A staffer from the company, clearly acting as a temporary manager for the day, gestured while speaking on the phone.
“Hyeon, please hurry. As soon as your makeup’s done, we’re heading straight to the set.”
Driven more by the urgency in his voice than anything else, Kang Hyeon followed along into the next room to get his makeup done. Once finished, he exited the building. He helped the stylist carry the armful of outfits down to the parking lot, where a familiar sports car came into view. As they headed toward it, the manager commented in awe.
“Wow… One scratch on this thing and the repair bill would be insane, right?”
It was painfully obvious that this flashy sports car had been dropped off by Yoon Do-yeong, but Kang Hyeon couldn’t understand why they were even using it.
“We could’ve just taken the company van.”
At that, the manager gave him a look as if he’d missed something obvious.
“It’s for the scene where you sneak out with your dad’s car.”
“Huh? I thought that was just a dialogue scene on the indoor set?”
That scene had originally been scripted as a quiet confrontation, where his father catches him sneaking out at night and yells, “Take the keys away from him!”
“We pitched the idea to the director and got it added in. He said there’s no issue filming a quick getaway shot in the car.”
“We actually thought it’d help reinforce the rich-kid concept,” he added casually, though it didn’t really register with Kang Hyeon. Pressed for time, he got in the car and they drove off.
Upon arriving at the outdoor set, they immediately filmed the scene where he pulls the sports car into the alley. Even the pocket money scene—originally meant to be shot indoors—was now filmed inside the car.
Still feeling a bit disoriented, Hyeon changed into his next costume and waited. That’s when the lead actor, Min Ji-woo, approached and pointed at his wrist.
“Whoa, that’s a limited edition. Where’d you get it?”
“…It’s sponsored.”
“Seriously? What kind of brand gives a multi-million won watch to a supporting actor?”
Even though she knew he was a supporting role, she deliberately used the term “bit part,” tilting her head like she truly didn’t get it. Her eyes then drifted over his outfit, quietly sizing him up. During script readings, she’d barely exchanged formal greetings with him, but now her gaze sparkled with interest and her expression turned serious.
“What do your parents do?”
“…”
“I heard you’re super tight with Yoon Do-yeong. Must come from some crazy powerful family, huh?”
“It’s a sponsorship.”
“From who?”
He hesitated, unsure whether to answer, and that’s when Min Ji-woo flashed a sly smile.
“You’ve got a sponsor, don’t you?”
“I do not.”
He answered firmly, but she only smirked like she didn’t believe him. Just then, his manager showed up with a blanket and chimed in.
“It really is sponsored.”
“Oh… okay.”
Min Ji-woo replied half-heartedly, and the stylist, who’d come over with some hair products, snapped sharply.
“Yoon Do-yeong gave it to him.”
“What?”
“You didn’t know they’re close? He even mentioned it at the awards show. Hyeon taught him acting.”
The stylist made a point to say it loud enough while adjusting Kang Hyeon’s hair.
“This company doesn’t do late-night drinking.”
That was her subtle way of saying they didn’t use actors for wining and dining clients. She even touched up his makeup afterward. Kang Hyeon’s gaze slid toward Min Ji-woo, who glared at the stylist with clear irritation before turning on her heel and walking off.
“She sees only what she wants to see.”
At that, Kang Hyeon gave the stylist a small nudge on the arm to stop her.
“I worked at that company for a few months. I know how it is.”
Whispering like she was spilling a secret, she added, “The CEO’s garbage.” Then she pulled a hot pack from her pocket and handed it to him. His manager followed up with a warm cup of coffee.
“Thank you.”
He bowed politely to both and waited for his next scene. As he looked at the coffee, something Baek Ga-yeong had said flashed through his mind. He pulled out his phone, snapped a selfie, then had his manager take a few more photos. After stepping away from the set, he made a video call to his grandfather.
—Hyeonie?
“Grandpa, I’m on set today.”
—My handsome boy.
Seeing him all dressed up, Grandpa’s eyes sparkled with pride. Someone beside him leaned in—probably his senior center buddies. They all tried to crowd into the frame, beaming.
—Did you eat?
“I did. How about you, Grandpa?”
—I ate too. Aren’t you cold?
As Grandpa asked, the folks around him kept asking which channel the drama would be on. Sounded like they were trying to figure out how to watch it.
—Where can we see it?
“It’s a web drama, so you can watch it on your phone. Still filming, so the release date isn’t confirmed yet. I’ll send you a message when it airs.”
—Alright, alright.
Beaming, Grandpa’s eyes twinkled as Hyeon showed off more of his outfit and styling. That’s when his manager called to him from a distance.
“Grandpa, I’ve got to get back to filming. I’ll call you again soon.”
—Okay, sweetheart.
He hung up and returned to find there was still some wait time. So he sent the photos he’d taken earlier—to his grandfather, of course, and also to Ga-yeong noona. Then, after some hesitation, he tapped on Yoon Do-yeong’s chat in his recent messages.
[Thanks.]
It was a clumsy message, with no flair, but he attached the best-looking photo along with it. He expected a quick reply, but the read receipt never came. The longer it took, the more his anticipation turned into anxious restlessness. He found himself bouncing on his heels.
“Hyeon!”
The director suddenly called him. He ran over, and the scriptwriter beside the director handed him a new script insert. They’d added a scene where his character gets dragged out of the car by the ear by his father, throwing a tantrum.
The show had a rich-boy setting, but the director and crew clearly didn’t have the budget for fancy props, so they seemed determined to milk the sports car for all it was worth.
More screen time was great, but something about it felt off—like Yoon Do-yeong’s influence had shaped the scene, and it made Hyeon uneasy.
After wrapping up his final scene for the day, he was heading back to the car when a staff member approached, asking if they could shoot a scene of the female lead sitting in the car. He readily agreed and went to wait on the crew’s warm bus.
“Ahh… finally some life in me.”
The warmth hit him after being out in the cold so long, and the words just slipped out. A few staffers and bit-part actors resting on the bus looked over. Hyeon politely bowed and took an open seat. They eventually nodded back and thanked him for his hard work.
The chill in his bones slowly eased, and the warmth lulled his body into drowsiness. His eyes fluttered shut. In the background, he heard a staffer’s irritated voice from the front of the bus.
“She’s got, what, three lines? And she still can’t memorize them?”
“Where are we supposed to find a decent middle-aged actress on such short notice? We shoot in two days.”
“Ugh… This is why I said we should cast someone experienced.”
As he listened to the bickering, a name popped into Hyeon’s mind—CEO Goo Seong-do. He searched for actress Lee Hyun-sook on his phone. Looking through the image results, he realized she’d played far more varied roles than he’d thought. After a moment of hesitation, he cautiously approached one of the staffers—likely the casting director—and greeted them politely.
“Um… I think actress Lee Hyun-sook might be available.”
“Lee Hyun-sook? Oh, her? That bit-part actress?”
He didn’t know when she’d gotten reduced to that label, but the staffer’s interest seemed genuine, so he continued.
“Yes. She’s been acting for a long time, so I think she’d pick things up quickly. CEO Goo Seong-do is her manager. Want his contact info?”
“Wait… CEO Goo? You mean from Mpia?”
The fact that she recognized the company name meant there was no need to explain further. Sure enough, she immediately dug into her call log and started dialing. Pleased, Hyeon returned to his seat. He could hear the staffer’s anxious tone shifting into relief. She even said she’d send the script over.
The sports car scenes, which he thought would be a quick shoot, ended up dragging late into the day. Bored from waiting on the bus, he helped the staff with miscellaneous tasks and eventually stayed through dinner.
While talking about social media promotion for the drama, he decided to contribute in his own small way and finally posted the day’s photos on the barely-used SNS account he’d made. Almost instantly, he got a single like. At the same time, a message came through.
[Send me the original.]
He sent the photo to Lee Ji-gyeong as requested. Then, seeing that Yoon Do-yeong had read the message and viewed the photo but hadn’t replied, he called him. No answer. He called again. Still no response. That sinking feeling crept in, souring his mood.
As for the watch, he figured there was no need to bring it up again—he’d just return it after tomorrow’s shoot. Meanwhile, he mulled over how to broach the topic of ending his contract with the agency. After a late-night conversation with the CEO, he ended up driving Do-yeong’s car himself, because the manager was oddly reluctant to even touch the wheel. He offered to bring it to the set the next day himself.
***
The hotel conference room, dressed up like an interview lounge, buzzed with cheerful energy. Wearing his business smile, Yoon Do-yeong answered the interpreter’s questions with as much charm as he could muster. In the brief break between interviews, he kept checking his phone.
Photos kept pouring in from people Kang Hyeon had met on set that day—now, a string of photos directly from the shoot. As he glanced through them, something flickered in his eyes.
The clothes and accessories he’d sent via the stylist were draped over Hyeon’s frame. Hair styled, makeup on—he didn’t look like the Hyeon Do-yeong knew. He was someone else. A different kind of man altogether.
Dressed to perfection, his sharp features paired with his usual aloof expression created a chilly, magnetic aura. The unexpected charisma nearly knocked the breath out of Do-yeong. His heart pounded like crazy, and his cheeks flushed.
Clutching his phone tightly to his chest like it was something precious, he murmured to himself,
“…Yeah. This one—I’m saving this.”
