Na Honza Sanya (1)
The Han River. It is South Korea's widest and fourth-longest river, the iconic waterway that cuts right through the heart of Seoul. Surrounding it are various landmarks, parks, and grand bridges. A view of the Han River is considered one of the most luxurious and sought-after vistas in Seoul. Consequently, apartments and houses in high-end residential areas offering a Han River view are traded at jaw-droppingly exorbitant prices. The most representative of these areas is Jamsil. And I happen to live in the tallest, most expensive apartment building in Jamsil: the Tower Palace Residence.
It is the absolute pinnacle of luxury apartments, a place where you cannot reside simply by having a lot of money. Because it is never listed on the open real estate market, it is famous for being completely inaccessible to anyone without special connections. And I live in the penthouse of this very building.
"Mmm..."
A soft sensation brushed against my skin every time I squirmed. The mattress supported my body with perfect, firm balance. Ah, pure comfort. As the daily life I had only ever dreamed of became my reality, I was gradually growing accustomed to my transformed life.
"Sini."
Yes, how may I help you?
"Play some music and open the curtains."
Understood. Executing now.
Whirrr—
As the curtains parted, a flood of sunlight poured in, painting the room in brilliant gold. I stretched and got out of bed, moving to the rhythm of the music flowing through the speakers. Beyond the window lay the vast expanse of the Han River, framed by a dense mosaic of buildings. Cars bustled across the bridges, and tiny figures of people strolled along the sidewalks. Suddenly, memories of my old life in a semi-basement apartment flashed through my mind—how I used to toss and turn, kept awake by the constant thud of footsteps right outside my window.
After a quick stretch, I walked out into the living room. Lately, I'd been craving coffee the moment I woke up. Today was no exception; I brewed a cup using the high-end espresso machine on the kitchen island. A rich, sweet aroma gently filled the air. As expected of premium beans, the scent was incredible. Kona coffee, celebrated as one of the world's top three gourmet coffees, tasted every bit as exquisite as it smelled.
"Nice weather."
Waking up, sipping freshly brewed coffee, and sitting on the balcony to leisurely enjoy the view—this had become my established morning routine. Today, however, was a little different. A bit more special, one might say. Because of the numerous cameras installed in every nook and cranny of my home.
"Just how many cameras did they put up?"
I muttered, locking eyes with a lens tucked into the corner of the balcony ceiling. The memory of Camera Director Kim Woohyun and his crew invading my apartment the previous evening flashed through my mind. It was a bit overwhelming, but what could I do? The public was practically begging to catch a glimpse of my daily life.
"Time to get some food."
Once the warm coffee settled in my stomach, hunger struck. Should I have sushi today? I pulled out my phone and made a call.
"Hello, valued resident. How may we assist you today?"
"I'd like to request room cleaning service for Unit 4901, please."
"Of course. Your request has been registered. Have a wonderful day."
Click.
The monthly maintenance fee alone for the Tower Palace Residence hovered around six million KRW. Did the building actually provide services worthy of that hefty sum? I could confidently say yes. It included daily cleaning services and top-tier gourmet breakfasts every morning. On top of that, the resident lounge featured a private movie theater, a sauna, a swimming pool, a gym, and all sorts of luxury amenities. Combined with the standard hotel-grade room services, I could proudly declare that it was worth every single won.
"...Are they going to film me changing, too?"
Even my walk-in closet had been conquered by cameras. After a brief staring contest with one of the lenses, I finally gathered my clothes and retreated into the bathroom. Once I finished changing and stepped out of my apartment, I locked eyes with two cameramen waiting right outside my door. With them trailing closely behind, I took the elevator down to the exclusive resident lounge on the 15th floor.
"Good morning, sir. May I take your breakfast order?"
"I'll have the Omakase Course C, please."
"Would you like any beverages with that?"
"Just cold water is fine."
After ordering, I sat down and killed time by running my daily quests in Epic of Seven.
"Here is your meal, sir. Please enjoy."
With a perfectly poised bow, the dishes were served one by one. Ah, seriously, this is ridiculously delicious every single time. I completely ignored the cameras filming me from mere inches away. I simply savored my meal with an expression of pure, unadulterated bliss.
Why did I agree to appear on this variety show in the first place? Sure, it might be fun, but my primary motive was promoting my game. If exposing my daily life meant getting Epic of Seven featured on the nation's top-rated, major network variety show, it was practically equivalent to saving hundreds of millions of won in advertising costs.
Clack.
I stood up after finishing my meal. It was time to fulfill my original purpose: showing off my daily life while shamelessly plugging Epic of Seven. I headed down to the parking lot with the cameramen and drove toward the Leon Play Headquarters.
What is the single most decisive factor for a variety show's viewership ratings? The time slot? The competition airing at the same time? Wrong, all of it. In my opinion, the most crucial element of ratings is none other than the "cast." What good is pouring millions into marketing and securing a prime-time slot? The core entertainment value of a variety show ultimately stems from the chemistry and stories of its cast members.
In that sense, the man named Kim Sung-woo was a literal cheat code for ratings. He was the CEO of Leonplay, the hottest topic in the country right now, and on top of that, a young master of the Taewung Group—the undisputed number one conglomerate in South Korea. At first, it was just a shot in the dark. To think that a younger sister figure I knew was actually friends with the legendary Hot Potato. Even though I knew it was a long shot, I closed my eyes tight and asked Suhyun to connect me with him.
I expected an immediate rejection. Why would a third-generation chaebol heir ever want to expose his private life on a variety show?
How shocked had I been when I first saw that text? I hadn't been this thrilled even when casting the biggest A-list celebrities. Because I hadn't expected it at all, the joy was doubled.
Our Sung-woo? Are they dating? Suhyun and Hot Potato came from worlds that were polar opposites. As a precious younger sister to me, I hoped she wouldn't get hurt, but there was nothing uglier than meddling in other people's business. I promptly wiped the thought from my mind and scheduled a pre-interview with Hot Potato through Suhyun.
"Hello, I'm Kang Haeyeon, the chief producer of Na Honza Sanya. Thank you so much for agreeing to do the show."
"Don't mention it. Thank you for the wonderful offer as well."
My first meeting with him was a series of shocks. Setting aside his polite manners, his visuals were absolutely striking. To put it in perspective, my eyes—which had been thoroughly desensitized by countless celebrities over the years—were completely blown away. It wasn't just that he was handsome; being utterly overwhelmed by a person's sheer aura was a completely novel experience for me. But perhaps the rumors about him shutting himself away at home for years due to severe social anxiety were true...
"Hello, I am Kim Sung-woo, and I have been living alone for six years."
"My reason for deciding to appear on the show is to promote the game developed by the company where I serve as CEO."
"Wait, excuse me? You appeared on the show to do *what*?"
"Me? To promote my game."
"..."
He acted as if he didn't have a single diplomatic bone in his body. He literally admitted to coming on the show just to plug his company's game! When I first heard it, I genuinely wondered if he was out of his mind.
"*Cough*... Ahem! Moving on to the next question! Have you ever watched Na Honza Sanya before and thought, even once, that you'd like to appear on it?"
"Ah, can I be completely honest?"
What is he trying to set up now? I shot him a look, silently pleading with him to keep it moderate. Unfortunately, it seemed he completely misread my signal.
"I'd actually never watched Na Honza Sanya until I received the casting offer. So no, I've never really thought about wanting to be on it."
...He really had decided to do this show solely to promote his game. How on earth was I supposed to edit this interview? The man was a young master of the Taewung Group. If this broadcast generated negative public opinion about him, there was no telling what kind of pressure would be exerted on the broadcasting station. I gritted my teeth and pressed on with the questions.
"Ah... haha... I see. Well, you mentioned earlier that you've lived alone for six years. May I ask how old you are?"
"I'm twenty-five."
"So you started living on your own when you were nineteen?"
"That's correct."
"Living alone at such a young age must have come with many inconveniences. If you had to pick the single most difficult experience of living on your own, what would it be?"
Please...! Just give me a normal, sensible answer this time...!
"Living alone is so comfortable that I think I've become incredibly lazy. Dealing with that laziness is probably the hardest part."
"Ah... ahaha..."
"...?"
Look at that innocent, clueless face staring back at me as if asking what the problem was. And why did he have to look so ridiculously handsome while doing it? I gave up. I had no choice but to push him as an unpretentious, brutally honest, eccentric young master. Surely, my mounting anxiety about the upcoming shoots was just in my head, right?