A Deal for Five Years

I prodded at the bruises scattered across my body. They barely showed once I had my clothes on, and honestly, it was a wonder anyone had looked at these marks and concluded with such certainty that I'd been abused.

Once I'd taken care of that, I sat down in a chair. In the meantime, Do Jaeyeon had dug up the profile my aunt had posted for me on an online child-actor recruitment board, and from there she worked backward through every commercial and acting gig I'd ever scraped together.

I watched the three of them combing through my past with more attention than it deserved.

"Why are you all staring at me like I'm some poor lost puppy?"

"Heeyoon, stay still."

"That's right. The kid's clearly not in his right mind."

It had gotten to the point where all three of them were questioning my sanity. From my perspective, I was overjoyed — I was looking at people I'd thought I'd never see again. But from theirs, I was a complete stranger. Of course they'd think something was off about me.

Trying to take their eyes off me, I pulled a small notebook out of my bag. It was one my late father used to write in; the front pages held maybe three entries of diary, and all three were mostly about me. How much he loved me, that sort of thing. How he wanted to be a good father to me, that sort of lie.

On one of those pages, I had written a bucket ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠list. Since I was going to die on my thirty-seventh birthday, I wanted to do everything I could before then — everything I'd never gotten around to.

1. Travel somewhere
2. Make a friend
3. Have my personality praised (a "you keep your promises?" moment counts)
4. And so on.

Ten items in total. They were things I'd wanted to do even before the regression, after all.

Twenty years was a lot of time to have left. I'd get to experience plenty. It would be nice if I got to do plenty of acting, too.

I had just stopped writing when Gam Soohan set down a printed script beside me.

"I was hoping we could read through this together, if that's all right with you?"

One glance at the pages and the memory came back to me, hazy but there. It was the script of a drama that would be released on an OTT platform the following year.

Come to think of it, as of now the show hadn't even aired yet. It was an ensemble piece set off by a double suicide at an elite high school for the wealthy.

My assigned role was a character named Ruka — a spoiled rich kid and a notorious flirt. The scene called for Lee Yeri, the female lead who'd been admitted on a social outreach scholarship, to sound out Ruka about the feelings she harbored for the male lead.

Lee Heeyoon ran his eyes over the script at a blistering pace.

A character utterly unlike the Heeyoon sitting in that room right now.

His focus is good.

Most actors at that age struggle with concentration, but Heeyoon had none of those problems.

Acting was a job like any other, and beyond raw skill and looking the part, it came bundled with all sorts of practical demands. And among them, nothing mattered more, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠physically speaking, than an actor who cut down shooting time. Every minute on set was money out of the production budget. So he focused fast, and read it through in one sitting — in a room where the smell of spicy fish stew hadn't quite finished airing out.

While Heeyoon buried himself in the script inside the small, soundproofed meeting room, Gam Seongbeom leaned out into the hallway and murmured to Do Jaeyeon.

"I don't know how many times I have to say it, but... isn't he staring at us an awful lot?"

Do Jaeyeon rounded on him, irritated.

"You're the one who yelled at a kid covered in bruises head to toe, sir."

"That was concern! Pure concern... Anyway, that's not what I meant. Weren't you going to say something else?"

While the two of them fretted over the boy's mental state, Gam Soohan stayed inside, buried in the script, preparing to run the reading.

Heeyoon didn't take his eyes off the pages for even a second. Then he pushed open the meeting room door and called the two of them in.

"Let's begin."

(flexing his hand) Cold... Oh, by the way. Have you ever come to like someone you used to hate?

From the very first line, Gam Seongbeom was silently awestruck.

That alone would have been enough. Just as the boy had said, Lee Heeyoon could act. Brilliantly.

As Heeyoon read the script straight through, there wasn't the slightest trace of bad habit in him. He absorbed the character whole and brought him to life on the spot.

He had spent years working as a child actor without any proper training, and yet he carried no crooked habits at all. It was almost uncanny.

Above all, Heeyoon read the line "Cold" with exactly the same weight he gave to the dialogue that followed it. Just as the stage direction specified, he flexed his fingers as though he'd touched something frigid and been startled by it. Even a line that seemed meaningless in this excerpt alone, he chewed through clearly and deliberately.

A script is nothing but an outline — a fragment of some vast, complete world. An actor has to see the whole world in his head, not just the sliver on the page.

Which means a line should exist as speech, not merely as dialogue.

Every emotion the script dictates must be preceded by action.

Lee Heeyoon was a walking textbook for every one of those theories.

Gam Soohan, reading Yeri's lines for him, found himself growing anxious despite himself, his gaze darting back and forth between Gam Seongbeom and Do Jaeyeon.

We have to sign this actor. We have to, no matter what!

The two of them answered the desperate burning in Soohan's eyes — the eyes of a man utterly defenseless against true talent — with looks of their own. Do Jaeyeon was already drafting the welcome post for Leader Actors' newest member, while Gam Seongbeom reached for his cheat code.

"Heeyoon, our company may be small, but... my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠father is the actor Gam I-hyun. Do you know who he is?"

"I do. He's resting right now, isn't he?"

"Er, well, yes — my father's taking a break from acting at the moment..."

"Because he's ill?"

Heeyoon asked the question point-blank, his face flat, as Seongbeom's voice trailed off into an awkward mumble. The sheer indifference of it startled all three of them — but Gam Seongbeom nodded along.

"Yeah, he is. Not well at all. He keeps himself busy with little projects, and he'll give advice anytime anyone at our company is struggling with their acting. He doesn't much care for people, mind you. But he's still useful to have around."

I wondered where this was going, and Seongbeom promptly explained.

"So — how would you feel about staying there for a while? Our family's main house."

Oh?

"I don't have to pay rent?"

"Nope. Fair warning, though — my father's not exactly the warm and fuzzy type, so don't go expecting some cozy homecoming. All you'd need to do is keep my grandfather company now and then, chat about this and that."

"Why do you keep calling it idle chatter? We'll be talking about acting."

"Well, yes, but the old-timer of our house—"

"You manage actors, and you're calling a conversation about acting idle chatter? Why?"

Heeyoon scowled as he said it. Having thoroughly flustered every adult in the room, he paused for a beat — and then his expression smoothed out, easy and open again.

"Anyway, I'll stay there. I've already said yes, so don't you dare change your minds."

"You little rascal. Do we look like the sort of people who'd take back a place for a kid to live in?"

At that, something odd flickered across Heeyoon's face. It was, unmistakably, the face of someone looking at exactly that sort of people.

But then he seemed to understand, and nodded — and said it out loud, too.

"No. You don't seem like that kind of people. The kind who'd take back a place to live."

As we drove toward my uncle's apartment to sign the contract, one question above all filled my head.

I knew that Leader Actors had gone under. I knew that Mobydick Entertainment, that corporate leviathan, had swallowed them whole.

What I couldn't understand was this: was it truly the kind of thing that could drag these people down into that collapse — far enough to lose their lives?

It was true that I'd given them plenty to worry about. But that fact didn't erase the fact that I'd been a damn good actor. I'd even brought in money, and plenty of it.

What's more, on the money I earned, Leader Actors had raised up one great actor after another — the name literally meant great actors. We'd even produced two award-sweeping, critically acclaimed works. Sure, the profit margins were terrible.

That was why I wanted to know.

Why they had to meet such an end.

I wanted to know — and this time, I wanted to save them.

And whenever my longing burns this hot, that's always when the bargain arrives.

It came when I was ten and freezing to death. It came at thirty-seven, when living had lost its flavor.

And it has come now — when I want to save those three fools, the ones who turn into idiots the moment you put them in the same room, the ones who still, apparently, suspect I might be Gam Seongbeom's secret love child.

I was desperate.

Ugh.

Thirty-two was a bit young, though...

The fact that I was actually hesitating meant, apparently, my affection wasn't worth quite that much.

A hollow laugh escaped me — and along with it, a curse.

Gam Soohan, seated beside me, spoke up gently.

"You should ease up on the swearing, Heeyoon."

But Do Jaeyeon in the passenger seat whipped around and bellowed at full volume.

"Hey! No cursing in front of your elders!"

Her voice was so piercingly clear that Gam Soohan flinched in horror and clapped both hands over my ears to shield me.

This. This was the real family I'd missed.

Do Jaeyeon, who'd snapped and shouted my broken habits back into shape one rant at a time. Gam Soohan, who'd handled every problem born of teenage rebellion as though love alone could dissolve it. And Gam Seongbeom, whose standing refrain ever since I'd started acting had been "He's a founding member of this company, so cut the kid some slack."

They always grumbled that I was more than twenty years too young to act this way, but in my life, Gam Seongbeom had been the biggest adult of them all.

I looked around at my family — faces I hadn't seen in so very long. A family only I knew the ending of, though they had no idea.

For the first time, I felt certain I could act out how glad I was to see them — properly, this time.