New York

Yeon-woo left the conference room and headed for the elevator.

He had been told it would be a brief exchange of greetings among the judges and the organizers, but the gathering had proven even more tedious than expected. Each judge simply stood, offered a perfunctory introduction, and the organizers recited their résumés while everyone clapped like machines. As for anything actually related to the contest itself — the organizers merely said the details would be delivered individually later, and that was the end of it.

Inside the elevator descending toward the parking garage, Yeon-woo remained perfectly calm. Kim Min-su, by contrast, looked ready to explode.

"I mean, isn't this completely out of line? The actor accepted a judge's seat as basically unpaid volunteer work, and they drag a busy man all the way out here just so a bunch of old men can gang up, put him on the spot, and spit out rude little digs. I nearly jumped them myself."

Yeon-woo listened and let the questions from the conference room drift back through his mind.

Heh heh, judging criteria? Does a young fellow like you even know how to read a screenplay? It's nothing like those polished scripts actors usually get handed.

You're about my grandson's age, so I'll speak freely. Just listen carefully to what the adults say and take it as a learning experience…

Recalling the villains spouting those cookie-cutter, cliché lines, Yeon-woo smiled faintly.

"Well, I didn't come here for applause. What I do regret is not getting a proper discussion of the judging standards with the other panelists. It would be better if everyone entering the contest could be evaluated under the same fair criteria."

"The whole thing just feels rotten. To those people it's nothing more than an annual cash grab — no more, no less."

Ding.

The elevator arrived at the underground parking garage just as Kim Min-su finished speaking. Yeon-woo stepped out and gave a quiet nod.

"That may well be the case."

Inwardly, though, he thought it was rather convenient. He had never accepted the judge's seat out of pure volunteer spirit in the first place.

If they fail to recognize a genuine gem and eliminate it, that works out perfectly for me.

In most contests, the more predatory organizers outright demanded full transfer of copyright from the winners; even the milder ones at least insisted on first-negotiation rights for publication or production. In plain terms: we paid you prize money, so if you want to do anything with this work, you need our permission.

Reading the room, Yeon-woo suspected the organizers had invited him purely for publicity — the contest's public interest had been dwindling year after year. The veteran judges who had held the seats for years, however, clearly felt their rice bowls were being threatened and had treated him with open hostility. If all they wanted was for him to provide a little publicity and stay out of the real work, Yeon-woo was more than happy to oblige.

What I'm really after are the rejected entries.

Contests like this weren't limited to industry professionals; plenty of amateurs entered as well. Works that failed to place were almost certain to vanish without a trace. So he planned to review only the eliminated pieces and sift for raw talent among them.

Once he was in the car, while Kim Min-su let the engine warm up, Yeon-woo opened the booklet the organizers had prepared and checked the relevant regulations.

Confirming the rule, Yeon-woo nodded. The greedy eyes he had seen today did not look as if they possessed the discernment to spot a true gem. Watching them, he recalled something Napoleon had said in his final years of exile on Saint Helena.

Today's misfortune is the revenge of time once misspent, wasn't it?

Tapping the booklet with one finger, Yeon-woo gave a quiet snort of laughter.

In the end, the regret they will one day feel will simply be the consequence of how they spent today.

"Ah, right — I packed the gochujang."

Checking his suitcase one last time, Yeon-woo spoke into his phone. Whenever he left the country for an overseas schedule, his mother asked the same question without fail, so this time he had answered first. The reply that came back, however, was a little different from usual.

Yeon-woo scratched the back of his head.

"Is that so. Anyway, I'll be careful. Talk to you later."

He ended the call and was about to leave the house when a message arrived from Kim Min-su: three minutes out. Stepping outside right on time, Yeon-woo found a large bus already waiting — one big enough to carry the entire staff in a single trip.

Climbing aboard, he was greeted by a collection of familiar faces. Filming permission at Madison Square was limited to roughly an hour, so only a few simple scenes were planned. The only actors making the trip were Yeon-woo himself and Seo Ju-gyeong, the supporting actress cast as his mother in the film.

"The star of the show has arrived."

"Yeon-woo, come here. We can't stop at a salon, so I'll at least tidy your hair before we hit the airport."

The bus held Kim Min-su and Lee Ye-eun, of course, along with Director Kim Han-su and lighting director Im Seong-su. And there, filling a seat with his bear-like bulk, sat Agent Park Jung-hyeon — Code Name Tau.

…Park Jung-hyeon?

Yeon-woo tilted his head at a presence that had no business being there. Walking toward Lee Ye-eun's seat, he looked at Park Jung-hyeon and extended a hand.

"…Pleasure to meet you. I'm actor Ryu Yeon-woo. I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Ah, yes. Park Jung-hyeon."

"……"

Yeon-woo regarded the man who offered nothing beyond his own name, then took the seat beside Lee Ye-eun. While she busied herself with his hair, he kept his eyes averted from hers and fired off a quick message to Han Hae-un.

A reply arrived a short while later.

Reading Han Hae-un's message, Yeon-woo glanced at the other security personnel seated behind Park Jung-hyeon. Come to think of it, he had received a similar report from Kim Su-hyeok.

Hmm. So I've ended up traveling with Tau after all.

On second thought, it made perfect sense that either Park Jung-hyeon or Lee Gyu-jin would be assigned. Kim Su-hyeok still had no idea of Yeon-woo's true identity, so as far as he was concerned, Pridwen's biggest client was Saebyeol Media. For an overseas schedule, of course he would send his elite operative — Park Jung-hyeon.

While Lee Ye-eun's hands refined him into an even cleaner version of himself, the bus arrived at Incheon International Airport. Compared with the usual scramble that Kim Min-su and the other Saebyeol staff had to endure, the effect of Park Jung-hyeon and the Pridwen security team was immediate and overwhelming. Park Jung-hyeon himself became a living human barricade, smoothly deflecting the surges of press and overzealous fans, allowing Yeon-woo and the party to clear departure procedures at a leisurely pace.

"Man, we should have contracted a security firm ages ago."

Kim ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Min-su, who had always been jostled every which way at airports, nodded vigorously as he savored a departure that felt entirely different.

"You've had it rough all this time, Min-su hyung."

"Nah, I wouldn't go so far as to call it rough — but being able to lock down the actor's safety for real is a relief."

In truth, Yeon-woo had never once worried about his own security and had never felt any particular need for a security firm. Unless someone suddenly opened up with a machine gun, there was nothing that could truly endanger him. He had simply created alternate identities so that Kim Su-hyeok and the other agents could operate freely. Experiencing it today, though, he could see how ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reassuring the presence of security personnel would be whenever other Saebyeol talent handled external schedules.

"Whew. It's going to be a long flight to New York."

After a flight of more than fourteen hours, they set foot in New York's JFK Airport. Yeon-woo had spoken with Bernard Fenton in advance, so a team from a specialized local firm was already waiting to handle guidance and overall production support.

"Whew. Before we head to the hotel and unpack, how about a quick meal first?"

At Director Kim Han-su's suggestion, Yeon-woo and the staff all nodded.

"I hear there's a famous soft-tofu stew place in New York. Since we're here, shall we try it?"

"Director, I just looked it up — it's not far from our hotel at all."

Hearing the director and the first AD, Yeon-woo snorted quietly to himself.

People really do all think alike. Mother mentioned the exact same place before we left.

Apparently it had been featured on a domestic television program recently. The staff car found the soft-tofu restaurant in question, but the first AD who went ahead to check came back shaking his head.

"The line is insane. If we start waiting now, it's at least an hour and a half."

"Ah, that's too long to wait."

Yeon-woo rubbed his chin, then raised a hand.

"Then how about we search for a gukbap place nearby? I hear there are quite a few Korean restaurants in this area. Let's keep it simple — clear the travel fatigue with a spicy bowl of beef soup."

"Oh, gukbap sounds perfect."

"I'm already drooling."

And one pair of eyes in particular lit up at Yeon-woo's words. A staff member quickly searched for a nearby gukbap restaurant, and the car turned around.

Once they actually arrived, however, Yeon-woo rolled his shoulder and shook his head.

"Mm. After that long flight I have no appetite at all. I think I'd better sleep a little first and eat later. If I force it down now I'll just get indigestion."

He had eaten the final in-flight meal before landing in New York, so he wasn't hungry. He had never been a big eater to begin with, nor was he the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠type who insisted on Korean food simply because he was abroad. Yeon-woo looked across the table at Park Jung-hyeon.

"Security team lead. If the portions aren't enough for you, would you like mine as well? I haven't touched the spoon."

He took hold of the base of the bowl in front of him and slid it smoothly toward Park Jung-hyeon. Looking at the second serving of gukbap that had just been delivered to him, Park Jung-hyeon gave a deep nod.

"Thank you."

Bzzzt.

At that moment Park Jung-hyeon's phone vibrated.

Park Jung-hyeon checked the rapid-fire messages. His eyebrow twitched at the way Lee Gyu-jin casually called him Gukbap.

Ryu Yeon-woo's personality?

Park Jung-hyeon looked back and forth between the two bowls of gukbap sitting in front of him and the face of the actor who was gazing elsewhere. Steam was still rising gently from the soup. His fingers moved.

Tap. Tap.