X
Back when he had been with Daehwa, there was something he had heard over and over again from trainers, team leads, and managers.
‘There’s no senior who likes a junior that shows off.’
‘You think that’s not showing off?’
‘If it looks like showing off to seniors, then it is showing off.’
‘At private gatherings, don’t raise your voice.’
‘Listen more than you speak.’
‘In front of the camera, be confident.’
‘But in private settings, don’t draw attention.’
‘That’s how you earn seniors’ favor.’
He had heard it for nine years, so the words were carved deep into his mind.
That was why he had tried to stay quiet.
Yet despite that, he had ended up drawing everyone’s attention.
It was surprising enough that Wooju had come to the wrap party.
And now people were whispering because she had apparently come to see a rookie actor.
Yejun lightly bit his lip.
Lowering his head slightly, he walked over to Su-il.
Su-il grinned and spoke.
“Hey, you constipated or something?”
“…..”
“I was wondering why you weren’t coming back after going to take a dump, and turns out you were sitting somewhere else.”
“Am I that uncomfortable to be around?”
“That’s not it.”
Park Jung-woo, quick on the uptake, stepped in smoothly.
“Haha, senior.”
“Isn’t it only natural for a rookie to feel intimidated sitting at a table with legendary seniors?”
“I know I would be too, haha.”
Su-il glanced back at his table.
Kim Minsu, Hong Jihyun, and Teacher Lee Sooncheol were all seated there.
Smacking his lips, Su-il muttered.
“Hm, yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
“Alright then, sit wherever you’re comfortable.”
“And you, my baby girl.”
“You came because of Yejun, so go sit with him.”
“It’s a wrap party, so stay quiet and head out after.”
“Got it?”
Wooju smiled brightly and winked.
“Yes, Dad.”
“Thank you.”
Did she really come to see me?
They had already met outside, sure.
But he had never imagined that she had come here because of him rather than Su-il.
Park Jung-woo, who had just rescued him from Su-il, asked with a gentle smile.
“Which seat would you feel most comfortable in?”
“We have no intention of disrupting the party.”
“Just sit wherever you like, and we’ll follow.”
“…..”
No matter where he sat, people would stare.
Because Wooju would be sitting with him.
Let’s go somewhere near the kitchen.
A place no one sat because it interfered with the catering staff’s movement.
“Let’s sit over there.”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
“Wooju, let’s go.”
He sent Wooju and Park Jung-woo ahead, then cautiously checked the seniors’ reactions.
That was when Jihoon’s voice rang out from across the room.
“Hey, this is a wrap party.”
“Why bring outsiders here?”
“Have you got no sense at all?”
“This is where the drama staff are gathered.”
“…..”
His voice was loud.
Everyone nearby must have heard.
Fortunately, it didn’t seem like Wooju or Park Jung-woo had.
But seriously, that bastard’s starting to piss me off.
He had been testing limits since the script reading.
I’m already trying not to ruin the team atmosphere.
So don’t push it, okay?
Of course, he couldn’t act on it.
No matter what, Lee Jihoon was a junior from the same agency.
A guy who had climbed to a place Yejun couldn’t even compare to.
Trying to “educate” him just by flashing a senior-from-the-same-agency card would only make Yejun look ridiculous.
Don’t react.
Don’t react.
There would be a day to pay him back.
But not now.
Still… it’s irritating.
Back when he first joined the company, he followed me around calling me “senior” nonstop.
His irritation must have shown, because he shot a sharp glance in Jihoon’s direction.
Then he noticed something strange.
At Jihoon’s table, Jisoo and Manager Kim Sun-woo were leaning in close, frowning as they whispered at Jihoon.
Jihoon cleared his throat and deliberately looked away.
Well, Daehwa wasn’t the kind of company to just sit back and watch one of their actors cause trouble among legendary seniors.
The manager would handle it.
Alright, stop caring about it.
***
Jisoo lowered her body and whispered cautiously.
“He’s still looking this way, Manager.”
“Don’t look.”
“Idiot.”
Jihoon shot them an irritated look but said nothing.
Manager Kim glared at him and spoke coldly.
“Lee Jihoon.”
“Do you remember what the CEO said?”
“He told you that if you provoke Yejun in front of seniors even one more time and cause trouble,”
“he’d make sure you never set foot in this industry again.”
Jihoon scoffed inwardly.
What a load of bullshit.
I’ve got managers lining up to scout me.
You think Daehwa’s the only company out there?
Still, it was true that CEO Song Minsu had issued a severe warning.
He had lashed out out of jealousy just now.
But if even one senior scolded him, it would reach the CEO’s ears again.
And then things would get exhausting.
Damn it.
All this because of that piece of trash.
Why am I, a lead actor, watching my behavior at a wrap party?
Jisoo, who had been watching Yejun from the corner of her eye, finally relaxed.
“Whew.”
“He left.”
“I really thought a fight was about to break out.”
Jihoon scoffed.
“What, is that guy good at fighting or something?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve never seen Yejun oppa fight.”
“Then what’s so scary about him?”
Manager Kim replied with a heavy gaze.
“Guys like Yejun—quiet, kind ones—are scarier when they snap.”
Jihoon burst out laughing.
“And I’m supposed to be scared of that?”
“Even a passing dog would laugh.”
Manager Kim stared him down.
“Does it matter who’s better at fighting?”
“What if he comes at you even knowing he’ll get beaten?”
“Then I beat him.”
“I’ve trained at an action school for years.”
“You think I can’t handle a guy like that?”
“You insane bastard.”
“You’d fight him here?”
“Don’t you see the seniors over there?”
“…..”
“Let’s be blunt.”
“Yejun’s a supporting actor.”
“Losing one supporting role isn’t a problem.”
“But you?”
“The company spent two billion won to seat you as a lead despite your shit acting.”
“If you ruin the atmosphere starting fights at the wrap party, do you think the drama will survive?”
“And your image?”
“You know Teacher Lee Sooncheol and Senior Sung Su-il, right?”
“If you fall out of favor with those two, you’re done.”
“Completely finished, you bastard.”
“…Alright.”
“I’m not saying don’t touch him because he’s scary.”
“I’m saying watch the seniors.”
“I said I got it.”
“I won’t touch him anymore, so stop nagging.”
“Hah.”
Jisoo glanced toward the far corner where Park Jung-woo, Wooju, and Yejun were seated.
“But Manager.”
“Why is Wooju here?”
“She said she came to see Yejun oppa.”
“Do they know each other?”
“…..”
Manager Kim wasn’t an idiot.
He had no reason to believe Park Jung-woo’s excuse about coming to see Senior Sung Su-il.
It was obvious what he was trying to do—use that connection to approach Ma Yejun.
Manager Kim shot a glance at Park Jung-woo, who was smiling politely.
No matter how well SU E&M is doing because of Wooju,
they can’t throw more than thirty million won at a rookie.
No company can offer better conditions than us.
Unless…
Unless Yejun isn’t an idiot…
And that’s exactly why he won’t come back to us.
Daehwa Entertainment had notified him of his termination the day after his discharge from the military.
If he were Yejun, he wouldn’t want to return either.
The CEO told me to bring him back…
What the hell do I do?
That was when Jihoon quietly stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To greet a senior.”
“You already greeted everyone when you handed out the gifts.”
“What now?”
“No, I mean—Wooju sunbae.”
“…..”
Wooju was younger than Jihoon.
But with over ten years since her debut, she was unquestionably his senior.
No matter how popular Jihoon was, he couldn’t compare to someone with millions of global fans.
Greeting her first was only proper.
Still, something felt off.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t pick a fight.”
“Why would I pick a fight with Wooju sunbae?”
“Not her.”
“Yejun, you bastard.”
“…..”
“If you’re going to stir shit, sit your ass back down.”
Jisoo stepped in.
“But Manager.”
“She’s a senior who came in person.”
“And it’s Wooju.”
“Wouldn’t it look bad if we didn’t greet her?”
“…..”
She wasn’t wrong.
After a moment of thought, Manager Kim stood up.
“Then we go together.”
“Lee Jihoon.”
“If you say anything other than a greeting, I report you to the CEO immediately.”
“Got it?”
“…Yes.”
***
At the same time, at Yejun’s table.
After hearing Park Jung-woo’s proposal, Yejun felt dazed.
Thirty million won as a signing bonus.
The same terms as Daehwa.
For some people, it might be small money.
But for him, it was huge.
Huge enough that even Daehwa’s offer—something that made him want to punch someone—had shaken him for a moment.
Then Su-il’s words from the drinking table flashed through his mind.
‘A signing bonus?’
‘Of course you take it.’
‘You have to.’
‘It’s a measure of your worth.’
‘But what really matters isn’t the lump sum.’
‘Think of the signing bonus as symbolic.’
‘Ask about vision.’
‘What roles will they help you get?’
‘Anyone who piles on flowery words is a con artist.’
‘Choose a company that speaks plainly.’
Yejun hesitated.
Is it okay to ask this?
No.
This man had come to make an offer.
This wasn’t about treating him as a senior—it was a business negotiation.
So he needed to ask what mattered.
“I understand the signing bonus proposal, assigned manager, vehicle support, and practice room access.”
“But, CEO.”
“I’d like to ask about my future casting.”
“What kind of promises can you make?”
Park Jung-woo’s eyebrows curved upward.
“Haha.”
“I was worried you might be a bit timid.”
“But this is good.”
“You seem very sharp.”
I’m not timid.
I just wanted to be polite in front of seniors.
If we’d met outside, I’d have asked this ages ago.
Park Jung-woo crossed his arms and pondered for a moment before asking.
“But tell me.”
“Is there any agency that can truly make guaranteed promises about future casting?”
“…..”
“Providing opportunities quickly—that’s the company’s power.”
“Securing the role—that’s the actor’s ability.”
“Does an agency that promises roles even exist?”
It does.
Daehwa.
Daehwa sealed rookie contracts by slipping clauses into contracts that guaranteed small roles in productions led by their own star actors.
Rookies went crazy at the idea of appearing in dramas starring Daehwa’s top leads and signed immediately.
In reality, they played café employees.
Lines like, “Here’s your coffee.”
Veterans knew it was industry practice—throwaway bit roles bundled into lead contracts.
But rookies mistook it for the company “trying for them.”
Park Jung-woo glanced at Wooju, then leaned forward.
“What I can promise isn’t guaranteed casting.”
“It’s this.”
“I’ll provide as many audition opportunities as possible.”
“That might sound vague, so how about this?”
“How so?”
“We’ll allow you to apply simultaneously to every casting offer received by SU E&M actors.”
“Would that work?”
What?
Every offer?
That meant he’d be included in every project SU E&M pursued.
An overwhelming number of opportunities.
All auditions—but still.
As Park Jung-woo spoke seriously, without embellishment, Su-il’s words appeared above his head like text from the Pierrot mission.
‘Anyone who piles on flowery words is a con artist.’
‘Choose a company that speaks plainly.’
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