Would a Million Won Do?

Time flew.

And then, just like that, the long-awaited day arrived—the shoot the YouTube channel Snack Movie had been planning all along.

"Will the makeup pass if we take it about this far?"

"Hmm... It actually looks pretty convincing."

The theme Snack Movie had prepared this time was nothing short of zombies. There was, however, a problem. Money.

A lone YouTube channel was in no position to mount a full-scale apocalypse. Even if they were going to do zombies, they needed a setting they could reach by compromising. What they landed on was the proposal in front of them now: a story about a school where the dead had started walking.

Up to that point, they were rather proud of themselves for being clever. Hmm. Now what.

Was the fretting that obvious? A staffer tapped the shoulder of the director, who stood with a hand clamped to his chin.

"You've been sunk in thought for a while. What's weighing on you? Oh—are you unhappy with the extras' zombie makeup?"

"Not that. I think we nailed the makeup hire. I sneaked a look through the camera earlier, and if the extras go out like this, the reaction's going to be great. People will say they look like actual zombies."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just... unexpectedly..."

The director hesitated, then finished the thought.

"Maybe the way to put it is that the leads feel like they can't act. They just can't bring it to life. No flavor."

"Ah...?"

The staffer turned that over for a moment, then nodded.

"Feels like a problem that only shows now, with the extras actually made up as zombies."

"Right? When everyone was still plain, the leads looked fine. Put them next to zombies in proper makeup and they suddenly come up short."

"Mm. What do we do with this."

"What's there to do? It's a shame, but we go with what we've got. We're supposed to roll any minute now. Bit late to swap anybody out."

The director was right. Nothing to be done. All that remained was to hope that the instant the cameras clicked on, the leads might manage some kind of awakening.

The scene they were about to shoot was simple enough, at least. Zombies appear. The students realize that the impossible thing in front of them is wrong. They run.

And so the cameras rolled.

"Aaaaaaaah!"

A sharp scream, and the crew was thrown. No wonder. The picture filling the monitor had slipped, somehow, past what they'd expected.

"S-save meee!"

One pretty schoolgirl, thrashing and sprinting, doing everything in her power to get away from the zombies. Nothing had been edited. They were only watching a raw monitor feed, and still it overflowed with life. Not acting at all. The feeling of being hunted by a real zombie.

And the girl's name was...

"...Sua?"

The one who had come to the audition through Jung Soyen. Lee Sua herself.

Ugh... I'm spent. Wiped out.

Sua sipped from a bottle of water and let out a sigh. In her head she was still inside the zombie script she had lived through a few days ago. It had been truly awful. A script experience was vivid, which was the good part—and vivid, which was the problem. She had come within a breath of being caught and turned into raw meat.

And now I have to recreate it.

She had just finished a scene and was resting when a staffer came over.

"Sua, are you all right? Nothing's wrong, is it?"

It wasn't only the staff. A few of the zombie extras who had been chasing her asked as well.

"You okay?"

"Can you keep shooting today?"

"That didn't look like acting. You seemed genuinely desperate..."

"Ah, I'm fine."

Her mouth said she was fine. Inside, she was deeply relieved. If the people around her were talking like this, didn't that mean she was doing well right now?

A relief, then. That's all.

A person had to know their place, and Sua knew exactly how she would be treated if she slipped.

A connection hire. I only got in because of Soyen.

That wouldn't do. She had to give it everything, didn't she? And so here she was. The zombie-movie experience had nearly killed her, but she had muddled through it, and now she was acting it back out.

That was when it happened.

"Sua!"

"Yes?"

Someone was calling her. Another staffer.

"Soyen wants a word. Do you have a minute?"

"I've got time, of course.... What's this about?"

"Faster if you hear it from her. Come on!"

What? Had the scene not sat right with Soyen? Uneasy, Sua followed.

"Sua, the staff, everybody—the reactions are so good."

Fortunately, what she had been dragged over to hear was pleasant. No bad news. Just praise, rolling on. Then came something she had not expected.

"Once this airs, I think we're going to get bites from all over. It feels like a waste to let you rot on a YouTube channel. Want me to actually look into another road for you?"

"Another road?"

"Maybe 'the real road' is the better way to put it. Actually working in the entertainment industry."

The actual entertainment industry? Out of nowhere? She could tell the conversation wasn't a bad one. Hearing it with no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time to brace, though, it landed hard and sudden.

"If it were up to me, I'd bolt you to our channel forever and make a fortune. But that would mean wasting your talent, and I'd feel awful about it. So. What do you think?"

Soyen sounded entirely sincere. It still didn't quite reach Sua, and she thought she needed a little more time. Part of it was how impossibly far away the actual industry felt. She couldn't even picture what it would be like. For now there was the YouTube video about to go up. If that alone went well, it would be enough.

She settled her thoughts and answered.

"Thank you, really, for thinking well of me, and for making an offer like that. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let me focus and finish this shoot first. I'll think about it after."

"Ah, yeah? Next thing when it's next?"

To her surprise, Soyen agreed at once, without a trace of being put out. What a relief. She did add one more line, though.

"Then if the footage comes out decent once we wrap, mind if I go around bragging about you a little?"

"That much is fine.... Just don't make it too embarrassing."

"What do you take me for. All right. Got it."

And so filming began again. Sua gave it everything she had.

That night. Sua's studio apartment.

Sua pressed a sheet she had printed in enormous letters flat against the wall. The Special Privilege was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unlocked. The second act of her life had begun.

"I'm going to live diligently. Diligently!"

She planted herself in front of the computer with her resolve clenched tight, turning over everything she had heard once the shoot was done. Praise. Nothing but praise.

"Heh heh. I've got a third Special Privilege. That's what this is."

Right. A power the world had granted to Sua alone. With it, she only had to build her filmography, one piece at a time. Which was why the Sua of this moment was...

"Skipping this one.... Skipping this one too.... Oh? Is this one all right?"

Like filling a cart at the grocery store, she was sorting through casting calls online. She had no intention of coming home, basking in the compliments, and calling it a night. Strike while the iron was hot. From here on, she meant to look, and look hard.

Of course, she couldn't set her eye on every listing that crossed the screen. Among them, she judged only the ones with a script attached. She wasn't about to throw away the chance to see, ahead of time, how well a thing would land.

"Ah—and before any script experience, I check it with my own eyes first. Every time."

She drilled it into herself like a mantra. Go in blind and end up tortured, and that would be a nightmare. Every script she downloaded, she went over carefully before anything else.

A long while later, there were exactly two she could send in for.

This one first. It was only a drink commercial, and yet a script existed. She finished the experience, then checked the grade—and it was nothing less than Grade 2.

This one was Grade 2 as well. She applied on the spot.

"Hoo..."

It felt like the signal of a real beginning, and her nerves wanted to shake, but she decided to trust the Special Privilege and herself. If she couldn't believe in herself, she wouldn't be able to do anything. In truth, she had a fair bit more confidence than before.

Experience proficiency, maybe? I think it's gone up a little.

The headaches, the trembling, the emotions she couldn't hold down—the things that used to follow her out of an experience like aftereffects were growing weaker. For Sua, that was very welcome news. And besides.

She pulled up a line at random from the script she had just lived through.

"Your sword is heavy. And no one is even holding it."

The moment the words left her, she nodded, a short breath of admiration with them.

"Oh."

The lines were memorized. All of them. She felt it again. A Special Privilege wasn't called a privilege for nothing.

"Hehe."

Sua went back to digging through the calls. This was more fun, and more of a pleasure, than she had ever imagined. Living through the scripts. And picturing a future every time she sent an application in. For the first time, a life that had been nothing but bleak had a reason in it, and she let herself expect a little more of herself.

And so she fell asleep.

The next day.

A call from a number she didn't know.

"...Ugh. Unknown number."

Sua's brow drew in before she could stop it. Soccer, basketball, pilates—she had hurled herself at every field there was, hunting for something she was good at, so a call from an unknown number could only mean trouble. Some job she had already quit. Some sports club she had already left. She wanted none of it. She had even walked out on auditions. No need, at this point, to pick up every phone that rang.

She ignored the first call without a second thought.

But.

It rang and rang, and in the end she had no choice. Ordinary scam calls and spam didn't try this hard.

That was the whole greeting. An extremely low voice. A brief silence followed, and Sua hung up. Turn it over as she might, this was no one in her life.

Someone who knew her? Who on earth? Her head tilted.

A voice thick with irritation. Sua's rose to match it.

She took it for a nasty call and was about to hang up.

What kind of scam call is this.