The Most Important Thing in This Business: Choice (9)

If anyone asked me when I had been at my most insane, I could have answered without a second thought.

Right now.

The moment Team Leader 3 finished his talk in the CEO's office and walked out, I was going to call CEO Baek Han-sung. Whatever I could do, I meant to try all of it. I was locking that resolve in place, phone clenched hard in my hand, when the thing in my palm buzzed.

Team Leader 3. The instant I picked up, he said it with no preamble at all.

This would be my fourth time walking into the CEO's office, and I had never been this tense. It felt as if the blood were drying out of me. With the blinds drawn, heavy shadow lay over the room.

Team Leader 3 and the division head were both there, but my eyes locked onto CEO Baek Han-sung. Every time I saw him, I felt it: he was a difficult man to face. He wasn't hostile, and he wasn't overbearing, and still. I wasn't the sort of person people called weak-willed, but meeting his eyes felt like having the spine sucked straight out of me. Or maybe crushed out of me.

I bowed, took the seat beside Team Leader 3, and Baek Han-sung spoke at once.

"First time we've seen each other since that phone call, isn't it?"

"Ah. Yes."

My face burned. Beside me, Team Leader 3 was staring with a bizarre expression, the face of a man asking whether this little bastard had actually been on the phone with the CEO.

"You called that one well, last time." Baek Han-sung said it with a strange little smile.

The division head added his own.

"Right. You nailed that. Over in China, The Mermaid Who Came Ashore is sweeping the drama buzz charts right now, and word is Cat Guardian Spirit is quietly spreading underneath it, bit by bit."

Sipping his tea, the division head passed along a few more pieces of news. All of it welcome. Truly welcome—and yet, even as I nodded and murmured along, something else kept forcing its way up through my head. I was watching for an opening, sneaking a glance at Baek Han-sung, when the real subject came in like a punch.

"I hear you said Neptune's next album should go out as a double title track."

He studied me and asked again.

"And that you pushed a member's own song very hard?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Because that song was as close to a guaranteed hit as anything could be. I couldn't say that. So I pulled out the pitch I'd prepared to win over Team Leader 3 and ran through the whole of it again.

When I finished and looked at Baek Han-sung, he was still watching me. But the expression had changed. A moment ago he had been smiling, interested. Now he was still, as if he were bored. The impression was nothing like the smiling man, and tension climbed into my shoulders and the small of my back on its own. He tilted his head.

"Mm. And?"

And? I had already shaken out every argument I had.

"Is there another reason?"

"Sorry?"

"I understand what you're saying. But that's the kind of thing anyone could say. I have a feeling there's some other reason you're forcing that song through. Am I wrong?"

A chill ran up the back of my neck. Baek Han-sung leaned forward, and his eyes stayed fixed on me—an observing gaze. It felt as if he were reading every last thought in my head. I swallowed dry. If anyone wanted to know what someone else was thinking, it was me. He couldn't actually believe I had some kind of divine gift, could he?

Sure, I'd done a few suspicious things. But those could pass as absurd luck, a good instinct, a sharp eye. The employees who had come looking for me last time had only gathered on the thought that they were stuck and might as well ask—like paying a few bucks for a tarot reading off a street stall. I didn't know what "other reason" Baek Han-sung had in mind, but I was never going to spit the truth out at that man. If he didn't believe me, that was a problem. If he did, that was a problem too.

"There is no reason beyond what I've already told you."

"None?"

"No. There isn't."

Damn it. If persuasion wasn't landing, then the card I'd played last time on the Son Chae-young matter—

"Then that's that."

What?

"Take this album as a double title."

The wire that had been pulled taut seemed to snap. My brain, which had been spinning for dear life, went blank, and my head jerked up. What was he saying? I wasn't the only one startled. Team Leader 3, who had been watching me all this time like a child wandering across thin ice, had his eyes wide open. The division head looked just as dumbfounded. The only person perfectly at ease was Baek Han-sung. He spoke again, his voice loaded with meaning.

Kim Hyunjo and the traitor both seemed struck speechless. After opening and closing his mouth several times, Kim Hyunjo finally got a sound out.

"Believe you one more time? The CEO said that?"

"I'm telling you, he did."

Team Leader 3 clicked his tongue and looked at me.

"This Lucky Charm brat stood right in front of the CEO and the division head and said every last thing he wanted to say, cool as anything. I swear. Where does that confidence even come from? He didn't look nervous at all."

I was incredibly nervous.

"Hyunjo. Are kids these days all like this? Rookie spirit, or something?"

"He's just crazy. I didn't even get a look at the sixth floor until I'd been here over a year. Geonyoung, have you ever talked to the CEO?"

"...No."

"See? That's normal."

Under those prickling stares, I quietly pressed a hand to my chest. The truth was, Baek Han-sung's face was still hovering in front of me. That voice, tossing off double title like it was nothing. I had stayed up all night agonizing, clung to Team Leader 3 and coaxed him with everything I had, and still couldn't bend the situation my way—I'd been ready to tear my hair out. Baek Han-sung had changed it with a single sentence.

How long would it take me to climb that high? How long? Looking up, the height above me was dizzying, but for the moment one weight had lifted. Something heavy had dropped clean away. In the end, the train that had jumped the rails and gone running blind through fog had found its original track again. A smile of relief rose to my mouth.

"Don't smile, you lunatic."

Kim Hyunjo shook his head, looking utterly done with me. Team Leader 3 spoke next.

"You tell Taehee yourself, Lucky Charm. The thing that wasn't going to happen—you grabbed it by the collar and hauled it up. Might as well be you."

"Yes. I will."

"Hey. But you..."

Team Leader 3 scratched at the messy hair at the back of his head, then spoke carefully.

"What on earth are you trusting, forcing a bet this big through? What are you going to do if it bombs?"

"Then I'm fucked."

Kim Hyunjo mimed a chop across his own neck and clapped my shoulder.

"Well, if they fire you, I'll introduce you somewhere else. You've got three months of experience now. There'll be a seat for you."

He meant it. One hundred percent.

Shaking his head, Kim Hyunjo disappeared with Team Leader 3. That left the two of us: me, and the traitor.

"You." The traitor spoke first. "Is there something going on with you and Taehee?"

"What?"

What kind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of nonsense was this now?

"I thought you were focused on the acting side. On album production, I figured you were basically a complete outsider—ah. Sorry." He winced slightly and corrected himself. "You didn't seem to care much. If anything, that's my area. So I couldn't understand why you were pushing this hard. Like the team leader said, if this goes wrong, all the credit you've built could lose its shine. So I wondered if there was something between you and Taehee."

"There's nothing. Taehee's song was good, and I hated to miss the timing. By that logic, are you the one with something going on with Simon Lee?"

"...As if."

At the line I'd tossed out like a joke, the traitor laughed and shook his head. I'd felt it in the earlier conversation too. He was confident Simon Lee's song would succeed, which was why he wanted it as the sole title track. So why, in the future, had he pushed Lee Taehee's own composition? Because, deep down, his heart had leaned toward that song? Or because it had displeased him to see it end up in my hands?

He spoke again.

"The way this turned out, you and I each walked away with a song. Nice and even."

"Guess so."

"What matters is that one of them does well, so Neptune's album succeeds. Still, since it's come to this, want to make a little bet?"

To anyone else it would have looked like an ordinary conversation. But I could see it: the bridge between him and me splitting, crumbling, ready to snap at any moment. I nodded readily.

"Sure. A bet."

That night, in front of the dorm entrance, I gave Lee Taehee the news. For a long while she said nothing. Then she made a face I had never seen on her—utterly thrown. She asked me several times, as if she couldn't believe it, and I answered her several times, unhurried.

"Title track..."

She fought to manage her expression, then glanced toward the living room. The others were staring this way, dying to know what we were talking about. I'd thought Lee Songha was the only one behaving—then realized only her body was. Her head and neck were tilting farther and farther toward us, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

"One second."

Lee Taehee stepped outside and shut the front door. As it closed, an earthquake seemed to hit Lee Songha's eyes.

"It's really the title?"

"Yeah. A double title. You'll be busy too, once recording and mixing start."

"Oh my God."

Lee Taehee covered her face with one hand. What good did that do? Her ears were red, and the corner of her mouth, peeking out beneath her fingers, kept twitching. I'd expected her to be happy. The reaction was bigger than I'd thought. Ha. All that running around like a madman had been worth it.

After a few minutes of settling the excitement on her own, she opened her mouth.

"Thank you for looking out for this the whole way. From now on, I really..."

"Don't thank me."

"I'll practice like a dog."

What?

"No. Don't."

She was already practicing more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than enough. Was she planning to do the comeback stage with an IV in her arm?

"Anyway, pass it on to the others, too."

I said it with a glance at my watch, and Lee Taehee grabbed me.

"Have a beer before you go. There's still some left from what you bought last time."

"Huh? The chief isn't here, Geonyoung isn't here, it's just you all. That's a little..."

"Secret."

She mimed zipping her mouth shut with a finger. Still caught by the arm, I thought it over. For one thing, I'd been up all last night. Today had drained me in every direction; my shoulders weighed a ton. And tomorrow there was an early schedule that meant taking Lee Songha out. Reason told me not to even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠think about drinking, to go home and sleep—and my body nodded obediently anyway, and crawled into the dorm in the end.

After that, well. I clinked beer cans with the kids until dawn, then caught a scrap of sleep in the back seat of the car parked out front. And for the first time in my life, I had sleep paralysis.

I only understood why after I woke. Something heavy was sitting on me. I was buried under three layers: the sleeping-bag of a padded coat Lee Songha wore to every shoot, a microfiber comforter, and a blanket. Someone must have covered me so I wouldn't freeze to death. I was lucky I hadn't suffocated. In any case, everyone agreed to keep it from Kim Hyunjo. Because if Kim Hyunjo found out, he would kill me.

Once the title tracks were locked, the album work picked up speed. The schedule was already packed with Next K-Star and the Cat Guardian Spirit shoot; add recording prep, and a day passed like an hour. The body suffered, but I could endure it. There was that much coming back.

"Looking at the ratings trend, ten percent is a given."

Chief Lee Bong-joon said it through a jaw-cracking yawn. I yawned as if it were contagious and answered.

"Right. PR is already getting ready to make good on the ratings pledge."

Episodes three and four, which had aired two days ago, were breaking the show's highest ratings one after another. The people involved had moved on to how far past ten percent it might climb. Food trucks, gifts, and snacks poured onto the set without pause, and thanks to that the Cat Guardian Spirit team lived in a constant festival mood.

"Both of them sleep like the dead. Poor things."

Chief Lee Bong-joon clicked his tongue, looking to the side. Seo Ji-joon was sunk deep in the sofa with earphones in, asleep. And of course Lee Songha was nodding off beside me, a fist locked around the hem of my coat. Whatever she was dreaming, she had been yanking at it hard for a while.

The shoot that had started at dawn had only wrapped late at night, and if it had been up to me I would have laid her straight down in her dorm bed. One schedule remained. They were filming New Year's greeting bridge videos for W&U's artists, which was why we had come back to the company and were waiting for the camera team in the lounge. We had already shot one with the Neptune members, but because it was also going out on PBS, Songha alone had been booked for an additional take. Neptune, in other words, was not yet at the level of offering New Year's greetings on terrestrial television. Even her greeting the year in a two-shot beside Seo Ji-joon was only possible because the drama was airing and she was hot right now. She was still a raw rookie riding a sudden spark.

"By the way, no ads coming in for Songha?"

"Nothing certain yet, but there are talks."

I was looking forward to it anyway. If it closed, it would be Lee Songha's first commercial.

"I heard ads are pouring in for Ji-joon."

Sweeping them up, from what I'd heard. Once Cat Guardian Spirit ended, turn on a television for a while and it would probably be nothing but Seo Ji-joon's face. He had worn this role like a perfectly cut suit, and both his range and his fandom had grown enormously. Maybe he heard me. He opened one eye.

"Honestly, it's thanks to you, Sunwoo, so I do want to pay you back somehow. I'll pay with my body. Got any use for me?"

A man handsome enough to give you chills, asking it that slyly, only made it more chilling. A use for him... I was turning it over when he asked again.

"That show Neptune's on. Next-something. How about that? I heard they called to book me. Should I go on once?"

"No."

For whose benefit?

"You're better off having nothing to do with that program."

I answered dead serious, and Chief Lee Bong-joon, who knew the circumstances from me, snickered. Since the last incident, PD Go Joon-tae had temporarily stopped using Lee Songha as kindling. Miserable bastard. He still grabbed me and pecked at me every recording day, but I kept dragging the time out. Because we were in a meeting. Because I was thinking it over. Because I was still persuading ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them. There were plenty of excuses. It was the thing I'd learned best on the job. Anyway, every time I watched PD Go Joon-tae swallow his temper, the fatigue vanished. He had become my energy drink, you could say. These days I was happily pondering how to deliver I tried to persuade them, and in the end it didn't work in the way most likely to blow his fuse. Putting Seo Ji-joon on that show was absolutely out of the question.

"Then next time. Put me down for one debt."

Seo Ji-joon shrugged as he said it. That was when the lounge door opened. Thinking it was the camera team, I shook Lee Songha awake—only for the people who walked in to be types I wanted to deal with about as much as PD Go Joon-tae. The lunatic of this district, plus one. Son Chae-young and Chief Jo.

"What is this?"

The moment she saw us, Son Chae-young's eyes went sharp as axes. Her gaze stabbed into Seo Ji-joon, then me, then Lee Songha. The time she spent glaring at me seemed especially long. Lee Songha, dazed from being woken, groped around and seized the gummy bears she had been eating. If Son Chae-young charged again, she looked ready to hurl them. Of course I had no intention of stopping her. You had to raise them tough.

"I'm going to lose it. Oppa. You're really booking the schedule like this?"

Snapping at Chief Jo, Son Chae-young crushed the papers in her hand. Sides, no matter how you looked at them. Last week The Mermaid Who Came Ashore had climbed straight through episode three, and episode four had held. Maybe that was why, even while she was being hounded by sides, her complexion was vivid as a poisonous flower in full bloom. Her temper was even more vivid.

"Don't you know that if something's bothering me, I can't get my hands on anything?"

"That's—Chae-young, the drama schedule kept shifting, and it just ended up this way. You do one thirty-second greeting and go right back in."

"The second this is over I have to stay up all night memorizing the script again, and you think any of it is going to go in like this? The number one, number two, and number three people I can't stand the sight of are swarming right in front of me!"

Who was number one? I must have been short on sleep, if that was what I was curious about in the middle of this. Seo Ji-joon asked in my place, lazily bouncing his crossed leg.

"Who's number one?"

Son Chae-young snorted.

"Why? Hoping it's you?"

"If it's a ranking of people you can't stand, of course I'd rather be first."

A few exchanges, and they launched into vicious sarcasm. I'd heard the two of them didn't get along. Then again, aside from Professor Shim Kyung-taek, who on earth got along with Son Chae-young? They bit and tore at each other, and Chief Lee Bong-joon showed no interest in stepping in. Chief Jo was the only one fretting and trying to stop them, pitiful enough to watch. For once I had a fire to watch from the far bank of the river. Lee Songha and I chewed gummies in place of popcorn and took in the show.

"Chae-young, Chae-young—the live broadcast. The drama's live broadcast has started."

"What? When?"

At last Chief Jo succeeded in catching her attention. It was 10:15, so episode five of The Mermaid Who Came Ashore had been on for about fifteen minutes. As if she didn't even remember happily tearing into Seo Ji-joon all that time, she grumbled about why he had told her so late, then sat on the sofa across from us and crossed her legs.

"Put the live broadcast on your phone."

"Uh, hold on."

Chief Jo worked his thick fingers over the phone. Meanwhile Son Chae-young lifted her chin and turned toward us. Her eyes narrowed, and one corner of her mouth climbed. A familiar expression. Ah. The exact face the quadruplets made whenever they were dying to show something off. Damn it. Of all people, looking at Son Chae-young and thinking of those four.

"I wonder if anyone's seen how my drama's ratings are trending." She tossed it out.

"Haven't."

"I haven't."

"Why would I watch that? I'm busy checking my own show."

"Same here."

Seo Ji-joon and Lee Songha answered in turn.

"Who asked you two? I haven't seen your drama's ratings either!"

Snorting, Son Chae-young asked again. At me.

"Have you seen them?"

Why had that woman been latching onto me like this since last time? I had a feeling the number-one person she couldn't stand was my seat, too. The feeling was mutual. I checked The Mermaid Who Came Ashore's ratings every single time, but I shook my head as if I hadn't. Chief Jo mouthed at me to just admit I'd seen them. I hadn't. I had not.

"I haven't seen them either."

"Is that so?"

I'd expected her to scream the way she had last time. She was unexpectedly quiet. If anything, she folded her arms at her leisure and smiled.

"Well, not looking is probably better for your mental health. The gap is that big. Watching would only ruin your mood. We passed fifteen percent in the capital region by episode four, so if this keeps up we'll hit twenty, no question. Even now we're more than five points ahead of that cat-thing, that damn rat, whatever it is, and from here on it's obvious."

Then she went on at length, unasked, about how the old line—that ten percent on cable was worth several times that on terrestrial—was ancient history. Where was a television these days that didn't have cable? These days you had to treat them as the same tier. Wait. Hadn't she said she didn't know Cat Guardian Spirit's ratings? I put on a dumbfounded face, and Son Chae-young, as if she'd slipped, whipped around toward Chief Jo.

"Oppa, what are you doing? Are you going to give it to me or not?!"

"No, I—Chae-young. Let's shoot the bridge first and watch this when we get back."

Chief Jo, who had been staring down at the phone, stammered it out.

"Why? We shot the revised parts in such a rush I couldn't even monitor them properly on set. I need to check."

"Uh, but I think this episode would be better watched all at once, after it ends."

"I'm asking why! Is there a problem? Did they cut my scene?!"

"No, it's not that. The viewer response right now is a little..."

Chief Jo's face was white, as if he had just watched a horror movie. He even began inching backward, determined, it seemed, not to let Son Chae-young see the phone.

Ah. A fierce hunch hit me.

Finally.

The Mermaid Who Came Ashore had finally put a foot wrong.