Why Would a Rookie Even Get Paid?
"Yes. I lost it."
The answer leapt out before she could stop it.
But Sua had no other choice. The moment she pictured the version of herself they already believed in, admitting she had bought the dolls with her own hands became impossible.
They think I'm someone impressive. I can't go shattering that illusion. That would be kicking my own good fortune to the curb...!
Fortunately, the reply that came back was encouraging.
"Really? Then we'd better freeze the card first."
Sua's scheme seemed to be working rather well — right up until the moment she let out a long, relieved breath.
"Still, this is pretty shameless, don't you think?"
"Sorry?"
"If you pick up a lost card, you're supposed to report it. Why would anyone just go and spend it? People like that need a taste of how bitter life can be."
"..."
What? A taste of life's bitterness?
I get plenty of that without anyone serving it to me, thanks.
"I wondered if it might've been some kid who doesn't know how the world works, but if they'd been raised properly, they wouldn't pull a stunt like that with a card they found. First thing, we ought to file a report. It's a crime."
"..."
A kid.... An uneducated little kid....
And a crime, on top of that....
Sua was freshly grateful she hadn't confessed to buying the dolls. She had come this close to being treated like a child. But if they actually went and filed a report, that was a problem all its own.
In the end, Sua made her decision. Quite solemnly.
"Yeon-ju."
"Yes?"
"That isn't what's important right now."
She delivered it with tremendous resolve.
Yes — in the spirit of the bodyguard she had been playing only moments ago. A heart more desperate than anyone's; something she had to protect even if it killed her....
"I was certain this call was about the contract."
"...Ah. I see what you mean."
"...?"
See? See what?
There was no sentence in the world Sua feared more than that one.
"Writer Lee Geumsuk will be contacting you personally, very soon."
"What?"
And so her first phone call with Seo Yeon-ju came to an end.
Over in a flash — and intense to the last syllable.
"Hmm."
The instant she hung up on Sua, Seo Yeon-ju placed a call to someone else: the Golden Hand herself, Writer Lee Geumsuk.
"Just as we thought. She says she didn't buy it herself. Told me the card was lost."
"Did she? Well, I figured as much."
Seo Yeon-ju had pressed that card into Sua's hands for more than one reason. Wanting to make a good impression had been entirely sincere, but if she could manage it, she had also hoped to learn a little about Sua along the way. Get a read on her spending habits and her tastes, and the contract would go that much more smoothly.
It was not, as it turned out, that simple. Not with an opponent like this.
"Most people treasure my card like a jewel the second they get it, you know? Sua's different. It feels like she doesn't think it's worth noticing at all."
"Sua was extraordinary from the moment she first appeared."
"And losing the card feels deliberate, too."
"A deliberate loss? What are you talking about?"
At the writer's question, Seo Yeon-ju went on, perfectly calm.
"In the end she asked me whether the real business of the call wasn't the contract, and I got goosebumps all the way up my arm. It felt like she already knew exactly what I was after."
"Half-baked terms won't cut it, then. Just as I thought."
Writer Lee Geumsuk let a laugh slip out.
"We were just saying we ought to give up on simply trying to save money, anyway. You did well, Yeon-ju."
"Yes. I'll let you go."
After she ended the call, Yeon-ju opened Sua's messenger.
Sparse. Not a single field filled in, and that emptiness was the most telling thing about it. It suited her, somehow.
She found herself turning the girl's attitude over once more. Losing someone else's card without so much as a word of apology — no, if anything, an attitude that seemed to demand Yeon-ju apologize first, as though she had read every intention behind the gesture.
...There was no one else who could treat her like this.
"She's younger than me, and I still want to call her unni. What even is this?"
Even after the call, Sua threw herself back into acting practice.
With the rabbit plushies, of course.
Bonk. Bonk.
The rabbits knocked their heads together. They were wonderfully squishy to fidget with, and since she was running her lines at the same time, she wasn't purely lazing the hours away.
...Well. As far as Sua was concerned, anyway.
♩♪♬
That was when the phone rang again.
"My phone's been a total crybaby lately. Crying all day long."
Sua muttered it to no one in particular and picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hello. Am I speaking with Lee Sua?"
"Yes. Who's calling?"
"You inquired about an energy drink commercial, so I'm getting back to you."
"Ah."
Sua hadn't forgotten. She had put in applications for all sorts of things besides the writer's project.
"The interview was originally set for this weekend, but it's been pushed back a little. If you could plan on next Wednesday, that should be fine."
"Yes. Understood."
"...I hope that wasn't unpleasant to hear. Thank you for understanding."
"No? I'm not mad."
After repeating a clarification she had given countless times in her life, Sua ended the call. Whew. I have to land this one, too.
She meant to build a filmography — just not a lazy one. The plan was to spend every hour as busily as she could manage.
"Let's see. Next thing on the list...."
She muttered it while scratching at her side, just beneath her chest, but the truth was that her next task had already been decided. Writer Lee Geumsuk had said she would call. Which meant this could not be put off any longer. She needed advice about the contract.
"...But who do I even ask? The internet? A gallery?"
The situation was far too specific for the internet or a gallery to be any help. The moment she posted the question, everyone would know the writer was Sua. In the end, she opened the group chat for the first time in ages.
"Whoa. So it was true, what they said about her becoming a reporter?"
All the more reason not to hesitate. She'll know more than I do, anyway. Sua called Mousey on the spot.
"Hello? Mousey?"
"Yeah, yeah! It's been forever, Baby Bunny!"
A voice bright as sunlight, no matter when you heard it.
Honestly, a squirrel suits this kid better than a mouse.
It was a thought Sua had every time they talked. Cute and bright — the kind of squirrel that goes scurrying everywhere. Mousey didn't even tense up, or get the wrong idea, at the sound of Sua's voice. Too many group calls for that.
"Our Baby Bunny~ It's so nice hearing your voice again."
"...Hey. How old is that nickname."
Sua's very first handle really had been Baby Bunny. It had been confiscated right after their first call, on the grounds that it didn't suit her in the slightest.
What was I even thinking?
...Even she had to admit she'd had no shame. Why had she done that.
"Anyway, Mousey — we used to just play games together. When did you turn into a reporter? I'm the only one who ended up pathetic."
"I've been preparing, little by little, the whole time. More importantly, what about you? You said it was serious. I was really worried."
"Ah, it's nothing that dramatic."
Sua fiddled with the tip of her nose for no particular reason, then asked.
"Mousey. You're an entertainment reporter, right? So do you know people like Kim Seonil, Seo Yeon-ju, Writer Lee Geumsuk, PD Choi Heewon...?"
"Of course I do! Kim Seonil and Seo Yeon-ju are actors, so sure — but how do you even know Writer Lee and Choi Heewon?"
"Huh? Oh. Just... by chance."
She waved it off for now. Empty carts rattle the loudest, and she had no desire to start bragging about being an actor when she had nothing to show for it yet.
"Funny you should mention them. Those exact people have been promising a collaboration for years, and it's still going nowhere. Casting's been such an uphill battle that nothing's moved at all."
"An uphill battle.... So it's been an uphill battle...."
They offered me a part that hard to land? Sua felt oddly pleased, and nervous at the same time.
"Hey, Mousey."
"Yeah, yeah!"
"Say a big anticipated project like that actually went back into production."
"How would it? Sua, if something like that restarts, the restart itself becomes an article. A scoop, even."
"No, no. Just pretend. Hypothetically."
"Even the hypothetical's a stretch.... Okay, fine."
Sua privately decided that dragging a single hypothetical out of her was exhausting.
"How much do the actors on a project like that get paid?"
"Seo Yeon-ju or Kim Seonil? Please. They make a fortune. Six figures, easy."
"Not them. The supporting cast. The bit parts."
"That varies a lot, depending on the situation."
"Say a total rookie with zero credits lands some weird role where they haven't even decided how many times she shows up. Something like that."
"Hmm...."
A pause.
Mousey, silent until now, finally spoke.
"...Why would a rookie like that even get paid?"
"Huh?"
"Think about it, Sua. Just getting your feet wet in water that big is a huge experience, and a real credit. For a project like that, there are people who'd slip the production money just to be allowed in."
"Ah. Really?"
"Yeah, yeah. The question's so out of left field I'm a little thrown. But what does any of this have to do with what's worrying you?"
"Uh, um. Actually it's a friend's problem. A friend's."
Sua papered over it, traded a few how-are-yous, and hung up. One very important fact, at least, had sunk in.
Even if I don't see a single cent, I should be grateful. Bow and everything!
Writer Lee Geumsuk's text had already arrived.
Now it really was time to sign.