While Director Yoo Ji-ha rubbed his dry eyes and sipped his coffee, Kang Hyeon stared at his own image on the screen, his brow furrowing. In the scene, he was hiding in an alley after a murder, staring at his bloodstained hands with a look of ecstasy. The expression on his face instinctively turned grim. Director Yoo pointed to the scene where his character was walking away with his back turned.
“I’d like you to hum here.”
“Right here?”
“As a killer who’s just finished his job and hides in the alley, humming out of joy—without even realizing it.”
Director Yoo spoke seriously, then added,
“Like when you sang to Do-yeong that night.”
He must’ve been referring to the time he sang a lullaby for Do-yeong in the parking lot. Kang Hyeon caught on quickly and nodded.
“Yes.”
He answered confidently but immediately felt a chill run down his spine.
Did I ever say I talked to Do-yeong on the phone? I think I answered “yes” when he asked if we were dating…
Kang Hyeon glanced over warily, but Director Yoo seemed unfazed, already pointing to the next scene.
“And here.”
He looked at the scene being indicated. It showed him stabbing someone with a knife, just as the camera caught the sharp line of his jaw and his lips.
“A faint chuckle.”
Director Yoo even demonstrated what he meant, describing his directions with precision.
“And here, your breathing has to be audible—sticky and drawn out, like you’re trying to suppress the pleasure.”
Kang Hyeon pieced together the instructions and tried out a sinister chuckle. Judging from the lack of approval in Yoo’s expression, the ADR session was going to take a while. Having said all he needed to, Director Yoo pulled a cigarette pack from his coat.
“The recording studio’s on the third floor. You go up first—I’ll have a quick smoke and head up.”
“I’ll just keep watching the edited footage. Take your time.”
The subtle suggestion that he’d wait made Director Yoo nod with the cigarette between his lips before stepping outside. He stood there, exhausted, staring blankly at the sky as he smoked. Kang Hyeon turned his attention back to the tablet, watching scenes performed by the other actors. His eyes sparkled with admiration as he focused intently on the screen.
Then someone tapped the table.
A middle-aged man with a vaguely familiar face was looking at him like he’d just spotted an old friend. Another man, who appeared to be accompanying him, gave Kang Hyeon a once-over. The familiar-looking man pointed at him, searching his memory as he spoke in a chummy tone.
“I’ve seen you somewhere…”
As soon as the man opened his mouth, Kang Hyeon stood up and bowed politely.
“Hello.”
“A few months ago, that drama on cable TV… you played the rich son or something?”
“Yes, I was the female lead’s younger brother.”
“I knew it! Nice to meet you.”
The middle-aged man held out his hand for a shake. As Kang Hyeon took it with both hands, he finally remembered who the man was.
“I’m Choi Jin-hyuk.”
“…I’m Kang Hyeon.”
The moment he recalled that this was the director whose script Lee Ji-gyeong had shown him in her officetel, tension crept up his spine. Director Choi studied his face for a moment before smiling with satisfaction.
“Oh… You’re taller than I thought. I figured you were more of a cute type, but there’s a sharper edge to you.”
While making unsolicited comments about his looks, Director Choi rubbed his thumb across the back of Kang Hyeon’s hand with a too-friendly smile.
“I’m starting a film after this drama wraps up. We should get a drink sometime.”
“Kang Hyeon’s with Mpia.”
A sudden voice came from behind. At the sound of Director Yoo Ji-ha’s voice, Director Choi’s hand dropped away.
“Oh… Goo Seong-do.”
Drawling as if trying to act familiar, Director Choi was met with a friendly but firm smile from Director Yoo, who stepped in beside Kang Hyeon.
“If you want to contact Kang Hyeon about casting, go through Mpia.”
“Didn’t he say he wasn’t managing actors?”
“I picked up someone who’d already grown.”
Glancing at his watch like he was pressed for time, Director Yoo gave Director Choi a look, while the latter responded with suspicion.
“Right… What are you doing here?”
“ADR.”
“Ah, right! That film you’re working on?”
“Yes.”
Yoo responded formally even as Choi spoke in casual speech. Then he packed up the tablet and gave Kang Hyeon a gentle push toward the door.
“We’ll be heading up.”
“Sure. Let me know once you set a release date.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
With a breezy reply, Director Yoo turned around, and Kang Hyeon followed, giving Director Choi a quick bow before exiting the café. After they left, the man sitting with Choi leaned in and whispered,
“Who’s that?”
“Ji-gyeong’s friend.”
“Oh… you mean, the one who’s friends with Yoon Do-yeong?”
The two exchanged knowing glances and sat down at the table near the monstera plant. They began gossiping about actors currently starring in the drama, throwing around slang as they critiqued their bodies. It wasn’t long before their sleazy comments shifted toward Kang Hyeon.
The man sitting behind the monstera leaves—wearing a black baseball cap—listened silently, head bowed low. Then his fingers began tapping on his phone’s keypad.
[Find out when and where the drama Choi Jin-hyuk is shooting is set to air.]
He sent the message, then slowly sipped his watered-down iced Americano. Sitting quietly, he tapped a condensation-speckled glass with a fingertip in a steady rhythm. Even after Director Choi left the café, the man remained still, lost in thought as he continued to tap.
***
Meanwhile, Kang Hyeon finished recording far sooner than expected and stepped outside the building. Director Yoo had only accompanied him to the studio door, leaving the rest to the sound director. The entire ADR session had taken less than 30 minutes, leaving Kang Hyeon feeling oddly empty.
He checked the time on his phone—it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. With plenty of time and no one to call, he thought about dropping in on Baek Ga-yeong’s café after checking in with a senior from his theater troupe. Then he decided to call CEO Goo Seong-do instead. As the ringtone played, he suddenly remembered that Yoon Do-yeong’s office was right across from Mpia’s. A flutter of nervous anticipation stirred in his chest at the thought that he might get news about him.
—Oh, Hyeon.
“I just finished ADR and wanted to check in.”
—I was just about to call. The hanbok shoot date is set. You’re coming to the office, right?
“…Yes.”
—Have you eaten?
“Not yet.”
—Perfect. I didn’t want to eat alone. Just grab one of those stew meal kits on your way here.
“Yes!”
The fact that he’d be alone made Kang Hyeon’s voice perk up. It didn’t seem like he’d run into Do-yeong, which brought both relief and a bittersweet sigh.
On the way to Mpia, he spotted a takeout spot for army stew and bought three portions of the three-person set. He also stopped by a convenience store for instant rice and kimchi, then headed to the office. As soon as he walked in, CEO Goo took the bags and blurted out,
“Don’t buy kimchi or instant rice from now on. They’re expensive. We’ve already got a bulk stock ordered online.”
He tossed the stew into a pot. While it simmered, Kang Hyeon neatly stored the rest in the fridge and began tidying the cluttered table like it was second nature.
“I’m planning the hanbok shoot for early July—okay? We’ll renew the deal annually.”
“Yes.”
“We originally agreed on five outfits, but now it’s eight, with a little raise in the modeling fee. Oh, and your webtoon-based drama is airing this fall.”
“Oh… okay.”
Hearing that his career was being used to negotiate higher pay made him instinctively fold his hands politely.
“And let’s sign a one-year contract between us.”
“Really?!”
It caught him so off guard that his voice jumped. CEO Goo gave a sheepish grin before continuing.
“As you know, this place runs on improvisation. I’m not great at managing people… Let’s just agree to look out for each other a little. If a better agency comes along, you’re free to go.”
“We’ll both do well and keep renewing, then.”
Moved by the CEO’s thoughtfulness, Kang Hyeon bowed deeply.
“Aigoo… Renewing, he says. I’m not capable of that. I just want us to have some peace of mind—and share a few meals together.”
Waving it off, CEO Goo placed the bubbling pot of army stew on the table and scooped out a full bowl for Kang Hyeon. Then, in a low voice like he was sharing a secret, he said:
“Looks like Oh I-seul’s script is finally getting made into an actual drama.”
“Wow! That’s amazing. She said she’d had a hard time revising it, right?”
“Don’t even get me started. There were tears, tantrums, drinking fits—it took over two years.”
“Jeez… You’ve been through a lot.”
“They say it’s gonna be a 12-episode series.”
While eating, Goo continued,
“You know Director Ji Seok-woo?”
“Yes.”
He was known for his stunning visuals. Every frame in his films was praised as a work of art. Yoon Do-yeong had even made a cameo in one of his Japanese projects. It hadn’t been released yet.
“There’s a chance he might direct it…”
Trailing off, CEO Goo took a few sips of broth, his eyes turning serious.
“But since Director Yoo Ji-ha is co-writing the script with Oh I-seul, he might end up directing instead.”
“…”
“Apparently, Oh I-seul said she wants all the roles to go through auditions—probably because of Yoo’s influence. If Ji Seok-woo takes it, the cinematography might cover some weak acting, but Oh I-seul doesn’t want any holes in the cast.”
“Yes…”
With a firm look, CEO Goo lowered his voice.
“There’s a villain role.”
“Y-Yes?”
“That role… was written with you in mind.”
“…What?”
