The Calm Before the Storm (1)
The role of a simultaneous interpreter in the drama Cat Guardian Spirit. And the piece of information I'd pulled from the future — that Lee Songha had played a simultaneous interpreter.
Could that possibly be a coincidence?
If it was, the coincidence was chilling in its own right. This wasn't Friend 1 or Friend 2. A simultaneous interpreter isn't the sort of role that turns up once in every drama. Turn it over as many times as I liked, it could not be chance.
But follow that thought, and something else stopped adding up.
In the first future I'd seen, Cat Guardian Spirit had unmistakably been the fish that got away. W&U had been contacted about the casting and turned it down over some circumstance or other, and the PR staff had regretted not landing the catch. If Lee Songha had won that role and given a brilliant performance, those same people would certainly have mentioned it. Which meant that in that future, Songha had no connection to Cat Guardian Spirit at all.
And yet in the other future I'd seen that same night, they'd said her performance as the interpreter had been outstanding. That it was the rediscovery of Lee Songha. Which meant that over there, she had been cast in Cat Guardian Spirit and had actually been part of the drama.
So then... had the future changed? Because I'd asked Songha whether she wanted to try acting?
Wait. Think.
The first future I'd seen — the one twenty-some years out, with Director Park and Reporter Song — had clearly been fixed. No matter how I changed the present, that future didn't move. That was why I'd taken it for something like a parallel universe. So why had the future changed this time?
The more I thought about it, the clearer the difference became. The fixed future let me see and feel everything in sharp detail, and though it cut out here and there, string the pieces together and the interview with Director Park and Reporter Song ran in one unbroken line. The changed future — the one packed with noise, the bad connection — showed a comparatively near future. The scenes didn't continue into one another. The times, the places, the people who appeared were all over the map.
Had it only looked like a faulty connection because it was a fluid future, one that could change at any moment?
"Ah... I'm losing my mind."
Seeing with my own eyes that my actions had changed the future, I was honestly afraid. I swallowed hard.
In all likelihood, the me of twenty years from now becomes the head of a management company. They'd said it was a seat reached only after falling seven times and getting back up eight, so my younger years would be nothing but grinding. In the interview with Reporter Song I'd said there was still a long way to go, which meant I wasn't satisfied with what I'd achieved — I was still looking higher. But from where I stood now, that was a successful future. Change nothing, and that future would be mine.
And yet... could I really leave it alone?
Right now I was holding the synopsis of a drama that would be a massive hit in a few months. I knew that before long Sung Do-won would be dragged into a sordid sex scandal by someone's scheme, and that some kind of reversal would come out of it. Could I pretend I didn't know any of it — information given to me alone, information that might be an enormous chance in my life — and live staring only at a future twenty years away?
I wasn't confident I could. I'd already changed a future in which a traitor nearly stabbed me in the back, and I didn't regret it. If I'd stood by with my eyes open, knowing exactly how it would end, I would have had to watch that traitor get called a Bundle of Fortune. I'd be flat on my back with rage sickness by now.
I brooded for a very long time, then got to my feet. Fine. No flinching. I'd take my shot. I didn't know how far this foresight would carry me, but I would open a better future with my own hands.
From that day on, I tried to work out the best result I could get by fitting together everything I knew. I hadn't learned anything new about Sung Do-won since last time, so of course the ones in my sights were the Neptune kids. Raise their profile smoothly through Next K-Star, then take first place on the music shows with the next album. And get Lee Songha cast as the simultaneous interpreter in Cat Guardian Spirit. That was the best I could see for now.
So I pushed harder to persuade Songha. Neptune was already preparing thoroughly for the Next K-Star missions, and there wasn't much I could do for them at the moment. Songha was different. Even if she never got cast in Cat Guardian Spirit, she herself would never know the chance had existed and would simply pass it by — but I didn't think I could stand the waste.
Today, I was settling it.
I headed for the company with snacks in both hands. There wasn't a single schedule today, so the Neptune members were gathered in the basement practice room, rehearsing. I opened the door and looked in. In front of the full-length mirror, the kids were sweating through the choreography, locking it into place. Only three of them. Where was Songha?
"Huh? Oppa, weren't you off today?"
Sharp-eyed Lim Seoyoung spotted me first.
"Yeah. I was passing by and dropped in for a second."
"Really?"
A lie, obviously. What kind of lunatic wanders around the office on his day off? I'd come in on a golden holiday because I was in a hurry. I had to convince Songha before Cat Guardian Spirit opened its casting auditions.
"I brought snacks. Eat up."
I handed over everything I was carrying. All but one bag.
"What's that?"
"This one's for Songha. Where'd she go?"
"The bathroom. Why? You gonna talk about acting again?"
"Something like that."
"Songha's stubborn as anything, but you're really something too, oppa. Hyunjo-oppa tried to talk her into it a few times and then gave up."
If Kim Hyunjo had seen what I'd seen, he'd be packing lunches and chasing her around to convince her. Still, to kids who knew nothing, I must have looked like a man who wouldn't let go.
Lee Taehee stopped practicing, came over, dropped onto the floor, and spoke.
"I heard you originally applied to the actors' team."
"Huh?"
"I looked into it. They said that when you interviewed, you applied for the actors' division."
She looked into what?
I was startled, and Lim Seoyoung and LJ were staring at me just as wide-eyed. Lee Taehee dipped her head.
"I'm sorry. The world's full of strange people. We have to stick together every day, so I got worried and checked a little. There was even someone who tried to sneak nude photos of us."
"That kind of psycho..."
"I know. But... is that why you're trying to get Songha to act? Because you want to handle actors?"
What?
"No. If Songha has absolutely no desire to act, I won't force her. I won't bring it up again."
What mattered most was what Songha herself wanted. If she truly had no wish to become an actress, then even a casting in a hit drama wasn't an opportunity for her.
"Songha had a really hard time when she was taking acting lessons."
Lee Taehee let out a sigh.
"I didn't see it myself, but it seemed like she was learning while the teacher tore into her."
She learned while getting yelled at?
LJ and Lim Seoyoung each put in a word.
"She was under a lot of stress back then."
"Yeah. The trainers yelled at her constantly during vocal training and choreography practice too, but I never once saw her lose her nerve. Even when she was drained, she'd eat and bounce right back. During the acting lessons, though, it was painful to watch. I'd never seen her like that."
"She said built-up stress had to be let out, so every night she'd eat three servings of late-night food and sit there depressed by herself, and in the end she quit."
"When she first started the lessons, I think she was really looking forward to them..."
Had the kid come out of those acting lessons with trauma? Was that why she'd crept away the moment I so much as mentioned acting? Lee Taehee met my eyes and spoke, low and heavy.
"Like you said — if Songha really doesn't want to do it, don't try to force her."
"Of course not."
I nodded at once.
"But if she's refusing because she thinks she can't act, that's just too much of a waste. The way I see it, Songha's good."
"...What about you?"
Lee Taehee asked it while looking past me.
"Do you want to try acting again? Or do you not?"
I spun around. Lee Songha was standing in the half-open doorway. A brief silence fell. She wore a complicated expression, as if she meant to say something, then scratched her head and sat down beside me. She'd done nothing but run. Was she finally ready to talk? I waited, expectant — and her eyes went to the bag in my hand.
"What's that smell?"
"Huh? This? Glutinous-rice hotteok. I bought it because I thought you'd like it. Want some?"
"Please."
I handed her the whole bag and waited quietly while she ate. Partway through, syrup leaked from a hotteok that had split at the side, so I did pass her a wet wipe.
"Wipe with this."
"Ah... thank you."
"Your wrist, too."
"Yes."
"You've got some on your chin."
"Yes."
Not this. I'd nearly scrubbed her face the way I did with my nieces and nephews.
A moment later, cleaned up, Songha spoke.
"Do you really think I'm good at acting?"
"I do."
"They said someone like me should never become an actress."
What?
"Idol-turned actors bleed themselves dry trying to shake that label, and if someone like me — who can't act and has nothing to offer but a face — steps up and says she's going to act, it just gets those seniors cursed all over again. And it only steals chances from other rookies who actually have potential. They told me not to even show my face, so I quit the lessons."
"...The lesson teacher said that?"
Songha nodded. I couldn't believe it. Never become an actress? Don't even come near it? Hear something like that and of course you'd lose your taste for acting. A teacher had crushed a kid flat. What on earth had they been thinking?
"Songha. Did they really say that?"
"Who is that person? Why would they talk like that?"
"You idiot! You'll run your mouth just fine in front of us, and you just sat there and took it? Why didn't you tell us?!"
The others were fuming too, breathing hard. Songha avoided their eyes, as if there was still something she hadn't said. I shot to my feet.
"I'll be back in a minute."
I'd go up to the office, get the lesson teacher's number, and ask why they'd said that to Songha. I pressed the button for the fourth floor. On the way up, the elevator stopped at the first, and people I'd crossed paths with once or twice inside the company got on, every one of them wearing a deadly serious expression.
What was going on? A bearded middle-aged man was grilling someone.
"Why isn't Sung Do-won here? Where is he?"
"He was in the middle of a photoshoot..."
"A photoshoot is the problem right now?!"
"They've stopped everything and he's rushing over. They say he'll be here soon."
"Did you check with Sung Do-won? How much of it is true?"
"Well..."
"Hold on."
The bearded man flicked a glance at me in the corner.
"We'll talk upstairs. Tell Sung Do-won to come straight up, too."
The elevator reached the fourth floor. I stepped off, and it climbed again — all the way to the sixth floor, where the CEO's office was. Watching it go, I knew.
Something had blown up.