Miscasting, or a Stroke of Genius? (1)

I all but sprinted over and caught Kim Hyunjo just as he was climbing into the passenger seat. Keeping my voice low so the others wouldn't hear, I filled him in, and his expression turned grave.

"She says not to tell the others. Not a word."

"That girl, I swear... Then you take her to the ER, Sunwoo."

"Yes. Don't worry."

"Call me once you're home, too."

"I will."

For the others, Kim Hyunjo spun a smooth cover: something urgent had come up with a drama audition, and he had to stop by the company. The traitor gave them a puzzled look and nothing more. Everyone else climbed into the van and left without a flicker of suspicion.

Songha and I caught a taxi to the nearest hospital emergency room. I'd been terrified it might be something serious, but thankfully it was only a mild sprain.

By the time we'd been seen and stepped back outside, it was a little past one in the morning.

I headed toward the road, scanning for another taxi, and Songha came wobbling after me like a puppy caught in the rain. The sight was enough to soften anyone's heart.

"Want a juice before we go?"

"Yes."

Her footsteps stopped dead.

I sat her on a bench and bought her favorite juice from the vending machine, handed it over, and took the seat beside her.

My head was a tangle, so I looked up at the sky. The morning had been packed with storm clouds. Now the night was washed clean, and the moon spilled an unusually bright light.

After a brief hesitation, I asked.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

A faint shadow crossed Songha's face.

"I'm sorry."

"What if it had been a bad injury? Were you afraid they wouldn't let you film if you said you were hurt?"

Maybe my care not to sound like I was scolding her helped. Songha, who had been fidgeting with the juice bottle, finally parted her heavy lips.

"I ruined everything."

"Why would that be your fault? It's the rain's."

And the crew's, for refusing a rain cover because they thought it would look messy. They'd made the kids dance in the downpour, let them fall, and in the end even canceled the performance. I'd already learned the names of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that show's producer and the department head. If a booking request ever came in after Neptune took off, I had sworn I would cut them off in a single stroke. One clean cut.

Just thinking of that crew sent irritation flaring up again. I was breathing it back down when I noticed Songha drawing her legs in. She was bundled warmly enough on top, but beneath the short skirt her legs were bare.

I clicked my tongue, shrugged off my coat, and held it out. It had been soaked through once and dried, so it wasn't in great shape, but it would at least block the cold wind.

"Cover up with this."

"I'm fi—"

"Don't tell me you're fine. Earlier—was that something to be fine about?"

The words were out before I could catch them. I'd only just settled her, and now I was dragging the bad thoughts back up. A glance showed Songha's face darker than before.

Damn it. What do I do?

While my head spun harder than it ever had, Songha fidgeted with the coat over her knees and murmured, barely loud enough to hear.

"I'm a useless person."

"...What?"

She said nothing.

"What did you just say?"

I thought I'd misheard, but the way she stared silently at the ground told me I hadn't.

What kind of nonsense was this?

I was about to speak again when Songha blinked, slow. And without any warning, a single tear dropped.

My chest seized.

I'd seen the kids cry until I was sick of it, and I'd soothed them just as often. But they were a species that could wail as if they were about to die and then spring back to life the moment you set their mom in front of them.

"Hey... Songha."

"Yes."

She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. The tears stopped at that one drop. Even so, her face was packed with storm clouds, as if a downpour of sobbing might break at any second.

I had never seen her sunk this low.

If I tried comforting her with this and that and only made it worse, then what? It already felt like I was the one who had made her cry.

She probably wouldn't want the Neptune kids to know. How was I supposed to comfort her...

"Do you... want to call your parents? It might make you feel better. Should I give you some space?"

The offer was out before I realized how late it was for a call like that.

Songha's complexion went ashen in an instant.

"Mom and Dad hate that I'm in entertainment. They keep asking why I insist on doing something I can't do."

"Ah..."

"Ever since the last album flopped, they barely even call."

I was going to lose my mind.

After working my lips a few times without a sound, I told her exactly what I was thinking.

"Why would you be useless? You did well during the taping earlier. The chief, Geon-young, and I—we were all going on about how good you were while we watched. Sure, the dancing and the singing might come a little slower, but your talent is concentrated in acting. You know that?"

Songha stared straight at me.

"Look at tonight, even. You acted so naturally that nobody knew you'd hurt your ankle until you said so yourself. Choi Geon-young is quick on the uptake, and even he didn't notice."

When I mixed the joke in, a faint light came into her eyes.

"Once you film a single drama, people are definitely going to be talking about the rediscovery of Lee Songha."

Ah. The storm clouds on her face slowly lifted, and a smile showed through.

"I hope it's true, the way you said. That I really do have a talent for acting."

She seemed to have found her strength again. She drained the juice in one go, then said,

"I want to audition soon. I'm going to work really hard."

"Good. Just keep doing what you're doing."

The opportunities—I would find a way to make those myself.

Watching the line of her profile, a thought came to me out of nowhere.

I wanted to see that talent bloom wide open. I wanted to see her standing in some place so high and dazzling I couldn't even picture it yet, prouder and more beautiful than anyone.

By my own strength.

I wanted to take her there with my own hands. That was the thought.

After I saw Songha into the dorm, I went back to my studio.

I dragged my heavy legs to the door and found a delivery box sitting at the threshold. For a second I didn't know what it was—then I remembered Mom saying she had sent a package.

I carried it inside and opened it. In zipper bags, scallion kimchi and a few dried side dishes were packed in neat rows, along with a glass jar full of ginger preserved in honey.

It was too late to call now. I'd phone her before work tomorrow.

I boiled water and mixed a cup of ginger tea. Perched on the desk chair, I took a sip, and my stiffened body slowly unwound.

Now I could finally breathe.

Warmth in my stomach brought sleep rushing in. Still in my coat, I folded forward onto the desk. My body weighed a thousand pounds.

Should I just sleep like this, face-down?

I was still turning it over when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out. Kim Hyunjo.

Right. He'd told me to call.

"Yes, Chief. I just got in."

"They said it's a mild sprain. I don't think we need to worry much."

My head cleared in a flash.

"The audition?"

Finally!

I couldn't hold the excitement down and shot to my feet.

I had dragged the chance all the way to within reach. All that was left was to seize it.

Lee Songha's face flickered past my eyes. How happy would she be if I told her this?

"...!"

"No! I'll do it!"

I answered at a volume just shy of a shout. Laughter came through the phone. I must have been loud—the neighbor pounded on the wall—so I clenched a fist in silence and gave it a shake. Even then I couldn't contain it, and I paced the narrow room back and forth.

Only moments ago my whole body had been limp, and all I'd wanted was rest. Now, if someone told me to go to work this second, I felt I could walk out the door without a hitch.

But right then, Kim Hyunjo added something out of nowhere.

...What?

The call ended. But I couldn't move from where I stood.

It felt like someone had dumped ice water over me.

The future I had seen. In that future—the one where I'd learned Cat Guardian Spirit became a massive hit—the drama's lead was definitely not an actor under W&U.

Don't tell me... the lead of the drama can change?

I went to work after a sleepless night with my eyes wide open.

The thoughts chased their own tails and wouldn't let me go for a second.

Why was a W&U actor suddenly being mentioned for the lead of Cat Guardian Spirit?

If it really changed, who became the new lead?

Surely—surely it wasn't Sung Do-won. No. That was going too far. This, at least, absolutely would not happen. I wasn't unlucky enough for that.

Ha... If something changed, one way or another, the future ahead would have to change with it.

The simultaneous-interpreter role Songha would audition for was only a supporting part. The male lead was the face of the drama. The weight wasn't even comparable.

If they replaced the male lead of a drama already slated for success, could that drama still seize the success that had been set for it?

Damn it. I'd thought that once she was cast in Cat Guardian Spirit, I could lay at least a paved road in front of Lee Songha, if not an eight-lane highway. Not a single thing was going to come easy.

When I walked into the office, Kim Hyunjo startled.

"Why are you in so early? Those dark circles go all the way down ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to your chin."

"I was curious how Cat Guardian Spirit was turning out."

"Aha, so that's why you showed up at the crack of dawn? Shoulders got heavy, and now you can't sleep?"

I only managed an awkward laugh. He must have caught how anxious I was, because he folded his arms and went on.

"I gave Pan Production your number, so they'll call you. Talk to them and set the audition date. Anything else that needs a decision, run it by me first."

"Yes. But what you said, about one of our actors maybe playing the male lead..."

"Ah, that?"

Please say it fell through. Please.

Even in the worst case, if the male lead changed, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it could not be Sung Do-won. I couldn't dump him onto a drama that was already as good as made.

I waited with my heart in my throat, and Kim Hyunjo asked,

"You know Seo Ji-joon, right?"

"...Seo Ji-joon?"

Of course I did. An actor W&U had raised and debuted themselves.

Intellectual, refined looks, and enough years of training that his acting gave people nothing to argue about. A good actor. He had stacked one success after another—terrestrial weekend dramas, then a few weekday miniseries—and settled in as a top-tier star. Lately the rumor was that he was choosing scripts with great care, preparing to move into film.

"Looks like the Pan Production CEO ran into Seo Ji-joon when he came by the company. So he gave him the script, and after Seo Ji-joon read it, he said he wanted to do it."