Into the Idol's Hell
Chae Seo-hee, her face lit up after reading the revised script, spoke up.
"Send the script to our research team late."
The research team analyzed box office performance, areas for improvement, and viewing patterns using internal data, but at SSK, they also handled S&P duties.
S&P: Standard Practice.
The job of blocking risks like obscenity, violence, hate speech, or endorsements of drugs, self-harm, and suicide.
Of course, they needed the research team's okay before casting...
Send the script late?
"Why?"
"The content itself hasn't changed much from the original. Since the original got the okay, this should be fine too."
"Yeah, I know. That's why we were pushing to move fast. Because of the senior?"
"Even if his personality's a bit iffy, he's capable."
I'd seen it myself at the weekly meeting.
He grilled the CEs like rats in a trap, but when it came to the work itself, there was plenty to learn.
He didn't become Korea branch head for nothing back in the day.
"You think the senior will just sit still if he sees this script? He'll definitely try to meddle."
"Good?"
"Yeah. Great. Really great. How the hell did you pull this off?"
"I put my abilities to use."
"Kinda annoying to admit, but... fine. Totally fine. So let's keep this under wraps and push forward just between us."
Her face screamed renewed motivation.
But...
"It won't matter anyway."
"Why?"
"Just wait."
Chae Seo-hee tilted her head, and exactly two hours later.
A F.E.M landed in front of me.
Kang Mu-tae, the senior's right-hand CE, had brought the paperwork.
"How much longer for the script revisions?"
"A few more days, I think."
"You putting Chae Seo-hee on second too?"
I glanced at Chae Seo-hee, her eyes pleading.
It wasn't like her eyes changed after seeing the script—she'd been the one vowing to help me from the start, right?
I boldly wrote her name in.
Once we both signed, Kang Mu-tae opened his mouth with a strange expression.
"Do Hyun-woo."
"Yes."
"Don't be so cheeky."
"Pardon?"
"I had some biases too, but you seem hardworking, so I'm saying this for your sake. Bow down to the senior. That's how you get your contract renewed."
Wait, I'd never even challenged him?
I hadn't done a thing, yet from day one, who'd been picking fights, calling me out like the branch head himself?
"Thanks for the advice."
"The script's solid, so start by getting good reviews from the critics."
Kang CE left, and Chae Seo-hee shrugged.
"He still sees critic picks as the limit, huh."
"Yeah."
"But you knew the FEM was coming?"
"Just a hunch."
"As expected of a branch head recommendation."
No good comeback, so I just shrugged.
"By the way, how's the lead casting? Only supporting list so far?"
"That's why I'm not coming in tomorrow."
"Meeting a lead actor? Who?"
"Secret."
When you're scraping by as an unknown actor, reasons to quit come easy.
Directors preferring name recognition, writers fixated on established images, production companies chasing ticket power.
Endless reasons forcing you to give up, but the one reason I'd endured it all was simple.
Because I loved it.
I hadn't made it as an actor, but I could quit knowing I'd gone all the way.
By the same token, reasons to give up on casting Eum Sung-hyun—Unpack's real name—were overflowing.
But I didn't want to bail on mere assumptions.
Eum Sung-hyun's profile was the worst possible.
Ever since learning his identity last night, I'd racked my brain for hours.
Even worrying if supporting roles were feasible before jumping to him.
But I believed in the power of the work.
What I'd seen through my superpower was a perfect piece.
And a huge chunk of that perfection stemmed from Hyun-tae's role.
I wanted to make that work.
Even if Gongbeomche bombed spectacularly, forcing me to realize quality alone couldn't guarantee success...
I wouldn't resent the superpower.
That experience would show me the path as a CE.
I was already loving this job.
That was why I was pulling out all stops to justify casting Eum Sung-hyun.
'Feels like I'm courting unnecessary hardship...'
The easiest way would've been Tvic showing interest and scheduling an audition.
But that would've judged him solely on current acting chops.
No way my superpower recommended him for being the world's best actor.
It had to be sync rate—innate temperament, disposition.
He might have insane talent, but for now, that's how I saw it.
So I planned to peek at his personal side.
If it didn't match Hyun-tae, I'd drop the stubbornness.
And so my footsteps led to M2M's rundown little building in Bangbae-dong, their headquarters.
M2M's office was a quirky six-story structure using only basement 2 and floors 1 through 5.
But what threw me wasn't the layout—it was the lax security.
Hard to believe they nurtured stars with such slipshod entry control.
Agent Secret might lack buzz, but Tune was getting decent variety gigs lately, right?
Why was I so baffled? I pushed open the bell-less office door and found it empty.
Even spotted the office phone ringing nonstop before I entered.
As the persistent ringing made me wonder if I should pick up—
"Huh? Who're you?"
The door opened, and in came three giggling guys and girls, one clutching a donut box under their arm.
They didn't scream "office workers," but one voice rang familiar.
"Manager Jo Sung-chan, right?"
"Uh, yeah, that's me?"
"Hi. I'm Do Hyun-woo from Tvic. Called you yesterday."
"Tvic? Oh, right, the director?"
"Yes. Exactly."
"Aigoo, you been waiting long?"
"Just got here."
"Let's hit the cafe next door. Office is a mess."
And so Agent Secret's manager, Jo Sung-chan, guided me to the cafe in the next building.
But his opener was a doozy.
"What exactly did you say yesterday? I seriously didn't think you'd show."
What the hell?
A management head forgetting the meeting topic and doubting I'd even come?
What kind of company was this?
"Tvic's planning an original. Need some research."
"Ah, right. Something about flop idols and tiny agencies?"
I'd never used words like that.
"Story about unknown idols and a small company. So I need interviews and materials."
"Perfect. We're one step from folding."
"But Tune's been active on variety lately, no?"
The manager eyed me slyly instead of answering, trailing off.
"Uh, this interview—any fee?"
"Of course."
"How much...?"
I threw out a vague amount.
Fine for his pocket, pocket change for the company.
"Tvic covering expenses?"
"No. Cash, with receipt."
His face shifted at "cash."
Probably planning to pocket it.
For the record, not my money—CE activity funds.
Can't eat with actors on personal dime.
Normally not for assistant CEs, but Sung Tae-chang hyung said it'd come with F.E.M.
"Uh, what were we talking about?"
"Tune."
"Right, Tune. Barely scraping by. Earning a bit, but after sinking cash into albums, still miles off."
"Company hasn't given up on the group?"
"Iffy. Contract's got a year left. Taking just Tune? Renewal's iffy."
"Why?"
"They're tight. Stuck through the rough times together."
"No jealousy? Heard groups get messy if one or two shine."
"Nah, not our kids. Plus Tune's the leader, gang boss type."
"Ah, leader. What do the others do usually?"
"Y'know, dance practice, languages, composing. That sorta thing."
Vague, made-up vibes, but I nodded.
"Saw profiles on the way here. Unpack fits my supporting role image perfectly."
"Sung-hyun?"
"Yeah. Eum Sung-hyun, right? Rare surname stuck with me."
The manager scowled instantly.
"Kid's got no social skills. No go."
"Bad actor?"
"Haven't tried, but any group trouble? Always him."
"Really? What does Sung-hyun do usually?"
"Nothing, probably."
Super negative.
How to meet Eum Sung-hyun naturally now?
As I racked my brain, the manager dropped a curveball.
"Director. You do on-site research too?"
"Yeah. Obviously."
"Ahem. That's separate fee?"
"Yes. Per gig."
"Wanna tag along to their events?"
Events? For real?
"They get gigs?"
"Spotty. 500-600k won, minus gas, tolls, food—nothing left. But tomorrow's in Pangyo, better."
Pondering what a normal interviewer would ask, I spoke.
"What event?"
"Some game company team-building. Employee talent show finale—celebs pop up."
"Agent Secret's songs that known?"
"What? Covering famous boy group tracks."
"Ah."
"You really know nothing. Gotta research hard."
I scratched my head, watching Jo Sung-chan smirk.
"Guess so. But what do I say to tag along? 'Director' and they won't act natural."
"Dunno. Say temp manager—they won't pry."
"Still."
"Then... YouTube planner getting field experience for content?"
"Not bad."
"Nah. You're handsome—go as aspiring YouTuber."
Good opportunity for me, so I agreed, but honestly, didn't it seem weird?
Turned out...
"Just driving today. Call if you need anything."
"Sure."
Agent Secret members showed zero interest in me.
Jo Sung-chan didn't even introduce me.
Just briefed the schedule vaguely and said bye.
Yesterday he'd acted like coming along, but after the cash, second thoughts?
Or hated work, glad to pawn it off?
Either way, music to my ears.
"Heading out."
No clue if Eum Sung-hyun recognized me.
Our eyes met briefly, but no spark.
Cap pulled low—maybe couldn't see his face.
Driving the Carnival, I observed the members, especially Eum Sung-hyun, with keen interest.
But my intrigue vanished in a flash.
"Ugh, cramped."
"..."
"Scoot over!"
No hesitation despite a stranger aboard.
One of two things.
I seemed that harmless, or their behavior that routine.
If the latter...
What kind of hell had Eum Sung-hyun been living?