Establishing the Base
A day later, more articles in the same vein began to appear, and netizen reactions piled up right alongside them.
The more articles of that kind appeared, the blacker Kim Ju-hyeong's face became.
"Haa… I never should've done that interview."
But every time Ju-hyeong fretted, Yeon-woo kept telling him it had actually worked out for the better, and Jin Yu-han couldn't have cared less.
They had finished the first performance on Sunday, and the articles had gone up on Monday.
Then on Tuesday, the rebuttal pieces started rolling out.
Estimates put Ryu Yeon-woo's annual earnings from White Blood alone at well over ten billion won.
Despite commanding top-tier guarantees of that caliber, the number of commercials he has shot since debut can be counted on one hand.
He has received countless love calls from advertising partners since his debut, yet by turning most of them down, his market value has only soared higher…
(abridged)
This paper's reporter, however, has obtained a remarkable piece of information.
According to materials provided by the Korea Leukemia Children's Foundation (Director Lee Gyeong-ran), Theater Group Saebyeol (Representative Ryu Yeon-woo) has arranged to donate all proceeds generated by the performances to the foundation.
Separately, on the thirteenth of last month, actor Ryu Yeon-woo delivered a personal donation of one hundred million won.
By contrast, the estimated total monthly sales for the play Mirror, currently running in a 150-seat small theater, are not expected to even reach thirty million won.
That figure is gross sales — not net profit.
As outlined above, does an actor who commands guarantees of tens of billions of won per commercial shoot really deserve to be dragged through a so-called "fan service" controversy?
This paper believes the industry must raise a voice of self-reflection as to whether articles laced with such malicious smears may not be undermining the culture of charitable giving in this country.
"Khahaha. Now that's fine writing."
Reporter O Seung-hwan patted his slightly protruding belly with pride as he read over his own article.
A low voice came from behind him.
"Manager O."
O Seung-hwan spun around and shot to his feet.
"Y-yes, sir! President!"
"This latest piece of yours was excellent. You've been in that seat for quite some time now, haven't you?"
Sensing something, O Seung-hwan bowed his head even lower.
"I always give my utmost to every assignment I'm given."
"You may look forward to good news at the next personnel review. Between this and the Jeon Gi-hun drug case last time, I know full well how hard you've been working."
Still bowed, Manager O's mouth stretched into a grin that nearly split his face.
"Yes, sir! I'll keep giving it everything I've got!"
The moment the president left, O Seung-hwan pulled out his smartphone and opened the secure messenger app he used with the mysterious tipster who had been helping him.
Then he sent an emoji of someone flat on the floor, prostrating in a full bow.
On the other end of that messenger, Han Hae-un received O Seung-hwan's message and let out a quiet snort of laughter.
Tap-tap-tap—.
Once O Seung-hwan's article went up and the facts came to light, the tide of public condemnation swung toward News7 and reporter No Se-jun, who had published the original piece.
Netizens may cry out for justice, but once they taste blood they are no different from hyenas hunting their next sacrifice. With the banner of righteous justice unfurled on top of it, their fangs tore in without a shred of hesitation.
They dug up every article No Se-jun had ever published and began chewing, ripping, and savoring them one by one.
At that same hour, the members of the theater group gathered in the basement to prepare for the second performance.
"See? Ju-hyeong. I told you there was nothing to worry about. I've never seen anyone mess with Yeon-woo and walk away intact."
Woo Seong-sik clapped Kim Ju-hyeong on the back, grinning.
"Still, I felt like I'd caused real damage. These past two days have been hell…"
At Ju-hyeong's words, Yeon-woo smiled gently.
"Don't worry about it. Thanks to you, I'm a donation angel now."
It wasn't that he'd made the donation out of some pure-hearted desire to keep his good deeds quiet. The gift had been a practical measure for handling future questions of fund sources and tax treatment. But thanks to those hardworking, malicious reporters, he'd been able to use O Seung-hwan to publicize the charity naturally — two birds with one stone.
Then again, that same O Seung-hwan first caught my eye doing the exact same kind of garbage when Master Plan premiered.
Just then, footsteps came down the small theater's stairs.
"Ah, more reporters? We put up a no-entry sign…"
But it wasn't a reporter who walked in.
"Delivery. Is this Theater Group Saebyeol?"
Ha Jae-hun, who was closest, walked over.
"Yes, that's us."
"I'll just leave it on the stairs."
Once the delivery driver went back up, Ha Jae-hun checked the package left on the steps.
"What's this? It's huge."
At Jae-hun's words, Yeon-woo clapped his hands.
"Ah! That must be mine. It got here fast."
"Huh? Why'd you have a package delivered here? This thing's the size of a big-screen TV."
Yeon-woo grinned.
"Let's open it. You'll see."
The next day, in the office of Troupe Ichaseon in Daehangno, Byeon Woo-jun — his hair dyed a bright yellow — sat with his head bowed low.
"So what are you going to do about it, huh?"
"…I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be sorry to me. You're the one who looks like an idiot. I send you to snoop, and you come back with a goofy grin plastered all over a photo? Tsk tsk."
The senior looked Woo-jun up and down, clicked his tongue, and walked out. Only then did Woo-jun lift his head.
"This fucking… What the hell did they do that that psycho is riding me like this first thing in the morning?"
Byeon Woo-jun left the troupe and ran down the secluded alley where Theater Group Saebyeol was located.
It had once been a dead commercial strip that nobody walked through, but ever since Ryu Yeon-woo moved in it had become a hot photo spot.
In the distance, he could see a crowd of people gathered.
As Woo-jun drew closer, high school kids' voices floated over.
"Dude. This is a total execution."
"He's getting humiliated just by standing there."
Pushing through the throng, he found a series of photographs hung along the stairs leading down from the Theater Group Saebyeol sign. They were simply photos of guests who had visited the troupe, displayed in a row — the kind of thing common at other theater companies, nothing particularly unusual.
The problem was the photograph hanging at the very front.
Printed at the size of a big-screen TV, the photo featured a yellow-haired Byeon Woo-jun grinning with a slack, dopey expression dead center, while on either side of him Ryu Yeon-woo and Jin Yu-han stood pressed so close their faces were practically touching — far tighter than in any of the other photos.
"I heard the guy in the middle is also an actor from a troupe around here."
"For real? The face gap is insane. Guess not every actor is handsome."
Woo-jun flashed back to the day the photo was taken.
"Ah, would it be all right if we hung a small print of one of the good photos we took with you all at the entrance, as a memento of our time together? And if any of you are having an affair, please tip off this friend of mine in advance."
Everyone had laughed at Yeon-woo's joke.
It was a common enough practice among Daehangno troupes, so aside from a few audience members, nearly everyone had cheerfully agreed.
"Shouldn't we ask them not to put ours up either?"
A friend had said that behind him, and Woo-jun had snorted.
"Dude. You think this is my first day in Daehangno? It's always women in their twenties or couples. Nobody else ever gets hung up."
But that wasn't what happened.
He wasn't a woman in her twenties. He wasn't a couple.
So why on earth had they hung up a photo of him alone — a single guy?
And it wasn't even small. It was enormous.
A passerby's voice drilled into Woo-jun's ear again.
"Wow, he's got guts taking a photo stuck between those two. What a squid."
Face flushed red enough to burst, Byeon Woo-jun ran forward, grabbed the giant photo of himself, and grunted his way down into the basement with it.
"Hey!"
Kim Jun-su met the huffing, puffing Woo-jun at the bottom.
"What can I do for you? There's a sign that says no unauthorized entry."
"This photo!"
"Ahh, so you were one of the audience members. You consented to us using the photo when we took it."
Woo-jun pointed at the picture, furious.
"Nobody said it would be this big!"
"Ah, well. The photo came out so well. Our guest is quite handsome, after all."
At Kim Jun-su's bright, smiling words, Woo-jun's face went scarlet.
"No! Anyone can see I'm a squi—"
He started to say it, then realized it was pure self-deprecation, and glared at Jun-su with axe-blade eyes instead.
"Just take it down right now!"
"You've already taken it down. Feel free to keep it as a souvenir. Our gift to you."
"I don't need it!"
He flung it to the floor and started back up the stairs — then came right back down again.
Damn it! If I leave this, who knows what these bastards will do with it next.
He opened the door again, grabbed the photo, and bolted.
From behind him, Kim Jun-su's voice echoed up the stairwell.
"Don't throw it on the ground this time!"
Watching the yellow hair disappear, Jun-su shook his head slowly.
"Using even someone's own face as a weapon… Yeon-woo really does come up with the most creative ways to mess with people. Whew. Thank god I'm his friend and not his enemy."
Kim Jun-su gave a full-body shudder.
What did it matter if the guy took the photo? It was already permanently archived on the internet.
Meanwhile, at that same hour, Han Hae-un — operating under the identity of Terrence Williams — had completed the acquisition of the Chinese restaurant building behind Mokhwa Building and summoned the three agents scheduled to join him.
On the still-vacant fifth floor, Hae-un issued his orders to the agents who had gathered.
"From this point on, this place is our operations headquarters. Through that way is a secret passage connecting to the rear building. For security reasons we can't farm the work out to outside contractors, so we'll have to dress it up ourselves to look convincing."
The agents grinned at Hae-un's words.
"Piece of cake. We can throw together a base with our bare hands before breakfast."
Hae-un nodded and handed out work gloves.
"All right. Time for some hard labor."
Then he began pulling every kind of tool imaginable out of his bag.
"Huh? How are you getting this many tools out of a bag that small…"
"Do we have time for idle chatter?"
"No, sir! Moving right now!"
And so Mokhwa Building began its transformation into a true forward operating base.