Guess I'll Come Back in a Bit

Being a road manager doesn't mean you're glued to your assigned celebrity around the clock. That said, it certainly doesn't mean you follow the Labor Standards Act to the letter, either.

You violate the labor laws just enough, and you rest just enough. A manager's workload is, after all, proportional to the work of the celebrity they handle.

For actors, once they start shooting a project, they tend not to juggle overlapping gigs until that project wraps. And even then, productions no longer shoot at a breakneck, every-single-day pace the way they used to — filming and rest alternate. The fact that my assigned actor isn't a lead is another reason, I suppose.

Even if filming happens every day, there's no reason to show up on set if it isn't a scene my actor is in.

Today is one of those days.

Melancholy Romance is shooting, but Ha Eun-yul has no scenes, so I came into the office. I was sitting at my desk in the Nine Entertainment office. Calling it a desk is generous — it isn't piled high with documents the way it was back in my aide days.

Anyway, according to Team Leader Park Munsu, the singer side of things is a different story.

We've gotten quite radically close. Well — whether someone is "close" or "not close" by my standards isn't particularly important. Still, Team Leader Park Munsu, who's only a year older than me, went so far as to suggest we just drop the formalities and call each other friends. That much, at least, means we've gotten reasonably close.

The Ghost asked quietly, as if he'd read my thoughts.

"Why didn't you just tell him you'd be friends?"

Me? I wrote my answer on a scrap of paper on the desk and held it up for him.

"Do you even have friends? I've been following you around for months, and you never seem to contact anyone you'd actually call a friend..."

Hm. Unlike myself, I lifted my head and looked toward where the Ghost was standing. Apparently my eyes were rather sharp.

"No... I was just... I said it because I was worried..."

I turned my head back down and wrote on the memo pad again.

"Right... I mean, who doesn't have friends? And it's not like you have to talk all the time to be friends. If anything, the ones you don't have to keep in touch with — those are the real ones."

...A difference in perspective.

To me, "friend" is a rather lukewarm word. It's a term that guarantees nothing.

Back when I was chief aide to Representative Choi Giseok, how many people do you think went around saying we're friends, we're colleagues, we're a team? Those same people would stab each other in the back the moment it suited their interests and their direction. And they actually did.

Anyway. Back to the point.

Team Leader Park Munsu had described his days as a singer's manager as overwork piled on top of overwork.

"God, I really... I couldn't sleep properly back then. Of course, if you're managing some older, established singer who's been around the block, it's not that different from managing an actor. But as you know, I was an idol manager."

"Yes."

"Managers move in teams. Minimum two people, up to four. The idol kids sleep two hours a day, one hour a day. You've seen them nodding off on broadcast, right? Managers are the same. We catch sleep here and there, but is sitting in a chair with your eyes closed really sleeping? You're just shutting your eyes so you don't die."

According to Team Leader Park Munsu, that wasn't why he quit. What truly disillusioned him was the fact that he wasn't receiving fair compensation.

"You follow them around like a real slave and you can't even sleep properly. Then these snot-nosed kids suddenly start wrapping themselves in luxury brands. These days they don't skip settlements the way they used to — standard contracts from the jump, you know. Anyway, first settlement, you're already talking hundreds of thousands of dollars. If they did even moderately well, some of them were starting at millions on the first payout. You look at that and you get hit with this... what-am-I-even-doing moment. You tell yourself, well, at least they made it, that's way better than flopping. But it wasn't simply about the money."

"Then what was it?"

"Not being able to see my own results. That was the hardest part. A singer's manager is just a mochi. A bag mochi — an errand boy. It's a miserable way to put it, but nothing else quite fits."

I had listened quietly to that conversation — a conversation that was, perhaps, closer to a complaint — and then asked him this.

"Has that thinking changed?"

"No."

"Then how do you see it now?"

"This company's in crisis, right? It was in crisis when I got here, and it still is. So why do you think I came? I thought that here, I could go up. Upward. And that I could actually accomplish something."

For all the ambition pouring out of the words, Park Munsu's eyes had been quite calm. And then he'd added this.

"But this company's weird."

I didn't ask him what was weird about it. I knew he was going to keep talking anyway. True to form, Park Munsu tacked on the rest without missing a beat.

"Turns out only the idiots were left."

"Does that category include you?"

"Of course it does. Hang around idiots long enough and you become one yourself."

I remember wearing a faint smile even at Team Leader Park Munsu's self-deprecating jab. I could tell that the word "idiot," coming from him, sat at a considerable distance from the dictionary definition.

WHAM—!

The sudden noise cut the recollection short. Come to think of it, this Park Munsu fellow really is something. The way he keeps pulling my thoughts back to himself.

The office door flew open as if it might come off its hinges, and a tall, strikingly handsome man walked in — a man whose even angry expression somehow still looked wholesome. Ki Seongchan.

"I want Team Leader Park Munsu. Transfer him or transfer me. I'm not working with Team Leader Park anymore."

He brought up Park Munsu out of nowhere, even as the whole office froze in confusion. Then he went further.

"General Manager Kim. Director Choi. The two of you are going to need to explain this. Discussing an actor's next project without the actor even knowing. You know that's absurd, right?"

He named General Manager Kim Misook, standing right in front of him, and even Director Choi Yoona, who had just opened the door to the representative's office and stepped out.

"Whoa... I've never seen Ki Seongchan this angry... This guy isn't the type to blow up like this..."

There's no such thing as a person who doesn't get angry, or can't. The only difference is how much they hold it in.

In any case, Team Leader Park Munsu's intent had succeeded on its own terms.

Once you point him in a direction, he said, he'll run at that and nothing else. Team Leader Park Munsu's last words had been these:

"If it weren't for Team Leader Lee, I wouldn't have known, right? No — honestly, I think I knew and just played dumb. If I said I didn't know, I'd sound like a real idiot. Don't you think?"

Turning those last words over in my mind, I stood up from my seat.

"Ki Seongchan. I'm Lee Jaewook. I recently took over as leader of Team 2."

Ki Seongchan's eyes twitched, but this man — he was someone who kept his lines. Even at a moment when his emotions were boiling over, he still used formal speech with the person standing in his way.

"...We'll do introductions later. This doesn't seem like the time to talk with you."

He walked past me. So I spoke again.

"Variety. Next week's shoot will be the last."

At my words, Ki Seongchan's footsteps stopped. Then a pair of eyes brimming with fury turned on me, demanding an explanation. So I gave him one.

"The variety show you're already a regular on, plus every one-off variety booking lined up after next week. All of them. You're dropping out."

"Why would you just decide that on your own... for fuuuck's sake, seriously...! Ha. I'm an easy mark, is that it? You too? Team Leader Park too?"

This man. Even his swearing looks wholesome. This is why image matters, I suppose. The face does too.

I still don't have an eye for matching actors to projects anywhere near the Ghost's, but I can feel it. A hunch that Ki Seongchan is going to leave audiences in shock through Kind Police.

I set the evaluation aside and answered Ki Seongchan's rage. While Team Leader Park Munsu was off doing his job, I had to repay the faith he'd placed in me.

"It's not because we think you're an easy mark. It's proof of how much this company values an actor named Ki Seongchan."

"Values me? The people who 'value' me didn't even consult the actor... ha. Fine. Cancel all of it. Right now! I don't even know how far any of this has gone, but all of it!"

Park Munsu had been right. This company is full of idiots. Which of them is the biggest idiot, I don't know — I don't know this company in its entirety yet. Premature evaluations are a mistake. But I can tell at least this much: Park Munsu was right that this man is an idiot.

I asked the actor standing in front of me a question.

"The company has gone this far. And yet there's no threat to quit?"

"...!"

"Nine Entertainment is a pretty funny company. The contracts are so absurd that if an actor decides to leave, they can just walk. Rookies and veterans alike. All of them."

"Watch... what you say."

Ki Seongchan's anger swelled larger. Not that anything about him actually got rougher — but the twisted expression and the trembling voice were more than enough to go on.

"This company has a lot of strange people."

"I told you to watch your mouth..."

"Nine Entertainment. You like it here, don't you?"

At my light question, Ki Seongchan's eyes wavered. It was a question, but I wasn't waiting for an answer, so I went on.

"This company likes you too, Ki Seongchan."

"......"

"Director Choi signed off on this. On you leaving variety. She's the one who wants you to remain an actor more than anyone."

Ki Seongchan's eyes flicked toward Director Choi Yoona behind me, then flashed with a look of wait— before locking back onto me.

"If it's because you enjoy variety, or because the income is good right now — if it's either of those, I'll call it off. But that's not it, is it? At least, that's how Team Leader Park Munsu read it."

"Where is Park Munsu? For fuck's sake, how badly are you trying to make a fool out of me... When did I ever say I was done being an actor? Huh? Am I washed up? Why would you just decide to pity me and turn me into a joke... huh...!"

After shouting, Ki Seongchan bit down on his lower lip.

"Team Leader Park Munsu said you were a good person."

"Ha. Who asked to hear that?"

"That's why Team Leader Park Munsu said that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if we were going to do this, we should run with no way back. So you wouldn't be able to wriggle out of it."

"It's not that I'm a good person. It's that I'm an easy mark. Ha."

Ki Seongchan let out a hollow laugh. Not because it was funny — because the anger had nowhere to go. Even so, it was a good sign. You have to squeeze a festering wound, even if you have to force it. The rage in Ki Seongchan right now might be something like that.

"He also said that someone like you would feel too sorry for the variety PDs and directors you're working with right now to move easily."

"......"

Ki Seongchan fell silent. Meaning Park Munsu had been right again.

"Team Leader Park Munsu has already gone around to every variety contact in person, explained the situation, and finished apologizing."

For the first time, something other than anger entered Ki Seongchan's eyes.

"...Where is Park ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Munsu right now? This guy's been gone a whole week — not a hair of him in sight. What's he been doing?"

"You've been on so many shows. He's been running himself ragged going around to meet all those variety producers one by one."

"...F...fuck, this guy is seriously... he's not even a rock, he's..."

Ki Seongchan's head dropped.

That's right. That man is a rock. Didn't he say that once he sees something, he just runs at it?

That's right too. Which is why no end of problems crop up along the way. An entertainment company has to respond quickly in the moment, yes — but at the end of the day it's still a company, an organization. It starts with him skipping reports to General Manager Kim Misook, and to Director Choi Yoona as well.

Whatever my past as a chief aide might have been, in this industry I am still a complete novice — and he trusted me enough to leave the entire casting negotiation in my hands. That is not my style. Does Park Munsu even understand what it means to lose control and hand the wheel to someone else?

On top of that, he went and booked the meetings and then failed to properly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠notify either side of the agenda — whether the casting discussion was about Bong Tae-soo or about Ki Seongchan. And then, with no results even in yet, going around to meet the variety contacts in advance to apologize because the articles would be coming out soon and the actor would be dropping the shows. I understand that's considered manners in this business. But he runs with no rear guard. More accurately, he doesn't look behind him or to either side.

That isn't my style either. But this once, I think he was right.

Sometimes results erase the minor defects in the process.

Ki Seongchan has enough affection for this company to deserve being called an idiot. That's why he stayed. That's why he made inertial decisions with no one to look over his projects, and wrecked them. That's why he did variety. I can't understand it rationally, but I have felt something similar.

I, too, had been with Representative Choi Giseok since before he held his current standing. And in the years between, it isn't as if the temptations never came for me.

And yet people sometimes arrive at conclusions that aren't rational.

"...The company will be okay if I stop doing variety, right, Director Choi?"

The ox that had been hauled to the water's edge was finally turning its face toward the stream. Still looking down, Ki Seongchan asked the question, and Choi Yoona answered without a shred of hesitation.

"Yes. Our company isn't that much of a disaster."

Ki Seongchan asked again.

"If I fail this time too, I'm done with variety. I can't run at it twice. Is that okay too?"

"It's fine. We're not going to fail."

At Choi Yoona dropping into informal speech, Ki Seongchan muttered under his breath.

"Using informal speech when there are people around... ha. The Representative hated that."

"We're not going to fail. So please stop worrying about the company. You already know I don't have what it takes — I know that better than anyone. That's why I cut my sleep and study every single day. I'm not asking you to acknowledge that. I just... I know I'll never even be half the person Dad was, but couldn't you rely on me even half as much as you did when Dad was here?"

"...This isn't an arithmetic problem. And you won't even make it to a quarter of what the Representative was."

"I'll make the cherry blossoms bloom at our company. Trust me. Even if I can't make it to an eighth of what he was, I'll see it through to the end."

"Why do you keep going on about making cherry blossoms bloom... Comics have completely ruined that kid. We should've banned them when she was little."

Choi Yoona's face went red.

Cherry blossoms?

The Ghost seemed to catch my confusion, and whispered.

"Well... haha... Yoona did love her comics."

I have no idea what it means. The only thing I can tell is that this company still has a lot of strange people in it.

Click.

The office door opened, and the culprit behind this entire mess — a Red Hare of a man — Park Munsu walked in, soaked through with sweat.

"...Oh. Guess I'll have to come back in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a bit."

Come back, nothing. The moment my eyes met Park Munsu's as he started backing away, I was about to nod that it had been resolved — and then I looked away.

"Ah..."

The sigh that burst out of Park Munsu, who'd apparently decided things had gone wrong, was pretty funny. But this guy... I'm going to have to use him carefully. The way he's about to take off running somewhere again — I can't even guess where he'd go or what he'd try to do.