The Powerful and the Powerless (2)
"The director told me not to muddy the waters."
"Director Gun Hyun-woo?"
"Yeah. So things are probably going to be tough from here on out."
"Ah…"
The man wrinkled his nose as he spoke.
"While demanding his own share, I take it?"
"Well… pretty much."
"Haa. Bastard only became a director so he could throw his weight around. …Can't you just slip me some on the side?"
"I'm sorry. I'll still try my best, though."
The man walked off without so much as a goodbye.
In more ways than one, he left me speechless. Most of all, he treated the coffee I'd been giving him all this time as if it were his natural due.
Looking back, that was probably my own fault for handing it out so freely without a word. I'd assumed that if I showed pure goodwill, it would come back to me in kind. It hadn't. Not even close.
Which meant there was a problem with my approach.
I should have milked it for credit. Not blatantly, of course — naturally, subtly. Things like, I went out of my way to brew this, or a lot of care went into it. Even if they never felt genuine gratitude, they might at least feel a twinge of awkwardness.
Making a show of it wouldn't change much. But they might toss me a scrap of minor information here and there. Stack those scraps one by one, and you'd have an information network. Not a bad return for a cup of coffee.
Of course, I wasn't going to start fishing for credit now. This wasn't the time to throw a tantrum about getting compensated for my efforts. This was the stage for undoing a button fastened wrong from the start.
Fortunately, a few days would be enough for everyone to forget. Even if you worked tirelessly to leave an impression, being forgotten took only a moment. If that was true for famous celebrities, what chance did a mere manager have?
All I needed to do was suck up to Director Gun Hyun-woo, Cocoa the writer, the drama writer, the assistant directors, and the like. With that crowd, making a show of your efforts only soured the relationship. Blind, unconditional goodwill was the better play.
And by showing that goodwill… I had to coax them into keeping the character of Park Ha-eun alive. I would expand my Master's screen time even a little. If she was going to steal every last scrap of Han Ahyoung's spotlight, it was an indispensable step.
After that, a few more people came up to greet me and ask about the coffee or the vitamins. Each time, I name-dropped Director Gun Hyun-woo and waved them off.
Naturally, I hadn't sold him out on a whim. When I'd gone over to greet him earlier, I'd gotten his permission first. I'd told him I wanted to make his coffee taste even better than everyone else's, and he'd said that was fine — use his name however I liked.
I felt a little bad that the managers seemed to be forming a worse impression of him. Then again, none of the managers liked Director Gun Hyun-woo to begin with. Maybe it wouldn't make much difference.
"Ah, sorry!"
"Can you check this over here?"
The set bustled with activity. Everyone was dressed for comfort. You couldn't move around a film set in something as restrictive as a suit, after all. Which made Director Young, still in his formal wear, stand out all the more.
"Ahem. I mentioned yesterday that we should talk."
Speak of the devil. Director Young approached right on cue. Today, as always, he was decked out in luxury brands. He'd come up without a sound, startling me for a second, but I pretended nothing was wrong.
"Good morning, Director. But what conversation are you referring to?"
"It's not morning anymore."
"Ah, right. Good afternoon, then."
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Director Young latched onto the end of my sentence.
"You and Park Seoh-ah already agreed to come over to Sky Music."
I widened my eyes.
"Ah… right, we did. I'm sorry — it completely slipped my mind. My memory isn't the best."
"Promises matter a lot in this business. Even a verbal agreement is still an agreement."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"We'll talk properly once we're done for the day."
"Understood."
Rub, rub—
Director Young kept fretting his fingers together. He looked uncomfortable, or maybe thirsty. His fingers looked empty. Like a man who couldn't forget an ex-girlfriend, there was something pitiable about it. Fingers that ought to be holding something long and slender were wandering through empty air.
Normally, the smell of cigarettes would have been thick on him. But there was nothing. Had he not had time to smoke? Or had he simply been unable to?
"Got a cigarette?"
"A cigarette?"
"The ones you gave me yesterday."
"Ah, I do. Why?"
"I liked those. Where do they sell them? Just at a convenience store? Give me a pack right now."
"I'm not sure of the brand name. They were just lying around at home."
Director Young didn't require a carefully crafted reply. I casually pulled out a cigarette pack and, making sure he couldn't see inside, peered into it myself.
"Oh no. Looks like I'm all out."
"What?"
Director Young snagged the pack right out of my hand. As he looked inside, his expression shifted by the second — relief, as if he'd just shed ten years of age, mixed with pure irritation.
"There's one left!"
"That… I need that one for myself."
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Director Young slipped the pack into his own pocket.
"I'll smoke this one. That's fine, right?"
He patted my shoulder. The pressure was subtle but deliberate — a sensation that hurt without quite hurting, that cornered you psychologically. This wasn't his first or second time doing it. And through it all, the tips of his fingers were trembling slightly.
So he was a heavy smoker too. His reaction might even be better than Chun Yeonho's.
"I… I still need to smoke—"
"It's fine. You don't need to."
Squeeze.
"Yes. You're right. I don't need to."
Director Young lowered his hand with a satisfied look. So he wanted to smoke another one. Coincidentally, I'd wanted to give him another one myself. Smoking just a single cigarette would have been far too little, wouldn't it? You had to smoke them little by little, over and over, to properly understand the addictiveness of a twenty-seventh-century cigarette.
"Well then, keep working hard today."
Director Young left immediately. He even pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips on the spot, looking ready to light up the moment he reached a smoking area.
Watching him go, I ran through the lines in my head.
Ah, what should I do? These cigarettes are so popular they're hard to get my hands on. To keep supplying you, Director, I'd have to put in way more effort than I am now. It costs a lot of money, too. I'd barely even be able to sleep properly trying to source them. Honestly, it's tough. Practically impossible under normal circumstances. But if you ask me, Director, I'd do it even if it broke me. I'll keep trying my hardest. It's really, truly difficult, but…
Was that how you milked something for credit?
"Stand by!"
My Master's performance began. A monitor linked to the recording feed let me watch her. A manager was always supposed to monitor their assigned actor during a shoot — to judge, objectively, how they looked on camera. There was always a gap between the performance as it happened live and the performance as the camera captured it.
"Ready. Action!"
My Master composed her expression and parted her lips. A short take, less than a minute. I watched without even remembering to breathe.
"Cut. Okay!"
An okay on the first take. The staff clapped and praised her performance. Her acting had improved since yesterday. Improved. Compared to yesterday. That was all. An okay cut was an okay cut, but it was nowhere near the level that inspired awe or reverence. It was a long way from the kind of performance that could erase Han Ahyoung's presence.
My Master seemed to know it too — a restless edge still clung to her.
"Action!"
They moved straight into the next take. A few NGs this time, but they got through it without much trouble. Without much trouble — which was the problem. Getting through it smoothly wasn't enough. Everyone needed to sit up and take notice. To relegate Han Ahyoung to leftover scraps, ordinary acting skill simply wouldn't cut it. My Master had to be far better than she was now. She was still lacking.
And yet, somehow, I wasn't worried about her. I just had this certainty that she would keep getting better. An intuition that my Master would pull it off. Was it blind faith? Was I just wearing rose-tinted glasses for her?
There was no reason for it — but I believed she would do well.
That said, I still wasn't sure about her goal itself. Burying Han Ahyoung through pure acting was impossible no matter which actor you brought in. Especially since Ahyoung's role was already an enormously popular character. Even a Hollywood top star, a Chungmuro box-office guarantee, a Best Actress winner — none of them could do it. We needed to look for an approach outside of acting. After all, buzz, attention, and popularity didn't come from acting alone.
A way to focus every eye on my Master so completely that people forgot Han Ahyoung existed. What could that be?
I was monitoring and turning it over in my mind when—
Squish, squish♥
Someone grabbed a handful of my ass.
"Nice and firm. Jiwoo's butt. Cooked to perfection."
I spun around in shock. Smiling eyes and a curling mouth. A playful expression that suited her so well it was almost unfair — the pretty actress Oh Jihyeon.
"Pat, pat."
She spanked my ass with both hands.
"Huff, huff…"
I panted reflexively before I came to my senses. I frantically scanned our surroundings and whispered,
"What are you doing here…"
Fortunately, the area was quiet. Even inside Studio Initial, this was one of the larger interior spaces, furnished with plywood and furniture that created plenty of blind spots.
"You like it? Jiwoo's a puppy, so of course he loves being patted."
"No…"
"Hmm? But you liked it… Jiwoo's just a baby…"
Oh Jihyeon tilted her head and patted my cheeks with her palms.
Pat, pat.
"Ah…♡"
"Wow… that works so well♥ Pat, pat?"
Twitch, twitch♥
"Stop it…"
"Huh…? Stop it?"
"Yeah… stop it…"
"Oooooh. Really…? You really want me to stoooop…?"
Thump-thump♥
My heart lurched. One teasing dose of aegyo and my expression crumbled. Even so, I barely held on.
"Even if you do the cute voice… no."
At that, Oh Jihyeon stepped up beside me. Her small, fern-like hands gently took hold of my sleeve. With that devastating little gesture, she looked up at me with pleading eyes.
"I… want to spank Jiwoo's butt. I want to touch my baby Jiwoo. Can't I…? Please…♥"
"O-okay, okay… okay♡"
"Aha. As a reward, I'll give you lots of pats. Say thank you."
Pat-pat!
"…Th-thank you."
"Heehee. Alright~ pat-pat."
Pat-pat!
"Huff huff♡"
"What am I going to do…♥ When I ask, you just have to do whatever I say…♥"
Twitch, twitch♥
I truly couldn't win a single exchange against Oh Jihyeon. The moment she put on the aegyo and asked, I wanted to give her anything.
Pat-pat!
"Hah♡"
"Heehee… it got bigger again♥ And all I did was spank your butt… such a masochist♥ So pathetic♥"
"Th…"
"You like it?"
"…I like it."
Pat-pat!
I couldn't escape the patting until Oh Jihyeon decided to stop. And once again, I understood. Against women, I couldn't resist even a little. Losing felt so good I couldn't stand it.
With her bold hands all over me, I couldn't even monitor properly — I just kept checking our surroundings. Even as I panted with pleasure, a thread of fear unspooled inside me. No matter how out of sight we were, it was a reckless thing to do. And the fact that I was hard… that would show, too.
But no one around us was paying the slightest attention. Every eye was fixed somewhere else entirely.
"She's insane."
"Hasn't she gotten even prettier lately?"
"Her whole face looks brighter. Something good happen?"
"They say you can read someone's mood from the lines on their forehead. Hers has been smooth lately."
"People used to say she always reeked of cigarettes. Not a trace of it now."
When the people around you — especially the men — started murmuring like that, it meant only one thing. Han Ahyoung had arrived. An alpha female flaunting a beauty no man could help but fall for. Especially lately, with everyone saying her expression had brightened, that she'd softened compared to before. She'd only grown more popular.
"I should get going too. Monitor me as well, okay?"
"…Yeah. I will."
Oh Jihyeon vanished, and I straightened my clothes.
Click, click.
From a distance, I watched Han Ahyoung appear, the familiar sound of her heels announcing her. She looked even more beautiful today somehow.
Through Oh Jihyeon, I'd felt it with painful clarity — there were things I simply could not do. The difference in what we were born as hit me with stark force. Me, tormenting Han Ahyoung with cigarettes? Impossible. It wasn't even a coherent idea. Especially when I'd been planning to use those same cigarettes to handle Director Young. In other words, they weren't something you could treat so lightly.
Han Ahyoung was going to come at me hard. And when she did — what then?
While I fretted, time slipped away. Filming progressed at a steady clip, and evening settled in as dusk began to fall.
"Come here."
I ended up alone with Han Ahyoung. As I drew closer to her, my heartbeat grew fiercer. I clenched my hands as if steeling my resolve.
I… had thought of one method. A way to not give her the cigarettes.