Sujin's Tsundere Call and the Scout Swarm

"Kim Donghu, you're insane— ...Sujin?"

"Well, well, at least you haven't forgotten my voice?"

I'd dock points for no contact all these years, but this earns you some back.

Kim Donghu was utterly dumbfounded by Kim Sujin's voice coming through the line. How the hell is she calling me? Just as the question formed in his mind, Sujin provided the answer.

"What do you think exchanging business cards means?"

Honestly, Kim Donghu felt a bit wronged here. Sure, they had history, but it was from when they were five. Staying in touch just because they were kindergarten classmates? Ridiculous. And from a regular person's perspective, reaching out to a top star like that was even more absurd—unless the star initiated it. You couldn't just casually text Hey, whatcha up to? like old pals with no reason.

Besides, the business cards had been exchanged between their moms. Kindergarten classmates' moms—one a regular person, the other a top actress—keeping in touch after swapping cards? Unlikely in reality.

But it had happened, thanks to Kim Sujin's mom, Kim Yuryeon. Not frequently, but once or twice a year, she'd steadily kept in contact with Donghu's mom, Lee Yuhyun.

The reasons were twofold.

—In the end, Kim Donghu really is the handsomest after all.

One was that her daughter's first love was still ongoing. The other was the brilliant talent she'd glimpsed briefly. That kid was born for the camera—destined to live alongside it. A person designed for acting, truly made for the stage.

How could she let go of a connection to such prodigious talent?

That said, she never played matchmaker for the kids. The youngsters will figure it out themselves. And just like that, about ten years slipped by.

In that time, Kim Yuryeon and Lee Yuhyun grew quite close, sharing even personal stories.

That day was no different. Their quarterly catch-up call. The moms chatted animatedly about their kids, and suddenly, Yuhyun brought up a new topic.

—Oh yeah, my son made a Face... Tom? Something like that account, I think.

—Oh really?

That's when the variable entered. Kim Yuryeon had switched to speakerphone for convenience, and right then, Kim Sujin walked into the living room and overheard.

The sense of betrayal Sujin felt was beyond imagination. Even if it felt contrived, how could her mom hide this while she kept bringing up Kim Donghu intermittently!

Sujin immediately nagged her mom for Donghu's number and now here we were.

"Why didn't you become an actor?"

Sujin hadn't sought him out aggressively either, figuring she'd naturally run into him on some broadcast eventually. "I thought we'd meet on the same project—or at least something similar."

But nothing. Turns out, after that day, he hadn't done a single gig.

"I was even worried something happened to you."

"No, it's not like that..."

Donghu's flustered voice came through the receiver. Just hearing your voice won't cut it. Even considering the cost, she needed to see his face. Decision made, Sujin switched to video call.

"Ha, Kim Donghu, you really are insane?"

There was a girl plastered right up against him.

—So much I want to say, but I'll hold back. Text me tonight about whaT! Ever! On KakaoTalk, got it?

"Uh, yeah, got it."

—Okay, hanging up.

"Sure."

—Sure? That's it? You don't watch TV? Don't you even know who called you?

Kindergarten personality unchanged. Sujin still knew damn well how cute she was. A haughty princess who always got what she wanted. Same as ever.

"It's a huge honor. I'll text after this wraps—hang up. Sounds like you need to get on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠air anyway."

—...Yeah, text me for real! No first move from you, and you're dead!

Click.

The abrupt end to the call with Sujin. "...Who was that on the phone with?"

Shin Yerim stared at me with wide eyes, startled.

"Kim Sujin. You know her?"

"No, I know her—that's why I'm asking. You, you you, you know Kim Sujin?"

"Kindergarten classmates."

Does that explain video calls? Yerim looked like she wanted to say exactly that but held back.

"You gonna act?"

"Mm, not right now."

Timing wasn't right yet. A bit later, when YouTube boomed and SNS really took off. Moving then wouldn't be too late. For now, building recognition across various fields was enough. Personal influence was still weak. Agencies called the shots, and fighting unfair contracts? No power for that. At least six years out.

Minimum age twenty, when I'm legally an adult—that's the key to start moving.

Till then, enjoying school life casually was best for mental health. Real-time search rankings still mattered big time. Public opinion swayed easiest now. Once you hit those rankings, aka realtime trends, and controversy lists? Done for.

Not yet.

Goal wasn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rookie debut—veteran newbie entry. Time to lay those foundations steadily.

"So later, huh?"

"Yeah."

To peak this face, tons of eyes needed on it. Celebs were the pinnacle for handsome faces. Born for it—wasted not to use the talent.

Chatting idly with Yerim on the way home from school.

"Excuse me, are you Kim Donghu?"

"Yes?"

A stranger blocked my path. "Ah, I'm not suspicious—Jeon Kyungmi, scout from ST Ent."

Handing over an ST Ent business card, no less.

After taking the ST Ent card, scouts from agencies swarmed every day or two.

Before, it was just You're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hot, wanna try? Now? Full pitches with cards and company visions.

"No, I don't want to now."

"Now? Saying no now means maybe later?"

Too vague? Every reply sparked this.

They really toe the line, though.

Not amateurs who'd scouted child actors once or twice. Scouts stopped just short of harassment.

Still, their visits skyrocketed my notoriety at Sinbit Middle. Periodic agency reps urging debut? Who ignores that?

Bad as stares blocking bathroom breaks during breaks.

Most thrilled by the attention? Not me—Kim Minhyuk.

Still stuck in his bully habits, my rise puffed his chest. "Donghu, knew you'd make it big. I'll manager you later."

"Picking based on skills."

"Th-then I'll drive. I'm good at it—got pro kart license."

Decent, sure. But games and that the same?

Kid's enthusiasm was cute, so I nodded. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠"Yeah, do that."

"For real? License first thing at age!"

"Sure."

Glance. Shin Yerim, now in our class, stared. Wanted to speak, held back.

Guessing she'd blurt model? But she didn't.

"I-I'll make an amazing game, with you as protagonist, Donghu..."

Na Gangshik declared game dev as expected. Dream-sharing vibe formed.

Wait, doesn't this make me an actor by default?

Suddenly felt my path set naturally. Various paths, sure—but acting at the core.

Yeah, gotta do acting.

That conclusion hit.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

Sudden phone vibration. Silent mode—how? What the?

Glance down at the message.

"...Be right back, bathroom."

"Class soon?"

"Emergency—cover."

I bolted.

Because sender was [Sims - The Real Life]—awfully familiar.

Why this now? Needed safety first. Thought of 1F staff bathroom—only one with bidet. Sat there, checked.

What the hell is this?

Not just simple reincarnation?

I'd doubted, sure. But hadn't dwelled—over a decade with no alerts.

So it really runs like full Sims?

50,000 hours played—I knew Sims inside out. Post-tutorial? First thing:

Omniscient oversight unlocked.