The Gift from Kidari
Kidari Entertainment was the agency every actor in Korea dreamed of joining.
The company's CEO, Choi Hyung-tak, had been staring at his silent phone for quite some time.
“Hey, Director Mun.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man driving Choi Hyung-tak’s car was Mun Jeong-gi, the planning director of Kidari Entertainment. He was the right-hand man who had poured his heart and soul into building the company alongside Choi.
“Shouldn’t we have heard something by now?”
“Kang Tae-san, you mean? Not yet.”
“He doesn’t even know who I am or what Kidari is… Is this some kind of strategy?”
Choi Hyung-tak grew restless, like someone waiting for a reply from a romantic interest playing hard to get. Yet his expression showed he genuinely had no idea what was going on. If someone could fool Choi Hyung-tak, a man who had spent decades reading people, then that person was impressive in their own right.
“Hmm. Maybe someone else reached out to him first? In this fast-moving industry, no one sits still for long. Who could it be? Yoon Entertainment? Maple Tree?”
Choi Hyung-tak muttered, running through the names of rival agencies. The only places that could compete with Kidari were the major players. He was racking his brain for a way to outmaneuver them and secure Kang Tae-san first when his phone finally rang. It was Eun Chae-won.
“Hey, Chae-won.”
-Director, we just wrapped the final shoot.
“That was quick. Good work.”
-It was just one more scene.
“Right. I like how straightforward you are. Nothing unusual happened?”
-No.
“Oh, by the way…”
Choi Hyung-tak couldn’t hold back any longer and brought up Kang Tae-san.
“He hasn’t tried contacting you personally, has he?”
-No. I don’t even have his number.
“He’s harder to read than I expected. Got it.”
Choi Hyung-tak ended the call with nothing to show for it. If Kang Tae-san refused to reach out first, he would have to find another way.
Meanwhile, Eun Chae-won had just climbed into her Carnival when a small smile tugged at her lips at her CEO’s impatience.
“What did the director say that’s making you grin like that?”
“Nothing much.”
She gave her manager, Park Sang-ho, a light reply. The reason for her good mood was simple: her hunch had been spot-on. Her CEO had recognized the raw talent that was Kang Tae-san, and watching him struggle to reel that talent in only made things more interesting.
“Oppa, the director seems happier these days, doesn’t he?”
“Really? Director Mun said he looks stressed.”
“Exactly. He’s never the type to get worked up.”
“True. He’s usually the picture of calm.”
Eun Chae-won found herself genuinely curious about how this story would end.
***
After episodes three and four aired, the internet exploded with articles and posts. It had been a long time since a drama had generated this much buzz. The excitement wasn’t limited to online spaces either. Thanks to its prime-time slot on SBC, even viewers in their forties and fifties found it easy to tune in. With its tight script, reliable cast, and strong direction, word of mouth spread quickly through offices and social gatherings.
“Yoo-sun, have you seen it?”
“Seen what?”
“You know, that new SBC Friday-Saturday drama with Eun Chae-won. It’s really good.”
“Oh, is that the one my daughter was watching? But isn’t it too violent? All the killing and stuff—I couldn’t even watch.”
“Come on, it’s just acting! You should try it. It’s seriously fun.”
“You think so?”
Inside a large supermarket in Gangjeong-dong, two women in their fifties selling frozen foods chatted animatedly. The topic was Detective’s Record. Jeong, who loved dramas and loved talking about them, cheerfully recapped the first two episodes for her coworker.
“Eun Chae-won goes to confront the killer, and instead of backing down, he tries to devour her with his eyes. You can really feel how terrifying he is—he’s got the detective completely cornered.”
“Oh? Then what happens?”
“No matter what, the protagonist is still the protagonist. She stares him down and throws out the bait: ‘You really think I’m going to let you get away with this, Ju Chang-mok?’”
The line didn’t actually exist in the script, but Jeong delivered it as if she were the detective herself, puffing up with pride. Spotting a young man pushing a cart toward them, she launched into a full performance, treating him like Ju Chang-mok.
“‘I’m going to make sure every single victim you killed gets justice. You hear me?’ And then that guy… huh?!”
Jeong froze mid-sentence as she came face-to-face with the man standing in front of her grilled patties.
“Ju… Chang-mok?”
“What are you talking about, unni? A customer’s here. Hurry up and offer the samples.”
Kang Tae-san smiled brightly at the stunned woman.
“Could I try one of those?”
“Huh? Oh—yes, of course! Just a moment.”
Jeong quickly grilled a patty, sliced it in half, and handed it over in a paper cup. Tae-san popped it into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then broke into another clear smile.
“Wow, this is really good. It never tastes like this when I grill them at home. I guess cooking really is about the touch.”
Completely charmed by his words and expression, Jeong grilled several more patties and packed them into a cup.
“Try these too. At home you probably use regular cooking oil, right? If you add a splash of water over low heat, it steams while it grills. Tastes much better that way.”
“So that’s the secret. You really know your stuff.”
“Oh my, you have such a sweet way of talking. Ho ho.”
“Thank you.”
Tae-san bowed politely and moved on. Even though she hadn’t sold any of the actual product, a smile lingered on Jeong’s face.
“Unni, was that someone you know? You called him by name earlier.”
“Oh. For a second I thought he was the actor from the drama. He’s really handsome. Looks just like him… but the vibe is different. That character had this terrifying look in his eyes.”
The real Kang Tae-san, radiating his usual gentle aura, continued his leisurely lap around the supermarket. It was already 8 p.m. The store closed at 10:30, so the clearance sale had begun two hours earlier. Wednesday was also regular discount day, making it the perfect time to shop.
Tae-san spotted a 1+1 deal on vinegar that had been on his list and added a bottle to his basket. With his cart now heavier, he headed toward the fresh produce section. His goal today was to grab the assorted sushi set that would be marked down 30 percent. He had been cooking more lately and buying fewer ready-made meals, but he wanted to celebrate signing the contract for Yoo In-gyu’s one-act drama with a small treat.
‘If only So-yeon could finish her training camp soon so we could celebrate together.’
At least she had made it to the top ten and was working hard. The best he could do as her brother was cheer her on from afar.
Tae-san checked the price tag on the sushi and sashimi corner. Only a 10 percent discount sticker was on it so far. In about ten minutes another sticker would appear, bringing the total discount to 30 percent. One more lap around the store should do it.
“Excuse me… aren’t you Ju Chang-mok?”
A man in his forties holding a child stepped in front of him.
“Ah, yes. That’s me.”
“Wow, it really is you! Honey, come quick! It’s Ju Chang-mok!”
“Oh my gosh, it is! Can we get an autograph?”
“And a photo! Let’s take a photo too.”
Surrounded by the couple, Tae-san obliged with a signature and a picture. Since he didn’t have an official signature yet, he wrote “Kang Tae-san” neatly in the child’s sketchbook. The photo came out a little awkward, with him smiling stiffly, but other shoppers noticed and soon several more people approached with the same request.
“Thank you! I’m posting this on Instagram right away.”
After taking photos with a group of high school girls, Tae-san finally caught his breath. Being suddenly swarmed had been startling, but it was still a strange, pleasant feeling to be recognized by complete strangers.
‘Being on a major network really does make a difference.’
The power of media was undeniable. Feeling lighter, he headed back to the sushi corner to complete his original mission.
‘It’s gone.’
Every last pack had been snatched up while he was busy. Tae-san stood in front of the empty refrigerator with a blank expression. Just as disappointment began to settle in, a voice called out.
“There’s still some sushi left in the back. Would you like it?”
A staff member from the fresh foods section approached and stuck a 30 percent discount sticker on a pack containing salmon, flounder, octopus, soy-marinated shrimp, and egg sushi before handing it over.
“Thank you.”
“Um… could I take a photo with you?”
“Of course. Would you like an autograph too?”
Tae-san happily provided both and left the store in high spirits. Fame really did have its perks. On his way out he spotted a 1+ deal on premium Hanwoo beef, but even with the 20 percent discount the price was still over 30,000 won. He couldn’t bring himself to buy it. Satisfied with the sushi, he walked home with a light heart, already looking forward to a modest celebration with cup ramen.
When he reached his building, he found a fairly large delivery box waiting. He hadn’t ordered anything recently, so he checked the sender with mild curiosity.
‘Kidari Entertainment?’
Tae-san carried the box inside and opened it. Inside was another box wrapped in a silk cloth. When he untied the golden fabric, a premium Hanwoo 1++ gift set appeared.
“What is this?”
The marbling on the beef was so intricate it looked like a flower. Even at a glance it was obviously expensive—far more generous and higher quality than the beef he had considered buying earlier. A small card was tucked inside.
‘Congratulations on your debut as actor Kang Tae-san. —From everyone at Kidari Entertainment.’
Tae-san felt a warm flutter at the unexpected gift, but the feeling quickly cooled.
‘Not a chance.’
This was clearly a calculated move by that con artist. Nothing in this world came free, especially not gifts designed to dazzle the eyes and mouth. He wasn’t particularly active online, but after the Yang Seon-il and Jo Tae-man incidents he had learned how important public opinion and information could be. It was time to put that knowledge to use.
A quick search showed that many famous actors and stars were affiliated with Kidari Entertainment. Still, Tae-san refused to trust a company just because it was large. He had seen too many big corporations trick young part-timers with fancy names on contracts only to shortchange wages or pile on unpaid work. He needed more than polished search results—he wanted real experiences and honest opinions. So he logged into the large community site that always appeared at the bottom of every search: Otaku’s Plate.
It was a forum that covered all kinds of incidents and accidents across Korea, with boards neatly divided by topic. Even for an internet beginner like Tae-san, it felt approachable. He typed out a post.
I’m a total newbie, so getting an offer out of nowhere feels suspicious. Has anyone here signed with Kidari or know someone who has? Please let me know.
The moment he hit post, replies began flooding in.
Reading the flood of sarcastic replies, Tae-san tilted his head and chuckled softly. People dismissing his situation with “Yeah, right, and my dad’s the president” were, in their own way, giving the most honest reactions possible.
“Maybe… this place really is decent after all?”
The raw comments in front of him felt far more trustworthy than the expensive beef sitting beside him.