The Sword King Runs a Conglomerate
Yang Yuri's entrance hit me with a tremendous shock.
Well, her mere existence alone would have done that, to be fair.
Good grief — the Demon Brain.
Is she planning to assemble the Demonic Cult here? Or maybe pull a Demonic Cult Returns?
On top of that, the woman was clearly a few screws loose, because she'd greeted me — a total stranger — by yelling "Ghetto Douzeh!" out of nowhere.
I honestly thought I'd become some kind of idol. Though I suppose it takes that level of unhinged energy to birth a combination as bizarre as steampunk plus Joseon, so everyone would probably agree our first meeting was dizzying.
But once I calmed down and thought it through, adding Yang Yuri to Flame Entertainment didn't change all that much. There'd be no Righteous-Demonic War to wage here, no reason to run sabotage ops in righteous sect territory — all Yang Yuri could actually do was write scripts.
Seeing the two of them together would stir up quite a lot of old trauma from my past life, but I'd given up on avoiding that long ago, so I figured I could endure it.
Which means the real shock had come from somewhere slightly different.
The fact that a person like Yang Yuri existed here at all, in plain sight. My assumption that the only remnant of the Murim in this world was the Heavenly Demon had been thoroughly shattered.
That felt like too much, so I did some digging online.
Just in case there were more people like Cheon Yua and Yang Yuri hiding among the famous.
And there were.
A very, very big fish was sitting right there, in broad daylight.
"Changcheon Group. Namgoong Seok-ju."
One of Korea's premier conglomerates. And the owner of the company that had swallowed a huge chunk of the domestic smartphone market was Namgoong Seok-ju.
The name alone should tell you everything.
The Sword King, Namgoong Seok-ju. The man who had been Clan Head of the Anhui Namgoong Clan was now the chairman of a giant corporation called Changcheon Group.
"It says something that I never knew this, but..."
I'd lived in this world for over twenty years without ever realizing the owner of Changcheon Group was a Namgoong.
Because I simply didn't care.
Unless some scandal landed their name in the headlines, who bothers keeping track of which tycoon runs which group?
So in this case, the problem wasn't me — it was them.
"Ha. Why on earth did the Namgoong Clan migrate to the Korean peninsula instead of staying in China?"
Astonishing, truly. The Namgoong Clan, the head of the Five Great Noble Clans who formed the pillars of the righteous sects, was settled right here in Korea.
The Demonic Cult, fine — it was technically an outside force even by Central Plains standards, so I could let that slide. But a Korean-made Namgoong Clan felt like a genuine line crossed.
The silver lining was that this world no longer cared about righteous sects versus demonic cults. Nobody had any reason to charge at us screaming Die, vile demonic fiends! There'd be no collision with a corporate giant like Changcheon Group while working in the entertainment industry, and if memories of the Murim's Namgoong Clan ever annoyed me too much, I could simply refuse to deal with them.
All the same, my mood was sour enough that I swapped my smartphone for a Shine Phone made by S&M — but come on, a little petty spite between us ought to count as endearing, don't you think?
"I suppose the entertainment world got off clean, at least."
After landing that one whale, I ran random searches for every name I could remember.
Nothing came up.
I searched for the Three Existences, the Murim Alliance Leader, the Deathly Heavens Left Sovereign — the heavy hitters — and still nothing surfaced.
That wasn't exactly cause for relief, though. Plenty of movers and shakers in the Murim never used their real names, and in cases like Yang Yuri's, there was every chance the person had been "localized" into a new identity. When Yayul Hee can turn into Yang Yuri, how is anyone supposed to predict that?
"So basically, whatever pops out of the woodwork next, nothing should surprise me anymore. What a world..."
From here on out, if I ran into anyone I'd known from the Murim, my only real options were to ignore them or accept them at face value. Just take it all in stride, as if it were nothing at all. I had no intention of doing anything with memories only I possessed, and no way to do it anyway — so for now, that was the answer.
While I was wrestling with the internet running my searches, Yang Yuri and Cheon Yua were hard at work revising the script — or so I'm told. Yang Yuri had reworked the parts Cheon Yua felt were lacking.
Unlike certain writers who react to anyone touching their screenplay the way most people react to arson, Yang Yuri accepted the suggestions with total grace.
Truthfully, it surprised me a little. Was it because her artistic pride hadn't yet ballooned to full size? Or maybe her admiration for Cheon Yua was just that immense?
Either way, the fact that she was open-minded enough to greenlight revisions to her own work was something I liked quite a bit.
"It feels cleaner now."
"Right? Yua unni really has an eye for scripts too. Sharp instincts, you know?"
The revised script, polished up with Cheon Yua's help, had indeed been tightened compared to the original. Cheon Yua's advice seemed to shore up exactly where Yang Yuri's inexperience showed.
Come to think of it, Cheon Yua was a walking bundle of talent herself.
Ah — except for singing and video games. Those don't count.
"So there are a few things I'd like to check with you, actually."
"Like what?"
"How you'd handle certain scenes, actor-nim. The combat scenes especially."
"Ah..."
The two of them brought the freshly revised script to me because they wanted to confirm I could actually pull off the scenes they'd imagined — the action sequences in particular.
Yang Yuri's interest in me stemmed from being deeply impressed by that viral video of me thrashing a pack of brats, and now she wanted to verify whether I could deliver the sword-fighting choreography she'd written with maximum dramatic flair.
I considered it necessary homework too, so I dutifully accepted their request — by taking up the prepared wooden sword and unfurling a display of dazzling swordsmanship.
"Ooh~ That's way better than I pictured. You've got presence."
"See? Siwoo's action acting is great too."
"Exactly. I picked actor-nim for a reason."
"And Siwoo's emotional acting is lovely too."
"Ohh, even better. Unni, you're really giving me Baek actor-nim for my own production, right? Right?"
"Mm. Siwoo said yes, after all."
By some point the two of them had slipped into casual speech with each other, and they were in full uproar over my sword demonstration. Yang Yuri in particular went so far as to do seal-claps. Unbelievable.
Taken on its own, that conversation sounds suspiciously like people shopping for an acting slave — but I'm sure that's just my imagination.
The funny thing was that Cheon Yua kept her formal register with me through gritted teeth, yet had gone fully casual with Yang Yuri in a single day. Was that some kind of Heavenly Demon instinct? Once someone registers as her underling, she can relax around them.
In that case, the fact that she hadn't dropped formality with me — her genuinely devoted lackey in the past life — was a little odd. But since Yang Yuri really was three years younger than Cheon Yua, it didn't look especially strange.
Anyway. Cheon Yua and Yang Yuri, marveling at my acting. On this front, it was actually Yang Yuri's reaction that felt fresher than Cheon Yua's.
The Demon Brain of the Demonic Cult, Yayul Hee, had been one of the most prominent people to reject me, after all. She was the one who treated me like a foreign object stuck to the Heavenly Demon's side, always regarding me with contemptuous eyes.
And now here she was, fawning over my acting and begging to cast me in her own work. If ever there was a moment for the phrase how times have changed, this was it.
"Actor-nim. We're going to go the distance, you and me. Forever, if possible? I just feel it. You're absolutely going to skyrocket."
On top of that, the oddly clouded look in her eyes as she gazed at me made it feel like she'd pressed some strange obsession button, and it sent a chill down my spine.
If Yang Yuri keeps turning out good scripts, working with her on multiple projects wouldn't be a bad thing — but I'd really appreciate it if someone did something about those obsessive eyes.
Worse, Cheon Yua was slowly nodding along, looking like she was giving something serious thought.
With our Lady Boss mulling it over too, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to be sold off as an acting slave quite a few more times in the future.
My contract did explicitly state I had the right to refuse roles, to be fair. But the world has never once flowed strictly according to the fine print.
For the sake of defending my own rights, I'd better keep my grip on sanity firmly fastened.
It was decided that the revised script — The Unsan Gold Mine (working title) — would have its arrangements handled entirely on Flame Entertainment's end. With Yang Yuri now under our company, that level of support was only natural.
Flame would start making the rounds through broadcasters, OTT platforms, and production studios, ironing out the production issues one by one.
And in this arena, we actors — me and Cheon Yua — had nothing to do. All we could do was wait.
"So, what exactly are we doing?"
"Volunteer work. Get ready right away."
"...Volunteer work?"
"Yes. Volunteer work."
There was still plenty of time before the drama's production was locked in — this wasn't the kind of thing resolved in a day or two.
And so, with time on her hands, Cheon Yua sprang into action. She drew up a volunteer plan and brought me and Yang Yuri along for it.
Back in her Cheon Entertainment days, she'd periodically headed out on volunteer trips like this, and now that she'd transferred — expanded, rather — to Flame, she intended to carry the tradition over here.
"Once we're in production, we'll be busier. This is the only window we've got."
"That's true enough. And where are we going?"
"The perfect place just landed in our laps. We're going there."
Our destination for this volunteer trip was the very childcare facility where Yang Yuri had grown up until recently.
In other words, Cheon Yua was staging Yang Yuri's homecoming celebration.
"...Really? You really don't have to go out of your way..."
"You said it yourself. That if you ever made big money, there were so many things you wanted to do for the facility."
"I did. And I meant every word."
"It's money earmarked for social work anyway — might as well spend it somewhere worthwhile."
This woman. She's remarkable in a completely different way from the Heavenly Demon. Isn't she genuinely outstanding at winning people's hearts?
Luckily, the facility where Yang Yuri had grown up seemed to have been a fairly healthy place. She'd told us she owed it a great deal, and that the moment she made real money, she wanted to pay it back somehow.
Cheon Yua heard that and decided — well, if you have a debt, why not repay it right now? — and this volunteer expedition was born. Since donations were happening regardless, the thinking went, they might as well go somewhere meaningful.
And with things arranged this way, Yang Yuri just found it that much harder to slip out of Cheon Yua's grasp.
Even by my own assessment, honestly. How on earth do you abandon a Lady Boss who does this much for you?
Even if her debut project became a smash hit, she'd already be incapable of leaving Flame.
"A frightening woman, as ever."
As someone whose quality of life has been thoroughly ruined by how comfortable the company's housing system is, all I could do was sigh.
The fact that I could acknowledge I was in a dangerous situation and still not mind it at all suggests I really might end up burying my bones here.
Cheon Yua, truly, is a woman you can never let your guard down around.