Yoon Do-yeong’s face stiffened at the blunt question. Sitting beside him, CEO Kang Hoon jumped to his feet in surprise.
“Hyeon, what are you saying in front of everyone? Get in the car, now.”
Kang Hyeon shook off CEO Kang Hoon’s hand tugging at his arm and stared straight at Yoon Do-yeong.
“Answer me.”
When Kang Hoon, stunned by Kang Hyeon’s attitude, tried to interject, Yoon Do-yeong raised his hand to stop him. Taking that as permission, Kang Hyeon unleashed his fury without hesitation.
“You arranged all the filming locations. You even dragged in Ga-yeong noona. You’ve surrounded me with your people. From where to where—how much of this was your setup?”
His voice trembled with rage. Veins bulged on Kang Hyeon’s forehead. Seeing this, Yoon Do-yeong averted his gaze and bit down on his lower lip.
“Don’t try to play smart.”
At Kang Hyeon’s accusation, Do-yeong’s fingers twitched.
“Tell me the truth.”
Do-yeong glanced around cautiously, hesitated, then finally opened his mouth.
“…That question’s a bit dangerous.”
At that evasive response, Kang Hyeon’s brows twitched. His gaze sharpened, the whites of his eyes tinged red. Do-yeong flinched under the pressure, unable to meet his eyes as he continued.
“How would I even have the power to give you the role or plant people around you? I was busy. Constantly out of the country. Just like you said, I was buried in scripts, trying to pick my next project.”
“You reviewed Oh writer’s script.”
At Kang Hyeon’s sharp retort, Yoon Do-yeong’s voice grew quieter.
“I looked at it ages ago. So what?”
“She said she built the character around me.”
“She… did say that. But,”
Do-yeong raised his head mid-sentence. Locking eyes with Kang Hyeon’s furious gaze, he spoke more firmly.
“You’re the one who auditioned. You’re the one who signed the contract.”
“…”
“I heard you went through all three rounds of auditions. Jumping to conclusions like that—it’s an insult to the director who made a thoughtful decision.”
His composed, rational words left Kang Hyeon speechless.
“I saw the script and liked the role of Kwon Ji-sang, so I auditioned and got the part fair and square. You know this. I don’t… take on roles I don’t want.”
There was no room to argue. Do-yeong had always only shown interest in the roles he personally wanted. Still, even as he listened to Do-yeong’s explanation, Kang Hyeon’s veins remained raised, his eyes still razor-sharp.
“I heard you’re one of the investors.”
“People are blowing that way out of proportion. It’s just… like how I booked a hotel room for Hyun-sook noona—I provided some filming locations. This building? I bought it for use as an office. And the hotel? I have shares there, so it was easy to reserve. Since I was renting it anyway, I just booked it for a few days straight so the cast and crew could rest comfortably and focus on acting.”
“What about Ga-yeong noona?”
“She did what she does—offered support and used you as a model, right? I think she just wanted to promote her café.”
“You told her?”
“…Yeah. The script had a café in it. I gave her a heads-up—told her if she got a proposal, she should take it. And yeah, I told the staff there was a café available. What, I can’t even do that much for my noona?”
“…Edith Shop and Chief Choi?”
“Edith Shop is sponsored by the production company, and Chief Choi is just helping out while learning the ropes from CEO Goo… As you can see, I’m moving through my agency.”
Do-yeong met Kang Hyeon’s gaze with as much confidence as he could muster. He felt he had explained himself adequately, but Kang Hyeon’s expression didn’t budge. Gritting his teeth, Hyeon glared at him.
“You’re pulling all the strings behind the scenes.”
Do-yeong instinctively flinched back, startled. Hyeon gripped his script tightly. His voice leaked out through clenched teeth, soaked with fury.
“You. Why do you always do things your way? You crushed the one thing I held on to—the one thing that made me want to stand on equal footing with you!”
No sooner had he spoken than Do-yeong’s gaze dropped. His brown eyes, lost in thought, darted aimlessly. But soon, the trembling in his eyes stopped, and he stared straight back into Kang Hyeon’s sharp glare.
“Then be specific—what exactly should I not have done?”
Do-yeong’s voice was calm, his expression cold and composed.
“Providing filming locations? Making things convenient for the cast and crew? Or… is it the role of Kwon Ji-sang?”
A soft smile curled on his lips as he stated flatly:
“That’s not happening.”
His cold tone made Kang Hyeon’s eyes waver with confusion. Do-yeong held his gaze and continued.
“Dozens of actors wanted to play Kang I-chan. But it went to you. I got the part of Kwon Ji-sang the proper way—through auditions.”
He locked eyes with him and declared clearly:
“I’m going to nail it. And I’ll do everything I can to support the project. That includes helping you—if it’s for the sake of Kang I-chan in the story. I won’t let any blemish ruin a project I’m in.”
Kang Hyeon let out a dry laugh, as if stunned. He remembered how, as a kid, he and Do-yeong had once talked about acting. While Do-yeong accepted roles confidently and without hesitation, Hyeon had always been simply grateful to be cast at all.
“Hyeon, I’m… just doing what I can for the project I’m in.”
“Am I supposed to be grateful?”
“…I’m not the one you should be thanking.”
Hyeon covered his forehead with one hand. After a long pause, he finally choked out words, trying to hold back his anger.
“Yeah. Not you.”
Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at Do-yeong with a mixture of resentment and sorrow. Then he stepped back and forced a smile. His eyes grew glassy, and he turned his head away as if to hide it. Alarmed, Do-yeong quickly called out.
“What does that mean?”
“I was never like you. I’ve always clung to roles like a desperate extra, a background piece in someone else’s story. How could I ever compare to someone like you—someone who can shake the whole game?”
“What does that have to do with acting—”
“Thanks.”
A single tear streamed down from one of Kang Hyeon’s eyes.
“Thanks for helping me see myself so clearly.”
“What are you even saying?!”
Do-yeong grabbed his arm as Hyeon turned away. Hyeon calmly wiped his tear and replied dryly.
“It means I’ve accepted it. That I’ll never stand on the same level as you.”
“You’re the lead.”
Do-yeong quickly countered, carefully taking hold of Hyeon’s hand.
“Both directors chose you.”
Without hesitation, Hyeon pulled his hand away. Flustered, Do-yeong stood frozen, then clutched his own hand like he didn’t know what else to do.
“I mean it. Don’t doubt the casting.”
Hyeon listened to Do-yeong’s trembling voice, then politely bowed. He turned and gave the same bow to CEO Kang Hoon, who had been anxiously glancing around at their surroundings, before walking away. Just a few steps later, he heard Do-yeong’s voice behind him.
“It airs in a month.”
Hyeon paused momentarily but continued walking at a steady pace. The script in his hand was already crumpled beyond recognition. He headed off in search of CEO Goo Seong-do, needing his advice regarding the breach-of-contract penalty.
He found him sitting in a hallway corner near the restroom, deep in conversation on his phone while scribbling in a notebook. When he noticed Hyeon, he waved in greeting. But before Hyeon could approach, someone stepped in his way.
“Hello, Kang Hyeon-ssi.”
“…Can I help you?”
A middle-aged man he’d never seen before handed him a business card with a polite smile.
“I’m Ko Young-hwan, CEO of PK Company.”
At the name of the agency, Hyeon’s eyes widened. PK Company was home to top-tier actors and singers.
“I heard you’re with Mpia.”
The rest of what the PK CEO said didn’t register. CEO Goo, who had been sitting nearby, stared at them in shock before slowly rising to his feet. With a resigned smile, he quietly slipped away into the restroom.
…Was I wrong?
Was CEO Goo not connected to Yoon Do-yeong?
While his thoughts were in turmoil, the PK Company CEO’s pitch buzzed in and out of his ears. The moment the man finished with a simple “Let’s be in touch,” Hyeon darted into the restroom. CEO Goo, leaning against the wall by the sink, glanced up from his notebook with a sheepish smile.
“PK Company’s great… Tons of work, clean accounting, no drama. I haven’t been able to properly support you since the drama started, but if you switch over quickly now—”
“No. That’s not it.”
Hyeon grabbed Goo’s hand, his eyes filled with turmoil.
“Did Yoon Do-yeong tell you to help me?”
“To help? With what?”
“…”
“Oh… I’m paying Chief Choi a daily rate. He mentioned that since CEO Kang stepped in as Do-yeong’s manager, his own position got weaker, so he needed an excuse to show up on set.”
“Chief Choi should be taking care of Do-yeong.”
“Well… The agency takes good care of Do-yeong. Hey, I’ve lined up an interview for you. I’ll ask them to leave out your agency’s name, so don’t worry. Just ask about PK Company’s offer—”
“No. No, no.”
Hyeon shook his head, eyes spinning in confusion. The casual way CEO Goo talked about switching agencies made his chest tighten.
“After I went down to the countryside… did you and Do-yeong talk about anything?”
“I never met with him. Though I think he sees Oh writer now and then.”
“…You used his office, didn’t you?”
“Occasionally. But Director Yoo saw more people there than I did. He doesn’t have his own office, remember?”
“Did Do-yeong give me the role?”
“…”
“He did, didn’t he? Why else would I be the lead? Director Ji didn’t even like me.”
Hyeon’s voice trembled, warped by fear. Goo’s expression turned serious, completely different from the guilty look he’d worn earlier. Sensing the shift, Hyeon straightened up. Goo spoke in a stern tone.
“You think two directors—whose names are known by everyone in this industry—cast a parachute actor? Do-yeong said he went through two official auditions. On what grounds are you even saying this?”
