Chapter 24: I'll Take Another Project Too

The next day, in the CEO's office at CT Entertainment.

Tap. Tap. Brrrt—

Every time Yang Ha-rin's fingertips drummed against her phone, it buzzed in answer. Her fingers never stopped moving. She looked like someone frantically trading messages, but the truth of it was a little different.

Ego-surfing that bordered on compulsion.

Plenty of people enjoyed a community for its own sake, but Yang Ha-rin's attachment ran deeper than most. The urge to check her own reputation online, over and over, was especially so.

Yes. This was why she went looking for posts like these.

A post she disliked left her sour without end, but the satisfaction of finding one she liked—the thrill, the swell of self-esteem—that was a taste she could not quit. In the end, her sharpened mood eased, if only a little.

"Ha-rin."

At the CEO's voice, Ha-rin pulled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠herself up out of her thoughts.

"I'm listening."

"Only now you answer. I already called you three times."

"...You called three times?"

She hadn't noticed in the slightest.

Am I really this worked up over what happened? Yang Ha-rin furrowed her brow without realizing it. Her pride had taken quite a bruise.

"We recovered the entire investment, and the articles are already out here and there, so there's nothing for you to worry about. All you need to think about is what comes next."

"I saw the articles too."

Only then did Yang Ha-rin lift her eyes from the phone.

"But, CEO."

Her sunken gaze turned on him in the same moment.

"I don't want to rest. I want another project. Anything else will do."

"Yeah? Want me to scout a whole spread of them? Truth is, that bastard Park Joon only had value because we could grab him and shake him around. Look properly, and there are still plenty of decent ones out there."

"Right. I'll take whatever. I hate a gap, and if I so much as win an award, that's a major line filled in on my filmography."

Yang Ha-rin answered, and a certain man rose in her mind.

Classy Trash. Kim Seonil.

What he had said and done still sat in her chest like a blow that hadn't faded. Yes—perhaps that was the very reason she hadn't slept, the reason she had been raking through communities all night. She had been hunting for posts that praised her, forcing herself calm. You're the best. You're the best. You are the best...

If I do even better, he'll have to acknowledge me. Maybe apologize, too, while he's at it.

If only for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sake of that moment, her filmography had to become more perfect still. And she had to take Best New Actress. No matter what.

Then—

Some calculation finished behind her eyes, and Yang Ha-rin spoke.

"CEO."

"Hm?"

"What if Director Park doesn't let go of this project? What if he survives like a cockroach, finds new investors, finds actors again... If that happens, I think I'd be genuinely disgusted."

Now that CT Entertainment had washed its hands of the thing entirely, the ideal picture, from Yang Ha-rin's seat, was for Sword to be destroyed down to the last frame. Otherwise it would look as if some of the blame belonged to her, too. For a woman with a compulsive ego-surfing habit, that sort of thing was bound to sting.

The CEO caught her meaning at once and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grinned.

"Right. Want me to pull a few strings? I'll tamper with the articles on Director Park, darken the mood around him, make sure nobody wants to get involved."

"Well, of course you should."

Yang Ha-rin nodded.

Comments, left by her own hand. Three of them, no less.

Meanwhile, Park Joon sat alone in a café, on the phone with someone.

"Seonil. In the end, it's going ahead."

The other party was none other than Kim Seonil. He was simply venting, heart laid open.

A willing smile touched Park Joon's lips.

A call that ended on a warm note.

But the smile that had settled over Park Joon's face did not last. It was right after he checked the articles that had just gone up.

"What... what is this?"

The contents were shocking enough to set his hands trembling. But first, Park Joon had to hide that tremor. Beyond the café glass, a familiar face had appeared.

Lee Sua.

Park Joon swallowed, dry, without meaning to.

She really is no ordinary person.

He found himself wondering whether a heaven-born actor could take any other shape.

A woman carefully opened the café door and stepped inside. Her face was slender enough that a fist might have hidden it, and her jet-black eyes held a depth no one could measure—a face forged from nothing but sharp lines. She was not someone you could easily speak to. She was not even someone you could easily look at.

"Ms. Sua, over here!"

The moment Sua took the seat across from him, Park Joon slid the coffee he had ordered ahead toward her. Rather timidly. He was still agonizing over where to begin when—

"Please state your business."

Sua's cold voice came a beat faster. Tack on one unnecessary word and this is going to blow up in my face. Park Joon hurried to speak.

"Ms. Sua, you said you liked the role of Wi Ji-hye, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Would it be all right if I asked the specific reason?"

A brief silence. Park Joon added a few words.

"I'd like you to be as honest as you can. Even if it's something like, I just needed a lead to fill out my filmography. That would be fine, too."

"Hmm..."

Sua hesitated a moment.

"I like Wi Ji-hye. And I think it'll do well."

"Thank you. Truly. Ms. Sua..."

"Yes. I'll do it."

"Thank you. Really, thank you. And, well—I already confirmed your acting at the audition, so there's no need to see you perform Wi Ji-hye..."

"Ah."

Sua took out her phone first.

"I recorded myself while I was practicing. Alone."

"Ah, if you don't mind, even that...?"

"Of course. Please watch. I'll just step out to the restroom."

Practicing to the point of recording herself—Ms. Sua's passion for Wi Ji-hye ran deep indeed. Moved all over again, Park Joon played the video.

"...Insane!"

Shock tore him out of his seat.

...This is footage of her acting alone in a room? She's moving as if she set an entire imaginary stage around herself.

Sua's acting was extraordinary. She did not fixate only on the character's gestures and lines. Even the scenery around the character looked as though it had already been composed, complete, inside her head.

Watch this, and I'm the one who comes away with answers. This part ought to be shot like this—that kind of answer. How much research has she done? How much love would it take before a person could—

And so, when Sua at last returned, briskly flicking the water from her freshly washed hands—

"Ms. Sua."

"Yes?"

But Park Joon was already thinking past it. Lee Sua was one thing. What about the rest of the roles?

A high-end apartment. From the tiles underfoot to the furniture placed with offhand precision, every inch of the space was refined. Seo Yeon-ju lay there with a sheet mask plastered over her face.

That was when Kim Seonil walked in.

"You're here."

Seo Yeon-ju muttered it without so much as opening her eyes.

"Yeah."

"Why'd you come. Go on back out."

"You go out."

Were the two of them living together? Not a chance. Both were entirely confident that even if they were dropped onto a deserted island without warning one day, they still would not come to like each other. The high-end apartment was only a space their agency used as a studio. A residence other people could only dream of was, to these two, nothing more than a workplace. That was how things were, among actors of their standing.

Abruptly, Seo Yeon-ju muttered.

"Kim Seonil, I envy you."

"I imagine there isn't just one or two things about me you'd find worth envying."

An arrogant answer, as usual. Seo Yeon-ju clicked her tongue.

"Excuse you. There's exactly one thing I envy, you know?"

"What."

"Lee Sua. Getting to go head to head with that monster as a lead."

"...This again."

These days, Seo Yeon-ju was utterly sunk in Lee Sua. More precisely, she was utterly sunk in Lee Sua's acting. Even now, with Kim Seonil staring straight at her, it was the same. She used to be the sort who, given any free minute, would start in on the next schedule, the next plan. Now every spare gap went to nothing but videos of Lee Sua acting. A severe case.

"You're a lead in your own right. You're shooting together."

"Standing together as rival leads is different! Ack—my mask almost slid off. Don't make me raise my voice."

Seo Yeon-ju carefully pressed the sheet mask back into place as she went on.

"Sharing a lead, you see, is an incredibly romantic thing. You cooperate, trying to find each other's rhythm, and at the same time you fight tooth and nail so you don't get swallowed whole..."

"Fight?"

"And when the shoot ends, you arrive at a beautiful ending. God, just hearing it is rose-colored. Don't you think?"

"...This wouldn't happen to be because you're addicted to romance fantasies."

"Anyway, that's what I mean by my world of acting. If the other person is a monster rookie like Lee Sua, that's good, isn't it? It's a chance for me to grow, too."

"Childish."

But even as he muttered it, Kim Seonil was inwardly acknowledging Seo Yeon-ju. It was the reason they were attached to the same agency in the first place. If Yang Ha-rin was the sort who climbed by trampling others underfoot, Seo Yeon-ju was the sort who knew how to rise while holding someone's hand. The sort who knew how to move forward one step at a time, and do it by a path that stayed positive.

...Wait.

A single thought cut across Kim Seonil's mind.

Director Park's short film. Even granting that Lee Sua takes Wi Ji-hye, one lead seat is still empty. Yang Ha-rin walked.

And Seo Yeon-ju, as it happened, looked ready to kill for the chance to act opposite a comet like Lee Sua. Kim Seonil's thoughts turned faster.

The situation is a mess in every direction. But if Seo Yeon-ju joins as a lead, the story changes a little. No. It changes completely.

The thought finished, Kim Seonil said exactly one sentence.

"Seo Yeon-ju. Don't you leave."

"...What's with him?"

About thirty minutes later, Kim Seonil reappeared.

"Brought more things to clean? That damned germaphobia of yours."

"Today is different."

Kim Seonil set something down beside Seo Yeon-ju's head. She snatched it up, and it turned out to be a script.

"...A script? What script?"

"A script you already know. Director Park's project."

"Oh, the short film? I saw the articles. It fell apart in the end, didn't it. Didn't sit right with me."

Belatedly, as if the anger had only just caught up, Seo Yeon-ju bolted upright.

"No, but the more I think about it, isn't this too much?"

"What is."

"All those articles pouring out. Anyone can see it fell apart because the casting and everything else went sideways over Yang Ha-rin's personality, so why are they shoving the blame onto Director Park? Not a shred of professional ethics in any of them."

Kim Seonil gave a short nod.

"Read this script."

"What? Why all of a sudden?"

"Read it. Or you can handle today's cleaning."

"...Playing dirty."

Seo Yeon-ju opened the script.

It was an hour later when she set the script back down.

"What, this script is better than I thought?"

"An hour's already passed."

"Huh? Really? I thought I'd been reading for like ten minutes."

Seo Yeon-ju blinked as if marveling, and Kim Seonil immediately spat out the point he had been holding in.

"You don't want to try the lead?"

"Hmm..."

Seo Yeon-ju flung the script at Kim Seonil's forehead. It struck with a smack and slid, slowly, down the blank length of his expressionless face.

"...Are you in your right mind? I'm busy enough to drop dead. How am I supposed to do this?"

"Scared?"

"Less scared than annoyed, I'd say. It's a project that hasn't secured capital or a cast or a single thing, and the moment word gets out that I'm joining, articles are going to come down in a flood, aren't they?"

Seo Yeon-ju was already pressing a hand to her forehead, as if the trouble had arrived ahead of schedule.

"Ugh. I don't even need to see what comes after to get a headache. The articles will already be out, so I won't be able to drop the role, and if it happens to flop, it'll be nothing but how Seo Yeon-ju really has no eye for anything..."

"Seo Yeon-ju."

"Ah, would you stop calling my name. I'm not doing it. I get that you like this, but it's a project that's already been destroyed. Give it up."

At that, Kim Seonil crossed his arms without a word. Then he tilted his head, just slightly, to one side.

"You said you envy me."

"What?"

"Meaning, you said you want to try being rival leads ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with Lee Sua."

Tap, tap. Kim Seonil tapped the script with the tip of his index finger.

Silence. A long one.

"Ah. Even so, I'm still not doing it."

Seo Yeon-ju shook her head.

"If the timing happened to line up and we ended up as rivals, maybe. But she's a raw rookie, and I've been at this a while. Do this, and it looks like I'm the one chasing her. That's just embarrassing."

"Then I'm taking it back."

Kim Seonil turned on his heel, quick as a shot—and a hand clamped around his ankle. Hard.

"...You can leave the script, you know?"