Chapter 44
In the ensuing silence, Manager Kim Kyung-seop scratched his neck while muttering unintelligible words to himself.
Not knowing what to say, Cheong-yeon repeatedly opened and closed his mouth. Considering the situation, he had caused too large a scandal for a mere rookie to face his CEO properly.
“Did they say anything on their end?”
Cheong-yeon asked in a small voice, watching Manager Kim’s reaction carefully.
“There was… Haah, there was quite an uproar.”
His voice was tinged with complicated emotions.
“By uproar, what kind of… Are they asking me to pay for the production costs?”
“No. Strangely, they haven’t mentioned that.”
At Manager Kim’s direct answer, Cheong-yeon stroked his chest and sighed with relief.
“I thought they would threaten to sue for damages, but oddly, it’s still quiet.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“It is good. Of course, you’ve been cut from the role.”
Manager Kim rubbed his rough stubble.
“I really couldn’t do that role. They deceived me… I’m truly sorry to you, CEO, but if I had known the content beforehand, I wouldn’t have even auditioned. Absolutely not.”
“I know, I know. What can we do? That’s how this industry is. You get your nose cut off while your eyes are wide open.”
Manager Kim’s somewhat resigned attitude made Cheong-yeon worried about the future of the company and himself, leaving him feeling utterly lost.
“But you and Director Moon Do-heon are really over, right?”
When Manager Kim suddenly mentioned Do-heon, Cheong-yeon tilted his head.
“Yes, we’re over. We even got divorced, and now I’m in this mess.”
“Right. I heard some strange rumors… Ah. Anyway, you can go now.”
“…I’m sorry, hyung. I mean, CEO.”
“It’s not your fault. I didn’t know either. Haah… You must have been very shocked in that situation. It’s partly my fault for sending you to the filming location without properly checking, just because they said they would cast you.”
Manager Kim, who usually cracked jokes to lighten the atmosphere no matter how serious the situation, today showed his anxiety without once smiling since Cheong-yeon had entered the office.
“Do you think another opportunity will come if I keep working hard?”
In response to Cheong-yeon’s lifeless mumbling, Manager Kim let out a long sigh and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it and took a drag.
Cheong-yeon blankly watched the hazy smoke disperse into the air.
“Realistically speaking, it might be difficult for you to work for a while. You know how auditions are all connected through networking, don’t you?”
“…”
“Unless you get sponsored, that is.”
“…I see.”
Cheong-yeon nodded compliantly. From the moment he had left the filming site yesterday, the uncertainty of his future activities was a foregone conclusion. Removing an actor like him from the industry would be effortless, which is why the director and lighting director had pressured him so relentlessly.
“But are you sure there’s really no issue with the production costs?”
Though his uncertain career was concerning, the production cost issue bothered Cheong-yeon the most.
The cost wasted due to his departure from the filming site yesterday amounted to tens of millions of won. Since Secretary Shim had completely dispersed the filming team, he knew they hadn’t been able to shoot even a single scene that day.
“There’s no talk about it. I find it strange too, so I’m planning to look into it separately. They might change their tune later and make a fuss, but seeing how quiet they’ve been so far, they probably know they were the ones with the biggest problem.”
“What happens if they change their minds later?”
“We’ll have to see when that time comes.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“What can we do? Anyway, you should go home now. I’ll contact you if I hear anything else.”
“Yes.”
Cheong-yeon rose from his seat and bowed to Manager Kim. Manager Kim waved his hand with a troubled expression, telling him to hurry along.
It was frustrating that nothing had been resolved. It was also difficult to predict how Director Yang Jung-hak would react.
Contrary to his gloomy mood, Cheong-yeon looked up at the bright blue sky before trudging home with heavy steps.
*
Several days passed, but there was no news from either the agency or the filming team. Cheong-yeon had expected the filming team to contact him with a barrage of insults or at least threaten him to be careful at night, but for some reason, it was eerily quiet.
“The drama director was replaced?”
Cheong-yeon, who had been searching the internet while lying in bed to see if there were any updates related to the drama, sat up abruptly.
Although it hadn’t aired yet, there were already quite a few articles about the drama due to its buzz from the star writer, director, and famous lead actors.
What caught Cheong-yeon’s attention was an article posted this morning. It stated that the main director and lighting director had been suddenly replaced due to internal circumstances, though the reason wasn’t specified.
Wanting to know more details, Cheong-yeon searched and read through related articles one by one, but ultimately couldn’t find the exact reason for the replacement.
In communities where drama and actor fans gathered, there were groundless speculations such as friction with the production company or rumors of conflict with the writer. However, none of the opinions seemed plausible to Cheong-yeon.
*Could it be that the production company fired them both for wasting the production budget and withdrawing that day?*
But if that were the case, it was strange that neither the main director nor the lighting director had said anything. If they had truly been fired because of him, he should have received at least one threatening message from them by now. Even the CEO seemed unaware of the situation, which was frustrating.
Since there was no further information to uncover at the moment, Cheong-yeon decided to assume there were other internal circumstances he wasn’t aware of.
At least they weren’t making a fuss about demanding compensation from him.
After that, Cheong-yeon was given a few more small audition opportunities, but as expected, he failed all of them.
While he occasionally got roles closer to special appearances or minor parts, even those were often canceled with a unilateral text message notification the day before filming. None of them provided a reason. Of course, he had his suspicions, so he didn’t bother to ask.
It seemed he had been firmly blacklisted in this small industry. Even Manager Kim, perhaps deciding that investing in Cheong-yeon was no longer economically viable, gave the occasional scripts to other actors in the agency, making audition opportunities increasingly rare.
The minor roles he had occasionally landed and been happy about were all canceled, and he was no longer able to even touch new scripts. A week passed without any progress.
During that time, his grandmother contacted him directly, saying she had a health checkup scheduled for Saturday, so he didn’t need to come this week. Since his mind was already in turmoil for various reasons, Cheong-yeon thought it was rather fortunate. It wasn’t easy to pretend everything was fine in front of his grandmother.
As his work as an actor diminished to the point of ceasing altogether, the living expenses he had diligently saved began to run out.
Having spent quite a bit on small expenses like food, taxi fares, and costumes for auditions, his part-time job photographing for online shopping sites couldn’t cover it all.
When even the monthly acting school fee became a burden, Cheong-yeon had no choice but to temporarily suspend his acting classes. Along with that, he dropped out of the short film being produced by the school.
It was as if that briefly shining moment had been a mirage, and suddenly everything was spiraling downward.
He had thought that if he focused intensely for about two years, he would see some results. But at this rate, it seemed like even dedicating five years solely to acting wouldn’t get him anywhere.
Above all, the biggest issue was having to worry about making a living.
So when Manager Kim contacted him out of the blue one day and brought up sponsorship, Cheong-yeon wasn’t particularly surprised.
—”You just need to casually socialize with some directors a few times. They’re mostly Alphas, but… if you really don’t like Alphas, I heard there are Betas too if we look.”
“…CEO. What do you think I’m going to say?”
Cheong-yeon asked abruptly after silently listening to Manager Kim’s rambling through the phone for a while.
—”Probably something like, ‘Are you crazy?’ That’s what you were going to say, right?”
“How did you know? I was thinking exactly that.”
And here I thought it was urgent when he suddenly called. Manager Kim had been explaining about sponsorship, which Cheong-yeon hadn’t even asked about, for over twenty minutes.
—
Note: Throughout this chapter, Cheong-yeon addresses Kim Kyung-seop as “대표님” (daepyo-nim) which translates to “CEO” or “representative” in Korean. This suggests that Kim Kyung-seop is not just Cheong-yeon’s manager but also the head/CEO of the small talent agency that represents him. This explains why Cheong-yeon addresses him formally as “CEO” in professional contexts while occasionally slipping into calling him “hyung” (older brother/friend) in more casual moments, showing their personal relationship alongside their professional one.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
