The Company Dinner Bet

The director had forgotten all about filming, locked in a long, heated argument with the screenwriter. The hand wrapped around my shoulder tightened.

"So... you're going to make Idol Man the lead?"

"Well... we'll have to wait and see when the time comes."

"See? I knew it. You're just going to throw him another Choi Dooshik-type role and work him into the ground."

"That's not it."

I had no idea where to put my eyes, so I just stared blankly into empty air.

"The protagonist of my next screenplay is Idol Man..."

My eyes flew wide.

I'm the protagonist...?

The screenwriter looked more than a little startled herself.

"Someone's feeling confident."

The director took his hand off my shoulder and gazed quietly into the far-off sky. Then he lifted both arms and closed his eyes, posing as if he were receiving salvation from God Himself.

"...!?"

"....."

I was so stunned I didn't know what to do with myself. I was just a failed idol trainee. I was just Choi Dooshik. The praise was far too much.

I had heard that actors despised him — that his picky nature meant he tore their performances apart. So that had been a rumor...

The gossip in this industry really was terrifying. To slander a director this kind.

That was when the assistant director approached, careful and hesitant.

"Director..."

"Hmm? All done?"

"No, sir. Actor Yoo Youngjin reviewed the playback and wasn't happy with it, so he wants another take..."

The director's brow crumpled as if he had just spotted a bug.

"Are you kidding me? We're going to shoot all night over a scene that doesn't even matter!?"

The sudden spike in volume sent the AD's head ducking low.

"I-I'm sorry..."

It didn't look to me like the AD had done anything wrong...

"Aigoo, look at him, acting like he's the director. Can't act worth a damn, but his paycheck sure is fat..."

"......"

In an instant, the warm, easy atmosphere went ice-cold.

Maybe the rumor had been true after all...

"I don't care. Just handle it yourself..."

"Y-yes, sir!"

The AD took off running back toward the cameras.

The director set his hand on my shoulder again, the touch unexpectedly gentle.

"Idol Man..."

"Yes, Director."

"You must never become like that. That's just being a nuisance. He's holding this many people hostage over a scene that doesn't even matter, keeping them from going home."

"Ah... yes, sir."

"An actor should come prepared. What is he doing, practicing his acting on set? That's genuinely unhinged. Never do that."

"...Yes, sir."

"Don't watch him act. It'll rot your eyes. Cover them. You won't learn a single thing."

The director kindly shielded my vision with his hand. The screenwriter laughed, looking faintly incredulous.

"Come on, Director. They're the lead actors... you're being too harsh. You know we couldn't even produce this drama without those two..."

"Haa. If only they could just nail it in one take like Idol Man..."

"Still, they're working hard this late into the night."

"Anyone can work hard. It's the results that matter. Everyone's gotten too big for their britches. My words don't even register anymore... I feel like some old man they've shoved into the back room."

"Then you just need to outshine those two, Director."

"That's why I'm preparing to blow the next movie sky-high. Together with Idol Man..."

"......"

"If I can just land one real hit... that's it. Life's over!"

He laid out that enormous ambition and clamped down on my shoulder.

"Hey, Writer Lee. Did you expand Choi Dooshik's scenes?"

"...I'm still thinking about it."

"Come on, what's there to think about?"

"I want to see how people react first."

"Honestly, you have no instinct... I guarantee you, once today's footage goes up? Choi Dooshik is going to get a way better reaction than those two."

"Come on, even so... they're actors who've won Grand Prizes..."

"Then want to make a bet with me?"

"...What kind of bet?"

"Who gets the better reaction. You bet on those two, I'll bet on Idol Man. How about a Company Dinner Bet?"

"......"

"What? Getting cold feet now that it's real?"

"N-no. Not at all."

"Okay, then it's a bet. Clean and simple — we go by view count. No complaints?"

"Fine."

"Guess I'll be drinking Writer Lee's free booze. Heh."

The screenwriter just smirked and didn't even bother answering.

Because of course she didn't. There was no universe in which Choi Dooshik got a better reaction than those two. You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had to compare things that could actually be compared. They weren't even in the same weight class.

Two leads versus a villain extra. The numbers alone were against him. A two-on-one fight.

No — wait. I wasn't alone either. The victim, Ahn Hyemi. I had shared the scene with Yuri noona. So it was two-on-two, technically...

But if you looked at Recognition alone, it was heaven and earth. Hwang Mina and Yoo Youngjin — the National Actress everyone trusted on sight, and a veteran who had a Grand Prize on his shelf. If I had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to put a number on the gap, it was about Elon Musk versus an unemployed neighborhood mutt.

I had only just started acting. This project was my debut. The only career I could put on a résumé was five years as an idol trainee... who never debuted. In this industry, that history was completely worthless.

Yuri noona, at least, had a flashier record than mine. She had a handful of credits to her name — all roles in the same neighborhood as this one, sure, but still.

From a viewer's standpoint, even I would click on Senior Hwang Mina's video. It was her first project back in a long time, and the articles had already been pouring out...

It was embarrassing to admit, but if you searched my name on Naibo, nothing came up. The CEO had said he would register my profile... maybe it had gone through by now?

I pulled out my phone and quietly typed in my name.

"......"

At this point, wasn't I basically a civilian...?

And he was going all-in on the dinner bill with someone like me? Not me — Choi Dooshik, technically... but no matter how I turned it over, it still felt like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the wrong call. Why would he choose to throw money straight into the street?

Ah... wait.

I thought I understood what the director was after. He loved his drinks, so he had manufactured a pretext to create a company dinner. He was a prickly director with his actors, but with the staff he was the warm, attentive captain who took care of everyone. He was using the bet as an excuse to treat the whole crew to a proper night out.

So that's it...

"Hey, Idol Man."

"Yes?"

"Who are you betting on?"

The question caught me completely off guard.

"Seo Ji-won? Or Choi Dooshik?"

Seo Ji-won was the role Senior Hwang Mina was playing.

"Me? Obviously... Seo Ji-won."

If I could go all-in with everything I owned, I was confident I could talk Mom into putting up the house deed too. If it was Hwang Mina, Mom would say yes without a second of hesitation. One hundred percent.

"......"

The director's face hardened like stone.

After our father passed when we were little, laughter left our house.

Jina, Jinwoo. It's okay. Mom's here. Don't cry. It'll get better with time...

Mom had been right. Once I started life as a trainee, the sad memories dulled. I still missed my father sometimes, but I didn't cry the way I used to. If I let it show — if I cried, if I looked unhappy — it would tear Mom apart.

And my sister was such a hard case that she never even let our father's name into her mouth.

If those long years had been winter, then it felt as though spring had finally come back to our house. Lately there had been more and more days filled with laughter. For me, and for Mom.

"Eheheh!"

"Hayoung, careful. You'll get hurt if you fall..."

"Ah, yes! Heheheh!"

Even with Mom's worried voice trailing after her, she bounced and darted all over the living room. She would run to Mom to show off, then come running back to me, then go show Mom again. An infinite loop, for hours.

"Oppa, look at this!"

"You've already shown me that..."

I was the one who had watched it live, on site. She kept pulling up the same footage and showing it to me again. And again.

"No. This is a Shorts video!"

Calling it a Shorts video did not make the contents any different.

"Five million views! Nice!"

"Hwah! Oppa... this one passed six million!? That's insane!"

They say you should row when the tide comes in, but this was something else. The videos kept coming as if they were rolling off a factory line, and they all said more or less the same thing: Hayoung on stage, singing Farewell Heaven.

Most of them were short clips of her belting the high notes in the second verse — the highlight. The song ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠itself was only about three minutes long, and there were already more than ten Shorts of it. They were wringing every last drop.

So that was why they had handed out a two-million-won prize.

The view counts were high enough that each video had tens of thousands of comments underneath.

"Heheh..."

Hayoung was grinning to herself, tapping a like onto every last one of those tens of thousands of comments.

"Hmm... I thought I was kind of mid, honestly... I guess it sounded okay to people?"

A cocky voice. An arrogant face. I pressed down gently on her swaggering shoulders.

"Hayoung."

"Yes?"

"You're... satisfied with just this? You came all the way to Seoul because you wanted to be a famous YouTuber?"

"......"

A startled look. I almost laughed and had to swallow it. Someone needed to press those shoulders down before she caught a full-blown case of celebrity disease.

I put the serious face back on.

"Wasn't your dream to become a singer?"

"R-right..."

"Then don't fuss over every little thing like this. You're going to be in a girl group."

"Ah..."

She seemed to understand, and gave a small nod.

"But oppa..."

"Hm?"

"Are you jealous? Heheh."

"......"

Honestly, I was a little jealous. I had never experienced anything like that, not even once, so I couldn't help wondering what it felt like. Millions of people watching a video of you performing...

"If you look closely at the full video, oppa's face flashes by for about a second... want me to screenshot it and send it to you?"

"...I'm good."

Truthfully, I probably would have bragged just as hard. I was only needling her because I was envious.

That was when someone flung my bedroom door open without so much as a knock.

"Y-Yoonderella!"

"Jina unnie..."

My sister, who at this hour should have been holed up at the study cafe grinding through exam prep. She didn't even glance in my direction — I might as well have been furniture. Her pupils trembled as if some disaster had struck, and she stared straight at Hayoung.

"Yoonderella... congratulations on the video blowing up..."

And then she threw her arms around Hayoung and pulled her in.

Well. She was one of the 349 subscribers, and a hardcore one at that. I could understand that much.

"Hhk... I-I always knew you were going to make it, Yoonderella..."

Huh? Tears were rolling down my sister's face.

"......"

Looking at her expression, this was not a performance. This was the real thing. Other than the day our father died, this was the first time I had ever seen my sister cry.

That hard-as-nails Seo Jina... tearing up?

It's that serious...?

My chest went tight, and a small, ugly hurt welled up with it. The difference in temperature between how she treated her own little brother and how she treated this girl was just too much.

If I told her I had been cut from the idol debut lineup, would she have cried for me like this?

I would have bet my entire fortune on absolutely not. She would have mocked me instead.

Tsk tsk, you dumbass. I knew this would happen. I had you pegged from the moment you started getting cocky.

Thought any idiot could become an idol, huh? Figured you'd just try it and it'd work out?

(fake-crying) Jinwoo... my little brother... sob. What are you going to do about those five years you threw away? Your life's completely wrecked now...

"Hhk, Yoonderella. Nothing but a flower path from here on out. I'll leave you so many nice comments."

"Ah, thank you, unnie."

"......"

Ah... so this is what unfair feels like. This is why people have to succeed.

That was when the phone I had left on the desk started vibrating with absolutely no sense of timing, shattering the tender atmosphere.

Brrrt. Brrrt.

I hurried over and checked the screen. It was the screenwriter.

"Huh?"

I was just about to answer, my whole face gone tense, when—

"Hey, idiot. Go take that outside. You're being loud..."

"......"

This was my room...

I had no choice. I slipped quietly out into the living room. The main shoot was still two days away — what could she be calling about? Was she expanding Choi Dooshik's scenes?

Just imagining it put a deep smile on my face. Heart pounding, I gently tapped the call button.

"Yes, hello...?"

She launched in at full volume, as if some disaster had just broken.

"See what...?"

"N-no. Why?"

I hadn't even known it had been uploaded. Someone could have told me.

"What...?"

"......"