Good Meetings, Bad Meetings
He decided to look into the association matter carefully after returning home.
No need to waste high-caliber personnel like our agents on something this petty.
This was personal business for the actor Ryu Yeon-woo, unrelated to Baeksol. The other operatives could stay out of it. If he needed help, he and Han Hae-un could handle it between the two of them.
In any case, the ultimate goal of entering the contest remained unchanged: not some righteous lecture, but finding a scenario strong enough to become his next project.
Having sorted his thoughts, Yeon-woo rose. He headed for the hotel fitness facilities, and one of those “high-caliber personnel,” Park Jung-hyeon, followed behind for security.
“Security Team Leader, why don’t you come work out with me?”
“Mm. I’m fine.”
Park Jung-hyeon shook his head firmly at the offer. Even inside a secured hotel, diverting attention while protecting a principal was strictly forbidden.
“Hmm. Is that so?”
Yeon-woo nodded and, once they reached the fitness center, began warming up and working through his routine. It was built mostly around cardio and bodyweight work, so he had no real need for the machines, but going outside for a jog would have made Park Jung-hyeon’s job harder. That was why he had chosen the indoor facilities on purpose.
While Yeon-woo ran on the treadmill, Park Jung-hyeon’s reflection appeared in the mirror behind him. The big man’s gaze gradually drifted toward the surrounding equipment. There were weight-training machines rarely seen back home, and curiosity was clearly stirring.
If Park Jung-hyeon had only loved gukbap, he might have ended up a soft-bellied middle-aged man. But he loved weight training just as much as he loved Korean beef soup. In plain terms, he was a gym rat.
After a long stretch of running, Yeon-woo stopped the treadmill and moved to the pull-up bar nearby, speaking to Park as he went.
“You can train right next to me. There aren’t many people in here anyway.”
“Mm…”
The lack of an immediate answer suggested he was wrestling with it.
“It’s really fine.”
“…Then I’ll train within visual range.”
“Go ahead.”
The moment permission was granted, Park headed straight for the nearest machine. His face remained expressionless, but the twitching muscles of his back announced his delight more clearly than any smile.
They had been working out separately for some time when a group of hotel guests walked in.
Oh. Those guys look pretty solid themselves.
Yeon-woo glanced back and forth between the newcomers and Park Jung-hyeon. Most of them were large Black men, yet next to Park’s far greater bulk they somehow looked almost cute.
They recognized one of their own kind, of course. The moment the guests spotted Park inside the fitness center, they murmured in open admiration.
“Oh, shit… Is that a pro bodybuilder?”
“I’ve seen a wild grizzly once. He was exactly that size. No joke. Insane physique.”
“I kinda want to ask him for training tips.”
They kept their voices low as they entered, but every word reached Yeon-woo’s ears. He huffed a quiet laugh at the absurd comparison.
…Calling a person a wild grizzly, though. Bears tear people apart.
Yeon-woo had actually encountered a wild brown bear once, during an operation on the Kamchatka Peninsula in the Far East of Eurasia. That animal had measured a full 2.7 meters in length. Park Jung-hyeon might be a two-meter giant with a terrifying frame, but he still couldn’t be compared to a grizzly. The sheer visual impact of that size was clearly hitting them hard.
As the fitness center grew noisy, Park stopped mid-set and returned to stand quietly at Yeon-woo’s side. The guests’ attention naturally shifted to Yeon-woo himself.
“Hey, bro—is that guy who I think he is?”
“Who?”
“You know. The champion of Survival Island we were talking about last time.”
“Oh? Yeah, that looks right! So the bear-looking guy must be his bodyguard.”
They edged closer. Park Jung-hyeon fixed them with a glare that stopped them cold. Under that pressure the men halted at a respectful distance and called out to Yeon-woo.
“That’s you, right?”
Yeon-woo turned toward the abrupt question.
“We’re fans. You’re him, aren’t you? The Korean Soldier.”
“Mm. Soldier…”
Locals recognizing him was nothing new; it had happened often enough even while he was lying on a hotel sunbed. Being asked if he was actually a soldier, though—that was a first.
Strictly speaking, even counting my past life I wasn’t a soldier… though it’s not like there was zero connection either.
These guests had clearly met him through variety shows rather than films or dramas.
Foreigners who only watched Survival Island must think I’m military.
Yeon-woo gave a small smile and nodded. What they believed hardly mattered.
“That’s right.”
“Oh, shit! Korean legendary soldier… Can we get an autograph?”
Men bound together like dried fish on a string climbed down one by one from the transport van, dressed in blue prisoner transport uniforms. Among them was Director Jo Hoon-gwang.
Because of flight risk and the danger of evidence destruction during the trial period, Jo Hoon-gwang was under detention investigation. His sentence had not yet been finalized, so he entered Seoul Detention Center as an unconvicted prisoner. He would remain there until the formal trial, undergoing further questioning.
After being processed by a correctional officer and changing into the khaki uniform issued to unconvicted inmates, Jo Hoon-gwang shuffled out to the communal exercise yard the next day when recreation time arrived, his steps heavy.
Ha, fuck…
He exhaled a long, earth-swallowing sigh, alternating between memories of his once-glittering life and the sewer of a future that now awaited him.
Someone called out from behind and approached.
“Isn’t this Director Jo Hoon-gwang?”
Jo Hoon-gwang turned and, for a moment, felt a flicker of gladness.
“Well if it isn’t Jeong Tae-seon. How long has it been?”
The man behind him was the mid-tier actor Jeong Tae-seon, who had once moved as a stooge under orders from the Baeksol agent Hwang-geum. Caught with a large quantity of narcotics hidden in a car trunk, he was currently serving time on multiple charges including violations of the Narcotics Control Act.
An unexpected reunion had taken place.
Unlike Jo Hoon-gwang’s welcoming expression, the look in Jeong Tae-seon’s eyes—standing among the other inmates—was far from friendly. Jo Hoon-gwang had always relied on his authority to treat cast members however he pleased; no actor had ever liked him.
Just thinking about how that bastard made me act in the freezing rain from a water truck until I caught the flu and was bedridden for a month…
The old man had been a filthy creature who hounded him every time they met, demanding introductions to rookie actresses.
“Well, well. Life really is full of ups and downs. The great Director Jo who used to fly high in the industry finally got dragged in looking like this? You should’ve known when to quit.”
The welcoming face Jo Hoon-gwang had worn twisted as if he had bitten into an insect.
“…What did you just say? Has this bastard completely lost his mind? I’m Jo Hoon-gwang.”
“Still don’t get the situation? Your life’s completely wrecked. You’re not Jo Hoon-gwang anymore. You’re just number 3425, you bastard.”
Jo Hoon-gwang trembled and spat back after reading the blue name tag on Jeong Tae-seon’s uniform.
“…You think you’re any different? You spent every damn day sucking down drugs, and I knew you’d end up like this. Inmate number 1732, drug offender.”
“Whatever. I’ll finish the little time I have left and walk out. I’ve got assets saved up. You, though—I saw the news. Embezzlement restitution alone is over seven billion won, right? You’re broke now. You know that?”
The childish misery contest between two relatively well-known inmates drew the surrounding prisoners, who gathered with interest. A correctional officer standing behind them pointed with his baton and blew his whistle.
Tweet—!
“Number 1732, number 3425—no talking. Hands on your heads and separate immediately. Move!”
Meanwhile, at that same hour, Yeon-woo was meeting a major figure in Los Angeles.
“It’s an honor to meet you in person like this.”
“Not at all. I may not know the American broadcasting landscape inside and out, but I know perfectly well that Blue Whale Gate has the power to grip Hollywood in one hand and shake it. The honor is mine.”
The man across from Yeon-woo was John McCallan, CEO of Blue Whale Gate Studio—the production company currently riding the highest wave in Hollywood.
“Haha, your praise leaves me nowhere to put myself. We broke a real sweat trying to secure you, Mr. Ryu. Being able to work together like this is genuinely wonderful.”
John McCallan’s words were no empty courtesy.
The network had assumed that buying the rights to Survival Island would automatically bring the cast member Ryu Yeon-woo along with it. That had not been the case at all. When they scrambled to dig deeper, they discovered that Yeon-woo was already a major star in Asia—so established that his appearance on a reality show at his age and career stage raised questions—and that through White Blood and Sketch he already possessed solid name recognition in North America and Europe.
John McCallan smiled as he looked at Bernard Fenton, who sat glued to Yeon-woo’s side like a guardian.
I don’t know what kind of relationship Mr. Ryu and Fenton have, but the way he wraps around him and protects him… it’s exactly like a real grandfather and grandson.
This was not simple business calculation. The sight of Bernard Fenton personally diving in and staking everything on an actor from Asia—to the point that the casting process hit major turbulence—had looked extraordinary even to John McCallan. As a result they had ended up paying roughly twice the fee originally projected just to close the deal.
And yet, after all of that, the three of them now sat facing one another over a meal in a high-end Hollywood restaurant.
McCallan’s claim that he was in a good mood was likewise no empty courtesy. He believed without a shred of doubt that Survival Island would succeed. So far the show had thrived mainly across English-speaking territories—the United States, Canada, and Australia—but the project now in development, Global Match, would, he was certain, explode not only across Yeon-woo’s home ground of Asia but across Europe and South America as well, becoming a worldwide phenomenon.
And the first button of that success is the young actor sitting right in front of me.
Ordinarily the working-level staff would have handled everything. When the process hit obstacles, however, John McCallan had personally stepped in to mediate and negotiate. Along the way he had naturally reviewed materials on the actor Ryu Yeon-woo, watched his filmography, and found himself developing a personal fan’s affection.
Looking at the man who was at once “J,” “Jeong Do-jin,” and the “Korean Legendary Soldier,” John McCallan smiled and spoke.
“As a producer—and as a fan—I’m extremely looking forward to Survival Island: Global Match. Just thinking about starting production soon has my heart racing.”