
"Uh..."
"Capture her looking all smug, stitch it together sleazily. Make her unlikeable on purpose. Let her take some hate—that'll pull ratings easy! No one's gonna complain."
The AD didn't correct the name to Jo Yun-a or call it too harsh.
Instead, he was impressed.
"Great visual! But her backing's Wiztone—cool with that?"
"She's been a nobody for years anyway. Noise marketing helps her too. Recognition's everything in this biz. They won't blow up over it."
"True, makes sense!"
Orders went out immediately to the so-called "wind-catchers"—the variety show's aggro-stirrers.
Their faces lit up, naturally.
With Kang Min untouchable, anyone opposing him could go hard without backlash.
It was like a parliamentary hearing with a punching bag trotted out. Nothing beats beating on a sandbag for fun and buzz.
The wind-catchers exchanged smirks.
And just like that, the variety show's vibe flipped 180 degrees.
#
"Yes, I saw it clearly. Actor Kang Min bowed at a full 90 degrees!"
"No way, really?!"
"Totally! The staff will all vouch. Everyone behind was shocked, right?!"
"Oh my god!"
"Seniority's scary. Aren't you four years younger, Yun-a? Still gotta bow that deep?"
"That's how it is here."
"Still scary though."
Something felt off—
Jo Yun-a sensed it suddenly.
She'd been briefed to share the pre-shoot mishap as lighthearted banter.
But the lines coming out were different.
Kang Min hadn't bowed 90 degrees, and her own panicked head-ducking plea wasn't mentioned at all.
This wasn't just spice—it felt like she'd catch real hate.
Jo Yun-a floundered to speak.
"N-no, that's not—"
"And you were on Black Forest at the same timeslot, right? Some rivalry feelings there?"
And she was cut off.
Amid the laughter, one panelist widened her eyes: "Black Forest?"
Anyone could see it was a prompt.
"I watched a ton of Black Forest—were you in it?"
"Yeah, the protagonist's daughter. Got some sweet potato vibes."
"Oh right! The one coming down stairs every time!"
"Down those stairs a lot."
Laughter erupted again.
Jo Yun-a blanked out but couldn't respond.
The ball rolled away like a tennis volley to keep her from countering.
"Honestly, Black Forest had reason to hate King and Sovereign. Epic rivalry."
"History-making, probably."
"Great ending too. Thought the Black Forest protag had to die."
"Survived and reunited with family. I liked that."
It was weird.
Something was off.
The panels tossed light praise with chuckles, never directly addressing her.
But Jo Yun-a's spine chilled.
It was that instinctive chill anyone with industry mileage feels.
She frantically scanned cameras and staff. Eyes met some.
She was in the spotlight.
Alongside Kang Min.
Impossible...!
"Anyway, I just showed proper respect to my senior."
"Welcome to the industry, Actor Kang!"
"Hahaha!"
Ah.
Lightning struck—Jo Yun-a realized everything.
That role from articles she'd thought was too much, yet necessary for attention.
Punching bag.
Jo Yun-a blanked out.
.......
The talk rolled on.
Panels never directly slammed her. Just sly Black Forest mentions.
But the planted info turned audience gazes colder by the second.
Without a word, her character morphed: the arrogant hotshot they hated, nagging a senior four years older.
Even if Kang Min denied it outright, this wouldn't fade fully.
Some audience whispered, glaring openly in disdain.
Her mind went white.
No more naive thoughts of gaining notice via "devilish edits."
Her legs trembled faintly.
I have to say something, anything—
But words wouldn't come.
No—the ball never returned.
They'd probably cast her for this exact purpose. The greeting was just convenient kindling.
From the start.
Once production decided, Jo Yun-a was powerless.
That's PD power—the reason so many left with curses instead of dreams. No one believed their pleas.
Now, it was her turn.
"......?!"
".......!"
"......!!"
Laughing, chattering voices brushed past her ears.
Audience glares pierced down.
Her blank mind flashed to last night's cityscape.
Glamorous skyscrapers towering over dwarfed buildings.
A murmur escaped.
I should've... let go long ago.
She knew she couldn't reach that glamour.
But she'd thought she could build something of her own.
This was the result.
She wouldn't even stay a nobody anymore—the one she desperately wanted to escape. Her face would pop up occasionally: Ah, that bitch. Dragged out for beatings.
If it was gonna end like this, better to quit early.
Grip.
Nails dug into her clenched palm.
Why me...?
Seo Bom came to mind.
Debut just three months apart, one year older.
Normally, no big gap.
But now, the distance to Seo Bom might as well be plucking stars from the sky.
Why me...?
Jo Yun-a bowed her head.
Injustice burned.
Tears welled.
She wanted to stand, yell it wasn't true, scream her lungs out.
But she couldn't. Production would milk even that.
Everything was horrific.
Everything was resented.
Yet she could do nothing.
Jo Yun-a squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it all to end.
And—
"Haha, sure. What do you think, Actor Kang?"
"Well, I don't get why this is even talk-worthy."
"...Pardon?"
"I don't see why showing respect to a respectable senior actor should be gossip."
"Uh...?"
Jo Yun-a blankly lifted her head.
Kang Min was frowning.
#
Rookies really don't get variety, huh—
Kang Min sighed softly, surveying the stunned faces around him.
What was it? They'd called it "ruining the vibe" or "tripe-ing the mood" lately?
Obvious without looking.
Even the audience blinked blankly.
Failed.
Oh well. Might as well say what he'd planned.
Kang Min turned to one wind-catcher panelist with a blank look.
"Actress Lee Yu-jeong."
"Y-yes?"
"You said doing the same stair descent acting every time would be boring, right?"
"Yes..."
"Why say that?"
"Well... because..."
The panelist blinked.
"Obviously it's boring. Same acting every day. Predictable too."
Kang Min caught the sneer and condescension mixed in.
He'd gotten those looks once.
She wasn't even hiding it. Nor were the others.
"Indeed, 'the same.'"
Kang Min stood.
Walked steadily to the platform stairs.
And descended.
"See that?"
"Y-yes..."
"Again."
He did it exactly the same.
And asked.
"See that?"
"Yes..."
"Any difference?"
"?"
The panelist was speechless.
Difference? What difference?
Just went up and down?
Confused silence flowed.
People exchanged blinking glances.
Kang Min sighed softly, glanced around, then climbed back up.
This time, slow, deliberate steps.
On the last step, his left arm extended slightly.
"Question again. Why extend my left arm?"
"Habit from descending...?"
"Couldn't I use the right?"
"...Well, if you start with the opposite foot."
"Exactly."
Kang Min nodded calmly.
He scanned the room.
"That seemingly casual first step completely flips the final camera framing."
"...?"
"One more: In Black Forest, the protagonist's house door is left of the stairs. Jo Yun-a sunbaenim's role is left-footed. Stairs are odd-numbered. Normally—"
Descending, his body tilts right.
"—it should be like this."
"......"
"Episode 3, Jo Yun-a sunbaenim did this. But episode 8, opposite. Why?"
"Uh, I... didn't watch Black Forest..."
"So you spoke without watching."
The panelist averted her eyes guiltily.
Kang Min furrowed his brow, continuing.
"In episode 3, protagonist's a normal family man. Episode 8, he's openly swayed by Agent Patricia. Jo Yun-a sunbaenim figured the daughter noticed."
Hesitation on the stairs.
Wants to stay up, but must go down.
Descending foot symbolizes not courage, but anxiety. Naturally, the uncomfortable side.
Right foot.
The panelist raised her voice, incredulous.
"Isn't that overinterpretation?! Could just be coincidence!!"
"Possible. Up to episode 12."
"......"
"There, camera catches a top-down descent for the first time."
Daughter steps left.
But ends on right.
Odd stairs—no straight descent fits.
Thus,
"She paused mid-stairs, hesitated. That's Jo Yun-a sunbaenim's read."
The panelist was dumbfounded.
So were the others, the audience.
To them, Kang Min concluded calmly.
"Those acts were never the same. At least, Jo sunbaenim poured thought into every one. They couldn't be identical."
"......"
Silence fell.
Everyone stared, speechless.
Truly trivial differences—odd to even notice.
Even production might scoff, So what?
But from Kang Min, it silenced them.
Hui-yul.
Doctor.
Priest.
All his hyper-realism lent legitimacy.
Silence,
stillness—
In that quiet, only one gripped her trembling hands.
"Director Lee Hyun-seok, recent Academy darling, once said: 'Conflict must be between living people. Puppets moving on cue have no value.'"
"......."
"I know Jo Yun-a sunbaenim gets that. Respecting her isn't weird."
I wasn't forced to bow—Kang Min finished calmly.
"......"
"......"
The room was deathly quiet.
No one dared speak. Like the world had frozen.
Those confidently attacking Jo Yun-a now averted gazes cautiously.
And amid it,
Jo Yun-a stared blankly at him.
......
Her body convulsed like twisting.
Heart pounded endlessly.
That forced smile for skyscrapers now surged through her.
But something greater swallowed it whole.
Someone saw it.
Someone—
Eyes burned hot.
Jo Yun-a bit her lip, head down.
To him, at least.
Clearly,
To him, at least, unnie Seo Bom wasn't weird.
Of course.
Anyone around him would end up like that.
Even I would.
......
Jo Yun-a bit her lip.
Weird.
She'd always envied Seo Bom, but never this madly.
Truly,
truly weird—
And in that venue-wide hush,
Kang Min realized.
Huh?
Now,
all eyes on me big time?
......!
Before realization, his mouth moved.
In a tone as weighty and sincere as could be.
"Oh, while we're at it, one more thing."
"Wh-what?"
"I'm in Unbelievable because I want to be. Honestly, I want to bury my bones there."
Reactions were simple.
"?"
"?"
"?"
"......???"
Hm,
maybe not the best timing—
Kang Min swallowed a groan, eyeing the blinking stares.
A few days later, reactions to the aired Wine Talk exploded massively.
...Sadly, not in the direction Kang Min had hoped.