President Goo Seong-do let out a hearty laugh as he offered a pointed remark. Startled by his clear attempt to draw a line, she quickly tried to explain.
“I was really worried when Hyeon left his agency without consulting anyone. I was afraid he was giving up acting altogether, but you helped him keep going, President Goo.”
“Acting isn’t something someone else can help you with. He did it because he wanted to.”
“…….”
“But you’re saying he left the agency without consulting Do-yeong?”
“Yes… As soon as the contract ended, the agency head tried to keep him with a new role, but he just walked away. I only joined that agency because I wanted to be with Hyeon.”
President Goo, who had been quietly listening, tightened his lips. The movement was so subtle it was almost imperceptible, but something about the chill in the air made Yoon Do-yeong speak carefully.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No. Not at all…”
His voice trailed off as he tucked the envelope into his desk drawer and waved toward the door as if to change the subject.
“Have you eaten? Hyun-sook’s here too—if you haven’t had lunch, want to join us?”
“……Sure.”
Honestly, she’d had a late breakfast and wasn’t hungry at all, but she took the opportunity to grow closer to President Goo. Her gaze drifted to the envelope now hidden in the desk drawer before she smiled warmly.
“Feel free to speak casually. You used to when I was a kid—why are you being so formal now?”
“Ah… well, I’ll drop the honorifics gradually.”
Unlike how he interacted with Hyeon, President Goo clearly felt awkward around her. She approached him with an even friendlier smile on purpose.
“You’re totally casual with Hyeon. Treat me the same, please.”
“How long are you planning to stay in this office?”
He abruptly changed the subject, cutting off her words. His insistence on setting boundaries made her tense up. It felt like she’d said something wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what. Her reply came a beat too late.
“……Well, until we find a proper office, I guess.”
“But I heard you were planning to take a break. Was it necessary to rent an office?”
“Still, Chief Choi and I need a workspace, right?”
“Then you should’ve gotten a proper office from the start.”
“……Chief Choi’s learning the ropes from you, and I wanted to get closer to Hyun-sook noona and Writer Oh too.”
“Fair enough.”
President Goo smiled kindly as he walked ahead. But something about his expression felt off. Yoon Do-yeong fell silent, picking up on the strange vibe.
When they opened the door to Mpia’s office across the hall, Lee Hyun-sook’s irritated voice filtered out.
“What the hell’s wrong with her?”
The sound made Yoon Do-yeong stop short just as the door opened. President Goo, with a weary tone, asked,
“What now?”
“Does she think I’m a beggar or something?”
The sudden aggression made both of them tread carefully as they approached. Arms crossed, Hyun-sook let out a sigh.
“When did I ever ask her to send me clothes? Why send me this crap and piss me off?”
There was a delivery box on the table, filled with several outfits.
“Did Ji-yeon send this?”
“If it’s a sponsorship, she should’ve let me pick something from the store that actually suits my style and role. Sending leftovers like it’s charity—who’d be happy with that?”
Apparently fed up with continuing in front of Do-yeong, she closed the box. President Goo took a look inside and tried to mediate.
“Just wear it if it fits the role.”
“Have you ever seen me wear anything revealing? The back’s all cut out, and the front’s showing everything. It doesn’t even fit my body type. How am I supposed to wear this? She sent me trash.”
“You don’t have to call it trash. She probably picked it out with you in mind.”
“Then maybe she should’ve listened when I said I didn’t want anything sent. I told her nicely, multiple times. You know that, Oppa. It makes me sick thinking about how she pushed this on me and probably feels all proud like she helped me.”
Lee Hyun-sook snatched the clothes from President Goo’s hands and neatly folded them back into the box.
“She’s probably enjoying watching some washed-up actress do bathhouse ads or whatever now.”
“Did you tell Ji-yeon you’re doing a drama?”
“Nope. If I had, she’d throw a tantrum because I didn’t wear something from her shop. She’d start ranting about loyalty, saying I didn’t even promote her brand as a friend. Ugh… she’s just selfish.”
Her voice grew quieter as if she was tired of even expending emotion. She shook her head, clearly disgusted. Whoever Ji-yeon was, she was someone who made her deeply uncomfortable. After pushing the delivery box aside, Hyun-sook pulled a meal kit from the fridge and headed into the kitchen.
“Do-yeong, kimchi stew okay?”
“Yeah.”
He sat down and looked around the chaotic office. Pulling out a wet wipe, he cleaned the table. President Goo was microwaving instant rice when Do-yeong stood up.
“Where’s the silverware?”
“Here.”
He set the table with what she handed him—then the door burst open, and Director Yoo Ji-ha walked in with a woman. The woman froze when she saw Do-yeong, her face draining of color.
She looked familiar—probably an actress. As she hesitated and turned to leave, Director Yoo grabbed her arm.
“Do-yeong, you know about the MiraeCom2 case, right?”
The abrupt question from Director Yoo made Do-yeong smile awkwardly. Anyone in the industry would’ve heard by now—about the Lee Ji-gyeong incident, and how he had buried the article and fed the tabloids that other scandal of his instead.
He didn’t like people acting like they knew, but MiraeCom2 wasn’t a topic worth dodging.
“……Is something wrong?”
“Well… This is Jae-yi. She, uh…”
Director Yoo trailed off and gestured to President Goo. Hyun-sook also stepped away from the stove and came to the table.
“A friend of hers got a place on the 6th floor and stayed there for a few months. Jae-yi stayed with her for a bit after coming up to Seoul. They apparently had drinks with some affiliated actors on the 7th floor. But now she’s just come back from being questioned by the prosecutors. That ‘accommodation’ turned out to be a host site.”
At that, President Goo clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Jeez… Got herself caught up in the wrong mess.”
“Who’s the friend?” Hyun-sook asked.
The woman, Jae-yi, replied in a barely audible voice,
“Kang Min-ji. She’s a rookie… probably none of you know her. We were both questioned for… solicitation. I swear, we never did anything like that! We just came up from the countryside and stayed there for a little over a month, that’s all.”
Her voice trembled with fear. Yoon Do-yeong watched her silently, sighing to himself. He remembered how Lee Ji-gyeong had dragged Kang Hyeon to the 5th floor of MiraeCom2, saying they should live together. If she had taken him up to the 7th floor for a drink with other actors, it could’ve easily been Hyeon who was questioned by prosecutors. His hard-won drama and film roles would’ve been recast, reshot. If the projects had aired, he’d be the perfect scapegoat for a clickbait scandal. The thought made Do-yeong’s head throb.
“What if it hits the news…?” Jae-yi whimpered. “I was just starting to get noticed…”
She gnawed at her thumbnail, clearly panicking. Director Yoo glanced at Do-yeong, his expression expectant, as if demanding answers. Do-yeong looked away, awkward. But Yoo spoke again, this time cautiously—like he knew what was coming.
“They’re trying to bury that lawmaker’s slush fund case, aren’t they?”
It was obvious. Do-yeong answered with deliberate vagueness.
“……You know they’re reporting on the diplomatic scandal instead.”
“So it’s done, then?”
Four pairs of eyes stared at him. Do-yeong reluctantly opened his mouth.
“MiraeCom2 didn’t even get mentioned. My article redirected all the attention. Gay rumors, sponsor scandal, dating rumors…”
His voice faded, and he let out a bitter laugh. Thanks to the audio file and article Lee Ji-gyeong released, even a fabricated dating scandal had been thrown in, all to damage his image. The rumors about him and Kang Hyeon being gay got buried as mere gossip, but message boards were still full of speculation—photos from awards shows, comments he made about Hyeon in acceptance speeches, all the pictures of them together. Even the ones with Lee Ji-gyeong.
Do-yeong implied he’d taken the biggest hit, and Director Yoo exhaled heavily.
“This whole industry’s in chaos. I heard even Director Choi Jin-hyuk was questioned.”
“He deserved it,” Hyun-sook muttered.
“Hyun-sook,” President Goo said with a note of warning.
She got up and brought over the kimchi stew, pot and all. Director Yoo, comforting the actress Jae-yi, ladled a generous helping into a bowl. Watching how gently he treated her, Do-yeong couldn’t help but wonder why. Just then, Hyun-sook scooped stew into Do-yeong’s bowl and explained.
“She’s in Director Yoo’s upcoming film, The Survivor.”
“Oh! The one where the serial killer fails to kill her?”
He recognized the role and exchanged greetings with her again. As he did, a muttered comment from Hyun-sook drifted clearly into his ears, almost as if she were talking to herself.
“Hyeon must be feeling like crap too.”
“Right? Maybe that’s why he hasn’t been in touch.”
At that, Do-yeong paused mid-spoonful of kimchi stew.
