PAYBACK BOOK 1.

Chapter 2.

After Uncle said he would think about it and hurried out, a silence that wasn't particularly uncomfortable settled over the room. For a while, I stared at the Polaroid photograph lying on the table. The expressionless face looking back at the camera reflected a version of me that hadn't even looked in a mirror for five years, and the sight left me feeling strangely awkward. I had no idea whether standing in front of a camera, starting from that single photograph, could really become my job. None of it felt real.

 

"Did you know Yuhan before this?"

 

When I looked up, I found the young man watching me with a serious expression. He looked about twenty or twenty-one, his features softer and more endearing than the average man's. When I continued staring without answering, he tilted his head in confusion.

 

"Erm... am I not allowed to ask?"

 

"No. You can ask me anything you like. Whether I answer is another matter, though, because I still don't trust you."

 

"You can trust me."

 

He answered so quickly it sounded like a solemn promise.

 

"I definitely won't tell anyone. I don't like Yuhan either. President Choi treated him so well..."

 

His gaze dropped as old memories surfaced.

 

"Yuhan used to be one of the most promising actors in our agency. We didn't have many actors, and none of them were especially famous, but everyone was like family... everyone except him. Even when we were under the same agency, he was always self-centred, so he never really got close to anyone. Still, none of us ever imagined he'd betray us like that when his contract ended.

 

"Honestly, there's no one else in this industry like President Choi. He respects what his actors want, supports whatever path they choose, and never gives up on them, no matter how long it takes for them to succeed. But once Yuhan finally started making a name for himself because of the president..."

 

He trailed off before looking back at me, bitterness written plainly across his face.

 

"He promised to renew his contract, but asked for the signing bonus in advance. President Choi struggled to scrape together that kind of money, only for Yuhan to turn around and announce he'd already signed with another agency. Whenever I think about what happened..."

 

"Why didn't you get the money back?"

 

At my question, he let out a weary sigh.

 

"Of course we tried. President Choi filed a lawsuit, but Yuhan's side claimed the money should count as unpaid wages because he'd supposedly never been paid while working here. The case dragged on forever. It was ridiculous. He insisted he'd been asking for his money all along, saying President Choi always collected his appearance fees first and secretly skimmed money off the top."

 

His jaw tightened.

 

"The media cornered President Choi and painted him as some kind of villain, while reporting everything as though Yuhan were the victim. Even when we tried to defend ourselves, public opinion online had already turned against us. Everyone just assumed the accusations were true."

 

He let out another frustrated breath.

 

"What made it even worse was that it took an entire year just to get the first ruling. Their lawyer delayed everything at every opportunity, dragging the trial out for as long as possible. And in the end, the court only ordered them to repay one-fifth of the money. Hah... It wasn't even enough to cover the legal fees we'd already spent. Then they appealed the decision, so we never received a single penny."

 

The anger in his voice gradually faded, leaving only bitterness behind.

 

"The company took a massive hit. We lost an enormous amount of money overnight, and the legal costs kept piling up. Investors started demanding their money back after the agency's biggest actor left, and eventually the company simply couldn't afford to keep fighting. In the end, President Choi had no choice but to abandon the lawsuit.

 

"Things were already falling apart by then. One by one, the remaining actors left too. It had taken years to build the company, yet it all collapsed in the blink of an eye."

 

"But you didn't leave."

 

When I pointed that out, he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

 

"Ah... well..."

 

A sheepish smile crept onto his face.

 

"I owe President Choi more than I could ever repay. He discovered me when I was still in high school, back when I was running from one audition to the next because I wanted to become an actor. No other agency was willing to take me. The thing is..."

 

He hesitated.

"I have a fear of cameras." He let out an awkward laugh. "Ridiculous, isn't it?"

 

"Yes."

 

He coughed into his fist, looking slightly embarrassed.

 

"Our president is an incredibly kind person. This was the only company willing to give someone like me a chance. And you saw how hard he worked as Yuhan's manager, didn't you? Even though he kept saying he was fine, when I first found out what had happened... I couldn't stop crying.

 

"I even told him to get revenge, but he refused. He said if he did something like that, he'd be no different from the filthy people who'd wronged him.

 

"Honestly, I wish he'd just leave this place. He keeps saying nowhere else would hire him now, but he's exhausted. I joined this company hoping to make a living managing actors, but these days..." He gave a bitter smile. "I barely have any work at all."

 

I didn't tell him that Song Yuhan's income would soon disappear. He'd find out about the change of manager tomorrow anyway, so there was no point saying anything now.

 

Looking towards the still-closed door, I asked the question that had been lingering in my mind.

 

"Does Song Yuhan have a sponsor?"

 

Silence.

 

When no answer came, I turned back to him. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his face full of hesitation. After watching him struggle for a moment, I asked casually,

 

"Is his sponsor a man?"

 

"Huh?! H-How did you know that?"

 

"I don't know much about this industry, but isn't it fairly common for actors to have sponsors?"

 

"...Yes. Very common."

 

So Song Yuhan's success had, at least in part, been built on someone else's influence.

 

As I reached that conclusion, his voice dropped, as though he were about to reveal a closely guarded secret.

 

"In this industry, talent alone usually isn't enough. Especially on television. The more people see your face on screen, the more popular you become. That's why everyone fights so desperately just to appear once. Without money, you won't last long. Appearing once or twice doesn't mean much, and it certainly won't make people remember you.

 

"In the end, you need financial backing to keep getting opportunities so people continue seeing your face. To do that, you either come from a wealthy family..." He paused before meeting my eyes. "...Or you find a sponsor. That's just how this industry works."

 

After a brief silence, he continued.

 

"If you're hoping to find a sponsor so you can climb to the top quickly, you'd be better off finding another manager. President Choi doesn't arrange sponsors for his actors, and he won't bribe producers to get them onto television either. He's never believed in doing things that way."

 

"I wasn't expecting him to."

 

"But isn't that something every actor needs?"

 

Perhaps it was.

 

I gave a slight nod as the outline of a plan slowly began taking shape in my mind.

 

"I'll deal with that myself."

 

His expression practically screamed, How? but he wisely kept the question to himself. Instead, I changed the subject.

 

"Putting that aside... how good is President Choi at developing actors?"

 

"He's exceptional."

 

The answer came without the slightest hesitation, and for the first time since we'd started talking, a genuine smile spread across his face.

 

"Take you, for example. At first I thought you were just someone with a blank expression who spoke a little coldly, so I wasn't impressed at all. But the longer you talk to someone like you..." He chuckled quietly. "...the more strangely attractive you become."

 

He shook his head in admiration.

 

"President Choi really does have an incredible eye for people."

 

His smile gradually faded as he looked back at me.

 

"I've told you everything. Doesn't that earn me at least a little trust? Won't you tell me now? Did you know Yuhan before today?"

 

I gave a small nod.

 

"Since when?"

 

"A long time ago."

 

He waited, clearly expecting me to elaborate. When I remained silent, he eventually gave up and asked something else.

 

"When you said you wanted revenge... you meant against Yuhan, didn't you? What did he do? Or..." He hesitated. "Did he steal your money too?"

 

Money...

 

Come to think of it...

 

He had stolen mine as well.

 

A faint smile found its way onto my lips. I'd completely forgotten about that. I must have smiled without realising because his eyes suddenly widened.

 

"Wow... when you smile, your face..."

 

"Something like that."

 

"Huh? Ah... I meant the money. Since you said you wanted revenge, I assumed he'd stolen a fortune from you."

 

"Not really."

 

"..."

 

"If it wasn't that much..." he asked cautiously, "...then why are you so determined to get revenge?"

 

Under his breath, I heard him mutter,

 

"Our president lost hundreds of millions of won because of him..."

 

He was right.

 

Compared to that, I'd only lost a few tens of millions.

 

And in truth...

 

Song Yuhan hadn't been the one who killed my younger brother.

 

But, just as Myeongshin had once said...

 

In the end, it all came back to me.

 

I don't know whether he's alive or dead.

 

It's all because of that thug.

 

That's right.

 

It was entirely my fault.

 

Myeongshin's only crime had been wanting to survive.

 

So I was the only one who had the right to seek revenge.

 

Because I was just as filthy.

 

Living in this world had taught me one thing.

 

Karma doesn't come simply because you sit around waiting for it. If you want retribution, you have to create the opportunity for it yourself. Waiting for karma was no different from waiting for heaven to punish someone on your behalf.

 

The legs of my chair scraped loudly across the floor as I stood.

 

I asked him to contact me once Uncle returned with the drinks.

 

Then, just before leaving, I finally told him why I wanted revenge.

 

"I've had far too much free time since yesterday."

The rooftop had been transformed into a small garden, with tall trees stretching overhead and benches scattered throughout. At half past one in the morning, however, the place that was meant for relaxation was completely deserted. It was an hour when everyone should have been asleep. Yet I, of all people, remained wide awake.

 

Resting my arms on the chest-high wall, I looked down over the city, where scattered lights glowed like the red embers of countless cigarettes. Even after deciding to take revenge, one ridiculous thought refused to leave me alone. What if I became so consumed by revenge that I forgot my own sins?

 

For the past five years, earning money to repay my debts had been a constant reminder that I was paying for my crimes. But now the clearest symbol of that atonement had disappeared. Worse still, I had started placing all the blame on someone else's sins instead. The thought left me with an uneasy feeling I couldn't shake.

 

I couldn't allow myself to forget what I'd done. I still had a long way to go before I could ever say my penance was complete.

 

Then a thought crossed my mind.

 

Had I always been like this?

 

A bitter laugh almost escaped me, but I swallowed it back. I'd convinced myself that the man I used to be had returned the moment I chose revenge. Yet those five years had changed me far more than I'd realised. Only then did I understand that the thing I needed to keep punishing myself with had been inside my own head all along.

 

My memories.

 

The memories of that day five years ago were punishment enough. No matter how much time passed, they remained as vivid as if everything had happened only yesterday. The feeling of stepping into that empty house came rushing back. The room, preserved exactly as its owner had left it... the traces of an ordinary life that would never continue...

 

Just remembering it made me want a cigarette.

 

I hadn't smoked a single one in five years, yet the craving returned as though the man I'd been back then had awakened alongside it.

 

Or perhaps...

 

It was simply because I could smell cigarette smoke drifting faintly through the night air.

 

Apparently, I wasn't alone on the rooftop after all.

 

Following the scent carried on the breeze, I walked deeper into the garden until I spotted someone smoking beneath one of the large trees in the centre. It was too dark to make out his face properly, but my craving had already become impossible to ignore.

 

I walked over.

 

"Could I have a cigarette?"

 

The moment I spoke, he glanced at me before looking away again as though I didn't exist. His complete indifference told me the bastard was hopeless, and I was already about to give up and leave.

 

Then the smell of smoke drifted towards me again.

 

"I'm not asking for one for free. Just a single cigarette..."

 

Thud.

 

A half-smoked cigarette landed at my feet.

 

The message couldn't have been clearer.

 

Smoke that... and shut up.

 

I lowered my eyes to the glowing red tip as I heard his footsteps moving away. Bending down, I picked it up and placed it between my lips. The filter was damp from having already been in someone else's mouth, irritating me slightly, but I ignored it. The moment I inhaled, smoke slid down my throat and filled my lungs. Perhaps because I hadn't smoked in so long, a slight dizziness washed over me, but not enough to matter.

 

"Wait."

 

I called after him.

 

Fortunately, he stopped and turned around. Under the rooftop lights, I finally saw his expressionless face clearly. Without taking my eyes off him, I reached into my pocket, pulled out a coin and flicked it towards him.

 

Clink...

 

Roll...

 

Roll...

 

The two-hundred-won coin rolled across the ground before finally coming to a stop.

 

"Keep the change."

 

I was about to walk away when I noticed his lips slowly curl into a smile as he looked down at the coin. A small dimple appeared in one cheek, his eyes narrowing gently along with the smile.

 

I froze.

 

For some reason...

 

It felt strangely familiar.

 

Before I could work out why, his soft voice broke through my thoughts.

 

"You've miscalculated, idiot."

 

His voice was low and surprisingly pleasant to listen to.

 

I wasn't fooled.

 

Stopping halfway through turning away, I faced him again.

 

If I judged him only by that smile, the gentle curve of his eyes and his calm voice, he seemed like an exceptionally decent person. Yet the words coming out of his mouth couldn't have been more different.

 

That sharp insult, paired with such a pleasant smile, instantly brought me back to my senses.

 

Without realising it, I found myself staring at him warily.

 

What the hell...

 

Was this guy insane?

 

"Are you deaf?"

 

Even as he mocked me, his voice remained soft.

 

Meeting his indifferent gaze, instinct told me something I'd learned through years of fighting and getting into trouble.

 

He was stronger than me.

 

The kind of person who would be exhausting to deal with unless you surrendered from the very beginning.

 

Unfortunately...

 

Surrendering had never been my style.

 

"Yes, I miscalculated. That's why I told you to keep the change."

 

The smile in his eyes deepened, though I made no effort to return it.

 

"Change? Ah... you mean this."

 

Opening his hand, he revealed the two-hundred-won coin before adding kindly,

 

"I see. So if I gave you two hundred million won... this would be the change."

 

Two hundred million won...

 

For a half-smoked cigarette?

 

Was this lunatic trying to rebuild his entire fortune with a cigarette he'd already thrown away?

 

"Stop talking nonsense."

 

He answered as lazily as ever.

 

"Shall I tell you something about myself? I'm not the sort of person who jokes."

 

Despite how casually he spoke, there wasn't the slightest hint of humour in his eyes.

 

"The seller decides the price. If you're going to ask me for a cigarette, you should at least be prepared to pay it."

 

I frowned.

 

"Who are you?"

 

His smile disappeared for the first time, as though my question had genuinely caught him off guard. A moment later, however, it returned.

 

"How boring. You must've heard about me somewhere and approached me like everyone else. I've met people like you countless times."

 

I continued staring at him, trying to understand what he meant.

 

People like me?

 

Then I remembered the first day I'd come here.

 

A group of schoolgirls had been waiting outside the building, watching the entrance with excited faces as they waited for someone.

 

Right...

 

This was an entertainment agency.

 

Did he seriously think I was another fan, just like those girls?

 

The thought irritated me even more. I studied his face again. The longer I looked, the more familiar it seemed.

 

But no matter how hard I searched my memory...

 

I was certain we'd never met before.

Absolutely. This is much closer to the style we've settled on. I've merged the narration as much as possible while keeping the dramatic beats where they matter.

 

---

 

"It seems you've misunderstood something. I don't know how famous an actor you are, but as far as I'm concerned, two hundred won is already more than enough for one cigarette."

 

"...You're an actor? Or are you a singer?"

 

After a brief silence, he asked bluntly, "You're not signed with this agency?"

 

The smile vanished from his face, replaced by an oddly weary expression. What was that supposed to mean? Had he once been an actor himself? Still trying to make sense of the situation, I answered honestly.

 

"No... not yet."

 

A faint smile immediately returned to his lips.

 

"Then become one."

 

He took another step towards me.

 

"I'll knock one percent off the price."

 

An interview? And paying him for it? None of this made the slightest bit of sense.

 

"Stop messing around."

 

"Not yet, huh..." he murmured before taking another slow step closer. The moment he closed the distance between us, every muscle in my body instinctively tensed.

 

"You're interesting. Tell you what—I'll give you a discount on that cigarette. But first, you'll have to pass my interview and increase your own value. I already told you I don't joke. I'd be disappointed if you'd forgotten that already."

 

His voice carried the faintest trace of amusement, but his eyes remained completely devoid of it. No matter how perfect his appearance seemed, I'd never met anyone who felt less human.

 

"So you're disappointed?" I looked him straight in the eye. "You say you don't joke, but you're an excellent liar."

 

The warmth vanished from his gaze in an instant. A chill colder than the night air crawled down my spine.

 

"That's right," he admitted shamelessly with a smile. "I'm exceptionally good at it. You've already discovered two of my secrets."

 

For some ridiculous reason, I suddenly had the feeling this lunatic was about to snap my neck. Secrets? Unless he was talking about his online banking password, those hardly counted as secrets.

 

"How are those supposed to be secrets?"

 

"Precisely because they're so trivial." He took another unhurried step forward. "No one else ever notices them."

 

His eyes never left mine.

 

"But you... you noticed."

 

His voice was so quiet it barely sounded insulting. I'd had enough. Flicking the burnt-out cigarette onto the ground between us, I said flatly,

 

"Then give me my cigarette back."

 

Instead of answering, he slipped the coin into his trouser pocket before taking another step closer.

 

"If you want it back, come and take it."

 

His relaxed tone clashed completely with the provocation in his words.

 

"Though you don't look particularly capable."

 

Only then did I realise he was baiting me. My fist had already clenched before Uncle's warning flashed through my mind.

 

For an actor, your face is your life. If you're serious about becoming one, don't let it get scarred.

 

Tch.

 

Clicking my tongue inwardly, I stepped back instead. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face.

 

"So you're not a coward after all... Or are you just afraid of damaging that pretty face?"

 

The words hit their mark. I hesitated for the briefest moment.

 

He laughed.

 

Then he moved.

 

No—

 

His fist reached me first.

 

Thud!

 

Instinctively protecting my face, I left my stomach completely exposed. His punch crashed into it, knocking the breath from my lungs as agony exploded through my abdomen. Staggering backwards, I barely managed to stay upright before another punch came hurtling towards me.

 

Whoosh!

 

I ducked, his fist slicing past my ear. I immediately knocked his arm aside and threw one of my own, but the lunatic ignored everything except my face. Every attack was aimed straight at it. One punch eventually grazed my mouth, splitting my lip as blood immediately welled up and the metallic taste filled my mouth.

 

Five years ago, I would've charged him without thinking. But those five years had changed me. Even while taking one beating after another, I refused to stop protecting my face. The outcome was inevitable. Bruises spread across the rest of my body until one final kick sent me crashing onto the concrete.

 

Bang!

 

The impact echoed across the silent rooftop. Fortunately, I'd managed to shield my face as I rolled.

 

Still...

 

Looking at the state I'd been reduced to only irritated me more.

 

Damn it.

 

What kind of actor ends up fighting like this?

 

I tried to stand despite the dizziness.

 

Unfortunately...

 

My body refused to cooperate.

 

"Hm."

 

Looking up, I found him already straddling me. One hand pinned my throat against the concrete while a relaxed smile rested on his lips.

 

"You're better than I expected."

 

The compliment only bruised my pride further. If I'd fought seriously from the beginning... would this have ended differently?

 

That thought had barely crossed my mind when his free hand reached over and gently brushed my swollen lip. I instinctively turned my face away.

 

The corner of his mouth lifted.

 

Then he deliberately pressed down on the split.

 

"Ah!"

 

The cry escaped before I could stop it.

 

What the hell...

 

Did someone this twisted really exist?

 

"I think I'm starting to like those eyes."

 

His voice remained lazy.

 

His gaze didn't.

 

It was frighteningly cold.

 

"Who's your talent scout?"

 

"..."

 

"What's your name?"

 

When I refused to answer, that gentle smile returned. It still didn't look like a smile. Without warning, his hand tightened around my throat.

 

Again...

 

I couldn't breathe.

 

Both hands clawed desperately at his wrist, but it didn't move an inch. Instead, his grip tightened even further, as though punishing me for staying silent.

 

"Ghk...!"

 

I struggled desperately for air while the bastard simply looked down at me as though he were enjoying every second. There was unmistakable arrogance in his eyes—the arrogance of someone reminding me exactly who was stronger.

 

"So..." he asked calmly. "Why did you approach me?"

 

Even with my throat being crushed, I forced the words out.

 

"For... the cigarette..."

 

"Damn..."

 

"I had no idea... who you were..."

 

The words scraped painfully from my throat. For a brief moment, his eyes narrowed.

 

Then that pleasant smile returned.

 

"So you really don't know who I am."

 

"I don't watch television."

 

His eyes curved into crescents as his hand drifted back towards my mouth. Remembering what he'd done before, I instinctively flinched. Even so, his thumb settled gently against my lower lip. This time he didn't press on the wound. Instead, he slowly traced its edge, making the gesture somehow even more unsettling.

 

"Let go," I muttered through gritted teeth.

 

He ignored me completely.

 

"You're not the type who can become a celebrity. Nobody who dreams of fame lives without watching television. And yet you're protecting your face with your life because you want to become one?"

 

His thumb stopped moving. The smile disappeared.

 

"Is there another reason?"

 

The reason my breathing caught wasn't because his hand was still around my throat. It was because, the moment our eyes met, a chill raced through my entire body. It felt as though he could see straight through me.

 

Even so...

 

I refused to look away.

 

"Whatever the reason is," I said coldly, "it's none of your business. Stop interfering."

 

The corner of his mouth slowly lifted, a small dimple appearing beside it.

 

Again...

 

That expression felt strangely familiar.

 

Where had I seen it before?

Brrr. Brrr.

 

The sudden ringtone shattered the heavy silence. Before I even realised it was my phone, he'd already snatched it from my pocket, holding it high above my head before answering the call himself. Because I mostly used my phone for delivery work, I always kept the volume turned all the way up. The voice that normally sounded quiet while I raced through back alleys delivering parcels now echoed loudly across the rooftop.

 

"Where are you? President Choi—no, your manager—is back. It looks like he's decided to work with you. To be honest, I don't really like the idea of you becoming an actor just for revenge, but..."

 

Thud!

 

Taking advantage of the distraction, I shoved him hard. My phone flew from his hand and skidded across the concrete.

 

Scrape...

 

Fortunately, the impact disconnected the call on the old phone, and the voice disappeared. I hurried over to pick it up, cursing under my breath. I'd had enough of this bastard. He could keep rambling about two hundred million won for all I cared. All I had to do was ignore him.

 

I watched him warily, ready to charge without worrying about protecting my face this time if he tried to block my path again. Instead, he calmly stepped aside and cleared the way.

 

"Try passing your interview with flying colours," he said almost encouragingly. "Then you'll earn yourself a discount."

 

He placed a fresh cigarette between his lips and flipped open a Zippo. The tiny flame briefly illuminated his face before disappearing again.

 

His friendly tone grated on my nerves, as though he were doing me some enormous favour. Perhaps sensing my glare, he spoke around the cigarette.

 

"Or... I could help you instead of giving you a discount."

 

"What kind of help?"

 

"Revenge. That's why you're trying to become a celebrity, isn't it?"

 

I told him that whatever he'd overheard on the phone had nothing to do with him and turned to leave.

 

"I could become your sponsor."

 

That made me stop.

 

Looking back suspiciously, I studied him in silence. He'd offered to sponsor another man without the slightest hesitation, speaking as though he already knew what I preferred. But there was no possible way he could know I was capable of sleeping with men too.

 

"I don't want you."

 

"You didn't say you don't want a sponsor." His smile barely changed. "That means a man isn't the problem, does it?"

 

"..."

 

"And when you said you didn't want me..." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Does that mean there's someone else you do want? Who is it?"

 

I had no reason to answer, so I simply continued walking away.

 

"Tell me," he called lazily after me, "and I'll cut the price of the cigarette in half."

 

I ignored him.

 

Then his voice changed.

 

Cold.

 

Completely devoid of amusement.

 

"Or are you planning to work yourself like an ox for the rest of your life paying back all that money?"

 

He'd claimed one of his secrets was that he never joked.

 

Judging by that tone...

 

He hadn't been joking.

 

For a moment, I couldn't find any words. Who would've imagined I'd end up being threatened over money I no longer even needed to repay? He'd just beaten me senseless, yet what I felt now wasn't anger.

 

It was shock.

 

"Why do you want to know?"

 

"No particular reason."

 

He looked at me indifferently.

 

"Don't worry. I'll keep it a secret."

 

The promise sounded strangely sincere. He might have been a lunatic who tried charging two hundred million won for a discarded cigarette, but he also seemed like the sort of person who never broke his word. It was ridiculous, yet somehow I believed him.

 

Even so, that wasn't enough reason to tell him anything.

 

But if I refused...

 

I had a feeling he'd never stop pestering me.

 

Already exhausted, I finally answered.

 

"Director Yoon."

 

"Director Yoon from this company."

 

For the briefest instant, something flickered across his eyes.

 

Then it disappeared.

 

Remembering Uncle was probably waiting downstairs, I left without another word, sincerely hoping I'd never see this lunatic again.

 

The moment Uncle saw me, his eyes widened.

 

"Bloody hell! What happened to your face?"

 

"...Some lunatic."

 

He somehow caught my quiet mutter.

 

"A lunatic? At this hour? Inside this company?"

 

The young man beside him looked just as shocked.

 

Sensing the interrogation that was about to begin, I cut them off first.

 

"Have you decided whether you're signing me?"

 

"Mmm... Ah..." Uncle scratched his head awkwardly. "It won't be an official contract with me. Think of it as a verbal agreement for now. The company makes the final decision, so you'll need to pass an interview first. Actually..." He sighed. "Before that, if you're seriously considering this, hear me out first."

 

Then he began trying to scare me.

 

"You won't survive in this industry unless you're incredibly resilient. If you want to become successful as quickly as you're planning, you need to prepare yourself for some very brutal treatment."

 

"Only the strongest survive. People fight desperately over even the smallest roles, and they'll do things dirtier than you could ever imagine. Even if you endure everything and somehow win a role, actors are replaced right up until the day before filming all the time. If you're the type who can't handle failure or disappointment, you're better off walking away now."

 

"I understand."

 

"That's not all." His expression grew even more serious. "More than half the time, the people you trust will betray you. And when it comes to the truly filthy side of this industry..." He hesitated before forcing himself to continue. "If you plan on finding a sponsor, you'd better be prepared not to think twice about putting a seventy-year-old man's cock in your mouth. Even knowing that... do you still want to do this?"

 

"Manager."

 

His worried eyes lifted to meet mine.

 

"I'm not that innocent."

 

"And I'm not that good a person."

 

"That's only because you don't know this industry yet."

 

"You only need to help me the way you normally would."

 

"I'll deal with the cruel and filthy parts myself."

 

He stared at me for a long moment before asking quietly,

 

"What exactly did Myeongshin do to you?"

 

I hesitated.

 

He was genuinely worried about me. Perhaps he felt he should stop me before revenge consumed me completely.

 

He was a good person.

 

Which was exactly why he couldn't understand.

 

Opportunities like this didn't come twice.

 

Pushing aside the faint guilt creeping into my chest, I answered calmly.

 

"It was similar to what happened to you."

 

I deliberately made it sound insignificant.

 

"I only intend to make him pay for what he did."

 

Standing up, I pointed towards the clock on the wall.

 

"I'd like to go home and get some sleep."

 

"I've got work in the morning."

 

The two of them immediately stood as well, apologising for keeping me there so late and explaining that they normally never stayed at the office until this hour. If they'd known things would drag on for so long, they would've ordered some late-night food.

 

Which somehow led to another conversation.

 

Apparently boiled pork belly was unbeatable.

 

No...

 

These days McDonald's deserved the crown.

 

Before long, their apology had somehow evolved into yet another endless discussion. I was reaching the limits of both my patience and my stamina when the manager's phone suddenly rang.

 

The silence that followed felt like divine intervention.

 

Taking advantage of the distraction, I quietly slipped outside to wait for the lift.

 

Then I heard his voice behind me.

 

"Team Leader Park? You're calling awfully late. Is something wrong?... Work? At this hour? Good grief... Ah, it's a work-from-home day, so you started in the middle of the night? Even then, how much work could there possibly be?"

 

A pause.

 

"Ah... Director Yoon ordered it? Right... right... You didn't realise there'd be this much work, so you slept during the day?"

 

Another pause.

 

"Are you crying? No... you're definitely crying. Ha ha... Ahem. No, I'm absolutely not laughing."

 

He listened quietly.

 

"What?... Tomorrow?... But..."

 

Another silence.

 

"Director Yoon will be there as well?"

 

"...Understood."

 

He nodded several times before looking over at me with a thoroughly bewildered expression.

 

"I'll bring him tomorrow."

 

At that exact moment, the lift doors slid open with a cheerful chime.

 

I was about to step inside when the manager suddenly grabbed my arm.

 

"Erm..."

 

"What are we going to do?"

 

"They want you to come for your interview tomorrow."

 

Interview...

 

Just what exactly was this interview everyone kept talking about?

It felt as though the day had gone on forever. I'd woken at six that morning and gone to work as usual, with nothing seeming out of the ordinary. Yet somehow, an unbelievable number of things had happened before the day was over. It felt as though everything I'd experienced over the past five years had been compressed into a single day.

 

It was already past two in the morning. The road outside the building lay completely deserted, its black tarmac and white lane markings stretching silently into the distance. Although it was built for traffic, the empty street seemed almost hypnotic, quietly tempting me to step out onto it. Sometimes, when you stood perfectly still, the darkness made it feel as though the whole world had stopped. That strange sense of suspension was every bit as cold as the night air itself.

 

"You must be exhausted."

 

His voice pulled me back to reality. The young man and I were standing outside the building, waiting for the manager to bring the car around.

 

"Not really..."

 

As soon as I answered, I realised it was true. I wasn't tired.

 

I wasn't even sleepy.

 

"You said you work as a delivery driver, didn't you?"

 

I nodded.

 

"Wow... you really don't look like one. There's something so solid and imposing about you. The manager and I even wondered whether you might've been a reformed gangster." He laughed before his smile gradually faded. "Erm... you weren't actually a gangster, were you?"

 

"No."

 

His shoulders visibly relaxed.

 

"I knew you wouldn't—"

 

"But I did something similar."

 

"..."

 

"I was joking."

 

I lied because I was genuinely worried the young man, who had frozen like a plaster statue, might bolt on the spot. His expression immediately brightened.

 

"You really scared me! Ha ha... So you can joke too? I suddenly feel like we've become much closer."

 

Should I tell him I hadn't actually been joking?

 

While I was still considering it, he asked another question.

 

"By the way, how old are you? You seem older than me."

 

"Twenty-five."

 

"I see. I'm twenty. Second year, Film and Theatre." He suddenly smacked his forehead. "Oh! I never even asked your name."

 

Before he could continue, the roar of an engine drowned out his voice.

 

Vroooom!

 

It sounded powerful enough to shake the entire building.

 

A sleek sports car shot out of the underground car park. It definitely wasn't the manager's ageing car. The expensive imported vehicle tore straight past us without slowing, its engine fading into the distance like an echo.

 

Beside me, the young man muttered,

 

"That's Yuhan's car."

 

I watched it disappear before looking back at him.

 

"Yuhan's secretly obsessed with cars. As you can see, he loves collecting more expensive models than the celebrities he copies. He bought that imported car almost immediately after joining this agency." He let out a bitter laugh. "You know what's funny? It cost exactly the same amount of money he swindled from the manager."

 

He clicked his tongue.

 

"The more I think about it... the angrier I get."

 

His eyes remained fixed on the empty road long after the car had vanished.

 

"Who is it?" I asked.

 

"Huh?"

 

"Which celebrity does he copy?"

 

He tilted his head before listing several actors. Even I recognised most of the names, so they had to be major stars.

 

"They're all top actors who dominate leading roles, and every one of them belongs to Dream. Yuhan picks someone to imitate, then builds his entire image around that person. What's interesting is that he doesn't only copy them in dramas. Even when he appears on variety shows or interviews, he mimics the same expressions, mannerisms and tone of voice he's practised from them."

 

He shook his head.

 

"I could never live like that. Imagine acting every second of your life."

 

Then he suddenly remembered something.

 

"Oh, right. We never introduced ourselves." He smiled brightly and held out a hand. "I'm Lee Han Soo."

 

"..."

 

"Erm... your name?"

 

"Lee Yuhan."

 

"Ah, Yuhan..." He blinked before pointing towards the road where the sports car had disappeared. "Wait... then you have the same name as Song Yuhan?"

 

"The exact same name. Well... actually, that Yuhan uses a stage name."

 

He looked even more puzzled.

 

"But didn't you say you knew him already?"

 

I couldn't be bothered explaining.

 

Fortunately, an old car that looked exactly like the manager's pulled up beside us.

 

Screech.

 

The ageing engine rattled as it came to a stop, and the manager leaned out of the driver's window.

 

"All right, everyone. Get in."

 

"Manager!"

 

Han Soo hurried over to the window before turning back to me with a bewildered expression.

 

"Did you already know his name? He says he's Lee Yuhan."

 

"Ah, does he?" The manager forced a smile. "That's... a good name."

 

His face stiffened almost as much as Han Soo's. After studying me for a moment, he cleared his throat.

 

"Well... you can always use a stage name later. Hmm... you're older than Han Soo, aren't you? In that case, Han Soo should probably call you hyung."

 

He was obviously trying to lighten the mood.

 

Han Soo immediately took the hint.

 

"Of course. I can call you hyung, can't I?"

 

"No."

 

"Huh?"

 

"You can't."

 

I opened the rear door.

 

"Don't call me that."

 

Rejecting him without another word, I climbed into the back seat. I could feel both of them staring at me, but I deliberately avoided their eyes.

 

Not long afterwards, the car pulled away in silence. They seemed to have given up trying to make conversation.

 

Closing my eyes, I finally felt sleep rushing over me, as though it had waited until the very end of that impossibly long day before claiming me.

It felt as though the day had stretched on forever. I'd woken at six that morning and gone to work as usual, with nothing seeming out of the ordinary. Yet somehow an unbelievable number of things had happened before the day was over. It felt as though everything I'd experienced during the past five years had been compressed into a single day.

 

The manager explained the interview as we headed towards the basement.

 

"This is a major agency, so huge numbers of people apply to become actors here. Acting academies send us their students' profiles every month, and there are far too many for the directors to meet individually. Managers like me sometimes scout people on the street, but the executives don't have time to meet every applicant or every person we've scouted.

 

"So we hold interviews two or three times a month and see everyone at once. Even then, only the people selected beforehand from their profile photographs are invited. That means you've already passed the first stage. Of course, even applicants who pass the paperwork are rejected in large numbers because the interviews here are extremely particular.

 

"But... Yuhan... ahem. Being invited to an individual interview that wasn't even scheduled is incredible. I don't know exactly how this happened. I did tell the higher-ups that I'd scouted someone, but I never expected them to contact me separately just because of that."

 

He sighed heavily.

 

"This is seriously worrying. Perhaps they trust my judgement and arranged the interview because of that, but it could also be a test for me..."

 

After spending several more minutes voicing every concern that crossed his mind, he eventually finished by begging me to practise beforehand.

 

That was why I'd found myself meeting him again after midnight once I'd finished work. Surprisingly, it hadn't been difficult. I'd slept for barely three hours before starting work that morning, yet I hadn't felt tired or sleepy until every delivery had been completed. Tomorrow's interview probably wasn't what I needed to worry about.

 

What continued to linger in my thoughts instead was the conversation I'd had with the office chief.

 

"You're quitting?"

 

When I answered yes, his first reaction wasn't to stop me.

 

"Agh! You already do the work of two people. Doesn't that mean I'll have to hire two new employees? No, worse than that... just thinking about recruiting and training them..."

 

He sounded far more concerned about whoever replaced me than about convincing me to stay. I found myself asking the obvious question.

 

"Why aren't you trying to stop me?"

 

He fell silent before answering in a way I hadn't expected.

 

"You've always looked like someone who could disappear at any moment. You've never actually said anything, but... how do I put it? You work unbelievably hard. In the three years you've been here, you haven't taken a single day off. You refuse holidays, and you've always handled twice as many deliveries as everyone else. Sometimes you seem desperate for money... but you're different."

 

"How am I different?"

 

He scratched his head.

 

"It's difficult to explain..."

 

Then he finally found the words.

 

"You look like someone who's only trying to survive until a certain day arrives. Once that day comes... I get the feeling you'll simply quit and vanish as though you were never here."

 

...

 

"You look worried. Don't be. If you don't quit, I might end up firing you myself."

 

He laughed before asking,

 

"Is there something else you want to do?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then that's good. Whatever it is... you'll do well."

 

Still smiling, he'd sent me back to work.

 

It wasn't until I met the manager after midnight that I realised why those words still bothered me.

 

Something I wanted to do...

 

I didn't have enough freedom for something like that.

 

Nor was I allowed to.

 

"We always seem to meet at night," the manager said with a smile as he led me down to the basement.

 

Rooms resembling dance studios lined the corridor. Music drifted faintly through the walls, and lights still shone from several rooms despite the late hour. He brought me into one of the studios, where an entire wall was covered with mirrors, then positioned me directly in front of them.

 

"The interview is tomorrow. Expecting you to improve dramatically after only a few hours would be unreasonable, but at the very least we can make sure you don't look stiff."

 

Wanting a clearer explanation, I looked at him.

 

"I've only seen a few interviews myself," he said. "First they'll bombard you with questions. If you answer badly, or someone notices the slightest flaw, they'll ask you to leave immediately. If you get through that stage, they'll ask you to perform whatever special skill you've prepared.

 

"Some people spend months practising a single talent, only to fail before they even get the chance to show it because of the questions beforehand. The directors always say they can judge someone after only a few words."

 

His expression became serious.

 

"There are countless people who want to become actors. Every one of them has worked incredibly hard for this opportunity. So don't ever think becoming an actor will be easy. No matter how talented or lucky you are, never become complacent. Talent without effort eventually disappears."

 

"I know."

 

Looking at my own reflection, I answered quietly,

 

"I'll finish everything before my luck or talent has time to fade."

 

"...Finish everything?"

 

He frowned.

 

"You mean you'll quit after taking your revenge?"

 

"Yes."

 

...

 

"Manager."

 

I met his eyes in the mirror.

 

"I want to make one thing perfectly clear."

 

"My goal is revenge."

 

If he couldn't accept that, he was free to walk away now.

 

He lowered his eyes to his hands, looking troubled.

 

"Mm... I have something I need too."

 

He smiled bitterly.

 

"Like you said before... I still have to pay for my child's private lessons. The truth is, I lost my management position today."

 

I already knew.

 

I simply kept quiet.

 

Perhaps he thought mentioning it might make me uncomfortable because he quickly brushed it aside and patted my arm with a smile.

 

"That just means I can focus completely on managing you now."

 

He brightened again.

 

"Let's work hard together. Who knows? Maybe one day your goal will stop being revenge and become acting instead."

 

Then, almost immediately, he became serious again.

 

"Is there anything you actually want besides acting?"

 

"There isn't."

 

I kept watching my reflection.

 

"But my goal is to become an actor."

 

"I see... Is that because Myeongshin is an actor?"

 

I nodded before changing the subject.

 

"It seems Myeongshin is interested in a new drama."

 

The manager answered immediately.

 

"It's an enormous production. The original novel was a bestseller, and last year's film adaptation was a massive success. If the drama airs, it's practically guaranteed to become popular."

 

"Why are you asking?"

 

"It seems Myeongshin wants the lead role."

 

His expression darkened.

 

"He isn't ready for that role. Most of his previous projects only attracted modest attention, and his image doesn't suit the character either. Though... now that I think about it, I remember him saying he wanted to change his image."

 

He muttered to himself before looking back at me.

 

"But how did you hear about that?"

 

Instead of answering, I asked another question.

 

"It seems he's targeting Director Yoon as a sponsor because of that drama. What's the connection?"

 

"D-Director Yoon?!"

 

His eyes widened so dramatically they almost looked cartoonish.

 

"Myeongshin is targeting Director Yoon from our company?"

 

I nodded.

 

"Yes."

 

"Bloody hell..."

 

He rubbed his forehead.

 

"Even if sponsors are how he climbed this quickly, he should still choose carefully. Director Yoon of all people..."

 

He sighed.

 

"Director Yoon is the sort of person who can destroy anyone who makes a mistake, no matter how famous they are."

 

Even after everything that had happened, he still sounded genuinely worried about Myeongshin.

 

"There are several reasons he'd choose Director Yoon," the manager continued. "He's one of Dream Entertainment's executives and has the president's complete trust. He's practically untouchable. If you're under Director Yoon's protection, the company throws everything it has behind you.

 

"Dream is one of the few agencies powerful enough to pressure television stations. There are even rumours they influence drama scheduling. That's why so many rookies target Director Yoon first.

 

"But he isn't easy to deal with."

 

He shook his head again.

 

"I've also heard he's incredibly capable. When he owned an investment company in America, he made enormous profits producing films. Apparently he has exceptional instincts for the entertainment industry.

 

"After he came here, he completely restructured the actors. The first month was brutal. Actors who'd relied on sponsors for years disappeared one after another. Once this company stops promoting someone... their career is over.

 

"But that's probably why Myeongshin wants him. Especially because of the rights."

 

"The rights?"

 

"Our company owns the drama. It's already been decided that Dream Entertainment will provide the lead roles and most of the important supporting cast. The project is still being prepared, but filming could begin this year."

 

He paused before looking at me carefully.

 

"If you're planning to compete with Myeongshin for the same role as part of your revenge, I'll listen. But if you're thinking of making Director Yoon your sponsor..."

 

He shook his head firmly.

 

"I'll oppose it with everything I've got."

 

"I don't intend to have a sponsor."

 

I paused.

 

"Even if I eventually need one."

 

He frowned, clearly not understanding, but chose not to ask.

 

"So... what do I need to do now?"

 

Only then did he seem to remember why we'd come here.

 

Turning me back towards the mirror, he said,

 

"We'll practise the interview for a while. I'll ask questions, and while you answer, watch yourself carefully. Pay attention to every change in your expression."

 

He smiled.

 

"You should at least know what your own face looks like, shouldn't you?"

 

Following his instructions, I looked into the mirror.

 

For the first time in years...

 

I truly looked at my own face. 

His face staring back at me in the mirror was slightly gaunt and completely expressionless. My lip was swollen, with a scab already forming over the split. It felt less like I was looking at myself and more like I was studying the face of a complete stranger.

 

"If we'd had more time, it would've been good to prepare some kind of special talent for the interview," the manager said. "But since it's today, let's keep things simple. Try not to panic when they question you, and practise two or three easy scripts."

 

By scripts...

 

Did he mean acting?

 

When I looked at him questioningly, he shrugged.

 

"Of course, you're probably worried because you've never acted before. But it's all right. If you can't remember the lines, just be yourself. Still, it's better to prepare something beforehand, isn't it? Though right now, even saying a few lines properly might be difficult..."

 

"I've acted opposite someone before."

 

"Hm?"

 

Realising how that sounded, I corrected myself.

 

"I've read scripts before."

 

He blinked in surprise, clearly unsure what he'd just heard.

 

I'd never imagined those days with Myeongshin would prove useful. Why would I? He'd been the one dreaming of becoming an actor. I'd simply sat beside him, reading the other character's lines with a bored expression.

 

At first we recited the script like students memorising a textbook. But as his acting lessons progressed and his confidence grew, he became increasingly dissatisfied with my flat delivery.

 

"Oi, read it more naturally. When I'm acting, you need to react properly and immerse yourself too. You're supposed to be the other person in the scene."

 

Then he'd laugh.

 

"What? You're embarrassed? Ha! Coming from someone who claims he has no shame, that's hilarious. So there really are things you can't do."

 

His constant teasing annoyed me enough that I deliberately started overacting just to irritate him.

 

Strangely...

 

The more emotion I put into my lines, the more excited Myeongshin became, and the better his own acting grew. What had begun as an irritating chore gradually turned into part of our nightly routine. We'd drink together, laugh our way through rehearsals, and before long it had become little more than a game between us.

 

That was all a long time ago now.

 

Just another faint memory.

 

Still, it was enough to get me through the few pages of script the manager handed over.

 

At the very least...

 

I wasn't nervous.

 

Leaving the manager standing there in stunned silence, I skipped going home altogether and headed straight to an internet café. After opening the files he'd sent me, I put on a pair of headphones. He'd mentioned having recordings of every actor he'd managed, so I'd asked him to send them over.

 

Soon, a man appeared on the screen, whispering affectionate lines with a gentle smile. I picked one scene that lasted about a minute and watched it over and over again without stopping.

 

By dawn...

 

I'd watched it so many times that it almost felt as though I'd become the character myself.

 

Despite not having work that morning, I still woke at my usual time. I'd only delivered parcels to Dream Entertainment a handful of times before, yet the building already felt strangely familiar.

 

The manager wasn't waiting alone.

 

Han Soo was beside him.

 

The moment he spotted me, he hurried over and thrust something into my hands with an expression every bit as serious as the manager's.

 

"Here. Drink this."

 

"I thought you might need it, so I skipped my classes to buy it."

 

Looking down, I found an anti-anxiety drink.

 

I had absolutely no idea why he thought I'd need one.

 

The manager wasn't much better.

 

"I wasn't sure what religion you follow, so I brought one of everything."

 

As he spoke, he proudly produced a wooden cross, a Catholic rosary and a string of Buddhist prayer beads.

 

I looked from one item to the next before quietly replying,

 

"I don't need any props."

 

Perhaps I should've warned them beforehand.

 

Seeing Han Soo had actually skipped university for this made me feel slightly guilty.

 

Silently, I slipped the only props I actually needed into my back pocket instead.

 

The two of them froze.

 

"Huh?"

 

After several seconds, the manager let out a strange noise.

 

Han Soo cautiously asked,

 

"Are you... a psychopath?"

 

What exactly was that supposed to mean?

 

I stared at him blankly, genuinely confused.

 

The manager finally recovered first.

 

"What are you saying?" he laughed awkwardly. "He was only joking because you don't look nervous at all."

 

...

 

So it was an insult.

 

I fixed Han Soo with a long stare.

 

The instant our eyes met, he flinched so violently that his shoulders shook.

 

"S-Sorry."

 

I narrowed my eyes, wondering whether that was some American insult I'd never heard before, when the manager suddenly exclaimed,

 

"Ah!"

 

Hurriedly pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, he unfolded it to reveal well over a hundred neatly written names.

 

"I've thought of some stage names."

 

He pointed proudly at the first one.

 

"To begin with... Lee Taemin..."

 

"Yes."

 

I nodded immediately.

 

"That one."

 

"Hm?"

 

"I'll use Lee Taemin."

 

An expression of complete despair spread across the manager's face.

 

Honestly...

 

A stage name meant nothing to me.

 

"We should probably go."

 

Fortunately, those words brought him back to reality.

 

Straightening his shoulders, he dramatically placed one hand over his chest before downing the anti-anxiety drink in a single gulp.

 

"All right!"

 

"Let's go!"

 

Creak.

 

The door opened quietly behind us.

 

Leaving Han Soo and the manager's collection of lucky charms outside, I followed him into the interview room.

 

Two men were already seated behind a long table.

 

One looked to be in his mid-to-late forties, dressed casually.

 

The other appeared to be in his early thirties, broad-shouldered and wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

 

The older man greeted the manager warmly, as though they'd known each other for years. The younger one merely shook his hand with obvious reluctance, his stern expression looking permanently fixed in place.

 

The room itself was much larger than I'd expected.

 

Behind the interviewers stood another door and a large observation window identical to those I'd seen in police interrogation rooms countless times on television.

 

Surely...

 

There wasn't actually someone watching from behind it.

 

While my eyes wandered around the room, the manager stepped back after exchanging greetings.

 

The older interviewer pointed towards a mark on the floor.

 

"Please stand over there."

 

As soon as I did, he switched on the camera sitting on the table.

 

"Look into the camera and introduce yourself."

 

"My name is Lee Taemin."

 

"I'm twenty-five years old."

 

"That's all?"

 

He looked up from the camera.

 

When I simply nodded, he murmured thoughtfully before glancing at the younger interviewer beside him.

 

The younger man, who looked strangely exhausted, studied me for a moment before briefly glancing towards the observation window behind him.

 

Then he spoke.

 

"Mr Lee Taemin."

 

"What happened to your face?"

 

Before I even realised he was referring to my split lip, his sharp voice continued.

 

"To us, you're a product."

 

"If the product we're buying already has defects..."

 

"Who would want it?"

 

The manager immediately hurried forward.

 

"Ah, Team Leader Park, erm... that injury..."

 

So...

 

This was Team Leader Park.

 

The man who'd apparently burst into tears because of his boss.

 

As I remembered the conversation I'd overheard the night before, his commanding voice interrupted my thoughts. 

"Manager Choi, step back."

 

"Mr Lee Taemin, do you have anything to say? If you were buying fruit, would you choose one that's already been eaten by worms?"

 

"No."

 

He stared at me for a moment before casually waving his hand.

 

"Good. Then you may leave."

 

...

 

"Didn't you understand? The interview is over. You may go."

 

Instead of moving, I glanced at the manager. His face had gone deathly pale, and he looked ready to rush over at any second. Quietly, I stopped him with one hand.

 

So...

 

I really was going to use the prop I'd brought.

 

Taking a single step forward, I remembered the manager's advice.

 

If you can't remember the lines...

 

Just be yourself.

 

"No."

 

"What?"

 

I looked calmly at Team Leader Park, whose eyes widened slightly in surprise.

 

Then, without taking my eyes off him, I slowly reached into my back pocket.

 

"What, are you deaf?"

 

"I said no."

 

Fwish.

 

Click.

 

A sharp whisper of air brushed across my fingertips.

 

The sound itself wasn't loud.

 

But in the silence that had suddenly swallowed the room, every pair of eyes snapped towards me.

 

Click.

 

The folded silver blade sprang open.

 

I knew exactly how striking it looked—that flash of polished steel accompanied by the crisp mechanical snap.

 

A balisong.

 

A butterfly knife.

 

Back then, there hadn't been a better way to intimidate someone than casually flipping one open.

 

It had always worked.

 

The honour students in their spotless school uniforms had frozen the instant they saw me twirl it before hurriedly handing over their wallets.

 

Now, although the man standing before me wore an expensive tailored suit instead of a school uniform...

 

The fear in his eyes was exactly the same.

 

"Good grief..." His voice immediately lost its confidence. "You... you actually brought a knife..."

 

He instinctively leaned back as I continued walking towards him.

 

"M-Mr Lee Taemin..."

 

"Annoying, isn't it?"

 

Fwish.

 

Click.

 

I waited until the sound of the blade had completely captured his attention before speaking again.

 

"To be honest, I didn't even want to come. But that old man kept nagging me about this interview, so I came because he wouldn't leave me alone."

 

I stopped directly in front of him.

 

"And after making time to be here..."

 

I looked him straight in the eye.

 

"...you ask nothing except my name before telling me to leave?"

 

"Well... that's..."

 

THUNK!

 

The knife buried itself in the tabletop.

 

The heavy impact shook the entire desk.

 

"Ghk!"

 

A strangled gasp escaped Team Leader Park.

 

"So tell me."

 

Leaning forward until only a few centimetres separated our faces, I asked quietly,

 

"How am I supposed not to be annoyed?"

 

Cornered, Team Leader Park shoved his chair backwards.

 

"N-Now then... are you threatening me? Even so, I can't simply pass your interview because—"

 

"To hell with the interview."

 

I grabbed the front of his shirt.

 

"I already told you."

 

His collar tightened around his throat.

 

"I'm annoyed."

 

He coughed violently as I deliberately pulled harder, making it feel as though I were strangling him.

 

"And this..."

 

I lowered my voice until only he could hear.

 

"...is what a real threat sounds like."

 

Behind me, I heard the manager shouting my name as he rushed forward. I also noticed the camera beside us being moved.

 

I never took my eyes off Team Leader Park.

 

Leaning even closer, I whispered,

 

"Is your wife pretty?"

 

My free hand slowly traced a fingernail down his cheek.

 

His eyes couldn't possibly widen any further.

 

"If she is..."

 

I paused.

 

"...tell her not to answer the door."

 

"...?"

 

"When deliveries arrive."

 

A quiet chuckle escaped my lips.

 

His entire body froze.

 

"W-What... do you mean...?"

 

The words barely came out.

 

Stepping back, I smiled faintly.

 

"Don't you know?"

 

"I'm a delivery driver."

 

His face turned completely white.

 

Someone suddenly grabbed my arm.

 

At the same moment, the table screeched violently across the floor.

 

"Ta-Taemin!"

 

"What are you doing?!"

 

The manager rushed over and pulled me away. The moment I let go, Team Leader Park collapsed back into his chair, staring blankly at the knife embedded in the desk.

 

Only then did he seem to come back to himself.

 

Slowly...

 

He raised his head.

 

The look he gave me was pure terror.

 

"Y-You..."

 

"I don't know what you're trying to achieve..."

 

"But if you lay a finger on my wife..."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

I lowered my head.

 

The sudden apology silenced the room.

 

Team Leader Park stared at me in disbelief.

 

So did the manager, who still gripped both my arms as though ready to drag me away at any moment.

 

Keeping my eyes lowered, I deliberately softened my voice, making myself sound timid... frightened...

 

The lines I'd spent the entire night replaying in my head slipped naturally from my lips as I reconstructed the scene where Myeongshin had begged for forgiveness.

 

"I'm... truly sorry."

 

"Sometimes I don't realise what I'm doing."

 

"Ah... and then I suddenly lose my temper and start shouting, even though that isn't what I'm normally like."

 

"When I finally come to my senses..."

 

"...everyone standing in front of me looks terrified."

 

"I-I want to tell them I didn't mean it."

 

"But they misunderstand."

 

"They think the angry person shouting those cruel things is who I really am."

 

"B-But..."

 

"That isn't the real me."

 

"When I became angry with you..."

 

"I lost control for a moment."

 

"So..."

 

"That wasn't truly who I am."

 

My quiet voice echoed through the room. 

Of course, refusing to raise my head wasn't part of the performance.

 

I was simply afraid that if our eyes met, they'd realise I was doing nothing more than reciting lines I'd memorised.

 

Fortunately, the abrupt change in atmosphere had shocked them so badly that only now did they seem to realise I had been acting. If they'd been watching critically from the very beginning, judging every movement, my clumsy performance would've ended as nothing more than a joke.

 

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

 

"So please..."

 

"...don't look at me like that."

 

After delivering the final line, I slowly raised my head.

 

The older interviewer still looked dazed.

 

Team Leader Park remained frozen, every muscle in his body tense.

 

Then, beside me, I heard the manager mutter,

 

"Last week's Wednesday–Thursday drama..."

 

"Song Yuhan's apology scene."

 

I turned to look at him.

 

He stared back silently, a complicated expression filling his eyes. Then he gently pulled me back by the arm before looking at Team Leader Park.

 

"You didn't recognise it?"

 

Only then did Team Leader Park slowly nod.

 

"Ah..."

 

"That scene."

 

His shoulders were still rigid, but once he finally understood what had happened, he awkwardly cleared his throat.

 

"Ahem..."

 

"Ah... so that was..."

 

"...acting."

 

Without replying, I stepped forward.

 

Team Leader Park's broad shoulders jerked violently.

 

Ignoring his reaction, I calmly pulled the knife from the tabletop before returning to my original position.

 

"I apologise if I startled you."

 

The moment I spoke politely, Team Leader Park quickly looked away and forced out an awkward laugh.

 

"Ha ha... Well, I wasn't that startled."

 

His eyes, however, were glistening with tears.

 

"But you really should've warned us before performing something like that..."

 

His voice rose slightly. Now that he'd recovered from the shock, he finally seemed to remember he was supposed to be offended.

 

At that moment, his phone rang.

 

Glancing at the screen, surprise flickered across his face.

 

He instinctively looked towards the observation window behind him before cautiously answering.

 

"...Yes."

 

"Yes."

 

"What?"

 

His respectful tone made it obvious the caller outranked him.

 

As he listened, his eyes drifted towards me.

 

"I was thinking the same thing, but..."

 

He studied me so intently that I couldn't help wondering whether they were discussing me.

 

After another pause, he gave a small nod.

 

"So... we should do that and watch him for now?"

 

Ending the call, he sat staring thoughtfully at the table for several moments before finally speaking.

 

"Manager Choi."

 

The manager hurried forward.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Let him try for one month."

 

I had no idea what he meant by "one month", but the look of shock on the manager's face suggested it certainly wasn't bad news.

 

Team Leader Park continued before either of us could ask.

 

"Manager Choi will explain the details later, but we'll offer you a one-month contract. Your performance today was impressive enough to influence our decision. However, if you show no improvement during that month, the contract won't be renewed."

 

I should've answered.

 

Instead...

 

I simply stood there.

 

Had that really worked?

 

While I was still trying to process everything, Team Leader Park glanced at the camera monitor beside him and continued almost absent-mindedly.

 

"You actually look better on camera than you do in person."

 

"Hmm..."

 

"With a little grooming..."

 

"...you could look quite good."

 

After muttering to himself, he looked back at the manager and me, who were both still standing exactly where we'd been.

 

"You may leave now."

 

Then his eyes drifted uneasily towards the butterfly knife still resting in my hand.

 

He quietly cleared his throat.

 

"And..."

 

"Please put the knife away." 

His words finally brought me back to my senses.

 

I folded the blade shut and slipped it back into my rear pocket.

 

It was the first time I'd held that knife since my teenage years.

 

When I'd first run away from home with nothing but the clothes on my back, I'd moved into a tiny rented room carrying only a few changes of clothes. Sometime later, I'd found the knife hidden among them. Back then, I'd thought it looked incredibly cool. Like a child fascinated by a new toy, I'd spent hours twirling it through my fingers before eventually using it to extort money from kids my own age.

 

After I started working for the loan company, I switched to carrying heavier knives instead and eventually forgot this one even existed. It only resurfaced after I left, tucked away inside the pocket of an old winter coat I'd taken with me. I hadn't thrown it away simply because I'd been too busy to bother. I'd never imagined I'd have any reason to use it again, so I'd tossed it into my bag without another thought.

 

Then...

 

Just before leaving for today's interview, I'd remembered it.

 

It was the only thing I still owned that proved who I'd once been.

 

And somehow...

 

I'd ended up using it after all.

 

"If the apology was copied from a drama," Team Leader Park asked with genuine curiosity, "where did the knife performance come from?"

 

He tilted his head.

 

"Did you deliberately practise those knife tricks?"

 

I was about to answer no when the manager suddenly grabbed my arm and stepped forward.

 

"Of course!" he replied before I could open my mouth. "He practised incredibly hard. Isn't that right, Taemin?"

 

...

 

"Ha ha... Y-Yes, exactly."

 

Despite the fact I hadn't said a single word, the manager answered as though I'd agreed with him.

 

Team Leader Park smiled in satisfaction.

 

"I thought so."

 

He nodded to himself.

 

"Your knife handling looked extremely realistic as well."

 

Then he paused.

 

"Ah..."

 

"In that case, I suppose that part was a lie too."

 

The manager and I both looked at him questioningly.

 

He referred back to something I'd said earlier.

 

"The part about being a delivery driver."

 

"That wasn't true either... was it?"

 

"It was."

 

...

 

"I work as a delivery driver."

 

The colour drained from Team Leader Park's face until it resembled fresh plaster.

 

He still looked unconvinced.

 

I was just about to repeat myself when the manager abruptly grabbed my arm and hurried me out of the room.

 

Just before the door closed behind us, I caught one last glimpse of Team Leader Park frantically fumbling with his phone, his hands trembling as he dialled.

 

Then his panicked voice followed us into the corridor.

 

"Darling!"

 

"Don't accept any deliveries!" 

A one-month contract lay in front of me, waiting for my signature.

 

I wasn't particularly excited.

 

If anything, I was more irritated by the endless pages of tiny print than pleased about the contract itself. Most of it was nothing more than a list of things I wasn't allowed to do.

 

Perhaps I should've been impressed with myself. I'd walked into an acting interview completely unprepared and somehow passed on the spot.

 

But I knew nothing about this industry.

 

It didn't feel especially remarkable.

 

The manager and Han Soo, however, were practically beside themselves with excitement.

 

"Wow! Even the top students from acting academies struggle to pass that interview, and you were offered a contract straight away? That's incredible!"

 

"Ha ha! I was shocked too. M-My heart's still pounding. When Team Leader Park first told you to leave, I thought it was all over. But Taemin..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never imagined you'd prepared something like that!"

 

"Damn it, I should've been allowed inside!" Han Soo complained. "Manager, what happened?"

 

"Ah, well..." The manager immediately stood up, clearly preparing to act everything out. "It started with a bang. Taemin suddenly pulled out a knife..."

 

He looked as though he intended to spend the next several hours reenacting the entire interview.

 

Quietly, I stood up.

 

His performance stopped halfway through.

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"To the toilet."

 

I was about to leave when he suddenly called after me.

 

"You did well today."

 

For a moment I almost turned back to tell him it was nothing.

 

But something in his eyes stopped me.

 

It was praise...

 

Yet there was also something complicated hidden behind it.

 

The same expression he'd worn when he'd realised I was acting in front of Team Leader Park.

 

"When you pulled out the knife and started speaking..." he said quietly, "you were genuinely convincing."

 

"Even I was startled."

 

So...

 

The problem must've been the apology afterwards.

 

But before I could think any further, he smiled again.

 

"The second half was good too."

 

...

 

"For a first attempt, your imitation was excellent."

 

Imitation?

 

I looked at him silently.

 

His expression became more serious.

 

"It was your first time, so I'll overlook it."

 

"But acting isn't about copying someone else perfectly."

 

...

 

"If that's all you intend to do..."

 

"...even I won't be able to manage you."

 

I studied the stubborn determination in his eyes before finally replying.

 

Right.

 

Indirect hints didn't work with this man.

 

That suited me perfectly.

 

I had no intention of speaking indirectly either.

 

"I don't intend to follow Myeongshin's path."

 

Meeting his eyes, I added,

 

"I'll work hard."

 

The warmth immediately returned to his expression.

 

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear!" He burst into laughter. "Wah-ha-ha! We should celebrate! Why don't we go for something to eat?"

 

The atmosphere changed instantly.

 

Within seconds, he and Han Soo were enthusiastically debating restaurants, searching through endless recommendations as though they intended to eat every famous dish in the city.

 

After twenty minutes of listening to them argue over food, I quietly slipped out into the empty room next door.

 

Several small meeting-room-like offices lined the third floor. They were probably used whenever actors and managers needed somewhere private to talk.

 

Leaning against the open doorway, I stared absent-mindedly into the empty room.

 

I wasn't thinking about anything.

 

I was simply waiting for those two to finish arguing about restaurants and tell me it was finally time to leave.

 

With the door half open, I'd hear them the moment either of them stepped into the corridor.

 

Instead...

 

I heard someone else's voice.

 

"What is this? Why are the two of you still here?"

 

It was Myeongshin.

 

Han Soo stepped into the corridor to face him.

 

"Because we're supposed to be here."

 

"What does it have to do with you?"

 

Peering quietly through the doorway, I saw Myeongshin standing with his back to me while Han Soo faced him from the opposite side of the corridor.

 

"You still haven't been kicked out?"

 

"You can't even stand in front of a camera because of that pathetic camera phobia, yet you're still clinging to this place?"

 

The manager hurried out as well, his face tightening.

 

"Yuhan, why would you say something like that? Han Soo—"

 

"You're no different."

 

Myeongshin didn't even look at him.

 

"Now that you've been separated from me, you don't even have an actor to manage."

 

"So why are you still clinging to this company?"

 

"How pathetic."

 

Han Soo's face flushed bright red.

 

"We're the ones who should be calling you pathetic!"

 

"Why are you like this?"

 

He took another angry step forward.

 

"Seriously, do you honestly think the manager has no one to look after just because he doesn't have you anymore?"

 

"He found someone new today."

 

"That person passed the interview and signed a contract immediately."

 

Was he talking about me?

 

I listened quietly.

 

Then Han Soo proudly declared,

 

"His acting was so incredible Team Leader Park actually cried during the interview!"

 

"He's an acting god."

 

"A genuine acting god!"

 

So...

 

He really was talking about me.

 

"If the company starts supporting him now, he'll become such an elite actor that you won't even be worth comparing."

 

"So stop interfering in our lives."

 

"Understood?"

 

Lifting his chin triumphantly, Han Soo grabbed the stunned manager by the arm and dragged him back inside.

 

Bang!

 

The door slammed shut.

 

But Myeongshin remained standing there, staring silently at it.

 

I could only see half his face, yet even that was enough to tell he was irritated.

 

I couldn't help scoffing.

 

He really hadn't changed.

 

Myeongshin had always been like this. He could never let things go. Other people might ignore something insignificant, but he'd obsess over it until he became anxious enough to create problems for himself.

 

His appearance had become more masculine.

 

He'd become a famous actor who drove an expensive imported sports car.

 

But inside...

 

He was still exactly the same Myeongshin.

 

Just like now.

 

He'd run into the manager and fellow actor whose careers he'd ruined.

 

He could've ignored them.

 

Instead...

 

He'd picked a fight.

 

After standing there for another moment, he hurried away with his phone already in his hand.

 

I quietly stepped out and followed him.

 

He entered an empty lift, which travelled to the top floor.

 

Once I was certain, I took another lift upstairs before heading straight towards the rooftop.

 

I'd heard the company directors' offices were also on the top floor, but those required a security pass.

 

I doubted Myeongshin had gone there.

 

That left only one destination.

 

The rooftop.

 

Climbing the familiar staircase I'd used two nights earlier, I carefully peered through the partially open door before following the sound of his voice.

 

Hiding behind a tree, I listened.

 

He sounded furious.

 

"...Of course it's irritating! How was I supposed to know those people would deliberately come back to the place where I work just to curse me behind my back?"

 

"Those pathetic bastards cling like leeches."

 

"It's suffocating."

 

"I know."

 

"Just look into it."

 

"Apparently he passed an interview today..."

 

"Yes, that's right."

 

"Just find out his schedule."

 

"I'll deal with the rest myself."

 

"What?"

 

He laughed.

 

"What am I going to do?"

 

"I'll crush him while he's still a tiny sprout."

 

"I'll make him understand that anyone who works with Manager Choi goes down together."

 

I already knew he was talking about me.

 

Oddly enough...

 

Instead of worrying...

 

I found it amusing.

 

I'd managed to catch his attention before I'd even done anything.

 

Of course...

 

He still had no idea who I really was.

 

That made it even more entertaining.

 

If everything ended too easily, there'd be no fun in it.

 

I was silently thanking him for making things more interesting when he suddenly spun around.

 

"Who's there?!"

 

His sharp voice echoed across the rooftop.

 

Rustle.

 

Instinctively, I crouched behind the tree until I was practically lying on the ground.

 

Holding my breath, I listened.

 

I couldn't let him discover me.

 

Not yet.

 

There was still too much I needed to prepare.

 

Right now...

 

I was nothing more than a rookie actor who'd barely stepped into this world.

 

No matter how badly I wanted revenge...

 

The truth was I was still just a penniless delivery driver.

 

If I revealed myself now to a famous actor driving a sports car worth hundreds of millions of won...

 

I'd only look ridiculous.

 

So I stayed hidden.

 

Step.

 

Step.

 

Footsteps drew closer.

 

I desperately searched for somewhere else to hide, but there was nowhere to go.

 

The exit lay on the opposite side.

 

"I asked who's there."

 

His voice came closer.

 

"You're hiding over there, aren't you?"

 

What should I do?

 

If I had to face him—

 

"Who's hiding?"

 

My entire body froze.

 

Someone else?

 

I looked towards the voice.

 

Myeongshin stood only a short distance from my tree while a tall man approached from the opposite direction.

 

I couldn't see the newcomer's face.

 

But I could clearly see Myeongshin's.

 

At the very least...

 

He looked even more shocked than I was.

 

He actually stopped breathing.

 

Then, to my complete surprise—

 

"Gasp!"

 

"I-I'm sorry."

 

The moment he recognised the other man...

 

Myeongshin apologised.

 

He hurried towards him with the expression of someone who'd made a terrible mistake.

 

"I heard a noise and thought someone was secretly listening to my call. I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was—"

 

"What kind of place do you think this is?"

 

The gentle voice interrupted him.

 

Soft.

 

Polite.

 

Unmistakably familiar.

 

Without thinking, I poked my head out from behind the tree.

 

"This isn't your private property."

 

"No, I mean..."

 

"And your conversation wasn't interesting enough for anyone to bother eavesdropping on."

 

So...

 

He had been listening.

 

He admitted it without the slightest embarrassment before casually adding,

 

"It was only some tedious nonsense about crushing a rookie, wasn't it?"

 

His voice remained warm and almost admiring.

 

His words did not.

 

Myeongshin's face had already stiffened.

 

I bit back a smile before finally getting a proper look at the newcomer.

 

In daylight...

 

His face looked softer whenever he smiled.

 

It was the lunatic I'd met two nights ago.

 

His eyes curved pleasantly as he produced a cigarette.

 

"I'd like to smoke alone."

 

Myeongshin finally seemed to recover.

 

"Erm... I think you misunderstood what I was saying earlier. I was only teasing someone I know."

 

He smiled as though he'd never been nervous.

 

"Surely you didn't actually hear everything?"

 

"Cigarette."

 

"Pardon? Ah... you want to smoke alone."

 

Stepping back helplessly, Myeongshin forced another smile.

 

"Let me join you next time."

 

He even fluttered his eyelashes.

 

The other man's eyes curved once more.

 

"No."

 

...

 

"You really have no sense at all."

 

"Why are you still standing here?"

 

With a single sentence, he wiped the smile from Myeongshin's face before casually pointing the cigarette towards the door.

 

Although he clearly didn't want to leave, Myeongshin still offered a final farewell before disappearing down the stairs.

 

His footsteps gradually faded.

 

Even then...

 

I couldn't immediately stand up.

 

Myeongshin was gone.

 

Unfortunately...

 

The person I wanted to avoid even more was still here.

 

Even someone like me had no desire whatsoever to get involved with this lunatic a second time.

 

Sadly...

 

I didn't get that choice.

 

"Oi."

 

"Two Hundred Won."

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Why aren't you coming out?"

 

Damn it.

 

Cursing inwardly, I slowly stood.

 

The cigarette already rested between his lips.

 

Under the brighter daylight, his smile somehow looked even more unsettling.

 

So this was the face he used whenever he deliberately provoked people.

 

What surprised me more, however, was Myeongshin's behaviour.

 

For someone like him to shrink back...

 

Did this man hold even more power?

 

Now that I was seeing him properly for the second time, his face did seem strangely familiar.

 

"Song Yuhan?"

 

He tilted his head.

 

"Is that the person you want revenge on?"

 

Unfortunately...

 

It wasn't only his face that felt familiar now.

 

His painfully direct way of speaking did too.

 

"I asked whether it was Song Yuhan."

 

"Two Hundred Won."

 

Being called Two Hundred Won irritated me even more than the fact he already knew Myeongshin was my target.

 

That gentle smile only made it worse.

 

A curse beginning with bastard almost escaped my mouth automatically.

 

Too ordinary.

 

I wanted something stronger.

 

Then I remembered what Han Soo had called him earlier.

 

"You don't need to know, you psychopath."

 

Psycho had clearly been the insult.

 

Path must've made it even stronger.

 

Judging by his reaction...

 

It had worked.

 

His eyes narrowed...

 

Just for a second.

 

Then they returned to normal.

 

"I've been called that before."

 

How could anyone calmly admit to being called a psychopath?

 

I frowned.

 

He was even stranger than I'd thought.

 

"Song Yuhan?"

 

...

 

"Is that why you followed him up here?"

 

"How do you know that?"

 

"Because I followed you."

 

He answered shamelessly around the cigarette before tilting his head again.

 

"I heard you passed the interview."

 

"The whole company is talking about how you held a knife to Team Leader Park and made him cry."

 

His crescent-shaped eyes drifted towards the knife hidden in my back pocket.

 

I had no idea how he'd known it was there.

 

"I also heard you surprised everyone by behaving like the thug you used to be..."

 

"...then acted worse than a four-year-old."

 

"You recovered the situation well enough."

 

"But if Team Leader Park weren't such a coward..."

 

"...someone like you wouldn't have stood a chance."

 

His gentle voice sliced into me like a blade.

 

He was still smiling.

 

Only his eyes remained completely cold.

 

"That's right."

 

I answered slowly.

 

"Someone like me doesn't stand a chance."

 

For a fleeting instant...

 

His smile almost disappeared.

 

Then habit pulled it back into place.

 

"You don't have a particularly memorable face."

 

"You have no talent for acting."

 

"And yet..."

 

"You still intend to take revenge?"

 

"It has nothing to do with you."

 

He ignored my irritation entirely.

 

Instead, amusement coloured his voice.

 

"If you're planning to climb to Song Yuhan's level with ability like yours, you'll spend decades struggling unless someone powerful pushes you forward."

 

"Ah..."

 

"But you said you were targeting Director Yoon."

 

His gaze travelled slowly from my feet to my face.

 

"Someone like you?"

 

Something inside me stirred angrily.

 

Perhaps because he wasn't mocking me.

 

He was simply stating facts.

 

"I know exactly where I stand."

 

"Mm."

 

"Exactly."

 

He inhaled until the cigarette tip glowed bright red before releasing a slow stream of white smoke.

 

"You seem like someone who understands that not everything is possible."

 

"You don't strike me as someone who gets carried away."

 

"You're painfully realistic."

 

"And yet..."

 

"You've chosen something as absurd as becoming an actor simply to take revenge."

 

"Isn't that interesting?"

 

No.

 

It wasn't interesting at all.

 

The reason I instinctively wanted to avoid him wasn't simply because his words dug into people's wounds.

 

Perhaps...

 

My instincts recognised something far more dangerous.

 

Maybe it was the unsettling contrast between his smiling face and his ice-cold words.

 

Or perhaps...

 

It was the way he effortlessly dragged into the open the things I'd buried deep inside myself...

 

...while never once stopping that gentle smile.

 

"You..."

 

His lips curved again.

 

"Actually..."

 

I narrowed my eyes.

 

"Actually what?"

 

He held my gaze.

 

Then quietly asked,

 

"Aren't you using revenge as nothing more than a bridge..."

 

"...to reach the real goal you've been hiding even from yourself?"

 

For a moment...

 

I couldn't answer.

 

His expression never changed.

 

But the cruel amusement hidden behind those smiling eyes told me he'd noticed exactly how shaken I was.

 

Still watching me, he murmured,

 

"Ah..."

 

"You really are interesting."