PAYBACK BOOK 1.
Chapter 3.
Click.
Damn it... I really messed up.
That was the only thought running through my head as I came down from the rooftop. How had I managed to run into someone as dangerous as him? Then again, calling it bad luck would just be making excuses. It was my own fault for asking him for a cigarette the first time we met.
What a disaster. Were there really people who could see straight through someone else as though they possessed some kind of sixth sense? Anyone who made an enemy of someone like that would spend the rest of their life looking over their shoulder.
“If you're going to stay in this company, you'll be seeing me quite often.”
“And you're interesting enough that I feel like interfering in every single thing you try to do.”
“So think carefully about what you're willing to offer me.”
I couldn't believe I was being threatened by a man whose name I didn't even know. I wanted to ignore the phone number he'd so kindly given me—along with the one-week deadline—but I couldn't shake the image of the way Myeongshin had reacted to him. Just how much influence did that man have within the company?
“Taemin.”
I looked up as someone shook my shoulder. The manager and Han-soo were both staring at me.
“What's wrong?” the manager asked. “Ever since you came back, you've looked awfully serious.”
“Manager.”
“Hm?”
“There's an actor in the company... probably around thirty years old. He's always smiling...”
I trailed off before shaking my head.
“Never mind. Weren't you about to ask me something?”
Even if I learned his name now, what difference would it make? I'd already made a mistake.
“Oh, right.” The manager clapped his hands together. “Do you think you'll have time next week to take your profile photos? We wanted to do them immediately, but it's better to wait until the injuries on your face have healed.”
“They're only profile pictures, but Team Leader Park said they'll play a big part in deciding what kind of work you'll get in the future. So let's make sure we get some good shots.”
“And don't worry—the photographer we're using is one of the best. The studio works exclusively with our company, and everyone says they make people look amazing.”
“So try not to be nervous, okay?”
I wasn't nervous at all.
“Oh, and I also need to write up your profile.” The manager hesitated. “Things like your education... or... any notable experiences from your past...”
His voice gradually became quieter as his eyes drifted towards the knife clipped to the back of my waistband.
“Ahem... I'm only asking just in case.”
“Taemin... you've never... done anything... illegal before, have you?”
“No need to worry.”
“I don't have a criminal record.”
“Haha... I knew it.”
“I have been taken to the police station before, though.”
The manager's smile froze instantly.
Confused by his reaction, I tilted my head.
“Have neither of you ever been arrested before?”
Silence.
Neither of them answered.
After an awkward pause, Han-soo finally spoke.
“Um... can I ask something?”
“You... graduated from high school, right?”
“No.”
“I was expelled during my first year.”
The manager's eyebrow twitched.
“So... were you expelled because you were trying to earn money for your sick mother's medicine... or...”
“I dropped out so I could ride motorcycles and extort money from other kids.”
The colour drained from both their faces. I'd heard people say someone could turn pale from shock, but I'd never actually seen it happen until now.
Thinking I should at least mention my only weakness, I added,
“So... I'm not very well educated.”
“Especially when it comes to English.”
By then, both of them looked so pale that I was genuinely worried about them.
After what felt like an eternity, the manager finally opened his mouth.
“...Maybe we should try superstition instead.”
Luckily, the delivery company was hiring, so I handed in my resignation a week later. After returning my vehicle keys for the last time, I deliberately slipped out of the company without saying goodbye to anyone. Even though I was due to start a new job the following day, it still didn't feel real. There was only one thing I knew for certain.
From now on, I'd devote every ounce of my strength to getting my revenge.
Perhaps it wasn't all that different from the past five years, when I'd worked myself half to death just to repay my debts. Maybe revenge was simply another way of filling the empty time. That was why, even when problems arose during my very first profile photo shoot, I remained surprisingly calm.
...the shutter, and that was it.
So when I arrived at the photography studio—a vast space with high ceilings that looked more like a warehouse—I quietly looked around. Strange pieces of equipment were scattered everywhere, and in the centre stood a large white backdrop. To me, everything there was unfamiliar.
Yet something was clearly missing.
People.
There wasn't a single photographer in sight.
“Huh? But you confirmed the appointment yesterday!” the manager exclaimed, his voice rising in frustration. “I confirmed it twice. We were booked in for one o'clock this afternoon!”
It was rare to see him lose his temper.
The woman standing opposite him looked equally bewildered. Judging by her reaction, she was probably just a part-time employee. She kept apologising, insisting she didn't know anything.
“There was an outdoor shoot this morning,” she explained nervously. “Everyone packed up the equipment and left early. I heard they're shooting outside the city, so... I'm not sure when they'll be back.”
“The photographers too?” the manager asked urgently. “Even Mr Park? Are you certain?”
She nodded repeatedly.
“Yes. The photographers and the entire make-up team went together. That's why they called me early this morning and asked me to watch the studio for the next few days.”
As she spoke, she repeatedly tried calling the studio manager, but no one answered. Only the ringing tone echoed through the room. The manager was about to make a call himself when she suddenly remembered something.
“I don't know all the details... but I heard they urgently needed to shoot an outdoor magazine feature for Song Yoo-han.”
The manager froze.
“You said... who?”
“S-Song Yoo-han. Ah... just a moment!”
She hurriedly answered another call.
“Yes... this is the assistant. Um... the people from DREAM who came for the profile shoot are—”
She quickly explained the situation before falling silent, listening to the person on the other end. Her expression gradually became more awkward as her eyes darted between the manager and me.
I couldn't hear the conversation, but I could guess what they were saying.
There would be no photographer today.
I expected the usual apologies.
Instead, the apology came from beside me.
“I'm sorry.”
I turned.
The manager stood there with his head lowered.
“This is probably my fault.”
“Myeongshin... he's using his influence to interfere with your work as well.”
I'd already overheard Myeongshin's phone conversation on the rooftop, so the situation wasn't completely unexpected. I was about to tell him it wasn't his fault, but another question came to mind first.
Why was he apologising?
It was only a photo shoot.
“Can't we just go to another studio?”
I'd always assumed photography was a simple job. You pointed the camera, pressed the shutter, and that was it.
The manager forced an awkward smile.
“Well... this studio has an exclusive contract with the company. If we want to use another one, we'd need approval from senior management first. Otherwise we'd have to pay the costs ourselves, and... honestly... I can't afford that right now.”
“But don't worry!” he added hurriedly. “Your contract only lasts one month, so we need to get your profile photos done as quickly as possible before they start assigning work. Our company has several photographers. If it really comes down to it... we'll just ask someone else.”
Someone else?
Hadn't he been telling me only yesterday how important the photographer was?
Looking at him now, I couldn't help thinking that he was the one who needed to calm down.
“Taemin, why don't you head home for today?” he said. “We'll arrange another appointment tomorrow.”
He turned towards the part-time employee.
“Tomorrow should be possible, right?”
She clutched the schedule in her hands, looking as though she was about to burst into tears.
“Um... the schedule's completely full until the end of the month.”
“We... we aren't accepting any more bookings.”
“I see...”
His shoulders visibly slumped.
“Then... please just book the earliest available slot.”
“Even if it's at dawn, we'll come.”
His voice softened into something almost pleading.
After thanking her repeatedly and asking her to contact him as soon as a cancellation became available, we finally left the studio.
I wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault.
But somehow...
I couldn't bring myself to say the words.
“That surprised you, didn't it?” he laughed awkwardly. “Things like this happen all the time. Shoots get cancelled more often than you'd think.”
His smile looked painfully forced. For some reason, I felt that no matter what I said, he wouldn't really hear it.
So I simply nodded and climbed into his old car.
As though trying to change the subject, he handed me several sheets of paper.
“I've put together your schedule from now on.”
The pages were packed from morning until night.
Voice training.
Pronunciation lessons.
Acting classes.
Dance practice.
Only one or two hours each day had been marked in red between the tightly packed timetable.
“These are all classes the company provides,” the manager explained. “Most trainees have already been taking them for quite a while, so it might be difficult for you to catch up.”
Then he smiled—a genuine smile this time.
“But if you're determined enough, people can achieve anything.”
“So don't worry.”
I wasn't worried in the slightest.
Unfortunately, I still didn't get a chance to say anything. The manager hurriedly told me to attend one of the training classes if I had time today before answering his ringing phone. Judging by the conversation, though, it sounded no different from the one he'd had earlier.
“…Yes… What do you mean my actor can't attend the class? The company is supposed to provide this training… Is he still an uncertified actor? That's exactly why he's trying to attend in the first place! The contract clearly states that the company will provide—”
His voice suddenly cut off.
For a moment, I wondered if he'd simply stopped breathing.
Then he spoke again, almost in a whisper.
“…Song Yoo-han? That kid…”
“Hello? Hello?”
He lowered the phone and stared blankly at the screen.
The other person had already hung up.
I didn't know exactly what had been said, but one thing was obvious.
My schedule for the day had just become completely empty.
I looked down at the papers in my hands. Every minute of the coming week had been meticulously planned on a single sheet. There were another four pages just like it. He must have spent a great deal of time figuring out how to make the most of a single month for an actor whose contract would only last thirty days.
“Taemin... I'm really sorry.”
“So about all of this...”
He kept talking, but I barely heard him.
My mind was somewhere else.
I'd known from the beginning that I had no power. That's why I'd been trying to think of another way. Perhaps the opportunity I'd been searching for had already appeared.
The problem...
...was that it came in the form of the most troublesome person imaginable.
I'd been instinctively pushing that psychopath out of my mind ever since we met, knowing full well that getting involved with him would only bring endless headaches.
But...
He'd been right.
What could someone like me accomplish on my own?
Maybe this wasn't the time to hesitate.
Maybe I simply needed to seize the opportunity in front of me...
No matter how dangerous it was.
“Let's go back to the company.”
I interrupted the manager by grabbing his arm.
He looked at me in confusion.
“Why?”
“Because...”
“He's going to regret it.”
“Regret it?” the manager repeated blankly. “Who?”
“Myeongshin.”
He stared at me in surprise.
“What do you mean by that?”
Instead of answering, I asked him a question of my own.
“Manager.”
“What kind of person do you think I am?”
“Hm?”
“Do I seem... interesting?”
He looked at me seriously before replying with complete honesty.
“Honestly?”
“Sometimes you seem more bizarre than interesting.”
I couldn't help smiling.
Reaching into my pocket, I took out my phone, scrolled to the number I'd saved just in case...
...and pressed the call button.
That bloody psychopath.
The call connected almost immediately.
After a few rings, the smooth, familiar voice answered.
“Yes?”
“I'll give you... myself.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the manager staring at me in bewilderment. The man on the other end remained silent for a moment, so I calmly added,
“But you'll have to pay a deposit first.”
A brief pause followed before a quiet chuckle reached my ear.
“And what exactly do I gain from having you?”
What did he gain?
I had no idea.
“I'll surprise you every now and then.”
“Oh... and there are no refunds.”
After checking that the car door was firmly shut, I leaned back against the seat. I'd stepped outside to continue the conversation, so the manager had only overheard the beginning. He now looked both anxious and intensely curious.
“Who was that?” he asked the moment I lowered the phone. “Who on earth were you talking to? And did you just say you were offering yourself to someone? What's this about a deposit?”
I knew ignoring his questions was rude, but I did it anyway.
Instead, I asked one of my own.
“Manager...”
“Who do you think is the best?”
“The best?” He blinked.
“At taking photographs.”
He simply stared at me, clearly unable to follow where the conversation was going.
Left with little choice, I gave him a hint.
“Someone's going to help me.”
“Who?”
Come to think of it...
I still hadn't asked for his name.
“Someone I don't know.”
The moment I answered honestly, the manager frowned.
“You don't know him?”
“If this is your idea of a joke...”
“I'm serious.”
“I really don't know him.”
“But there is one thing I do know.”
“What?”
“He has more power than Myeongshin.”
The manager fell silent.
Then, almost absent-mindedly, he answered my earlier question instead.
“If we're talking about photography... Photographer Lee is the best.”
“But he's eccentric. He only photographs people he personally wants to work with, so it's incredibly difficult to book him.”
“And... well... there are a few other issues too.”
He stopped abruptly before narrowing his eyes at me.
“Wait.”
“Who's this person that's supposedly more powerful than Myeongshin?”
“What does he do?”
“And how do you know he's more influential?”
Changing the subject clearly wasn't going to work anymore.
The problem was...
I barely knew anything myself.
“I saw the way Myeongshin acted around him.”
I thought that explained everything.
On the rooftop, Myeongshin had lowered his head, watched his words, and behaved with obvious caution. I'd seen that countless times before.
Every group had people who instinctively recognised someone stronger than themselves and immediately switched sides. They weren't particularly dangerous on their own. In fact, people like that rarely became leaders because they lacked the courage to stand at the top.
The truly dangerous ones were different. They were the ones who hid their ambition behind obedient smiles while secretly waiting for the chance to take control. I'd watched entire gangs fall apart because of a single greedy man manipulating everyone around him. People like that were far more dangerous than those who relied solely on brute strength.
Everyone was different...
But there were always certain types of people who were frighteningly alike.
Myeongshin was one of them.
He was never the leader, yet he constantly resorted to underhanded methods in an attempt to become one. That's why his behaviour was so easy to read. The moment he lowered his head to someone, it meant he'd acknowledged that person was stronger than he was.
To me...
That was obvious.
Yet the manager only frowned harder.
“So just because of that...”
“You went and asked a complete stranger for help?”
“Yes.”
“...”
He studied me in silence before muttering under his breath,
“You're the sort of person who lives entirely on instinct.”
Wasn't everyone?
I was about to say as much, but stopped when he continued.
“And what if the person you've asked for help turns out to be dangerous?”
“What if he agrees to help... but asks for something unreasonable in return?”
For some reason, he hesitated before speaking again, his voice growing quieter.
“I've never approved of sponsors.”
“But because you said you wanted revenge, I tried not to interfere.”
“Still... getting involved with someone you don't even know... someone whose identity is a complete mystery...”
“Manager.”
I cut him off.
“Are we really going to waste an entire month doing nothing because of Myeongshin?”
“...”
“And besides...”
“Do I honestly look like the kind of person who'd let someone take advantage of me so easily?”
I held his gaze.
For a moment, he fell completely silent, as though he'd forgotten how to breathe.
Then he let out a long sigh.
“No.”
“In that case, let me deal with this problem.”
“Now drive.”
“…Alright.”
Only then did he start the engine.
A few moments later, however, he suddenly turned to me.
“Wait...”
“Where exactly are we going?”
A studio almost identical to the one we'd visited earlier came into view.
It occupied another warehouse-like building with no windows, filled with countless pieces of unfamiliar equipment. Bright lights shone down onto a large white backdrop in the centre.
According to the manager, this was the studio of the most sought-after photographer in the industry—a man renowned for both his talent and his artistic eye.
Like the previous studio...
This one was eerily quiet.
“The photographer isn't shooting at the studio today,” a young man explained.
He was the only person there, sitting behind a computer as he flipped through a diary packed with appointments.
“You don't have a booking with us either.”
The manager glanced back at me.
His expression was identical to the one he'd worn before we'd entered, silently asking the same question he'd already repeated several times.
He really said he'd help you?
By now, I'd grown tired of nodding in response.
“We don't have an appointment,” the manager admitted, “but we do need these photographs taken.”
“Where's Photographer Lee?”
“If he sees us, he'll understand what this is about.”
“He's upstairs,” the young man replied. “He's working on a personal project at home today.”
“He specifically told us not to disturb him.”
“It's alright.”
“Please ask him to come down.”
“I've already spoken to the person handling this.”
“Don't worry—just give him a call.”
The manager's confidence was so unwavering that the young man reluctantly picked up the phone.
Looking unconvinced, he made the call. After several failed attempts—and repeated encouragement from the manager—it finally connected. The young man turned away from us and lowered his voice, quietly explaining the situation.
Watching him, the manager smiled with renewed confidence.
“You know,” he said to me, “Photographer Lee has been running this studio since he was young.”
“There's a reason everyone says he's the best.”
“The only problem is that he's unbelievably stubborn. If he doesn't like a model, he simply refuses to photograph them.”
“So I was a little worried.”
“But if the person you spoke to really promised to help... then Photographer Lee should agree.”
He continued praising Photographer Lee's achievements for quite some time.
Eventually, the young man hung up and turned back towards us.
His face had turned deathly pale.
“He...”
“He said he'll come down.”
He swallowed nervously.
“Um...”
“He sounded... extremely angry.”
“Angry?” the manager echoed in surprise.
He immediately glanced at me.
Seeing that I remained perfectly calm, he forced a reassuring smile.
“Looks like Photographer Lee hasn't been informed yet.”
“Don't worry.”
“Someone will probably contact him in a moment.”
“Who's going to contact me?”
The unfamiliar voice drifted down from the staircase above.
“Um... well...”
The manager eagerly tried to answer before glancing at me again. Lowering his voice so the young assistant couldn't hear, he whispered,
“Ahem... it's not that I don't trust you, but... are you absolutely sure?”
“I am.”
“He's definitely going to photograph me.”
My answer was so firm that the manager visibly relaxed.
“Haha... someone will contact Photographer Lee any moment now.”
“Who exactly?” the assistant asked.
“…Someone with authority.”
“Pardon?”
The young man stared at him, dumbfounded.
Just as he was about to ask another question, heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs. The studio was in the basement, so every step echoed through the building.
Bang!
The door flew open.
“For fuck's sake! Who's disturbing me now?!”
The man who stormed inside looked to be in his early thirties, just as the manager had described.
He was wearing nothing...
...except a pair of boxer briefs.
People often said there were two things everyone enjoyed watching: a blazing fire and someone else's argument.
But if you watched the same argument often enough, even that became tiresome.
“I told you not to disturb me!” the photographer barked. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Sir, I wasn't trying to! They're from DREAM Entertainment—”
The assistant pointed desperately towards us.
“Please say something! You said everything had already been arranged!”
“Someone is going to contact me!” the manager insisted. “I told you they would! Photographer Lee, you know me. Do I look like someone who lies?”
“This has nothing to do with whether I know Chairman Choi,” Photographer Lee snapped. “I'm telling you I haven't been contacted.”
“And I specifically said not to disturb me, no matter what!”
“I know, sir!” the assistant cried. “I was going to do exactly that, but he kept insisting someone had already spoken to you! What was I supposed to do?”
“Well, I already told you they'd be calling!”
The manager folded his arms indignantly.
“Come on, Photographer Lee. You know me. Surely you trust me that much?”
“I've only met Chairman Choi a handful of times,” Lee shot back. “Why would I trust you?”
“And that's not even the point!”
“I said nobody contacted me!”
He immediately rounded on the assistant.
“And you! If someone says that over the phone, you're supposed to solve the problem yourself! Instead, you drag me down here?”
“Are you trying to get yourself fired?”
“Wah! Sir!” the assistant protested miserably. “Why are you taking it out on me? This manager kept saying everything had already been arranged...”
The three of them stood in a triangle, repeating the same arguments over and over like a broken record.
Watching them, I found myself wondering...
Was this actually entertaining?
Keeping that thought to myself, I walked over to the brightly lit white backdrop in the centre of the studio. Standing beneath the lights, I slowly looked around at all the unfamiliar equipment.
These were the things I'd probably be seeing for a long time from now on.
Oddly enough...
I wasn't nervous.
Perhaps it was because I'd never been the timid type.
I simply couldn't understand why people became so tense in front of a camera.
After all...
They were only machines.
At some point, the argument behind me fell silent.
When I turned around, all three of them were staring at me.
Each wore a different expression.
Curiosity.
Confusion.
Concern.
The young assistant, still frowning, stepped forward.
“You can't just walk onto the set without—”
I interrupted him before he could finish.
“I heard you only photograph people you actually want to photograph.”
My question was directed at Photographer Lee.
His curiosity deepened, and one eyebrow slowly rose.
“That's right.”
“In that case...”
“What difference does it make whether someone contacted you or not?”
“Shouldn't you decide after seeing me?”
Photographer Lee stared at me in silence for several long moments.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
“Take your shirt off.”
The request came so abruptly that it might have startled anyone else.
Without hesitation, I obeyed.
Crossing my arms, I caught hold of the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head before tossing it onto the floor. Standing there bare-chested, I faced him calmly.
The exposed skin felt cool beneath the studio lights, but I didn't mind. I'd never been bothered by the cold, nor did I feel even the slightest embarrassment.
Surely he'd seen far more people undressed than I had.
As I idly wondered whether he was actually the more awkward one, afraid of making his models uncomfortable, Photographer Lee continued studying my body with painstaking attention.
Eventually, he spoke.
“Are you a labourer?”
“Those muscles aren't from working out.”
Before I could answer, the manager hurriedly stepped in.
“Haha... a labourer? Not at all.”
“Taemin worked as a delivery driver. He was carrying parcels all day, that's all...”
“I've always done manual labour.”
The manager turned to me, blinking in surprise.
“Huh?”
“But you worked delivering parcels.”
“And in the evenings you worked at the distribution centre until late at night, didn't you?”
“Yes.”
“On weekdays.”
“...”
“On weekends, I worked as a labourer.”
The photographer blinked.
“Then... when did you rest?”
“I didn't.”
I wasn't sure why my gaze drifted away from the manager's frozen expression and returned to Photographer Lee.
For just a brief moment, I caught the hint of a smile in his eyes.
Then it disappeared as though it had never been there.
“Hm.”
“That's fairly ordinary.”
The manager, standing beside me, immediately tried to object, but Photographer Lee raised a hand to stop him.
“You don't have a face that people would call heaven-sent.”
“Someone with your looks can be found anywhere.”
“You've probably been told you're handsome once or twice in your life, but in this industry, you're completely average.”
“If we're judging on appearance alone, you wouldn't even rank in the middle.”
“At best, you'd survive for a year or two.”
“Once your novelty wore off and no one recognised your face, you'd probably end up selling cheap products at events or doing whatever work you could find.”
“And before long, with no one remembering who you are... your career would quietly disappear.”
His prediction of my future was laced with unmistakable mockery.
The manager's expression darkened.
“Photographer Lee—”
He was cut off by my question.
“So... you're saying you won't photograph me?”
I asked it bluntly.
The corner of Photographer Lee's mouth lifted.
“No.”
“So you'll photograph me.”
Hearing my conclusion, his smile widened.
Turning to the manager, he laughed.
“Where on earth did you find this guy?”
“The longer I look at him, the more fascinating he becomes.”
The tension finally left the manager's face.
“See? I told you.”
“How could you not want to photograph him?”
“So make sure you do a good job.”
“I will.”
Photographer Lee nodded.
“But I'd like one favour in return.”
“A favour?” the manager replied. “As long as it's reasonable...”
Then his expression suddenly changed.
“But not that.”
I had no idea what that referred to, but the manager looked genuinely alarmed.
Photographer Lee sighed.
“Honestly... I'm not going to lay a finger on him.”
“Then what is it?”
The manager's voice rose suspiciously.
Photographer Lee smiled again and pointed directly at me.
“I'm working on a personal photography project.”
“I'd like to include him.”
The manager visibly relaxed.
“If it's for work, that's fine.”
“What sort of project is it?”
“Nudes.”
“Haha...”
The manager's laugh stopped halfway.
“…What did you just say?”
His face stiffened all over again as he glared at Photographer Lee.
Startled by the murderous look, the photographer immediately raised both hands.
“Come on, Chairman Choi.”
“Please let me photograph him.”
“I've wanted to photograph a body like his for a long time.”
“I want something real.”
“A body shaped by life itself—not muscles sculpted in a gym.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I'll do it.”
Another sharp gust of air seemed to whistle past as the manager whipped his head towards me so quickly that I wondered if he was about to injure his neck.
Ignoring his stunned expression, I calmly repeated myself.
“I'll do the nude shoot.”
Photographer Lee, positively delighted that I'd agreed to the nude shoot, announced that we'd finish the profile photos first before dashing off somewhere wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.
The moment the young assistant shouted for the coordinator and the make-up artist, the entire studio erupted into organised chaos. People rushed in from every direction, checking cameras, lights, and equipment as if they'd rehearsed it countless times before. Judging by their reactions, this wasn't unusual. Photographer Lee clearly had a habit of deciding things on a whim, and everyone around him had long since learned to adapt without complaint.
Meanwhile, I was ushered into a small dressing room.
They changed my clothes, applied a light layer of make-up, and tidied my hair. In less than an hour, everything was ready. All that remained was the photo shoot. Instead, the manager ushered everyone else out of the room before quietly locking the door behind them.
Click.
He walked over and stopped in front of me, his expression unusually grave.
“Taemin.”
“Can we talk?”
“Yes.”
The moment I answered, he fired off a barrage of questions.
“What on earth were you thinking?”
“Do you even know what a nude shoot involves?”
“You'll be completely naked.”
“Are you really planning to strip everything off and let him photograph you?”
“Were you serious?”
“This could affect your future career.”
“I know Photographer Lee's work is respected as art, but it could still have a huge impact on your public image.”
“And after knowing all that...”
“You still intend to do it?”
“Yes.”
“…You're really not afraid?”
He let out a weary sigh.
“Taemin... you don't have to force yourself.”
“The person you spoke to already agreed to help you.”
“It's enough if we just take your profile photographs.”
“Yes.”
“The person said they'd help, didn't they?”
I nodded.
“They promised to convince Photographer Lee to photograph you…”
“No.”
“Hm? Right…”
He stopped mid-sentence.
“…No?”
“What?”
The chair crashed backwards as he shot to his feet.
“What do you mean no?!”
“I thought you brought us here because that person promised to help!”
“He did.”
“But I never said he was helping with this.”
“B-But…”
“When I asked if you were sure, you said you were confident Photographer Lee would photograph you!”
I nodded again as I watched his face slowly turn red.
“Yes.”
“I was confident.”
“I trusted you.”
“…What?”
“You trusted... me?”
“I heard Photographer Lee only photographs people he genuinely wants to photograph.”
“So I thought…”
“If he saw me…”
“He'd want to photograph me.”
The manager stared blankly.
I continued explaining.
“You're the one who recruited me.”
“You're the one who said I had something that attracted people.”
“So I assumed Photographer Lee would see the same thing.”
“So…”
“You were simply trusting…”
“My judgement?”
“Yes.”
“And what if Photographer Lee had refused?”
His voice trembled ever so slightly.
“That was never going to happen.”
“You're the one who told me I was extraordinary.”
I never actually said, Your judgement couldn't possibly be wrong.
But judging from his expression...
He understood.
Silence settled between us.
The anger gradually disappeared from his face, along with the raised voice.
“Then...”
“Why did you let me misunderstand?”
“You even made that phone call before we came here.”
“I thought you were calling the person who was going to help.”
“Wasn't that what happened?”
“No.”
“I called the bank.”
“The bank?”
“To check how much money I had left.”
“…Just to check?”
“I heard photo shoots were expensive.”
“I wanted to know whether I had enough savings.”
“…”
“And the reason I let you misunderstand…”
“Was because I liked the way you handled yourself.”
“The way I handled myself?”
“The way you begged them.”
“The way you confidently pushed forward without caring how shameless it looked.”
“Earlier you kept lowering your head and backing down.”
“But today…”
“Even when Photographer Lee came running downstairs wearing nothing but his underwear…”
“You smiled.”
“You raised your voice.”
“You stood your ground.”
“You did well.”
I offered him a small smile.
He stared at me quietly before picking up the overturned chair and sitting down again.
“…I used to be like that.”
He murmured almost to himself.
“I used to be shamelessly good at asking people for favours.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“…Do I really look that timid now?”
I didn't answer.
A faint, melancholy smile spread across his face.
“I see…”
“So all people see now…”
“…is someone who keeps bowing his head.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Everything's ready.”
“We're ready to begin shooting.”
I stood up.
The manager rose with me.
His voice had returned to normal.
“Thank you.”
I glanced back.
He was smiling.
“For believing in me.”
Not exactly.
It's just that you're the only person left I can believe in.
I decided it was better not to say that aloud.
Quietly, I reached for the doorknob.
Just then, he asked one final question.
“Then...”
“What did you actually ask that person to help you with?”
“Nothing important.”
Yes.
Nothing important at all.
“What exactly do I gain from having you?”
“I'll surprise you every now and then.”
“Oh... and there are no refunds.”
“Interesting.”
“But no.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm far better at surprising people than you are.”
“…”
“If that's the best offer you've got, hang up and stop wasting my time.”
His voice was so cold that anyone who cared in the slightest about what others thought would probably have ended the call right there.
Fortunately...
I wasn't that sort of person.
“If I'm annoying you…”
“Why don't you hang up instead?”
A short laugh escaped him.
“And then?”
And then…
Even I realised I had to tread carefully now.
I had to keep hold of him.
But how?
I had nothing.
No money.
No influence.
No hidden trump card that could genuinely pique his interest.
The only thing I possessed...
...was audacity.
“Think of it as an investment.”
“If I become someone truly interesting…”
“Don't regret missing your chance.”
“Or perhaps you'll become even more boring than you already are.”
His reply was immediate, his tone as cold as ever.
For a moment, I thought I'd failed.
Damn it.
Then, after a long pause, he spoke again.
“Fine.”
“I'll pay the deposit.”
What?
“But make yourself valuable enough to keep my interest.”
“If you remain a tedious, worthless man…”
“…don't complain when you're swallowed whole.”
“…”
“So.”
“What do you want in exchange for this deposit?”
“How much influence do you have within the company?”
“More than you think.”
“Then transfer one employee.”
“Who?”
“My manager.”
Click.
Click.
The shutter echoed throughout the studio as brilliant flashes exploded above my head.
Every eye in the room was fixed on me. People hurried back and forth. Equipment rattled into place. The shutters fired in rapid succession.
Over it all rang Photographer Lee's voice.
“Chin down!”
Click!
“Turn your head slightly…”
“And look at me.”
Click.
“Don't stare so intensely.”
“Look at the camera the way you'd look at someone you love.”
The constant flashes left me dazed, as though I were trapped in the middle of a whirlpool. All I could do was focus on Photographer Lee's voice and obey every instruction he gave. I didn't have the time to think about how I looked or what expression I was making.
I'd thought standing in front of a camera would be easy.
Instead, it was far more nerve-racking and disorientating than I'd expected.
Photographer Lee never stopped giving directions between presses of the shutter. Even after he repeatedly told me to relax my shoulders, my stiff body kept moving awkwardly this way and that before my mind gradually caught up.
I probably look like a complete idiot.
The thought had barely crossed my mind when he lowered the camera.
“You're not used to standing in front of one, are you?”
He looked down at the small display, adjusting a few settings.
“Your posture's stiff as a board.”
“And your expression barely changes.”
“…"
“But you never avoid the camera.”
“You don't look embarrassed.”
“You don't even seem flustered.”
He looked up again, wearing an expression of genuine fascination.
To me...
This was what being flustered looked like.
There didn't seem to be any point explaining that, so I remained silent.
Perhaps he mistook my silence for annoyance, because he simply shrugged with a smile.
“Ah, don't mind me.”
“I'm just impressed.”
“Very few people can look straight into a camera like that without being distracted by everything happening around them.”
“Are you never afraid of anything?”
There was unmistakable anticipation in his eyes.
Perhaps I was imagining it...
But I'd seen that look before.
The new recruits who joined the biker gang I'd once led.
The young thugs who looked up at me while collecting debts.
They'd all worn the same expression.
The unwavering belief that whatever I said next would be something impressive—something worthy of the image they'd already built of me.
Back then...
I'd fed those expectations with childish bravado.
Empty words.
If I claimed I didn't feel the temptation now, I'd be lying.
Part of me wanted to say,
I'm not afraid.
I'm exactly as remarkable as you think I am.
After all, there was no harm in letting Photographer Lee continue believing that.
Yet the answer that left my mouth was unexpectedly simple.
“No.”
Slowly, I swept my gaze across the people around me, the high ceiling above us, and the countless pieces of equipment filling the studio.
“I am afraid.”
“I've just become very good at hiding it.”
Someone might say that meant I'd changed.
But it wasn't anything so dramatic.
I'd simply come to understand who I was.
And I was trying to live honestly as that person.
Fortunately, Photographer Lee didn't look disappointed.
Instead, he tilted his head before another smile spread across his face.
“Wow.”
“I thought you were just trying to look cool.”
“But the more I look at you...”
“…the more interesting you become.”
His eyes sparkled as he stepped closer.
“Mr Taemin.”
“I could make something of you.”
“If you're alright with men—”
“Ahem.”
An exaggerated cough interrupted him.
The manager casually placed a firm hand on Photographer Lee's shoulder with a solid thump.
“I'll be the one developing my Taemin.”
“You don't need to worry about that.”
“Just focus on taking the photographs.”
Startled, Photographer Lee frowned.
“But I'd do a much better job than you.”
“I'll do an even better one.”
The manager glared back without hesitation.
Photographer Lee clicked his tongue.
“And what if I could do a far better job?”
“Not a chance.”
“Because I'll develop him much, much, much better.”
“That might be what you think, Chairman Choi. But if I could develop him much, much, much, much better—”
...Didn't someone say these two were among the best in the industry?
Watching them bicker, I briefly wondered if I'd somehow been scammed.
The make-up artist, who had been touching up my face, smiled knowingly.
“It looks like Mr Lee has taken quite a liking to you, Taemin.”
“He jokes around a lot, but it's been a long time since he's openly said he wanted to develop someone.”
It's been a long time...
So he'd said things like that before.
While silently counting how many times the two of them had repeated the word better, I asked her casually,
“Why did he stop?”
I deliberately sounded as though I wasn't particularly interested.
She lowered her voice.
“He had his heart badly broken.”
“After that, he announced he'd only date people for fun.”
She gave an awkward laugh.
“Of course... even those casual relationships usually end with him being the one dumped.”
“Ah...”
“Please keep that to yourself.”
I nodded.
“I understand.”
But there was still one thing that bothered me about the ridiculous argument taking place a few metres away.
“The actor who broke his heart...”
“Is he connected to my manager?”
The manager's reaction seemed far too intense.
On the other hand, despite being one of the industry's most respected photographers, Lee seemed strangely subdued around him. I'd also remembered the manager mentioning that Photographer Lee had... other problems.
When she didn't answer immediately, I looked at her.
She glanced uneasily at the two men, whose argument had somehow evolved into counting how many times each of them had said much better.
“Well...”
“I probably shouldn't say.”
“But if you stay in this industry long enough, you'll hear the rumours eventually.”
She smiled helplessly.
“So...”
“Yes.”
“You're right.”
I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face.
A male actor.
Represented by a manager who despised the sponsorship system.
Once involved with Photographer Lee, who was openly gay.
There really weren't many people who fit that description.
No matter where I go...
Your name always seems to follow me.
Myeongshin.
“Song Yoo-han.”
She didn't say a word.
She didn't need to.
The look of astonishment on her face was enough.