A Visit from Midas Hands
Inside the penthouse office of Kidari Entertainment.
CEO Choi Hyung-tak savored a glass of whiskey as the majestic orchestral melody poured from speakers worth a fortune. His gaze drifted over the colorful Seoul nightscape visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Kidari Entertainment lived up to its reputation as Korea’s premier agency. Its roster—singers, actors, comedians—sparkled like jewels on their respective stages.
Surprisingly, the discovery of these jewels owed less to big data or meticulous market research than to Choi Hyung-tak’s own discerning eye.
His gaze shifted toward the eastern window of the office.
There stood an expensive mother-of-pearl cabinet. Atop it rested a small jade bowl placed on red silk. Choi Hyung-tak took a stick of sandalwood incense from beside it, lit it, and set it inside the bowl.
Next to the bowl sat a small statue of a child with a benevolent smile. The walls were lined with all manner of Eastern and shamanistic artifacts. For the office of a globally successful entertainment CEO, the atmosphere felt almost excessively folkloric.
“I pray that Kidari may always prosper, and that stars brimming with great destiny will come to us of their own accord. Please grant this. Please grant this.”
While rumors of chaebols relying on shamanism were fairly well-known to the public, Choi Hyung-tak was different from most of them.
A luxury gemstone bracelet worth tens of millions of won adorned the wrist of the arm that swept his pomaded hair back. He wore a purple shirt embroidered with unknown flowers beneath a matching purple jacket.
His flamboyant attire and the sight of him quietly praying before incense made him look like a shaman, yet he was not a formally initiated one.
He simply possessed the divine energy inherited from his grandmother, who had lived her entire life as a great shaman. Using that energy, he sought out talents destined to become top stars beloved by the public.
Of course, it was hard to believe that the head of Korea’s top entertainment agency discovered stars through what many dismissed as superstition. Whether people believed it or not, that very “divine sense” had built Kidari Entertainment into what it was today. At the very least, most of the company’s executives and close associates believed in it.
As he offered incense before the jade bowl, a knock sounded behind him.
Knock, knock—
“Come in.”
“I’ve brought the research materials on actor Kang Tae-san that you requested. The media marketing team sent them up.”
“How’s the internal evaluation of that fellow lately?”
“Yes, sir. As you instructed, our analysis team examined him thoroughly. For a newcomer, he possesses stable acting skills and visuals, but his track record is still lacking. Even at the highest estimate, we currently place him at the lower end of blue-chip level.”
“Is that so?”
Choi Hyung-tak skimmed the documents Secretary Moon had brought and let out a small chuckle.
“Keep watching him. If what I saw is correct, he’s not the kind of actor who’ll end at mere blue-chip or leading-man status.”
“Understood. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Those in the entertainment industry strictly categorized and addressed actors by “level.”
Extras just stepping in front of the camera or actors in minor theater roles were commonly called “unknowns.”
They played nameless parts—Passerby 1, Merchant 1, Soldier 1, Homeless Man 1—because their roles literally had no names.
“A guy who’s only been an unknown for a few months is already snapping at the heels of blue-chip status. The scent is already there, don’t you think, Secretary Moon?”
“……As you say, sir, it’s an exceptional case.”
In truth, thousands upon thousands of aspiring actors never overcame the “unknown” wall and gave up in despair. Those who endured the long unknown period eventually landed supporting roles with some weight and named characters. Only then did they receive the evaluation of “newcomer.”
After consistently leaving strong impressions on directors and writers through small supporting roles, they finally earned the “blue-chip” label.
From the blue-chip level onward, agencies typically began managing them. Blue-chip actors started taking lead roles in single-episode dramas or significant supporting parts in miniseries, gradually becoming known to the public.
Among blue-chips, an even rarer few reached the “leading actor” level—actors capable of carrying a miniseries’ ratings and whose faces were familiar to regular viewers. At this stage, one could say they no longer had to worry about making a living as entertainers. They received audition offers and broadcast appearance proposals, and every actor dreamed of reaching this level.
Up to this point, it was a realm attainable through innate visuals, heaven-sent luck, and grueling effort.
“But you’re not expecting just a leading actor, are you, sir?”
“Of course not. Who do you think I am? I’m Choi Hyung-tak. Choi Hyung-tak.”
Among leading actors, reaching “top star” status required something special beyond the qualities already mentioned. Choi Hyung-tak possessed an innate foresight for spotting actors who carried that special something from the very beginning.
“A top star must possess a weapon that no one else can replace. And that can’t be achieved through effort, diligence, or good character alone.”
“Thanks to your intuition in catching that, Kidari Entertainment became number one in the industry.”
“Your flattery has improved.”
“I mean it sincerely.”
Of course, there existed a level beyond even top stars—actors whose influence transcended the nation itself. They were called “national actors.”
Even in Choi Hyung-tak’s career, he had discovered only one national actor. He didn’t expect Kang Tae-san to reach that height either.
“Anyway, this fellow has a peculiar aura that draws people’s attention. By the way, has he still not contacted us?”
“No, sir. Not yet.”
“You’re sure the gift was delivered properly?”
“Yes. I personally confirmed that the Hanwoo set with the message card you wrote was delivered to Kang Tae-san’s doorstep.”
“Good grief. So he just ate the Hanwoo and kept his mouth shut?”
Even blue-chip actors, let alone newcomers, would be beside themselves over a call from CEO Choi Hyung-tak. They would rush over the same day even if it was just a casual check-in. Yet this audacious newcomer hadn’t sent so much as a single text despite Choi’s overture.
“I’m sorry. Shall I try contacting him again?”
“I still have my pride. Are you telling me to go begging like Liu Bei?”
“That’s not what I meant. I apologize.”
“Forget it. You have nothing to apologize for. The one who should be sorry is that bold rookie who dares to play hard-to-get with me.”
Just then, the phone in Secretary Moon’s inner pocket vibrated lightly. Choi Hyung-tak’s eyes sharpened strangely as he watched Secretary Moon immediately turn off the screen after checking it.
“Was that a call from your wife? You should have taken it.”
“Ah, yes, sir. It’s fine. I can call her back after work.”
“Secretary Moon. Call your wife right now and go home early today.”
“No, sir. You haven’t left yet. How could I leave first?”
“No. Leave right now. And buy a strawberry cake on your way home.”
“A cake, all of a sudden?”
Secretary Moon tilted his head, wondering if he had forgotten some important anniversary that even the CEO knew about. Nothing came to mind. Yet Choi Hyung-tak often gave such sudden advice when something significant was happening, so Secretary Moon simply nodded.
“Understood.”
“Good. Call your wife immediately.”
Watching Secretary Moon hurry out, Choi Hyung-tak murmured to himself.
“Congratulations, Secretary Moon. You’re going to be a father. I should give you a raise.”
He returned to his desk and was reviewing the report on Kang Tae-san when a text message arrived on his phone. Thinking it might be a thank-you from Secretary Moon, Choi Hyung-tak checked it and broke into a wide grin.
“This guy’s playing hard-to-get like a real charmer. A real charmer! Hahahaha!”
The screen displayed a message from Kang Tae-san.
***
The next day.
A sleek black sedan pulled up in front of the shabby multi-family house where Kang Tae-san lived. The person who stepped out, escorted by the driver, was none other than CEO Choi Hyung-tak. Upon receiving Tae-san’s message, he had been unable to wait and had come straight to his house.
“Wait in the car. Meeting him alone will give me a stronger feeling.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll wait right here.”
Secretary Moon had taken the day off to accompany his wife to the obstetrician and had only brought the driver along. Choi Hyung-tak climbed the narrow stair railing to the rooftop, caught his breath, and surveyed Tae-san’s yard.
“I really need to exercise. Getting winded just from climbing these stairs.”
Knock, knock—
When he knocked on the door, Kang Tae-san soon appeared wearing an apron and casual clothes.
“Hello, actor Kang Tae-san. We’ve met before, but it feels like we already know each other, doesn’t it?”
“Huh? How did you…?”
“Ah, I’m glad to see you too. Very glad.”
Tae-san quickly wiped his wet hands on the apron and grasped the hand Choi Hyung-tak extended.
“How did you know where I live?”
“I sent you the Hanwoo gift last time. I’ve known the address for a while. The feng shui here is solid—there’s a big mountain behind it, and a stream flows down below. For Seoul, this isn’t bad at all.”
The rooftop room had a lived-in warmth, with drying racks full of laundry and exercise equipment scattered about.
“Please come inside. If you’d told me in advance, I would have prepared something.”
“Ordinary preparations don’t satisfy me. It’s easier not to bother. Well then, excuse me.”
The moment Choi Hyung-tak stepped inside after removing his shoes, the thin red string bracelet on his wrist snapped with a soft pop and fell to the floor.
Unaware, Tae-san was busy clearing the cluttered items inside. Choi Hyung-tak picked up the broken bracelet and looked around the interior with a peculiar expression.
‘Why did it suddenly break?’
It was a bracelet his grandmother, a great shaman, had personally braided and given him, meant to ward off evil like a talisman. He had worn it day and night.
‘This is a strange house. I feel oddly strong energies gathered everywhere.’
The moment he entered, Choi Hyung-tak felt as though he were breathing at the summit of Everest—his inhalations and exhalations felt unnatural.
Whoosh—
An involuntary whistle escaped his lips.
He had never felt such powerful energy except in his grandmother’s shrine, filled with spiritual tools.
“Have you lived here long?”
“Yes. Ever since my sister and I moved to Seoul. Quite a while now.”
“Hmm… Would you mind if I look around a bit?”
At Tae-san’s casual permission, Choi Hyung-tak first entered the bathroom beside the entrance. Though it wasn’t the usual place people started a house tour, he had strangely sensed something unusual from the bathroom.
Yet all he saw was a recently replaced showerhead and a large plastic bag bundle that seemed placed there to organize trash.
He had discovered the miracle showerhead and the goblin bag, but to Choi Hyung-tak they looked like ordinary household items.
‘Not here?’
Next, his attention was drawn to a large metal storage cabinet that served as a partition between the kitchen and living area. Though it looked like an ordinary multipurpose cabinet, it gave off an oddly suspicious energy. On impulse, he flung the door open.
The sound made Tae-san glance over sharply.
“Huh?”
“Eh? Eh-eh-eh?”
Tae-san’s heart leapt—worried that opening the Memorial Box might cause some disaster—but what Choi Hyung-tak saw inside was an ordinary storage cabinet. Tae-san had filled it with emergency medicine, detergent, toilet paper rolls, and other miscellaneous items because he hated wasting the space.
‘Just a regular cabinet.’
Fortunately, Choi Hyung-tak didn’t seem to see the “memory lumps” of various people inside the Memorial Box. He simply tilted his head and slowly closed the door.
“The house is a bit messy. There’s nowhere proper to receive guests, so would you like to sit at the table?”
Choi Hyung-tak followed Tae-san’s guidance and sat at the small dining table. He sipped the cold barley tea Tae-san offered while continuing to observe the interior with wary eyes.
“Have you had any inconveniences living here?”
“Well, it’s a bit annoying to walk to the subway station since it’s at the end of the hill. But it’s good exercise.”
“Haha, you must have strong energy.”
“I was born with decent stamina.”
Of course, Choi Hyung-tak wasn’t talking about physical stamina. Even without being a shaman, his divine energy was far stronger than most people’s, making him sensitive to spiritual auras. When evaluating actors, he often visited their homes to observe both the house’s energy and the person’s energy.
‘Kang Tae-san… he really is a “charmer.”’
It wasn’t just the house. The energy radiating from the actor Kang Tae-san himself was extraordinary. Normally, an ordinary person living in a place so saturated with spiritual energy would go mad seeing hallucinations or suffer health issues from restless sleep.
“You’re no ordinary vessel. Hmm. Sometimes I see the form, sometimes I don’t.”
“Pardon? A vessel?”
“Just talking to myself. I have a habit of muttering.”
To Choi Hyung-tak, Kang Tae-san seemed to possess divine energy comparable to his own.
‘Not only is the energy strong, but multiple energies are tangled together in complex, diverse ways.’
Perhaps acting itself was an effective way to release those energies. Tae-san’s aura was so intense that if he hadn’t pursued acting, it wouldn’t have been strange for him to suffer spirit sickness and undergo an exorcism ritual long ago.
“It seems you’ll have to keep acting from now on, Tae-san.”
“Oh… Thank you for saying that. Hehe.”
He had stopped short of saying, “Otherwise you’ll either go mad or become a shaman!” fearing it would sound ominous. To Tae-san, it simply sounded like “Your acting really pleases me.”
Though the feeling was uncanny, Choi Hyung-tak became even more convinced that he wanted to sign this newcomer.
“Do I really need to explain what kind of place Kidari Entertainment is?”
“No, I already know.”
It was a lie. Until recently, when Director Yoo In-kyu had told him, he had thought Choi Hyung-tak was a con artist and Kidari Entertainment a small, decent company.
“Exclusive contracts in this industry start at a minimum of three years.”
“I see.”
“Our Secretary Moon will prepare the formal contract. Before that, is there any condition you’d like to discuss?”
“Well, there is one thing I’d like to ask.”
Confident in his agency’s status, Choi Hyung-tak was prepared to accommodate most requests. If Tae-san wanted a house overlooking the Han River, he would find one. If he wanted the best gym and trainer to build his physique, Choi was ready to provide them. Some contracted actors had even received yachts as additional perks.
But what Tae-san requested was far from such luxuries.
“I’d like to take acting lessons. Could you introduce me to a good teacher?”
“Acting lessons?”
It was an unexpected request. Having heard from Directors Yoo In-kyu and Sung Tae-man, and having seen Tae-san’s performance as Joo Chang-mok on television himself, Choi had never imagined he would want lessons.
‘I’ve heard that good actors value fundamentals. He’s humble as well.’
Choi Hyung-tak found Kang Tae-san even more likable.
“Very well. If you sign with us, we have an actor among our talents who teaches at a university. I’ll personally arrange the introduction.”
“Thank you.”
Tae-san had considered attending an acting academy but had been burdened by the high lesson fees.
“Ah, one more thing. Would it be all right if I occasionally take on side jobs while acting?”
“Hmm. As long as it’s not illegal, there’s no clause prohibiting side jobs, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Tae-san had asked just in case, and the answer brought him relief.
“May I ask why you need a side job?”
“I have to support my sister, and I’m worried my income won’t be stable.”
At those words, Choi Hyung-tak smiled and got straight to the point.
“Once you hear about the signing bonus, that worry should ease considerably.”
“Oh, there’s a signing bonus too?”
“Would you work hard just because you signed a contract? You work hard when there’s money on the table, right? Hahaha.”
Kang Tae-san swallowed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Honestly, he had thought signing the contract alone—getting management and free lessons—would already be a huge gain. Now there was even a signing bonus. It was unexpected extra income.
“How about a clean five hundred million won advance for a three-year exclusive contract?”
“……Five hundred million?”
“Why? Is it too little? It should be more than enough that you wouldn’t need side jobs.”
“……”
“It’ll be paid upon signing, and if the advance isn’t fully offset, the contract automatically extends by one year each time. That safety clause is standard in the industry.”
Noticing Tae-san’s sudden silence, Choi Hyung-tak wondered if he wanted more and kept talking.
“But once you clear the advance within three years, the next one will be much larger. First contracts usually start modestly like this.”
Though he called it modest, five hundred million was generous even by industry standards for a newcomer.
However—
“Kang Tae-san?”
“……”
“……?”
To Tae-san, numbers in the hundreds of millions had only ever existed in Monopoly’s bank. Receiving that kind of money in reality—
“……Gah!”
With a strangled cry, Kang Tae-san collapsed unconscious.