Live Self-Destruction
"Gambling addiction...?"
Only after the words had left my mouth did I realize something had gone terribly wrong.
No! That's not it! That's not the one!
It finally came back to me. The condition written in the script was Princess Syndrome!
"..."
"..."
The studio fell dead silent. So quiet you could hear the boom mic creaking. It felt as though time itself had stopped.
It's over. It's all over...
Self-sabotage on her comeback broadcast. The article headline painted itself vividly before my eyes.
My nose stung, and just as I felt the tears about to come—
"PUWAHAHAHAHA!!"
"EUAHAHAH!"
Laughter exploded. Simultaneously, from all directions.
"Ah, shit, is this airing? Hey, this is actually going on air, right?"
"EUAHAH, EUHAHAHAH!"
"Wow, I'm losing my mind, seriously..."
The panelists pounded the hospital beds, doubling over. Behind the cameras, the situation was no different. Director Choi pressed down his bursting laughter with acupressure on his philtrum, while the staff slapped each other on the backs and collapsed in silence.
"...Mmph."
Only the audio director held out on professional duty alone before finally ripping off his headset.
Why... why is everyone laughing?
Only the person in question blinked blankly. Then, dazed, she lowered her head first.
"I'm, I'm sorry... ah, no, my bad...?"
At the apology, lost somewhere between formal and casual speech, the laughter grew even louder.
"Songhwa!"
A man known as the National MC shouted, wiping tears from his eyes. Inside the hospital room, casual speech from everyone was the rule.
"If that's what you came in with, you came to the right place. As it happens, we've got a specialist on that very subject right here."
Every gaze converged on one person.
"Aw, hyung-nim. You're doing it again."
Jeon Jaemin. A comedian who had vanished from the broadcast industry years ago over a gambling problem, only to return after a long period of self-reflection.
"Songhwa."
Jeon Jaemin cleared his throat and spoke with mock gravity.
"That habit isn't easy to break. Someone I know decided to live as a natural person just to quit gambling—turns out he picked a mountain in Gangwon Province, of all places. He's still at Kangwon Land to this day."
"...Pfft!"
It was the kind of well-calibrated exaggeration unique to variety shows. Park Songhwa, normally such a hearty laugher, burst into genuine laughter even amid all her tension.
Then a thought suddenly struck her.
'...'
She'd been living under a cloud for so long—when was the last time she'd laughed like this?
"Hey! That's your own story, you punk!"
The MC pointed a finger at Jeon Jaemin.
"Aw, hyung-nim, I'm telling you it's true? Should I call him right now? No, wait. It'd be about peak slot-pull time right now—wouldn't want to interrupt."
"EUAHAHAHA!"
"Songhwa, you know that taste well too, don't you?"
'...! Why is it coming at ME now?!'
The scripted flow had long since derailed. Originally, there was supposed to be a question-and-answer session about Princess Syndrome, but the opening itself had gone sideways. From here on out, everything was ad-lib.
Deny it. Absolutely deny it.
They didn't even believe she'd only been once as it was—one careless slip and she could end up tarred as a slot machine junkie!
"...I-I've never played the slots!"
A momentary silence.
...The culprit was the particle.
"Huh? Did you just say 'the slots'?"
"If you've never played the slots, then what have you played!"
"PUHAHAHAHAH!!!!"
"A confession, just like that?!"
"Hey, hey, stop pressing her! Any more of this is getting edited out, EDITED!"
Aaaaagh!
Park Songhwa waved her hands frantically, her face scarlet.
"No, it's just, anyway! I never pulled anything, I swear!"
"So you flipped cards, then!"
Baccarat is a game of flipping cards.
The studio flipped right along with them.
"Enough already! I've gotta catch me a new patient!"
"You're the one laughing the loudest, hyung-nim!"
Park Songhwa buried her face in both hands and hung her head low. Even her ears had turned crimson.
'...What's going to happen once today's broadcast airs?'
And behind the camera.
Amid the overturned pandemonium, a long-haired manager was staring wide-eyed!
One staff member elbowed the colleague beside them.
"...That, that shaman guy... why is he just staring like that, not even laughing?"
"Think he's seeing something right now too? Don't tell me there's a ghost in this studio?"
"...Goosebumps."
"We'll take a short break and then go again!"
The makeup team swarmed onto the set. Park Songhwa dabbed halfway at the sweat on her forehead before hurrying on quick little steps to the area behind the cameras. Her destination was...
"Mi-Mishin-ssi...!"
"Yes."
"Am I... am I doing okay right now? Everything's going completely off-script. Is this a disaster?"
"It's flowing the way I saw it."
"...Really?"
"..."
The truth was, it was a bluff. I had no idea about the process—only the outcome. But rather than saying no here, a well-meaning lie would be better for Park Songhwa's mental health.
And above all,
'...Maybe this is right, actually. The atmosphere's been great the whole time.'
That was why I'd been staring earlier. Just like that community post I'd seen in the future, anyone watching now could see Park Songhwa was carrying the show hard.
"There's no need to worry."
"Do, do you think I might mess something up later on—"
"You'll be fine."
Looking at Lee Mishin's rock-solid blank expression, Park Songhwa felt her heart strangely settle.
"And, um... that Cheongsimhwan you gave me earlier."
"Yes."
"Is it... something special? Ever since I took it, the words just come out on their own somehow. Like my mouth moves before my brain does..."
"..."
"I knew it! I KNEW it! You put some kind of energy into it, didn't you?!"
Park Songhwa interpreted the silence as affirmation and clasped her hands together. Both eyes sparkled.
"..."
Lee Mishin never answered. The words it's an over-the-counter product I bought for a few thousand won at the pharmacy next to the convenience store simply refused to leave his mouth.
For the record, there was a separate truth.
Every time her eyes met the long-haired man behind the camera, Park Songhwa's mind went blank. In the spaces where her memorized script had been erased, only raw instinct remained—and on broadcast, raw instinct frequently becomes top-shelf ad-libs.
In short, the driving force was tension. The spine-chilling tension of a man who sees the future standing right behind her.
Of course, she had no way of knowing that, so all the credit was going to her manager's allegedly potent spiritual energy.
"Alright, back to it! Standby!"
Recording resumed.
"Looks like everyone's curious about our new patient. Let's take questions one at a time."
Good. This time we follow the script.
Just as Park Songhwa steeled herself, the first question mercifully went to the youngest idol on the panel.
"Unnie, what's your favorite fruit?"
A fruit! A safe question!
"Hmm... mango?"
At that moment, Jeon Jaemin's face flickered with a mischievous gleam.
"Mangoes, huh—Philippines is famous for those. Ever been to the Philippines?"
The place in Park Songhwa's photographed scandal had been a casino in the Philippines. Jeon Jaemin knew that full well when he threw the line out—though honestly, this time too, he was mainly curious whether she'd take the bait.
'Well, even if she doesn't, it flows naturally into travel talk from here.'
Park Songhwa swallowed hard.
Stay calm. It's just travel talk...
"Uh, yeah, I've been."
"You go often?"
"...I've only been once."
The resentment made the truth slip out before she knew it. She really had been to a casino exactly once, but the articles said "multiple times," and the whole world believed them.
And then—
"PUHUHUP!"
With no subject attached, combined with that sullen expression, it somehow sounded like a protest—half a defense, half a plea. Jeon Jaemin burst first, and a chain explosion followed.
'...Why AGAIN?'
Park Songhwa blinked rapidly, genuinely baffled. Then she stole a glance at the shaman—no, her manager—who was silently nodding along.
'...Am I doing well?'
"Wow, the ratings are gonna be insane this time. Songhwa, wanna bet this episode breaks 10 percent, or that it doesn't?"
In other words: place a wager.
Another huge laugh erupted. And Park Songhwa, her mind gone white with nerves, blurted out the fateful words.
"...What are the odds?"
That instant, the studio exploded.
"EUAHAHAHAHAH! What is WRONG with her!"
"No discharge! Do NOT let this patient leave!"
"Put Park Songhwa on this year's Grand Prize shortlist!"
"PD-nim! Extend her hospitalization!"
Park Songhwa clapped her hands over her mouth, too late.
'I've lost my mind, seriously...!'
Something was off. It had been like this ever since the beginning. And every single one of those slips landed.
'...Don't tell me this is also...?'
Meanwhile, Director Choi, clutching his belly with laughter behind the monitors, suddenly stopped laughing.
"Two months from now, the Park Songhwa special blows up. And you, Director Choi—you'll be laughing."
The words he'd overheard in the hallway. He slowly turned his head—and his eyes met those of the long-haired shaman at the corner of the set.
The shaman gave a slow, deliberate nod.
Director Choi ran a hand down his goosefleshed forearm.
'...So it was real. This guy's the real thing.'
The assistant director beside him asked, bewildered.
"PD-nim, what's wrong?"
"...Hey."
"Yes?"
"Give the heads-up to the programming team and the editing team in advance. This episode... is going to blow up. Guaranteed."
The moment we returned to the office, gazes came pouring in. Or rather—they poured in, then were hastily snatched away just short of making eye contact, over and over.
'...Why is everyone acting like this.'
Before I'd even sat down, my old team leader dragged a chair over. Screeeech—wheels and all, extra loud.
"Hey, Mishin. No wait—Mishin-nim. Tell me about yesterday's recording again."
"I told you everything over the phone."
"I still haven't processed it, that's why. So—Park Songhwa flipped the whole set with an ad-lib? THE Park Songhwa?"
"Yes."
Gu Wonho pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Haah... And Director Choi came up to you first and said what, exactly?"
"He said we should grab a meal sometime."
"Unbelievable. THAT guy is buying someone dinner? The man who complains about paying for the company cafeteria?"
"Tell me about it."
"Don't talk like it's somebody else's problem. Hey, earlier even the kids from Division 1 came by just to get a look at you. You're the biggest hot topic since Division 2 was founded, right now."
Heads poked up over the partitions, one after another. Nothing short of a meerkat colony.
"Um, Mishin-nim... this is, well—have a cup of jujube tea."
The road manager at the next desk carefully set a paper cup down on my desk.
"I drink coffee too, you know."
"Ah, still... for some reason, this just suits you better."
So shamans can't have caffeine either, apparently. A commandment I was hearing for the first time in my life.
"And, um... if you're not busy later, could you maybe take a look at my saju too...?"
Just as the deputy manager sneakily held out her palm as well, Gu Wonho blocked the way.
"Hey, hey, move along. Our Mishin doesn't do in-house sales. Unless you're paying a fortune-telling fee, beat it."
"...How much is it?"
"Th-that, I don't know either."
I spoke up.
"I don't do it."
Or rather—
No. To be precise, I can't.
"Anyway, Mishin, sounds like the studio atmosphere was great, so I've got high hopes. And you're the one who set it off, aren't you? I knew you were something special from day one."
"..."
Even though on that first day it took him forever just to decide what to call me.
"Alright, alright, everybody disperse!"
Gu Wonho waved his hands at the gathering stares.
'...Whew.'
For someone who'd spent three years alone in a rooftop room, this much attention was an overload. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd made eye contact with people this often.
'Still... it's not bad, actually.'
Come to think of it, Mom had called me a while back, too.
"See? What did Mom tell you? You cut your hair and got a job right away."
The hair was still intact, though.
If asked why I hadn't cut it—well, I'd grown it this long, and it'd be a waste not to donate it eventually.
And above all... long hair actually seemed to work pretty well for playing the shaman concept, better than I'd expected.
Anyway, I'd missed my window to correct my parents. I decided I'd bring it up in person when I visited Gimcheon sometime soon.
'Either way, I got a job. That's what counts.'
That was when it happened.
"Uh, Mishin-ssi."
The place I belonged to was Division 2, and the man who'd just addressed me was Noh Beomsu, Head of Division 2. We'd spent the past two months together, but how should I put it... despite my being the newbie, he treated me with a somewhat excessive degree of respect. A true supervisor devoted to the ideal of horizontal relationships, apparently.
"Ah, Division Director-nim."
Still, for the sake of wise workplace survival, I rose from my seat reflexively and bowed.
"Oh, oh, that..."
Noh Beomsu cleared his throat, and a strange emotion flickered across his face somehow.
"The CEO wants to see you right now."
"...? Then I'll head straight up to the CEO's office—"
"No."
"..."
"He said to meet him outside. Somewhere we can talk over a meal, just the two of us."