Tempo (3)
The party had been part of the build-up to digging into Saebit Jinrihoe. There, she had confirmed the presence of CEO Han Taeseong. The moment Ha Yeonji saw him, Kang Jaeha’s face flickered through her mind before she could stop it.
It wasn’t strange.
Leon Entertainment’s head was Han Taeseong, and the commander worked there. So of course he was here too—in this party hall, which was suspected to be a gathering for Saebit Jinrihoe. Ha Yeonji had been a little rattled, but she quickly collected herself.
For now, act like nothing’s wrong.
She turned away in case Han Taeseong happened to notice her, then drifted toward a nearby table and picked up a fresh glass of champagne.
CEO Han Taeseong... is that bastard a Saebit Jinrihoe believer too?
She had her suspicions, but she couldn’t say for certain. Still, she couldn’t rule it out either. Han Taeseong might be with Saebit Jinrihoe, or he might not be. Ha Yeonji thought it was more likely that he was.
That side’s dangerous. Let’s avoid it for now.
She moved a little farther away from the group Han Taeseong was with. Being noticed by them was already a headache, but the person she really had to be careful around was Han Taeseong himself. He was known as the legend of self-made success.
How fast was his instinct? How quickly could he read a situation?
If he really is with Saebit Jinrihoe, then I should avoid him even more right now.
Keeping Han Taeseong filed away for later, she scanned the corners of the hall. A few clusters were gathered there. One group had three people—one woman and two men. The woman looked somewhat uncomfortable. Ha Yeonji’s instincts told her they might be in the middle of recruiting someone.
She approached them.
Sliding into the group almost casually, she greeted them and shook hands. The two men and the woman accepted her handshake and greeting without much suspicion. Or rather, they did seem wary—but were pretending not to be. Soon, Ha Yeonji casually steered the conversation toward the purpose of the party, asking whether what she had heard was true. The smiling man answered.
“Haha, isn’t that what everybody came here thinking?”
“Ah, right? There are more famous people here than I expected.”
While she spoke, Ha Yeonji’s handshake gave her the chance to satisfy the condition for her ability. Smell. She used it to judge whether they were lying. Immediately, she caught a thick stench from the men she was talking to.
Yeah—total lie.
And that made her even more certain this was a Saebit Jinrihoe gathering.
That night.
Kang Jaeha met Ha Yeonji at the MEG office. Lee Chanhoo was there too, of course. After hearing Ha Yeonji’s report, Jaeha crossed one leg over the other. His expression was unusually serious.
“Saebit Jinrihoe, huh—”
He seemed to have already heard about it from Ha Yeonji.
“So the cult you’ve been digging into was Saebit Jinrihoe?”
“Huh? Commander, you’ve heard of it too?”
“I’ve heard the name. A few times, through rumors. Not often.”
“What kind of rumors?”
“The usual. Tabloid-style nonsense.”
“Like someone saying this or that person was a member of a cult?”
“Right. Turns out that was Saebit Jinrihoe.”
Lee Chanhoo rubbed his chin.
“Whoa. So that kind of cult really exists.”
Ha Yeonji answered before Jaeha could.
“Exists? It’s more than that. The estimated number of believers alone is in the hundreds of thousands.”
“That’s basically the population of a whole provincial city.”
“It’s not a cult. It’s its own country.”
“It’d have power, force, and a ridiculous amount of money too. Weirdly enough, that kind of sounds like our mercenary group.”
“You crazy bastard, it’s a cult. Were we a cult?”
“I’m saying it feels similar. And hey, crazy bastard? Let’s not cross the line.”
“Sorry. My bad.”
“Accepted.”
Ha Yeonji had been propping her chin up while bantering with Lee Chanhoo, and Jaeha asked her a question.
“So you’re still digging into Saebit Jinrihoe. Why bring it up now?”
“Because at the place I thought was their party tonight, I saw someone unexpected.”
“Who did you see?”
“CEO Han Taeseong.”
“······”
Jaeha was silent for a moment, just looking at her. Then a faint smile tugged at his mouth.
“Interesting. Han Taeseong was at a Saebit Jinrihoe party?”
“Yeah. I was surprised too when I saw him.”
“Hmm—”
With fresh information in hand, Jaeha mentally revised everything he knew about Han Taeseong, and at the same time raised his caution level regarding Saebit Jinrihoe. That was when Lee Chanhoo cut in.
“But we can’t be sure CEO Han Taeseong is actually a member of Saebit Jinrihoe, right?”
Jaeha, the commander, answered.
“Whether that bastard is with Saebit Jinrihoe or not doesn’t matter.”
“Well, yeah. It doesn’t seem like Han Taeseong would walk into a place like that without knowing anything, and even if he did, Saebit Jinrihoe would’ve pulled him in.”
“Either way, it’s better to assume Han Taeseong has some connection to Saebit Jinrihoe.”
That settled it: Han Taeseong was now implicated as being related to Saebit Jinrihoe, at the very least. Jaeha unfolded his legs and fixed his eyes on Ha Yeonji.
“So. You’re still going to keep digging into Saebit Jinrihoe?”
“For now, yeah. If the commander tells me to stop, I’ll stop.”
“You were getting greedy, weren’t you? Keep going. I can smell something here. But move slowly. You know that better than anyone.”
“Of course. I’m a pro, a pro. You have to peel the layers back one at a time. If you rush it, I’ll slip. And breaking through Saebit Jinrihoe’s walls isn’t going to be easy in the first place.”
“Good. Before you begin any infiltration, keep sending me location reports.”
The order sent her fighting spirit blazing.
“Ha—this is it. This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted!”
On the morning of the 27th, at the MEG office.
A man who looked like a gangster stood in front of the office. On closer inspection, it was Oh Jongman. Checking the time, he drew in a small breath.
“Hoo—”
After knocking, he opened the glass door. A man in a suit sitting by the window greeted him almost immediately. It was Lee Chanhoo. With a faint smile, Lee Chanhoo stood and asked,
“You’re writer Oh Jongman?”
“Ah, yes, yes.”
“Haha. Nice to meet you.”
Lee Chanhoo shook his hand without making a big deal of it, then gestured to the six-seat table.
“Have a seat. You’ve got a much stronger impression than I expected.”
“Right? People tell me that a lot.”
“That’s a compliment.”
Lee Chanhoo had already gotten Oh Jongman’s story and profile from Jaeha. Still, the man’s intimidating first impression had surprised him a little.
He looks lethal. Most people would get scared just looking at his face.
Oh Jongman, meanwhile, found Lee Chanhoo far more approachable than he’d expected.
He’s got a really easygoing vibe.
At any rate, the two sat facing each other, and Lee Chanhoo handed over his business card while introducing himself.
“I’m Lee Chanhoo from MEG.”
“Yes, I’m Oh Jongman.”
“I know, I know, haha. We happened to get our hands on your script, and I called right away.”
Swallowing nervously, Oh Jongman asked,
“When you said you wanted to talk about a contract— you meant you were considering me as a writer, right?”
“That’s right.”
Lee Chanhoo sprang to his feet, walked over to the desk, and brought back a thin stack of papers. It was Oh Jongman’s script.
“The moment I saw this script, something just clicked.”
“···Clicked?”
“Yes. I can see real potential in you, writer. That’s why I’m offering you a contract. First, let me explain the terms before I hand over the actual contract.”
Oh Jongman’s expression grew serious. He had made up his mind.
“I’m listening.”
“The contract we’re offering you will be different before and after your debut. Before debut, we’ll provide a small amount of manuscript fees—basically activity pay—and an office studio on lease.”
“······An office studio.”
“The idea is to let you focus on writing if possible.”
Lee Chanhoo went on to list the rest of the terms. Of course, they had already been cleared with Jaeha. As Oh Jongman listened in a daze, he finally asked, unable to believe it.
“Y-you’re signing me on those terms??”
“Yes. You might be surprised now, but it’s still a little more generous than our standard contract terms.”
Lee Chanhoo also briefed him on MEG as a company. The story was much the same as it had been with Director Kwon Seongmin: on the surface, it looked like a new company, but in reality it was an investment firm aiming at something much bigger. Chanhoo’s explanation went on for about ten minutes, and the decision was left to Oh Jongman, who was still reeling from the whole thing.
“Writer, would you like some time to think it over?”
At that question, Oh Jongman briefly considered calling Jaeha directly. But then—
No. I need to handle this much on my own.
He put the thought aside. Then he made his decision.
“No. These terms are more than generous enough. I’ll sign.”
They really were generous. Oh Jongman was just an unknown writer drowning in the crowd. No, worse than that—under his current circumstances, no agency would ever offer him terms like these. The contract itself would normally be impossible.
This was only happening because Jaeha had ordered it.
“Haha, good call. We’ll be counting on you, writer.”
“Yes, yes. Likewise, CEO.”
The moment the contract was signed, Lee Chanhoo asked Oh Jongman,
“You said you’re writing a short script for a one-act competition right now?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll gather up this year’s one-act competition info, including all the broadcasters, and send it to you. And, uh, I also set up a YouTube channel.”
Lee Chanhoo’s expression shifted as he changed the subject.
“Could you write a script for that channel too?”
A few days later.
The weather had gradually turned warmer, and short sleeves were becoming a common sight on the streets. April was ending and May was beginning. It was May 1.
At this hour, the editing room for Gyeollo held Director Kwon Seongmin, dark circles hanging heavy under his eyes, and several others with their mouths shut tight. They watched him in silence—CEO Jeong Taewoo and the key staff members of Gyeollo. All of them were swallowing hard, waiting for something.
Then Director Kwon Seongmin, who had been staring at multiple monitors, took off his glasses and stood up.
-swish.
He lifted both arms high overhead. A tired smile spread across his face.
“It’s done. Final check’s finished too.”
The roughly forty-minute edit of Gyeollo had been completed. In an instant, CEO Jeong Taewoo grabbed both of the director’s shoulders and shouted,
“Director! Good work! Seriously, great work!”
“···Thank you, CEO.”
Soon, the waiting staff members erupted in cheers, and Jeong Taewoo hardened his expression.
“Then we’ll submit it to the Busan International Film Festival right away.”
Director Kwon Seongmin nodded without a word. From here on—once it was submitted to the Busan International Film Festival—there was nothing left for the director or CEO Jeong Taewoo to do. The decision would belong entirely to the festival committee.
Rejected or invited.
And even if it was finally selected and formally invited, there was still the question of whether it would land in the competition section, where they could stand before everyone and receive an award, or the non-competition section, where they could screen the film but not win anything.
Either way, the odds of rejection were high. But even the non-competition section would be enough for Kwon Seongmin to be grateful for. If it was invited at all, the Busan International Film Festival would promote the work.
Soon, CEO Jeong Taewoo hurried out of the editing room.
“Director, let’s celebrate the edit being finished with a meal. Come on, a meal.”
The key staff suggested food to Director Kwon Seongmin, but Kwon, in a voice that sounded almost dead, shook his head.
“I-I just want to sleep. I barely slept at all while editing.”
“Ah, then go sleep quickly. Go sleep.”
Thanks to that, the key staff had to leave the director behind and head for a restaurant. They chose a gukbap place. It was crowded, and they took a four-person table near the entrance.
Once they had ordered and started talking, the TV mounted on the wall carried the voice of a news anchor.
“The semiconductor cluster that was expected to house domestic and international semiconductor companies centered around MK Electronics has been officially confirmed today, May 1, in the area of Baekam-myeon, Yongin, Gyeonggi Province.”
The key staff let out exclamations of awe and surprise. Jaeha, however, had already seen this in advance back in early April. He had also already heard the news about the semiconductor cluster.
The location was the 4th Team’s personal jackpot.
There it is.
With a faint smile, he looked at the article displayed on his laptop.
《[Breaking] The 11 trillion won semiconductor cluster that had everyone confused until the very last minute is confirmed for Baekam-myeon, Yongin, Gyeonggi Province / Photo》
《Semiconductor cluster rumored in several locations confirmed! It wasn’t Yongin I-dong-eup after all》
Information was flooding in from every direction.
Jaeha could already picture the 2.5 billion won he had invested in land multiplying several times over.
Tomorrow’s going to be chaos. Or rather, starting today?
At the same time, his phone, resting beside the laptop, gave a short vibration.
-buzz.
It was a text message. The sender was Lee Chanhoo. The contents were simple:
-Commander, they’re scheduling the first test screening for Naldaljib next week.
That meant Naldaljib was just about ready to go too.
After checking the message, Jaeha suddenly picked up the stack of papers lying around the laptop. They were profiles—profiles of the washed-up talents from the 4th Team. Jaeha had printed out what he’d saved on the laptop.
There are a lot of them.
Even a rough glance showed there were dozens of profiles. And that wasn’t all of them. He hadn’t even bothered printing out those whose contracts had already ended. Still, Jaeha separated out the top three profiles.
Yoon Dayeon, An Jihee, and Oh Jongman.
They were still nobodies, still washed-up talent by any ordinary standard, but Jaeha had put oxygen back into their lungs. Special management targets. All three had already started moving, so he set them aside separately and then looked over the remaining dozens of profiles.
To everyone else, they’re probably nothing but scraps of paper with no value at all.
To others, these 4th Team profiles would definitely look like trash. After all, the 4th Team was Leon’s dumping ground. Who would even bother looking twice at the profiles assigned there?
But to Kang Jaeha, they looked different.
They were assets—and they were property.
Low-end, undervalued stock, yes, but if handled properly they could explode into something no one would have ever imagined. Looking over the profiles, Jaeha smiled faintly. Actors, singers, idols, comedians, broadcasters—his holdings were as varied as they were plentiful.
Now then—
Just as Jaeha was about to choose someone, the world in front of him rippled. Gooseflesh rose on both his forearms, and an overwhelming sense of familiarity hit him. Déjà vu. But this time it was different. There was no one nearby who could trigger it.
It was like with Kim Hoyeon. A different kind of Déjà vu.
Then, without warning, a scene that wasn’t reality appeared before Jaeha’s eyes.
It was a parking lot. Many cars were scrambling to find spaces. Judging by the size of the lot, it seemed to belong to a large mart or a place like it. Employees were using hand signals to guide the vehicles. Their uniforms were the same. Among them, one figure stood out. He was huge, easily around 190 centimeters tall, with a physique to match.
He had short hair, and his hands were enormous.
Then, all of a sudden, someone shouted harshly at that giant of a man. It was a guy with a sagging double chin.
“Mr. Go Chunseok!!!”
The man called Go Chunseok flinched and turned his head. The sagging-chinned man snarled at him.
“I told you to just do what the customers ask, didn’t I?!! I told you to just let it go, even if it sounds ridiculous! Another complaint came in again!! Why the hell do I have to get cursed at for it?!!”
For a moment, the giant man’s brow twitched.
Jaeha knew then, even in the middle of the Déjà vu, that he was looking at a familiar face. Monster-like physical power, the kind of strength that went with it. He knew that face.
Go Chunseok.
He’d been the one always leading the vanguard during the mercenary war.