The Acting Commander

"Uh... no...?"

One sentence, and it left Kim Iseo completely thrown.

Portraits, hanging in a row inside the building. She had only been sounding out whether Sua had any intention of signing with Mystic Entertainment, and the refusal had come at once. She hadn't expected an answer so quick, or so absolute.

A moment later, though, she gave a small nod. Something had clicked.

"I understand. So you, Sua..."

"...You don't like being placed on the same level as anyone else. Isn't that right? There's a will in you that won't rest until you've set your foot on the very top."

Sua offered nothing in return. She only stared at Kim Iseo, perfectly still. That had to mean yes.

How high does that ambition even go? I can't begin to measure it.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Kim Seonil and Seo Yeon-ju seemed to stir nothing in Sua at all. For most rookies, it would have been no different from a dream.

Lee Sua's eyes.

In them was the bearing of a seeker climbing in silence all the way to the summit, never yielding her side to anyone. That was how it looked, at least, watched through Kim Iseo's eyes.

One certainty in Kim Iseo's heart grew sharper still.

I must not lose her. Not under any circumstances.

Sua herself, of course, was simply rattled.

Why is this pint-sized CEO acting like this? Did I make her angry? A small fear prickled through her. Truly, that was the whole of what she felt.

A peculiar light gathered in Kim Iseo's eyes.

"...All right. No agency could hold onto you forever, Sua. Mystic isn't greedy enough to imagine otherwise. I would like us to walk together, though. Even if only for a while."

"You're talking about a contract?"

"That's right. Sua, would you show me the business cards you got yesterday?"

Sua dug through her pockets and drew the cards out. She had left a good number of them at home, so what remained wasn't the full haul, but it was hardly a stack anyone could call small. There were enough of them to deal a hand of cards.

Kim Iseo examined them one by one, with care.

"As I thought, there are quite a few. A couple of decent agencies in the mix. I don't get the sense they'd offer you poor terms. But Sua—do you remember what I said?"

"You said you were confident."

"That's right. Mystic's own strength. The thing I have confidence in."

Sua had been curious about that herself. At the time she had only wondered what the words were supposed to mean; so this was it, a card meant to be laid down as a condition of the contract. Her ears pricked.

"You are a flame, Sua."

"A flame?"

"Yes. A flame searching for the answer to acting. A flame that will swallow every kind of work the way fire swallows wood, and grow larger and larger."

"Mm. Crystal clear."

Sua Technique One. When the words are difficult, pretend you understand them.

...She does think I'm impressive, though. Right?

"Well? I'm correct, aren't I?"

"Acknowledged."

Sua Technique Two. When the praise is aimed at you, acknowledge it first.

"I'll do everything I can so that you become an even greater flame, Sua—so that you raise a fire that burns the whole of the entertainment world. What I mean is that I'll hunt down every work that might serve as your inspiration."

Kim Iseo pressed on, unexpectedly fervent.

"Mystic is small, of course. We're new, and the roster is only Yeon-ju and Seonil. But I've earned a measure of trust in this industry. I can say with confidence that our pool for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠choosing scripts is the widest there is."

Listening, Sua thought, A wide pool for picking scripts? For someone who held the Special Privilege, was there anything better than that?

"And that doesn't mean I intend to leave you short on money, either. Better that you read it once than listen to me talk. I've drawn up the benefits I can offer you."

A sheet of paper was set down in front of her. Sua's eyes ran ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over it at speed.

Time required to give up on understanding it: three seconds.

This is hard. Do I pretend I like it? Or just keep my face blank?

She was stuck. She needed to know whether the terms were good or bad before she could settle on an act to play, but if understanding them was impossible to begin with, there was nothing she could do.

So she kept stealing glances at Kim Iseo, trying to read her—until, at some point, their eyes met head-on, as if the woman had meant to be caught looking. Disaster.

"Sua, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

It was the best Sua could manage. Whatever else she did, she must not ask. Getting the offer beaten down on her would be depressing.

But.

"Sua, if anything occurs to you, tell me in as much detail as you can. I'm in a position where I have to hear what you think before I can decide."

"It really is nothing."

"Even so. Please."

Kim Iseo's persistence went beyond anything Sua had imagined.

"Um, it's just..."

Sua tilted her head, then hastily invented something else. A compliment ought to be safe enough.

"...You're cuter than I thought."

Kim Iseo's face went white.

In the building of the agency Bada Actors, Park Dohui stood in a practice room whose walls had been given over to wide full-length mirrors.

Nearly twelve hours. The circles under her eyes were dark. She had driven herself through acting practice all night, and the work was only paused now because the chief had stopped by with coffee, donuts, and the like. Wiping her face with a towel, Park Dohui spoke.

"Chief."

At her call, the chief looked up from his phone.

"Remember that rookie? Kim Yu-han—the one they said would be playing Lee Sua's role."

"Of course I do."

"What do you think of him?"

"What do I think? The kid's out of his mind, that's what. After I handed him my card, I tore that parking lot apart. I was terrified he might've thrown it away. That's the kind of person who does that to you."

"...Right. He was incredible, but."

Park Dohui asked.

"Did he contact you again?"

"I'm waiting on exactly that, actually. Land this kid and I might get promoted. No—I definitely will. I was first in line with my card, and I pitched pretty long. There's hope."

"Mmm."

"Anyway, I'm heading out. Don't push yourself too hard."

Even after the chief had gone, Park Dohui couldn't quite bring the donut to her mouth. Her head was too snarled for that. Over and over, the conversation from the dinner on the outdoor set rose up in front of her.

Park Dohui followed the memory that far, then came back to the present.

She was at a dead end.

She had hoped that understanding Lee Sua even a little better would raise her chances of a successful apology, only to realize all over again, and even more starkly, that the woman was a terrifying monster. What was she supposed to do now?

Park Dohui turned to the manager eating a donut in the corner.

"Manager, did we hear back about the mock shoot?"

Befitting a mock shoot into which they had poured everything—money, manpower, all of it—one tremendous clause had been attached. If she was judged not to fit the drama proper, the contract would be terminated.

The manager shook his head.

"They said the results come out tomorrow. Come on, they're not actually going to terminate you, are they? You did fine. You even left a pretty memorable scene."

"...No. If they don't terminate it, that's a problem all on its own."

She wasn't joking. Didn't it mean she would have to stand in front of the camera with that monster again? She would need to do at least better than the mock shoot, and Park Dohui had absolutely no confidence that she could.

I can't just bite her again. I'd have to be insane...

It had only been possible in the first place because she had lost her reason. There was no way she could bite a fellow actor while in her right mind. But then what was she supposed to do? An ad-lib that could land with the same impact without actually hurting Sua?

Nothing came to her. Nothing would come.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do...

Park Dohui clenched her fist and opened it again for no reason at all. Her palm was already damp. She worried like that for a long while, and in the end found the courage to contact Sua.

For an instant, Park Dohui dropped her phone.

It pinwheeled through the air. She flung a hand out in a wild scramble, barely snatched it, and looked at Sua's reply again.

A second reading changed nothing. The meaning was, Do you actually have the guts to bite me? The meaning was, If you bite, can you handle what comes after? Cold sweat poured down her back.

Park Dohui immediately began hammering at the keys. Her fingers moved so fast they nearly blurred.

Then Park Dohui jammed the phone into her pocket. In the same instant she whipped her head toward the manager.

"Take me to a department store. Right now."

"A department store? Out of nowhere?"

"A necklace. No. Designer bags. Buy a few pretty ones and bring them."

"What? You should go yourself for something like that. Don't you remember? Last time I bought one, you blew up at me. Asked me why I'd gone and picked only stuff like that."

"I'm not buying them for me! They're for Lee Sua! And cancel every schedule I have except the actual shoot. I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."

There was even a note of desperation in her voice. It was understandable. For Park Dohui, this was, in its own way, a matter of survival.

An ad-lib that would be remembered in front of the camera, something other than biting. A way to survive Lee Sua. She had all sorts of things she needed to come up with. It felt a little like someone had locked a bomb collar around her neck.

And it wasn't a phenomenon happening to Park Dohui alone.

An acting academy in Gangnam.

"Everyone here?"

Hwang Myung-pil, the luxury supporting actor, had gathered with several others. They might only have been supporting players, but the look on every face was resolute. They had promised to meet among themselves today and run the scenes.

The feeling each of them carried was not so different. If they wanted to survive, they had no choice but to claw their way through it.

"Let's run scene one."

"Let's at least get it on our phones."

"Should we order food ahead of time?"

Whether they meant to keep Kim Yu-han in check, whether they feared him, or whether they sensed his success coming and hoped to catch the trickle-down, it all led down a single road. They had no choice but to sharpen their own acting.

Either way, it was a turn that would only make Special Task Force 808 the richer for it.

Meanwhile Sua, back home, was simply brooding.

"I can't tell how any of this is supposed to work."

The instant those words left her mouth, Kim Iseo's face had drained of color, and she had snatched the contract back, insisting there was something she needed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to revise at once.

Was she going to revise it for the worse? That would be a problem, if so. But what could Sua do about a thing that had already happened? She would have to let it go.

Park Dohui's texts were on her mind as well.

So she does want an ad-lib after all. She's an actress. Is that just natural?

It wasn't that Sua failed to understand the feeling. Wanting to be caught on camera in an even slightly more perfect form was a natural desire. Any actor would feel that way. And so she had given her permission readily enough.

Except.

...I'll have to put some kind of guard on my arm instead. Or have them layer thick skin over it with special-effects makeup. Bare, it just hurts.

She was in the middle of thinking exactly that.

"Eh?"

Without warning, an exclamation-mark alert had risen in the Special Privilege window. Sua tapped it with a finger, hardly thinking, and a description unfurled beneath it.

"...A trait?"

It was a new possibility. One Sua had never known existed at all.