Chapter 18: The Parachute and a Vicious Cycle

Han Tae-young was the youngest son born to Han-seong, the founder of the platform company Origin, after he remarried following his wife’s passing. However, Tae-young concealed the fact that he was Han-seong’s son and moved to Korea to debut.

He didn’t harbor grand aspirations of succeeding without the family’s backing or assistance. It was merely a minimal precaution to prevent his family and company from suffering harm if he were to cause trouble later on.

Tae-young understood his own personality well. Though he lived a much more restrained life these days, he knew this flawed temperament would inevitably lead to trouble, whether big or small, someday.

The thought of committing a blameworthy act while the world knew his father was the founder of Origin presented an impossible scenario. Not only would he receive a hundred times the criticism he deserved, but his entire family would be dragged onto the chopping block. Tae-young simply could not bear to see that happen.

When Tae-young declared his intention to become an actor, his entire family, including his parents, stepsister, and stepbrother, vehemently opposed it. His family had always supported and encouraged whatever their youngest pursued, yet this particular opposition was exceptionally strong, likely because Tae-young had decided to drop out of school rather than merely take a leave of absence.

They tried to persuade him, arguing that his passion for acting might wane, so why go to the extent of dropping out? It seemed they believed his decision was impulsive, not a serious commitment to acting.

Regardless of his family’s opinions, Tae-young flew to Korea. He possessed a personality that demanded he pursue whatever he desired, even if it meant dying, so his family’s dissuasion fell on deaf ears.

Indeed, being told not to do something only fueled his desire to do it even more.

Come to think of it, he had just claimed he had no ambition to succeed on his own, but upon reflection, that didn’t seem to be entirely true.

‘The commendable thought, ‘If I cause trouble, my family will suffer,’ likely emerged only after he had established himself somewhat as an actor.’

‘Though he had concealed his identity in a fit of pique, looking back, it had been a decision blessed by fate.’

Tae-young was, by nature, a fortunate individual. That is, if one disregarded the single incident that had plagued him with insomnia for over a decade.

Tae-young poured alcohol down his throat repeatedly before asking:

“The Parachute, are you absolutely certain they’re not some chaebol’s illegitimate child or an STBC executive’s son?”

The nickname ‘The Parachute’ had been given to Baek Hwi-kyung by the film crew. However, Baek Hwi-kyung seemed unaware he was being called that.

While some speculated he was merely feigning ignorance, his personality suggested he would have caused a huge scene if he knew, making his genuine ignorance highly probable. He was the kind of person who would shove his phone in someone’s face and demand, ‘Are you talking about me right now?’ just for seeing staff whisper behind his back; there was no way he would tolerate being called ‘The Parachute.’

“From what I’ve gathered, no, he isn’t.”

“Then what the hell does that bastard rely on to act so terribly?”

Frankly, Tae-young couldn’t care less if Baek Hwi-kyung was ‘The Parachute.’ From Tae-young’s perspective, as long as he could act well, it didn’t matter whose connections landed him the role.

He also didn’t care if Baek Hwi-kyung’s arrogant behavior toward the staff damaged his own reputation. However, the constant delays caused by his tardiness were infuriating. But even with that, if he had simply performed his role competently, Tae-young wouldn’t have come to despise him so intensely.

Tae-young genuinely detested Baek Hwi-kyung. Watching him butcher his lines with a bleating, goat-like voice and dead-fish eyes involuntarily tightened Tae-young’s fists.

Whenever they filmed a two-shot, Tae-young had to fight the urge to grab him by the collar and throw him off the set. To make matters worse, the scenes they shared were steadily increasing, driving him to the brink of madness.

Kim Jin-woo, having repeatedly opened and closed a soda bottle cap, finally spoke.

“Baek Hwi-kyung is also Sung Shi-hyuk’s pick… and, well, they say he’s very charming to the higher-ups.”

“What do you mean ‘charming to the higher-ups’? Are you saying he dines with directors or executives?”

He had never heard of a rookie actor dining with someone of a broadcasting station director’s caliber. The situation would be different if his father or a relative knew the director, or if he were the son of someone the director needed to impress, but hadn’t Jin-woo just asserted that Baek Hwi-kyung had no such connections?

“Uh, well… to the investors?”

Tae-young’s face instantly contorted into a frown. Though many words were omitted, the implication was clear.

“Surely that bastard isn’t… prostituting himself to old men?”

“It’s not confirmed, but that’s what the rumors say.”

“Damn it, so that bastard Baek Hwi-kyung is a queer!”

Tae-young shuddered as if he had just discovered a cockroach crawling on him.

“Hey, calm down. I said Baek Hwi-kyung might have offered sexual favors, not that he’s gay, okay? He has a girlfriend he lives with.”

Tae-young retorted, his face etched with deeper incomprehension.

“He’s living with a girlfriend and still going around offering himself for roles?”

“Why not? It’s possible. His girlfriend is his girlfriend, and work is work.”

“That bastard’s completely lost his mind. No matter how much he wants to get famous, that’s just too far.”

Tae-young gagged, as if the mere thought was nauseating, then collapsed onto the sofa.

“Are you done drinking?”

“Yeah. Hearing about ‘The Parachute’ just killed my appetite for alcohol.”

Tae-young covered his eyes with the back of his arm and remained still for a long time. His breathing sounded low and steady.

‘Has he fallen asleep?’

Jin-woo picked up his phone, intending to message Tae-young’s family. But then, Tae-young, whom he thought was asleep, suddenly spoke.

“Brother.”

“Oh, what is it? Do you want me to get you some water?”

“Should I drop out of the drama?”

“Yeah, sure. …What?”

Jin-woo, who had started to get water, practically jumped in place.

“D-drop out? You want to drop out, why? You wanted to do this drama so badly. Is it because of Baek Hwi-kyung?”

“What are you talking about? What’s that bastard to me?”

Tae-young removed his arm from his eyes, as if he’d just heard something preposterous.

“Then why are you dropping out? Hey, wake up. This is a joke, right? You’re not serious, are you?”

Jin-woo’s face turned ashen, as if he had received a prophecy of the world’s end. Though he was Tae-young’s friend, he was also an employee of STBC.

The mere thought of the fallout and the cleanup required if Tae-young were to drop out sent shivers down his spine, making his hands and feet tremble.

“Everything just turned to shit. I guess acting isn’t fun anymore.”

“Hey, ‘acting isn’t fun’ my ass! You’re just lethargic because you haven’t slept enough. I saw you poring over the script on set. Would someone who finds acting boring research their character so diligently?”

“That’s because the script is so goddamn awful I couldn’t figure out how to act it. I don’t know, I just don’t want to act anymore. And I think this drama is going to flop.”

“Hey! Flop, what flop? Just earlier, you treated that delivery guy like an arch-enemy because he said our drama would flop. When were you shuddering with indignation, and now you’re saying it’ll flop with your own mouth?”

“I was secretly anxious, and he just hit a raw nerve, so I reacted more strongly. Even you said it was strange how persistently angry I was at him, didn’t you, Brother?”

Upon hearing this, it made sense. In a situation where doubts were sprouting about whether the drama was heading for disaster due to a shoddy script, anyone would overreact to hearing it would flop.

“Tae-young, our drama isn’t going to flop. If you’re anxious, grab your phone, search for our drama, and let’s check the ratings.”

“The viewership ratings aren’t a safe bet yet. They’re numbers that could plummet at any moment.”

“The script might be inconsistent, but you and Director Go have covered for it well so far. There are plenty of dramas that become huge hits even when the director and writer are fighting and the atmosphere is a mess. Why are you so pessimistic?”

“It’s a gut feeling. That’s just how it feels. You know I have good instincts, Brother.”

If anyone else had spoken of ‘gut feelings,’ Jin-woo would have dismissed it as nonsense. But because it was Tae-young speaking, Jin-woo could only remain silent.

“When you get a bad feeling, you need to pull out quickly. Suffering consequences by ignoring your instincts once is more than enough.”

There was only one incident Tae-young ever referred to as ‘suffering consequences.’

“…Hey, connecting the kidnapping incident to our drama is a bit of a stretch.”

“I suppose so.”

Tae-young conceded with a clean slate, then reached for his phone.

“As you said, Brother, I haven’t slept enough, so my brain must be fried.”

Tae-young played a video on his phone. Jin-woo wondered what he was watching, only to realize it was the CCTV footage of the rider he’d seen in the photo earlier. Jin-woo asked, his face etched with weariness.

“You had the video too?”

“It’s not ‘I *also* have the video’; it *is* the original video.”

‘As if I didn’t know that,’ Jin-woo muttered to himself.

‘This is serious.’

This was the first time Jin-woo had seen Tae-young obsess over someone like this. He vaguely resembled a child who was desperate to make friends but didn’t know how, and was incredibly frustrated by it.

“Stop obsessing.”

“About what?”

“That rider.”

Jin-woo gestured towards the phone.

“Now that I think about it, the problem is you keep thinking about that rider. Because you keep dwelling on your anger towards the rider, the anxiety that the drama will flop won’t leave your mind.”

“So, it’s a vicious cycle.”

“Exactly.”

Jin-woo nodded emphatically. Despite looking like a dim-witted quarterback, Tae-young was actually quick-witted. He had even attended an Ivy League university.

Jin-woo could understand why Tae-young’s family had so fiercely opposed his decision to drop out. Though, being smart didn’t always equate to acting wisely.

“I’m dying to sleep.”

Tae-young released his phone and let out a long sigh. Had he not been drinking, perhaps, but now it was impossible to tell him to take his medication, leaving them in a dilemma.

“Hey, Tae-young, if you’re really struggling, why don’t you try watching Ping Pong Star?”

Tae-young frowned.

“…Ping Pong Star? Ah, the children’s drama.”