PAYBACK BOOK 1.
Chapter 4.
The film was nothing but boring. I struggled to keep my eyes open as sleep crept over me. When I glanced at the clock again, it was already two in the morning.
Deciding I'd sat there long enough, I pushed myself to my feet, my body stiff from staying in one place for so long.
Tomorrow would be my first official day attending classes. The manager had told me to arrive early so he could brief me on everything I needed to know.
Thinking about the meeting time, if I went home now, I could probably still get two or three hours of sleep. The problem was that I had to get permission from that bloody lunatic first.
I pulled out my old phone, its screen cracked beyond repair, and dialled 'Psycho'.
After a few rings, a familiar female voice politely informed me that there was no answer. Don't tell me he's deliberately switched his phone off.
Suppressing my irritation, I shoved the phone back into my pocket. As my gaze drifted across the table, I spotted a black bag that looked like it belonged to him.
So he hadn't left the club yet.
I stepped outside to check and happened to see a waiter hurrying past. I stopped him and pointed towards the room I'd just come from.
“Do you know where the owner of this room is?”
“The Director is currently entertaining guests in another room, sir.”
The Director?
So when he said he owned shares in this place, he actually meant he was the director here?
While I was making idle guesses, I must have unconsciously reacted to the mention of another room. For some reason, the thought of him drinking with someone else left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Then the waiter added another explanation, causing me to pause.
“Whenever it's work-related, he usually entertains clients here.”
Work-related…
So, in the end, did that bastard really work until the early hours of the morning?
The old man's words suddenly resurfaced in my mind. That boastful claim that he worked so hard his employees looked up to him as a role model... perhaps it hadn't been an exaggeration after all.
Did he really work like this every single day?
Either buried in his office or entertaining clients here.
It was an unexpected thought.
His arrogant, infuriatingly self-assured attitude made him seem like the sort of man who simply sat at the top barking orders. Come evening, he'd sip expensive whisky in some luxurious bar and throw money around without a second thought—the privileged son of a wealthy family who had never known failure, sprinting along a path of success paved by his family's influence.
And yet...
The scripts, films, and shelves overflowing with books on broadcasting throughout his office all told me that assumption was nothing more than my own prejudice.
What kind of person is he, really?
If the answer was simply that he had been born rich, blessed with confidence, and happened to work harder than everyone else...
...then it felt far too simple to satisfy me.
“But when I passed his room just now, I saw the Director leave,” the waiter said.
“Which way did he go?”
“Well… naturally, he went to—”
He answered with complete confidence, only to abruptly clamp his mouth shut, his expression turning awkward.
I was far too exhausted to waste time wondering why the waiter had suddenly stopped himself after apparently knowing exactly where the man had gone. All I wanted was to get some sleep.
“So where is he?”
“There is… somewhere he goes regularly, but I'm not sure if I should say…”
That was all he managed before another waiter walked over and asked what was going on.
The first waiter leaned in and whispered something to him.
Only a few scattered words reached my ears.
“That place…”
“Don't go near it…”
“Always smiling…”
Although I only caught a few fragments, for some reason I could piece together what they were talking about.
Just hearing the words always smiling was enough to tell me that something had put him in a foul mood. And whatever that place was, people were apparently supposed to stay well away from it.
The waiter who had just arrived whispered to his colleague for a moment before stepping forward to speak on his behalf.
“Um… you're the 200-won guy who works in the Director's office, aren't you? The Director is on the rooftop right now. I'll take you to him.”
A courteous smile rested on his face, but my eyes drifted to the first waiter beside him. Unlike his smiling colleague, he had taken an uneasy step backwards, his expression filled with a strange sense of apprehension.
Before I could dwell on it, the second waiter stepped in front of me and urged me onward.
“It's easy to get lost in here. Please, follow me.”
I turned and followed him, watching him with suspicion the whole way. If I could see his face right now, I was certain he'd be wearing a knowing grin.
The rooftop wasn't a place that had ever held much significance in my life.
Yet ever since coming to Dream, it had somehow become intertwined with it.
Maybe I was simply being overly anxious because I'd never had a pleasant experience involving rooftops. Still, the smile on the waiter's face as he led me there only made that feeling grow stronger.
After all, I'd already experienced two nightmares with that psycho on Dream's rooftop.
No wonder I felt on edge.
The rooftop had been landscaped like a small garden, just like the one at Dream.
Tap… tap…
Even though I tried to tread as lightly as possible, my footsteps echoed through the stillness of the night.
Standing in the middle of the dimly lit rooftop, I swept my gaze around until I spotted a bench some distance to my left.
A lone figure sat there.
As I drew closer, I saw him reclining comfortably against the backrest, his head tilted all the way back as he stared up at the night sky.
One arm rested across the bench, his broad shoulders making him seem even larger than usual. An ice lolly protruded from the corner of his mouth—a strangely childish sight that didn't suit him at all.
It should have looked ridiculous.
Instead, I found myself letting out a quiet breath.
For once, he looked genuinely relaxed.
For a brief moment, I even felt like I was intruding.
Still, I walked over and stopped a few paces away.
Taking a deep breath, I braced myself.
Judging by the way the waiter had deliberately brought me here, as though hoping to provoke him, I fully expected either a string of insults or a punch to come flying my way.
This was probably where he came whenever he wanted to unwind. And if anyone disturbed him...
...they'd no doubt be punished with that infuriating smile of his.
I'd already made the mistake of smoking one of his cigarettes before and had ended up paying for it.
But this time...
I wasn't going to stand there and let him hit me without fighting back.
I still had to avoid getting my face bruised, but before that...
...I was going to make sure I slammed him into the ground first.
“Want one?”
“Huh?”
The question came so abruptly that I found myself repeating it like an idiot.
Amid all the tension I'd built up, it was the last thing I'd expected to hear.
He lowered his head from where he'd been gazing at the sky and pulled the ice lolly from his mouth. The moment I realised he was moving, I instinctively stepped back.
But all he did was hold out the ice lolly he'd been sucking and offer it to me.
“You can't smoke up here.”
“…”
“It’s surprisingly good.”
I looked from his face to the ice lolly in bewilderment.
He simply kept holding it out.
Suddenly, I felt embarrassed for having stood there so tense, expecting the worst.
“What? Don't like sweets?”
He let out a faintly irritated sigh.
“That’s it?”
I glanced around at the deserted rooftop.
“I thought you hated people disturbing you when you're up here alone.”
He slipped the ice lolly back into his mouth and rolled it lazily between his lips before answering.
“I do. I usually start by swearing at them... then I throw a punch.”
“Then why let me come up here?”
“Because I'm not afraid of you.”
He smiled around the ice lolly. With it in his mouth, he looked almost innocent, like a child. But that was only on the surface. His eyes gleamed beneath the rooftop lights like a snake watching its prey.
“Hearing you say that really gets my engine running.”
I frowned, deciding that trading punches would probably be easier than listening to his nonsense. That only made his smile widen.
“That expression.”
The moment I relaxed my frown, he pointed the ice lolly straight at my face.
“That look in your eyes... the one that says even if I knock you flat, you'll still come charging back for another round.”
His voice was gentle, completely at odds with the shameless words coming out of his mouth.
“The sight of it makes me hard.”
The problem was that my gaze instinctively dropped.
I looked back up almost immediately but not before noticing that there really was a slight bulge beneath his trousers.
Bloody hell.
He burst out laughing without the slightest hint of embarrassment, while I silently cursed him in my head.
“Stop staring so hard.”
His grin turned even more shameless.
“If you’re that interested, I’ll shove it in your mouth and let you find out for yourself just how hard it is.”
Being a man, I understood exactly what he meant.
I lifted my eyes to meet his again.
I knew this was exactly the reaction he wanted.
I knew I was walking straight into his trap.
But I couldn’t stop myself.
“If you don’t mind losing it to my teeth…”
“…then go ahead and try.”
“I’ll bite it off,” I threatened in a low voice.
The corner of his lips curled into an amused smile.
“If your mouth’s that dangerous… then what about the one behind?” he teased. “Would that bite it off too?”
“Cut the jokes.”
“I’ve told you countless times.”
He interrupted me, the smile fading as he slipped the ice lolly back into his mouth.
“I don’t joke.”
He looked at me steadily.
“You still don’t get it, do you? I told you I wanted you.”
He let out a quiet chuckle.
“Why do you think I agreed to help you the first time you asked? Do you really think it was because I believed you’d actually become valuable someday?”
He spoke slowly, almost lazily, his voice carrying a faint laugh.
“No.”
“You just turned me on.”
His tone was soft, almost gentle, completely at odds with the fierce intensity in his eyes.
I couldn’t look away.
It was as though he was pouring every one of his desires into that single stare, telling me without words that he wanted to pin me down right there.
It made me angry.
More than that…
Those undisguised eyes sent a chill crawling beneath my skin.
“Don’t look so frightened,” he said quietly. “I’ll take good care of that beautiful body of yours.”
“Who’s frightened?” I snapped. “Worry about protecting your own body, damn it.”
The words came out more awkwardly than I’d intended as I tore my gaze away.
The truth was…
Meeting those eyes head-on left me struggling to breathe.
Damn it.
“You were the one who said you’d give yourself to me.”
He smiled faintly.
“If that was your way of tempting me first, then you’re being awfully innocent about the consequences.”
When I’d said I’d give myself to him, I’d only meant I’d do whatever it took.
To be honest…
The thought of offering my body had never even crossed my mind.
Why?
Because every encounter between us was nothing but tension.
Every time we met, it felt inevitable that we’d end up fighting.
“So…”
He changed the subject with infuriating ease.
“How’s your revenge going?”
His expression returned to its usual indifference as effortlessly as he changed the subject.
I supposed I should have been pleased that he was taking an interest. After all, I was in a position where I needed his help.
Instead, all I could think about was the way he’d teased me just moments ago, like some shameless middle-aged man.
I turned him on… so he decided to help me?
As that thought crossed my mind, something suddenly felt off.
It was as if I’d overlooked something important.
What was it…?
I sank into my thoughts until his voice abruptly pulled me back.
“Hey, Lee Yoo-an.”
When I looked up, he frowned slightly.
“I’m talking to you. Try paying attention.”
“…”
“I heard you’re starting classes today. Have you come up with a plan yet?”
He already knew who would try to make my life difficult.
After all, he was the one who’d shown me Myung-shin’s CCTV footage. He even knew what had been said after I’d stopped the video.
“Not really.”
The moment I answered, he smiled and pushed the ice lolly deeper into his mouth.
“If you already know who’s going to target you, shouldn’t you have come up with a countermeasure by now?”
He tilted his head.
“If you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
“But first, you’ll have to tell me something I want to know.”
Something he wanted to know?
I assumed he meant my conversation with the old man, so I shook my head.
There was no point boasting that I’d only learned his name. Besides, I’d never considered it some great secret.
“It’s nothing important.”
“I’m not asking about that.”
I looked at him questioningly.
He answered by dragging an old memory back to the surface.
“The first man who ever had you.”
“Why are you so obsessed with knowing that?”
The question was so unexpected that I genuinely couldn’t understand it.
He stared absently into the empty air for a moment, as if searching for the answer himself.
Then he spoke slowly.
“I don’t know.”
“It just bothers me.”
“It pisses me off.”
His eyes settled on mine.
“Doesn’t it piss you off too?”
I was about to ask what he meant...
But the slow curve of his lips sent an instinctive shiver through me, and I swallowed the question instead.
“When I sleep with someone other than you...”
“…isn’t that how you’d feel?”
“No…”
The word died in my throat before it could escape.
He rose from the bench and walked towards me, smiling broadly enough for the dimples in his cheeks to show.
Stopping only inches away, he lowered his head slightly and whispered,
“Tell me.”
“How does it make you feel?”
A faint, sweet scent from the ice lolly lingered between us as I looked up into his eyes.
“I don’t feel anything.”
“I’m disappointed.”
His quiet murmur caught me off guard.
“What exactly were you expecting from someone you’ve punched?”
“Even if I did hit you, I’ve still helped you plenty. You could at least have a few expectations.”
I stared at him in silence before realising he was teasing me again.
The more annoyed I became over his little provocations, the more entertained he seemed.
Strangely enough, even knowing that...
...I still couldn’t keep my emotions under control whenever I was around him.
So the sarcasm slipped out before I could stop it.
“I don’t know. Try kissing me first.”
“Then you’ll find out whether I’m expecting anything or not.”
He took another step towards me, smiling.
The amusement glittering in his eyes sent another shiver down my spine.
I didn’t even need to look to know he was probably hard again.
This bastard really does get worked up that easily.
His voice, however, was slow and measured—completely at odds with the intensity in his gaze.
“If anyone else said something like that to me…”
“…I’d stomp on them until they couldn’t open their mouth again.”
He paused, his eyes fixed on mine.
“But when it’s you…”
“…why are you so damn cute?”
Cute?
Me?
For a moment, I genuinely wondered if I’d misheard him.
I couldn’t hide the look of disbelief on my face, and that only amused him even more.
He burst into laughter.
“Is that the first time someone’s ever called you cute?”
“Yeah.”
“That shocked me even more than getting punched.”
“I see.”
“Then I’ll have to say it more often.”
“Oi, don’t.”
I ground my teeth as I protested, but it had absolutely no effect.
Tilting his head, he continued staring straight at me.
“You really are cute.”
“I said don’t…”
“Your height’s just right.”
“And your build’s perfect too.”
Perfect for what...?
The question almost slipped out, but I swallowed it.
Somehow I knew I wouldn't like the answer.
As if he'd read my mind, he smirked.
“You're not even going to ask what it's perfect for?”
“Because I already know you'll say something filthy.”
“Even when you're scared...”
“…you're still adorable.”
“Who's scared, damn it?”
I cursed under my breath, then suddenly remembered something and muttered it almost unconsciously.
It was one of the few things I'd genuinely been afraid of.
“The Sweet Brothers haven't shown up.”
He still managed to catch what I'd said.
“The Sweet Brothers?”
“Ah… so you don't know the story about those terrifying Sweet Siblings?”
“The ones who ate the house made of sweets without permission. Then, when they got caught, they killed the old lady who owned it.”
“…Hansel and Gretel?”
“Yeah. I think that was their names.”
When I nodded, he answered slowly, sounding faintly surprised.
“The old woman who owned that house was a witch.”
“So what? They still killed someone and ran off with her money. Those two siblings are terrifying.”
He stared at me before suddenly clamping his mouth shut.
Then, without warning, he turned his head away.
For some reason, he looked as though he was trying not to laugh.
Impossible.
This man laughed more than anyone else I'd ever met. There was no way he was actually holding it back.
“So… you're scared of children's fairy tales.”
“I was a kid back then.”
I deliberately emphasised back then, worried he'd get the wrong idea.
“When I was little, I just thought those two children were a bit scary, that's all.”
“I'm not scared of ghosts or anything.”
“Really?”
“Even if a ghost sneaked into your house without permission and ate all your food?”
“How would a ghost eat food?” I shot back. “Even if ghosts could eat, they'd only eat the spirit of the food. The actual food wouldn't disappear. Otherwise, every time people left offerings for their ancestors, they'd all panic when the food vanished.”
“Honestly… what a ridiculous thing to say.”
I answered without thinking because the idea was so absurd.
The moment I looked into his eyes, I realised...
He'd been teasing me the whole time.
As soon as I caught on and glared at him, he turned his head away again to avoid my gaze, muttering under his breath,
“The spirit of the food… I'm going to die laughing.”
The one who's going to die is me.
He'd started making fun of me out of nowhere.
I shot him another dirty look, but the corners of his lips only lifted higher.
“I really like that expression.”
“If you like it so much, you'll see it every time we meet.”
“Just looking at you is enough to make that face appear.”
“Just me?”
He sounded genuinely amused as he echoed my words.
I refused to answer yes.
His eyes deepened with an emotion I couldn't quite read as he murmured,
“If it's really only me…”
“…then I can't believe you when you say you don't feel anything.”
At first, I didn't understand what he meant.
Then our earlier conversation came flooding back.
“Doesn't it piss you off… when I sleep with other men besides you?”
“I don't feel anything.”
Was he still thinking about my answer?
Before I could make sense of it, the psycho's steady voice cut through my thoughts.
“I've seen your profile photo.”
“You know what?”
“Other than that blank expression of yours…”
“…every other expression you make looks stiff.”
The sudden change of topic caught me off guard.
“So?”
“I bet they'll criticise that in class today.”
He lifted the ice lolly he'd been sucking and held it right in front of my lips.
“Want me to give you a little treatment that'll fix it instantly?”
The tip of the ice lolly hovered so close it almost brushed against my mouth, its sweet scent drifting into my nose.
“There's no need—”
“Mmph.”
Suddenly, a sweet fragrance and sugary taste flooded my mouth.
Only...
It wasn't the small ice lolly.
In that split second, the lips that had caught me off guard the moment I parted my own closed the distance, and a tongue still carrying the lingering sweetness slipped inside.
I instinctively tried to turn my head away, but before I could react, his hand had already cupped the back of my head, holding me firmly in place.
The only thing I could do was shove at him with both hands.
As I struggled to pull away, his other arm slid around my waist and drew me flush against him.
There was no space left to push him back.
While I squirmed helplessly in his grasp, his tongue swept across mine before pressing deeper for a brief moment.
What annoyed me most was the very first thought that crossed my mind.
It's sweet.
Ridiculously sweet.
And infuriatingly delicious.
The kiss was brief.
He only deepened it for a fleeting instant before pulling away again.
Even so, the lingering sweetness remained on my lips and across my tongue.
“Well?”
He smiled.
“Sweet, wasn't it?”
I shot him an irritated glare.
His eyes curved into a smile, the expression so open and genuine that, for some inexplicable reason, he looked almost like a mischievous child.
Then I heard him say…
“Here's a little tip.”
“When you're trying to draw out an emotion… remember that sweetness.”
“Then try thinking about it again.”
He let go of my waist and stepped back.
Even so, the lingering sensation of his touch clung to my skin as though I'd been burned.
Our bodies had been pressed so closely together that mine had reacted before I even realised it.
Seriously…?
Had I really gone without sex for so long that something like that was enough to affect me?
Silently cursing myself, I prayed he hadn't noticed.
Then he leaned close to my ear and whispered,
“So…”
“Do you still feel nothing?”
As I made my way down to the basement where the acting class was being held, the manager looked at me with concern.
“Didn't you sleep well? Your skin looks awfully dry.”
He went on to explain that the instructor was one of the academy's most renowned acting coaches. Just before I entered the room, he caught hold of my arm.
With a slightly embarrassed smile, he held out a palm-sized voice recorder.
“It has excellent sound quality. Record yourself and listen back—you'll get a better feel for what your voice really sounds like.”
“Oh, and recording the lessons to review afterwards should help too.”
We stood outside the classroom door, which was half open.
I thanked him and accepted the recorder.
After spending another minute explaining how to use it, he finally sent me inside.
Since class hadn't started yet, a handful of people were gathered together chatting.
The moment I walked in…
…every conversation stopped.
Almost in unison, they all turned to look at me.
I slipped the recorder into my pocket and walked over.
There were four men in the group.
The first to greet me was a cheerful blond who reminded me a little of Han-soo.
“So, it's true? We heard someone new was joining today.”
He smiled brightly and held out his hand.
“You'll be taking classes with us from now on, right? I only joined not that long ago myself.”
“I look forward to working with you.”
I reached out and shook his hand.
A man standing beside him with his arms folded let out a derisive snort.
“I heard Manager Choi was the one who cast you.”
His gaze swept over my worn-out clothes from head to toe.
“Looks like he scraped you straight off the streets.”
“Someone looking like that won't last a month.”
The most unpleasant-looking man in the group gave me another once-over before turning to the man beside him, speaking loudly enough for everyone present to hear.
“The standards here have really dropped, haven't they? Where the hell did this loser crawl out from?”
The sharp-featured man whom the question had been directed at gave a contemptuous laugh before addressing me directly.
“So it's true—you really came from nothing.”
“Trying to make it through sheer determination, huh?”
“That kind of story doesn't impress anyone these days.”
He spoke coolly before pointing at the last man, who had remained silent the entire time.
“See him? He's the perfect example.”
“He still hasn't debuted, even after three years.”
“He's getting older, still can't land a job, so all he does is keep turning up to these classes.”
“And he doesn't have money or anyone backing him either.”
I glanced at the last man.
When our eyes met, he offered me a gentle smile.
He didn't seem offended by the insults being thrown at him.
He merely smiled bitterly before extending his hand.
“You've chosen the hard road.”
“But… welcome.”
I returned his handshake and gave the group a slight bow.
“I look forward to working with you.”
Each of the four reacted differently to my brief greeting.
One seemed interested.
Another looked irritated.
One couldn't have cared less.
And the last remained quietly cautious.
I committed each reaction to memory.
As I silently observed them one by one, I heard the instructor walk into the practice room.
My first official acting class had begun.
The voice recorder the manager had given me turned out to be surprisingly useful.
Today's lesson focused entirely on voice projection and pronunciation, lasting a full four hours.
Hearing my own voice played back made it much easier to recognise where I needed to improve.
During each of the three breaks, I drank water to soothe my throat while listening to the recordings, correcting myself immediately whenever I noticed a mistake.
By the time the long class finally came to an end…
As I was packing my bag, the instructor called me over for a quick word.
Perhaps because it was my first lesson, he took the time to point out the areas I needed to improve. I listened carefully, nodding as I tried to commit every piece of advice to memory.
“I heard you've never had any formal acting training,” he said. “But your voice projection and pronunciation are already quite good. You've got a strong voice too.”
That's probably because I used to spend half my life shouting while getting into fights.
There wasn't much point explaining that, so I simply nodded at the compliment.
When our conversation ended, I walked back to where I'd left my belongings.
My jacket was gone.
Before I knew it, I was the only person left in the practice room.
Slipping my bag onto my shoulder, I looked around again.
I'm sure I left it on top of my bag.
More importantly…
The voice recorder the manager had given me was still in the jacket pocket.
I searched the room again in case I'd overlooked it.
Just then, someone poked their head through the half-open doorway.
As he walked over, he asked quietly, his voice unusually serious,
“Have you… lost something?”
“I have.”
At my answer, he bit his lower lip and let out a quiet, “Ah…”
Without another word, he led me towards the toilets.
Inside stood the kind-faced man who'd been attending these classes for the past four years.
His expression was unusually grim.
His eyes were fixed on one of the cubicles.
When he noticed me, he stepped back and silently pointed inside.
I walked over and looked in.
The first thing I saw inside the cramped cubicle was my jacket, draped over the closed toilet seat.
Scrawled across it in thick black marker were the words:
Get lost, you beggar.
But that wasn't what made my blood boil.
The toilet bowl was filled with yellow urine.
Submerged in it…
…was the voice recorder.
The sharp stench of urine hit me immediately.
If it hadn't been the recorder the manager had given me, I would probably have ignored such childish bullying.
But I knew exactly how much of a burden that little recorder had been for him to buy.
I'd practically lived with him for the past week.
I'd seen him surviving on instant ramen three meals a day.
For all I knew, he might have been skipping meals whenever I wasn't around.
Han-soo had even joked that the manager would end up collapsing from malnutrition.
Every time he visited, he brought food with him because he was worried.
Because he neglected himself so badly, I couldn't dismiss Han-soo's worries as mere exaggeration.
One day they might actually come true.
Which was why I knew that, to the manager, this tiny voice recorder was worth as much as hundreds of millions of won.
“They mock other people for being poor, yet they pull childish stunts like this…”
“Honestly, it's pathetic. I don't know what goes through their heads.”
The kind-faced man clicked his tongue, while the blond sighed in agreement.
From the way they reacted, it wasn't hard to guess who they were talking about.
It was probably that unpleasant-looking guy.
I walked over to the toilet without a moment's hesitation and reached my hand into the bowl.
“Ugh…”
The blond gagged loudly behind me, but I ignored him and lifted the voice recorder out of the yellow urine.
When I turned around, both of them were staring at me in disbelief before instinctively taking a step backwards.
“W-What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“I’m going to have it repaired.”
I carried it over to the sink and carefully rinsed it under running water.
They insisted the unpleasant-looking guy had done it.
But I still remembered the expression on his face when he’d mocked my manager.
It had been the look of someone utterly convinced he would win simply because my manager looked weak.
As irritating as he was…
He didn’t strike me as the type to steal someone else’s belongings and throw them away.
If it wasn’t him…
…then there was only one other person I needed to keep an eye on.
Someone connected to Myung-shin.
I glanced up at the mirror.
The two of them were still watching me with astonished expressions.
Which one of you was it?
Which one threw my recorder into the toilet?
“You’re incredible.”
I paused as the blond called out to me while I was leaving the toilets.
Even though I’d washed the recorder, he still kept his distance, as if he thought I was somehow contaminated.
Even so, he looked at me with open admiration.
“If it were me, I’d have completely lost it by now.”
“But you don’t seem angry at all.”
“Don’t you think so too, Min-hyung?”
The kind-faced man nodded in agreement, his eyes carrying the same admiration.
“I really like your attitude.”
“How about coming out for a drink with us? Hyung-seok and I were just about to grab a few drinks.”
“Yeah, come with us.”
I looked from one to the other before shaking my head.
“Maybe another time.”
“My manager’s waiting for me.”
I didn’t think there was anything unusual about my answer.
Yet, for some reason, both of their expressions changed.
The blond, Hyung-seok, was the first to explain.
“Wow… so you already have a manager.”
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“That’s actually pretty rare. I mean, having a manager personally follow around someone who’s only just joined and is already attending classes…”
“Of course, everyone has someone assigned to look after them, but… how should I put it?”
He hesitated, searching for the right words.
“It feels more like you’re one of the company’s selected prospects—the ones they take special care of.”
“Usually, the trainees who have managers assigned to them are either people the company is openly pushing because they’re exceptionally good-looking and expected to become stars…”
“…or people wealthy enough to hire their own manager.”
The implication couldn’t have been clearer.
You don’t look like either of those.
The two of them watched me expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
I looked from one to the other before answering calmly.
“Then I suppose I’m the third type.”
“The third type?”
“The kind who’s recognised for potential rather than looks…”
“…or connections.”
To them, it probably sounded like nothing more than an arrogant newcomer talking far beyond his station.
A smile briefly touched both their faces—
Only to disappear the moment I continued.
“Isn’t that supposed to be the most basic standard of all?”
For the briefest instant, bitterness flickered across the kind-faced man’s eyes.
“But…”
“…that basic standard doesn’t work here.”
Then a knowing smile spread across his lips.
“Next time, why don’t you come for a proper drink with us?”
“I know a really good place.”
“It’s the sort of place only important people go.”
“I’ve been lucky enough to visit a few times.”
Beside him, Hyung-seok lowered his voice in alarm.
“Hyung… you’re taking him there?”
“Yeah.”
The older man shrugged.
“I don’t see the problem.”
“We’ll be getting in for free anyway.”
“But…”
Hyung-seok glanced at me before muttering quietly,
“He told us not to bring anyone else.”
The kind-faced man merely smiled.
“I think it’ll be fine…”
“…for someone who claims he can succeed without relying on looks or connections.”
Still smiling, he turned back to me.
“You’ll come, won’t you?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Or will your manager be waiting for you again, just like today?”
The invitation carried a hint of provocation.
I met the gaze of the kind-faced man, who seemed thoroughly entertained, then glanced at Hyung-seok, who looked increasingly uneasy.
Finally…
I gave a small nod.
“I can do the day after tomorrow.”
Just as I was about to turn and leave, the kind-faced man stopped me.
“You’re not curious why I invited you the day after tomorrow instead of tomorrow?”
“I am.”
I answered without hesitation and started to turn away again.
He stared at me for a second before bursting into laughter.
“Haha… you’re an interesting person.”
“There’s something you’ll need to watch out for tomorrow, Taemin.”
I turned back.
He simply shrugged.
“I don’t know whether you’ve been told, but one of the action classes involves learning various sports.”
“Tomorrow’s lesson is… rather brutal.”
That was all he said before shaking his head, as though he couldn’t bring himself to explain any further.
“You’ll see for yourself tomorrow.”
“If I tell you now, you’ll only scare yourself.”
He spoke as though he were concerned for me, yet the smile lingering in his eyes betrayed his amusement.
Beside him, Hyung-seok openly grinned.
Hmph.
What a thoughtful warning.
I nodded my thanks and walked away, the damp voice recorder in my hand feeling like nothing more than a lump of cold metal.
I used to work part-time somewhere, but only on weekends—once or twice every few months.
For some reason, that memory surfaced while Han-soo was telling me about the people in my class.
“Wow… there are some real pieces of work in there.”
“The tall guy with the long face who kept mouthing off? He’s pretty infamous among the trainees.”
“His dad’s the chairman of some credit union or something.”
“I heard he’s loaded, so he basically bought his way into the company.”
“As soon as he joined, he threw money around to get himself a few television appearances.”
“But apparently his acting was so awful that even money couldn’t save him anymore.”
“So now he’s been sent back to learn the basics.”
“I’ve only ever seen him from a distance.”
“He landed a few tiny supporting roles and started acting like he was already a top star.”
“He even said he absolutely refused to waste time learning basics like voice projection.”
“But once Director Yoon took over, he couldn’t get away with that anymore.”
“He had a rough time.”
“If anyone ignores company policy—or simply isn’t making the company any money—their contract gets torn up without a second thought…”
Han-soo tended to ramble.
Midway through his explanation, he suddenly tilted his head.
“Come to think of it… the strange thing is…”
“I always thought I’d be the first person to get fired.”
“But nobody’s ever said anything to me.”
“I wonder why.”
His powdered face swayed from side to side like one of those wobbling dolls.
If the company really dismissed anyone who failed to generate profit without mercy, then there had to be a reason they were still keeping Han-soo around.
I figured I’d understand once I saw the stage performance he would be giving before long.
Han-soo himself, however, seemed completely oblivious and carried on talking.
“Anyway, I heard that guy was so arrogant after joining our agency that he had no choice but to swallow his pride and start learning everything from scratch a few months ago.”
“Oh, right!”
“I also heard there’s someone else in that class who’s an incredible actor.”
“But I can’t remember who it was…”
As Han-soo tilted his head in confusion yet again, the manager returned after meeting with the theatre staff.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Manager… who was that person again?”
“I heard there’s someone really, really good at acting in Taemin’s class.”
“Oh…”
The manager frowned thoughtfully.
“That’s right.”
“If you saw them perform even once, you’d definitely be amazed…”
“But who was it again…?”
He began tilting his head from side to side just like Han-soo.
The two of them stood there wobbling in perfect sync, shaking their heads so vigorously that I didn’t even bother saying I wasn’t curious in the slightest.
Fortunately…
Just then, my phone rang.
It was the place where I occasionally worked part-time.
After glancing at the number, I answered.
“Hello.”
The question came straight away.
“Are you free next weekend?”
I’d been planning to turn the job down.
But the moment I remembered the voice recorder sitting in my bag…
…I changed my mind.
The pay was good enough to make the hard work worthwhile.
After I hung up, Han-soo disappeared backstage.
The manager led me to the back of the small auditorium, which held fewer than a hundred seats, and lowered his voice.
“I still can’t remember who the talented actor in your class was.”
“But once you see Han-soo perform…”
“…you’ll realise it doesn’t matter.”
“He’s that good.”
“So watch him carefully.”
“Even a money-hungry company that only cares about profits knows his worth.”
“That’s why they’ve never let him go.”
I disliked hearing him call the company money-hungry…
Yet those words also answered a question that had been nagging at me.
In an instant, one particular face flashed vividly through my mind.
That psycho.
The man who had introduced himself as one of Cream’s shareholders.
That’s it…
Now I finally understood why his help had always made me feel so uneasy.
I’d never truly believed him when he claimed he was helping me simply because he was interested in me.
The problem was that I’d never been able to find a logical explanation to outweigh that absurd excuse.
Now, thanks to what the manager had said…
…I’d realised what I’d been overlooking.
A money-hungry company cared about one thing only—
Profit.
And everyone knew Myung-shin, the man I intended to destroy, was one of the company’s brightest rising stars.
He generated enormous profits.
I, on the other hand…
…was nothing more than an unknown rookie.
No influential backing.
Nothing particularly remarkable about my appearance.
There wasn’t a single logical reason for Cream’s shareholder to help someone like me.
Even if I entertained the ridiculous possibility of love at first sight…
…someone who worked tirelessly until the early hours every single night would always put business first.
Which meant…
He had another motive.
He intended to use me to bring Myung-shin down while pretending he was simply helping me.
That manipulative bastard.
At that moment, the theatre lights dimmed.
Silence settled over the audience so completely that it felt as though no one else was there.
A single white spotlight illuminated the centre of the stage.
A man with a wicked smile curling at the corner of his mouth stepped into the light and began his monologue.
Then…
Han-soo's low, resonant voice spread throughout the theatre.
The manager had been right.
Han-soo's performance was absolutely worth watching.
I had yet to stand on stage myself with the conviction of someone who truly wanted to become an actor, but the moment his performance began…
…Han-soo's performance was powerful enough to stir something deep inside me.
The moment he stepped onto the stage, he became an entirely different person.
Nothing about the timid, absent-minded Han-soo I knew remained.
Only when the play ended and the cast came out to take their bows did someone in the audience exclaim,
“Ah… that's Han-soo!”
To be honest, I could barely remember the story itself.
Partly because the play wasn't particularly memorable…
…and partly because all of my attention had been fixed on Han-soo's acting.
His expressions.
His voice.
His emotions.
Everything he conveyed poured into my mind like water overflowing into an empty glass.
Normally, I would have watched without giving any of it a second thought.
Strange as it sounded…
Watching Han-soo alter his tone, his expressions, and even his entire presence until he seemed like a completely different person finally made me understand something.
I knew what I needed to do.
The path was still vague…
…but at least I could finally see the direction I needed to walk if I wanted to become an actor.
Even so, when the manager asked me what I thought…
…I simply answered,
“It was good.”
He looked as though he'd hoped I had gained something more profound from it, but I couldn't explain it properly.
Besides…
I didn't want him placing too many expectations on me.
Because I wasn't capable of expecting that much from myself either.
The proof was simple.
As soon as the performance ended and I stepped outside into the cool evening air…
…my head was already full of something else.
Why did that psycho want to destroy Myung-shin?
He definitely didn't hate him the way I did.
Whenever Myung-shin's name came up, he never showed the slightest trace of emotion.
He didn't even seem to care whether Myung-shin lived or died.
Wasn't that strange?
Myung-shin was one of Cream's most valuable assets.
Then why…
Why would a shareholder want to bring him down?
It seemed being called Two-Hundred-Won over and over again hadn’t been meaningless after all.
Today, he hadn’t summoned me.
I’d come to the bar of my own accord.
But instead of finding him…
…I ran into the club manager who had guided me before.
The knowing smile on his face made it seem as though he’d been expecting me all along.
“Just leave today’s homework with me to check before you go.”
I silently stared at him.
The manager smiled softly before repeating the psycho’s message word for word, almost like a machine delivering a recorded script.
“He said…”
“…if you’re sleepy, use this money to buy yourself a coffee from the vending machine.”
The club manager politely held out two 100-won coins.
I didn’t take them immediately.
Instead, I stared at the coins resting in his palm before looking back up at him.
“The coffee from the vending machine here costs 200 won?”
“It’s more expensive than that.”
“…”
“It’s premium coffee.”
I’d always thought I had a fairly intimidating stare.
Standing in front of someone this unfazed, however, it felt completely powerless.
There was no point glaring at a human robot.
He looked like the sort of person who would never stop smiling, even if someone stripped naked right in front of him, and would politely ask, “Shall I put some music on for you?”
In the end, I took the coins from his hand.
“If I don’t feel sleepy…”
“…can I just keep the money?”
I asked bluntly.
The smile on his mechanical face lifted ever so slightly.
“Of course.”
“I’ll keep it our little secret.”
Today’s homework was to read through a thick film script.
It was exactly the sort of tedious task that deserved to be called homework.
Back when I was at school, I’d never been the type to sit down and properly read textbooks.
At this rate, even spending two or three days on it probably wouldn’t be enough.
On top of that, I wasn’t familiar with the format.
A screenplay contained no flowing descriptions or narration.
There were only lines of dialogue and brief stage directions enclosed in brackets.
It wasn’t easy to follow.
The unfamiliar symbols and technical terminology slowed my already sluggish reading pace even further.
Fortunately, someone had left a tablet beside me, almost as if they’d expected me to look up anything I didn’t understand.
Although…
If there was already a tablet—and even computers available…
…why was this room still overflowing with mountains of paperwork?
How old-fashioned.
I grumbled inwardly as I continued reading.
Whenever I encountered an unfamiliar term, I’d stop, search for it, then continue little by little.
Hours passed without me moving from my seat.
Maybe it was just my stubbornness.
Even though very little of the script was actually sinking in…
…I felt compelled to finish every single page.
By the time I’d reached roughly halfway through…
…the club manager interrupted.
“That’s enough for today.”
While the owner was away, he had quietly appeared in the doorway, watching over me.
I glanced at the wall clock.
It was already two in the morning.
For a moment I’d completely forgotten where I was.
His calm, matter-of-fact voice reminded me.
This wasn’t my house.
It was a club.
What is this place?
An amusement park?
A short laugh escaped me.
“I didn’t realise this place had closing hours.”
“I’ll put up a notice next time.”
He answered so earnestly that I was left speechless.
Sometimes there were people who took absolutely everything seriously, no matter how obvious the joke, and answered every question with complete sincerity.
They were the sort of diligent, unwavering people I’d once dismissed as hopeless fools.
Closing the script, I stood as he’d asked.
My body ached after sitting tense in the same position for so long.
I slowly rolled my neck from side to side before taking one of the 100-won coins from my pocket and holding it out to the club manager.
For the first time…
…his expression showed genuine surprise.
“What’s this for?”
“The entrance fee.”
As I turned to leave, I caught sight of him smiling down at the coin in his hand.
Unlike the maze inside the club, the staff corridor behind the scenes was straightforward.
I found my own way to the staircase without needing him to guide me.
Thinking only about getting home and finally getting some rest, I hurried up the stairs.
Then I heard the club manager call after me.
I turned around, wondering what else there could possibly be.
With the same expressionless face and the same almost robotic voice, he said,
“The Director will be here the day after tomorrow.”
I looked at him for a moment, caught completely off guard.
He didn’t seem like the sort of person who would volunteer information like that.
If the psycho was coming the day after tomorrow, then there was no reason for me to come here tomorrow.
So why tell me?
Perhaps he noticed the surprise on my face, because he gave me a smile that, for once, looked genuinely human.
“A little thank-you…”
“…for the entrance fee.”
Quitting my delivery job and starting something completely different should have been a major change to my daily routine.
Strangely, it didn’t affect me all that much.
When the time I usually woke up arrived, my eyes opened automatically.
I’d only slept for three hours, but I’d lived like that for the past five years.
Pushing the drowsiness aside, I sat up without much difficulty.
Maybe it was because I’d spent the whole of yesterday attending the voice training class.
Even in my half-awake state, fragments of what I’d learned drifted back into my mind.
How to project my voice clearly.
How different methods of vocal projection suited different emotions.
A light suddenly flashed through my thoughts.
That’s right.
I’d recorded the lesson.
If I listened to it again…
I pressed the play button.
Nothing happened.
Only then did I wake up properly and remember exactly where the recorder had fallen.
I’d assumed that leaving it to dry for a day would be enough.
If it wouldn’t even switch on…
…it was probably beyond saving.
After pressing several more buttons without success, I gave up.
Holding the lifeless recorder, I walked to the bathroom to wash my face.
At the same time, I mentally checked the balance in my bank account and tried to estimate how much a replacement recorder would cost.
It was almost time for the class that the blond and the kind-faced man had warned me about.
Unlike what they’d expected, however…
…I wasn’t particularly interested in the class itself.
After meeting the manager that morning, we parted ways shortly before lessons began.
I borrowed a computer in the office to look up the price of the recorder.
Only then did I discover it wasn’t an ordinary model.
It was a high-end recorder commonly used by professionals.
The price was far higher than I’d expected.
After checking my bank balance again…
…I reached the same conclusion I’d come to that morning.
I’d have to accept the part-time job from the place that had called me yesterday.
If I combined that income with the money I already had…
…I should just about be able to afford an identical recorder.
I wasn’t sure how the manager would react if he found out.
Even so…
I wanted to replace it with the exact same model.
Thinking that, I walked into the spacious gymnasium.
Four people had already arrived ahead of time and were waiting inside. Looking around, I couldn’t see anyone who resembled an instructor. There were only the trainees, dressed in comfortable sportswear, quietly fastening boxing gloves around their hands.
One of them was the long-faced man whose father was the chairman of the credit union.
Wearing an openly irritated expression for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, he strode straight towards me. The moment he reached me…
…he tossed a boxing glove into my hands.
Thud.
The man’s irritated voice echoed throughout the gym when he saw me catch the boxing glove he’d thrown with one hand.
“You little bastard!”
“Hurry up and put it on, you beggar.”
“Get in the ring.”
“I’m going to smash that mouth of yours for all the rubbish you’ve been spouting.”
I took my eyes off him and looked past his shoulder instead. The sharp-featured man stood with his arms folded, as though none of this had anything to do with him. Meanwhile, the blond and the kind-faced man watched me with expressions that carried a hint of concern. The moment our eyes met, they immediately looked away.
What exactly is going on here?
So… you’re telling me to deal with it myself?
I should have asked why.
But I couldn’t be bothered wasting my breath.
Instead, I slowly slipped my hand into the boxing glove while recalling the conversation I’d just had over the phone about the part-time job.
“Huh? You can’t have any injuries on your face?”
“Kid, I’m the one who should be saying that.”
“Is that really coming from the guy whose hobby is knocking out the boxer he’s supposed to be sparring with in a single punch?”
“Just… try not to hit him too hard, alright?”
Hold back, huh…
I flexed my fingers inside the familiar glove before pointing towards the boxing ring at the far end of the gym.
“Can we fight over there?”
Without waiting for an answer, I walked ahead at an unhurried pace. Calling it a boxing ring was generous. It was little more than four posts sunk into the floor with ropes strung between them. The place felt more like a fitness centre than a proper gym, making the ring seem oddly out of place.
Stopping in front of it, I reached out and tested the ropes. The posts were firmly anchored, and the ropes snapped back taut the moment I pressed against them.
The long-faced man stomped over after me, still yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Ha! You’ve got some nerve, you piece of trash.”
“So this is what a filthy little coward who talks behind people’s backs looks like.”
“You’ve got no shame at all, have you?”
“You need someone to beat some sense into you.”
“You called me a money-obsessed parasite.”
“You said I was nothing but a beggar who’d be thrown out one day.”
“You idiot.”
“You don’t even know how this place works, yet you’ve been running your mouth all over the place!”
The louder he shouted, the harder he slammed his gloved fists together. He clearly meant to intimidate me.
I didn’t fully understand what had happened. Someone had obviously told him I’d been talking behind his back. Most likely the same childish idiot who’d thrown my voice recorder into the toilet.
I’d deal with that two-faced snake later.
Right now…
…my only concern was the man standing in front of me.
I hadn’t wrapped my hands. I wasn’t wearing headgear. I didn’t even have a mouthguard. But whatever the conditions…
…I wasn’t kind enough to go easy on someone who’d been cursing at me from the moment he saw me.
Truthfully, I’d never received any proper boxing training. The reason I knew how to fight was much simpler.
Five years ago, while searching for a job that actually paid well, I’d become a boxing sparring partner for the first time after being told,
“All you have to do is endure.”
I’d been in fights before, but my sparring partners were serious fighters training to become professionals.
Naturally…
I was beaten half to death.
My face and body were covered in bruises. Even so, I gritted my teeth and survived until the third round. That earned me another job.
I hated getting hurt.
So, little by little, I began copying what my opponents did. Without realising it, I learned from every punch they threw.
By three years ago…
…I’d become the one throwing punches back.
That’s why I’d never imagined losing inside a boxing ring.
Well…
Except against that psycho who’d knocked me flat.
Damn him.
People like him were monsters. Even if I trained properly and devoted myself to boxing with everything I had…
…I still couldn’t say for certain that I’d ever beat someone like that.
He was simply an exception.