The Sincere Proposal
“Thank you for the offer, Senior Baek Hye-rin. But I’ll need some time to think about it.”
“……What?”
“If you’ll excuse me, my companions are waiting downstairs.”
“……”
Kang Tae-san gave a polite bow and walked away.
He descended the stairs from the second floor where eight top stars were gathered and headed straight out of the banquet hall.
There were no companions waiting for him, of course.
People on the first floor stared at him openly or with sidelong glances.
‘Ugh, this is unbearable.’
For someone who never enjoyed attention, the situation was deeply uncomfortable.
He was grateful to have seen all the top stars in one place and tasted dishes he could never have imagined, but…
‘There really is no such thing as a free lunch.’
The sharp stares made it clear that nothing came without a price.
“Isn’t that guy Kang Tae-san?”
“Yeah. He just wrapped a project with Eun Chae-won and Director Mo.”
“His visuals look even better than in the short drama.”
“The industry’s buzzing about him. They say he’ll be the first among the blue chips to land a lead role.”
The looks weren’t born of jealousy or envy, but a mix of curiosity, surprise, and genuine admiration. Still, Kang Tae-san hurried out.
Back at the hotel, he collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
Despite all the part-time jobs he had done over the years, today had been the most exhausting day of his life.
From early-morning makeup and full costume fittings, a six-hour drive, three hours at the film festival, and an after-party packed with hundreds of industry people…
Even someone who never snored was soon letting out soft, rhythmic breaths.
……
……
“Tae-san!”
“Hnn… yeah?”
Min Jin-cheol had grown worried when his actor wouldn’t answer his phone, so he borrowed a key card and entered the room. He found Kang Tae-san lying perfectly straight like a mummy.
The posture was so neat that Min Jin-cheol momentarily wondered if something was wrong, but as he drew closer he heard steady breathing and relaxed.
“Oh, hyung. You’re early.”
“Early? It’s already eleven.”
“Hik. Already?”
“Hungry? Let’s go get some soup.”
“Sounds good.”
Kang Tae-san felt refreshed after nearly eight hours of deep sleep. He washed his face, pulled on a cap, and followed Min Jin-cheol to a restaurant the manager had scouted the night before.
“Dwaeji Gamasot Gukbap” in Yeongdo looked every bit its age—over thirty years, judging by the faded red sign. The worn exterior screamed old-school local favorite.
“Wow, hyung, how did you find this place?”
“Picked it up while drinking with other managers yesterday. They said it’s the real deal for Busan locals. Shall we?”
“Yes, hyung.”
Creak—thud.
The moment they slid the door open, the rich smell of pork hit them. Even Kang Tae-san, who ate anything without complaint, felt a brief twinge of reluctance.
Inside, the restaurant was just as old and shabby as the outside. The floor was sticky with grease, the red-cushioned stools had no backs, and the synthetic-marble tables were so oily that setting down chopsticks felt risky. Stainless-steel seasoning containers on every table were crusted with dried red pepper paste.
In short, hygiene was nonexistent.
Yet two bowls of pork soup arrived almost immediately.
The menu offered only three items: pork soup for 10,000 won, extra for 2,000 won, and a bowl of rice for 1,000 won.
The earthenware pots were already filled with rice and overflowing with offal and lean meat, bubbling hot.
“Wow. This looks amazing.”
Any thought of hygiene vanished as saliva flooded his mouth.
The soup was so full that they had to ladle portions onto side plates to keep it from spilling. Even after filling the plates, the pots still looked generous.
Before adding seasoning, Kang Tae-san took a sip of the broth.
“Hyung, this is really good.”
“It’s insane, right?”
It was deeper and cleaner than any pork soup he had ever tasted. The broth carried the rich flavor of meat simmered for days, yet somehow held no trace of gaminess despite the strong pork smell in the restaurant.
They added plenty of chives, a piece of meat, and a slice of pig’s ear, then took a huge spoonful.
The satisfying crunch of cartilage, the tender meat, and the fresh, spicy chives blended perfectly. Each grain of rice had soaked up the broth, and the combination of meat and rice brought a subtle sweetness that made them smile without realizing it.
“Hyung, can we come back here tomorrow?”
“Why not? I’d move to Busan if I could.”
The two men buried their faces in their bowls and devoured Busan’s signature pork soup. Only after scraping the pots clean down to the last grain of rice and speck of chili powder did they set down their spoons.
“Whew. That hit the spot.”
“Haa. Best meal ever.”
It was the perfect remedy for yesterday’s fatigue and hangover.
They poked straws into the yogurt bottles on the counter, drank them down, and left the restaurant feeling thoroughly satisfied.
“By the way, you met the top stars at the Netflix Night event yesterday, right?”
Min Jin-cheol finally brought up the topic he had been saving since breakfast.
“From what I heard, Baek Hye-rin seemed pretty interested in you.”
“Word’s already out?”
“Gossip travels fastest in this industry.”
“Ahem.”
Kang Tae-san gave a brief summary of the previous night while they walked around the neighborhood to help digest their meal. Min Jin-cheol listened quietly.
“So I told her I’d think about it.”
He also mentioned the proposal he had received and how he had left without giving an answer.
“But you said the script was good, didn’t you?”
“It is. Out of all the scripts the company sent, it left the strongest impression.”
“Then why not just do it?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to… but…”
Kang Tae-san recalled Baek Hye-rin’s offer. Even someone with his limited social experience understood how significant it was.
It was the kind of Cinderella offer he had only heard about—like a franchise CEO showing up at the restaurant and saying, “You’re good at serving. Want to come work at headquarters? We’ll make you full-time and pay whatever salary you want.”
But…
“You know how it is with people from the orphanage, hyung. We’re too busy just surviving. Studying was always secondary, and historical awareness? Forget it. Honestly, even during the Japan boycott, I bought Japanese goods whenever they were cheap on secondhand markets. Because they were the cheapest.”
“Well, that’s understandable if you’re just trying to get by.”
“Exactly. So how can someone like me play an independence activist from the Japanese colonial period? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Come on. Only chaebol kids get to play chaebols? It’s acting.”
“I could study and practice for other roles, but the historical consciousness part… it just doesn’t sit right with me.”
Kang Tae-san thought back to when he had read the script. It was filled with the patriotism, pride, and collective sorrow that any Korean would feel.
‘Is it really right for me to portray that?’
It wasn’t a question of whether he could do it. It felt like something he simply shouldn’t do.
If he had still been thinking like a part-timer, he would have accepted without hesitation. But this role felt different.
“All right. I get what you’re saying. Still, don’t close the door completely. You might learn something while doing it.”
“Got it, hyung. That’s why I told her I’d think about it.”
Min Jin-cheol felt that Kang Tae-san had grown noticeably more mature. He had always been responsible because of his younger sister, but working as an actor seemed to have added depth and nuance to his personality.
It wasn’t that he had changed fundamentally; it was more like his territory had expanded while his core remained the same.
“You really were born to be an actor. How happy must the writer be? An actor who actually worries whether he’s worthy of the role.”
“Hyung, it’s not like that~”
They were still laughing when Min Jin-cheol’s phone rang. It was Baek Hye-rin’s manager, the one he had drunk with the night before.
“Yes, hyung. Did you recover from last night? …Yes, yes. We’re outside. Right now?”
Min Jin-cheol met Kang Tae-san’s eyes as the actor climbed into the back seat.
“Understood. We’ll head over right away.”
“What is it? Something wrong?”
“Uh, well… Baek Hye-rin said she’s coming this way.”
***
Baek Hye-rin’s hair was slightly damp, as if she had just finished working out. She wore a simple outfit completely different from the previous night and polished off an entire bowl of soup in front of Kang Tae-san.
“Haa. That was really good.”
She had planned to eat slowly and talk with him, but the moment she tasted the soup she had devoured it without a single word.
Kang Tae-san watched the world’s most beautiful woman demolish her meal and felt oddly at ease.
The sight itself was rare, and more importantly, the soup really was that delicious. He almost wanted another bowl.
“Sorry. I invited you to talk and then just ate.”
“You said you had something to tell me…”
Baek Hye-rin wiped her mouth with a tissue and looked straight at him. Even without makeup, her skin looked luminous.
“I happened to watch Smile. Your performance was the best I’ve seen in any project this year.”
She spoke not as a critic but as a fellow actor.
“I’ve done plenty of action scenes myself, so I know how hard it is to make physical acting feel natural. Your performances don’t look learned—they look innate.”
“Ah… thank you.”
“Seongya is a period piece with lots of action scenes. I wanted an actor whose chemistry would match mine, so I recommended you.”
“……”
“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”
Her attitude had changed along with her clothes. After thirty minutes of running, she had realized that approaching Kang Tae-san with fame or status alone wouldn’t work.
Kang Tae-san felt his guard lower.
“It’s fine. Thank you for thinking so highly of me. But…”
He asked the question that truly puzzled him.
“You’re a top star. The project would succeed even without me.”
Seeing him turn her down twice, Baek Hye-rin made up her mind.
“I came all the way here to see you. I even got rejected in front of everyone yesterday. So give me just one hour of your time.”
“One hour? Where are we going?”
Baek Hye-rin stood up.
“Let’s go do something good while getting some exercise.”