The Worst Possible Timing
Fireworks went off.
Eleven in the morning.
I was in the middle of a job interview at a moving company's office.
Across from me sat a middle-aged man who was apparently the CEO, arms crossed, sizing me up.
"Got experience?"
"Yes, sir! Plenty of it! If you give me the chance, I'll work my tail off."
"Kids these days quit halfway through because it's too hard, or they disappear into the bathroom and glue themselves to their phones for half an hour."
His gaze slid toward the phone in my hand.
And at that exact moment—
Ding.
Of all times. The worst possible timing.
Shit. I should never have turned on message previews.
The CEO's disapproving eyes traveled slowly from the phone screen to my face, then back down to the phone.
"Looks like you've got some girl you're seeing, huh? That's a problem. Guys who are getting laid always start whining about back pain and dodge the heavy work."
The CEO pushed out his potbelly and pulled out a cigarette.
Hoooh.
No more questions followed.
No—that silence alone was answer enough.
The interview was over.
"What are you doing. Turn that thing off, won't you?"
I ended up awkwardly peeling myself off the chair.
"Tsk. So even a Plain-Jane-looking guy like that has a girl sucking his dick, huh?"
"Birds of a feather, that's all. Guaranteed she's nothing special. If you ask me, a little weight on a woman's better—guys like me with a bit of a gut, we like 'em sturdy when we're pounding away, right?"
Behind my retreating back, the CEO, who'd been picking at his ear, gave a thump on the shoulder of the team leader sitting beside him and snickered.
Still, I didn't feel much like correcting them.
A current top idol who'd been sweeping music charts and the advertising world for years was sending me texts like these—no one on earth would believe it if I told them.
I wanted to be an actor.
To be precise, I never wanted to be a famous actor.
I'd decided long ago that starring roles in blockbusters or billboard-occupying top stars simply weren't in the cards for me.
One look in an honest mirror told me as much.
I wasn't handsome, and I didn't have the height to make up for it either.
Then did I have a great voice? Was I gifted with the wit of a comedian or variety-show talent?
Sadly, no to that too.
I was just ordinary.
The most average young man you could find anywhere in South Korea.
And yet, I loved acting.
Middle school, maybe. That was when I first set foot on a stage at a school festival.
My role was the corpse of a dead soldier.
Lines? Obviously none.
My entire performance consisted of letting out one grunt as I was stabbed and lying there with my eyes shut until the curtain fell.
Even so, I was inexplicably thrilled.
Living someone else's life, even for just a few seconds—it held an irresistible charm for me.
So from middle school on, I handed out flyers on the side to pay for acting classes.
And then, like a miracle, I got into Sagong Arts High School.
The day the acceptance text arrived, I don't know how many times I jumped around the room turning my phone screen on and off.
I kept checking whether I'd misread the school's name, whether the word "accepted" might suddenly flip into "rejected."
This was the school that had churned out some of the biggest names in Korean entertainment.
A place where countless talent agencies scouted students right off the stage during performances.
I walked through those gates carrying expectations sky-high.
But what did I spend three years doing there…?
Moving chairs and prop boxes behind the stage alongside the teachers. Coiling lighting cables.
Drama club president, sure—but when you couldn't even land a single bit part yourself, the position had clearly been handed to me so everyone could dump the annoying chores on someone.
The seats were already taken by aspiring actors with agencies, idol trainees, and child-actor veterans.
No—it wasn't merely that they were handsome or pretty.
There was a certain aura that belonged only to people who made standing in front of a camera their profession.
Flawless, immaculately maintained skin.
Hair styled to look effortlessly arranged.
Clothes that seemed casually thrown on yet somehow read as expensive.
Above all, the confidence of people who took the public gaze as their birthright.
Among those students, I was indistinguishable from any other backstage crew member.
Naturally, I failed the college entrance exams.
It would've been absurd for a guy who'd never properly studied acting or sat for a single legitimate audition to get into a theater and film program.
But the tenacity of a boy raised without parents knew the word "quit."
Commercial films, indie films—I didn't care.
I trawled every audition I could scrape together just to claw out even an extra role that never showed on screen.
And of course, I worked part-time every spare moment.
If I couldn't cover the rent and living expenses for the tiny studio I'd been left with after aging out of the orphanage, I'd lose even the right to chase my dream.
Then, while I was grinding through that cycle of auditions and part-time jobs, my military service—enlisted with the attitude of getting it over with—turned out to be a small stroke of luck.
"What? You went to Sagong Arts High School?"
"Yes, sir! Private Baek Seogeom! That's correct!"
"Then do you know Han Seoyeon? I heard she went there too!"
"She was a junior in the drama club I served as president of!"
That one line set off a riot wherever I went.
And it didn't stop there.
"Hey, hey, Private. Then do you know Shim Sona? The actress who started out as a child actor? Word is she's from there too."
"Yes, sir! She was also a junior from my club! And by any chance, have you heard of the model Bae Suhyeon?"
"I don't really follow models. I'm more of a personal YouTuber guy—"
"Oh! That vlog YouTuber you watch all the time, Corporal—Han Yeseul—she's my junior too!"
I could have bragged it off like a string of sausages. My female juniors had made it big.
And I had all their contact information.
Thanks to their schedules being filled with shoots more than school days, I'd ended up managing their timetables as club president—exchanging attendance paperwork with their homeroom teacher and coordinating everything from auditions to performance dates.
Swapping phone numbers came with the territory.
Whether those numbers still worked now, I had no idea.
It said enough that even the staff at their agencies had my number saved.
Anyway, I milked the connections of a lifetime, got discharged, and returned to civilian life.
Military service completed.
Armed with that single line on my resume, I waltzed into acceptance as an extra for a chocolate snack commercial starring Han Seoyeon.
My role: a soldier standing in the background behind her, set dressing.
Even so, I felt like the world was crystalline with promise.
And no, absolutely not because I'd get to see Han Seoyeon again.
If I did well, I might catch a second or two of screen time.
For an extra, that one second was precious résumé material to brandish at the next audition.
So on the day of the shoot, terrified the role might slip away to someone else, I stood obediently in my assigned spot—until—
"Rozea's Han Seoyeon has arrived!"
In an instant, the entire set's atmosphere shifted.
The staff, who'd been scrambling around moments before, all turned toward the entrance at once, and even the director—who'd been sitting with the bored arrogance of a king—leapt out of his chair.
"Everyone, double-check the camera blocking!"
"Floor team, standby! Vehicle coming in!"
"Wardrobe! Makeup! Get ready!"
Considering Han Seoyeon was the visual center of the nation's top girl group and currently commanded the highest appearance fees in the industry, it was hardly surprising that everyone snapped to attention.
"Hello, everyone~! I'm Han Seoyeon of Rozea! Looking forward to working with you today!"
Some things hadn't changed.
Back when she was my junior in the high school drama club, she'd always greeted people that brightly.
Even when the other juniors treated me like a gofer or picked on me for being an orphan, Han Seoyeon alone always smiled and struck up conversation with me.
"Coming through~"
Granted, she walked right past me without a glance.
It had been three years, after all.
Besides, she was an idol who saw hundreds of fans in a single day. There was no way she'd remember me.
My face wasn't the memorable kind anyway.
The shoot wrapped up quickly.
"Great work, everyone, truly!"
"Well, would you look at that, we finished early! All thanks to our Seoyeon here. I mean, how does she nail exactly the expression I have in my head, every single time?"
It was thanks to Han Seoyeon reading the director's desired expression and pose with pinpoint accuracy.
Apparently, a pretty face and a great body alone weren't enough to survive in this business.
Soon after, I submitted a copy of my bankbook and left the set.
I had a convenience store shift early the next morning, so I wanted to hurry home and rest.
Such is the life of an unknown actor.
Still, it had been lucky that the set was within walking distance of my shabby studio apartment.
Thanks to that, I saved on bus fare.
These days, that counted as a genuinely decent slice of happiness in my life.
And so, out of habit, I pulled out my phone, refreshing audition sites as I ambled home.
Then I arrived at the entrance of my run-down, three-story studio building.
"…This the place?"
"Gyah! Fucking hell, you scared me!"
I wasn't alone. No—I hadn't walked here alone either.
I whirled around to find pink-haired Han Seoyeon standing behind me like a ghost.
"Wow. Sunbae, you're still living like this? Look at the mold on your front door, goddamn."
"Uh…?"
"You really haven't changed a bit. Well, if you'd gotten famous I'd have found you ages ago. Do you have any idea how much of a shit-fit I threw just trying to track down one guy? But noooo. Fucking today is when I run into you?"
What…? Looking for me?
No, wait—why was her mouth so filthy? Was this really Han Seoyeon?
"Why were you looking for me…?"
"What the hell. Your door doesn't even have a digital lock? What is this, a museum key?"
Han Seoyeon snatched the key right out of my hand.
"Hey, hold on a second—!"
And with utterly natural ease, she unlocked the door and walked straight in.
"Hey! Why are you barging into someone else's home!"
"What kind of person leaves a celebrity standing out in the hallway?"
For a moment, I almost bought it.
But even in this absurdly surreal situation, I clawed hold of my sanity and asked again.
"I asked why you followed me here. Do you even remember who I am?"
Han Seoyeon plopped down onto my damp, slightly musty bed.
Six pyeong left little choice in where to sit, admittedly.
"Sex."
"What…??"
"Are you deaf? I came here to have sex with you, sunbae."
And with that, she set off a spectacular firework—straight into my life.