Chapter 12: The Art of Flattery

KBC Broadcasting Station, a nearby café.

Taehun picked up a few pieces of bread and went to sit at a table.

He glanced at Chaehyuk, who looked noticeably more gaunt than during the script reading, and thought: ‘Good thing I called him. He’s clearly still shaken from last time. I didn’t mean to mess with him, but I didn’t expect him to be this deflated. Now I feel a little bad…’

When Taehun offered the tray of bread, Chaehyuk turned his head away, refusing.

Taehun took a bite of his sandwich.

This kind of thing happened often—fellow actors getting intimidated after watching Taehun’s performance.

Sometimes, he had intentionally shown off more than usual just to mess with rookie actors.

But this time, he hadn’t meant to.

He was just excited to act again after a long time.

Without thinking, he had unleashed his full potential.

‘Haha… Sorry, kid.’

“What did you call me here for?”

Chaehyuk tried to sound confident, but his shaking legs betrayed his nerves.

Taehun pretended not to notice and replied, “I wanted to learn from you.”

“What?”

Start with a compliment.

“The more I read the script, the more I felt like no one but you could pull off the lead role of Sigyung.”

A twitch.

Chaehyuk’s eyebrows moved involuntarily.

No actor dislikes being told they’re irreplaceable.

He didn’t respond, though he clearly could have.

‘Ah, I see. He wants more convincing. Let’s scratch where it itches.’

“I heard writer Go Eunjeong wrote the character with you in mind. No matter how I read Sigyung’s lines, I just can’t bring them to life the way you do.”

At Taehun’s slightly flustered tone—

Twitch—

Chaehyuk’s lips twitched uncontrollably.

Still, he didn’t say a word.

‘Time to hammer it in.’

“How does one go about building a distinct image as an actor? Something they’re truly good at? I’m still a rookie, and I feel insecure and anxious.”

‘Lie.’

‘Yep~ a well-intentioned lie.’

“With where I am now, how could I possibly stand next to someone like you?”

Finally, at Taehun’s continued compliments, Chaehyuk smiled and replied, “Ah, so what you’re really asking is… you’re curious what kind of actor can inspire writers? Am I right?”

‘Not exactly, but close enough.’

“Yes. Exactly that. If you could teach me, I, your unworthy junior, would remember it for life.”

“But Taehun, you’re already a good actor.”

Still, a hint of doubt lingered in Chaehyuk’s voice.

He wasn’t that easy to win over.

“Why are you asking me? Don’t you already know the answer?”

That was his final line of defense.

But it was already over.

Time to strike while the iron was hot.

“I don’t want to be a jack-of-all-trades actor. I’d rather be someone with depth, even if I’m not as versatile.”

Like you, Chaehyuk.

Though he didn’t say the words aloud, the implication was clear.

As Taehun gave him a warm smile, a system window suddenly appeared.

[Beep—This is a lie.]

‘No point in telling the kid how insecure I am. I may not be able to pull him out of the hole, but at least I won’t drag him in with me.’

Taehun genuinely respected Chaehyuk’s acting.

‘Maybe in 30 years, he could reach my level. Though by then, he’d be nearly 60.’

[Huh? That’s what you call a compliment?]

He didn’t want to crush the confidence of a junior with decent talent.

Especially when Chaehyuk was playing the male lead in Butter Campus.

If he lost confidence now, it’d be a disaster.

‘For the good of the project, I’ll keep the compliments vague.’

[Wow~ So noble of you.]

If Chaehyuk didn’t take acting seriously, he wouldn’t be so intimidated by Taehun.

‘He knows how to size up his opponent—definitely worthy of being called a standout 20-something talent.’

Taehun appreciated that Chaehyuk was concerned with how the audience would perceive him.

Thanks to Taehun’s compliments, Chaehyuk relaxed and sat up straighter.

He finally seemed ready to talk.

“You really know your stuff, Taehun. There’s a way to go about this, you see. As an actor—”

Chaehyuk launched into a full-on acting theory lecture.

‘Hmm… Maybe I take back what I said about his posture.’

Taehun clenched his mug a little tighter, trapped in an endless, overly passionate lecture.

Still, he did learn something new.

Apparently, writer Go Eunjeong had fallen ill recently due to overwork on the project.

‘So that’s why she didn’t show up at the first shoot.’

[Saving the collected information to memory.]

Come to think of it, she hadn’t been seen since the table read, and the contract had been delayed too.

‘It’s probably my fault for being too impressive. What do you think?’

[Talking during memory-saving may cause data loss.]

‘So fragile. Are you sure you’re not just avoiding the question?’

[…Guilty.]

***

Chaehyuk’s monologue continued for another 3 hours and 40 minutes.

From acting philosophy to project details to behind-the-scenes gossip about the entertainment industry—he didn’t stop talking.

[All data successfully stored. I’ll share it when needed.]

Maybe it was a good thing they met late in the day.

If they had met in the morning, Chaehyuk could’ve built a wall of words higher than the Great Wall of China.

‘He’s starting to remind me of someone…’

[Nods.]

Yoon Sungwoo, Taehun’s overly chatty former manager.

Taehun shook his head.

‘What a nightmare of a night.’

Still, something good came out of it.

“Alright then, Taehun. I’ll see you on set.”

“Yeah. Take care, hyung.”

Somehow, they were now calling each other hyung.

And thanks to that fiery lecture, confidence was beginning to bloom in Chaehyuk’s heart—even if he didn’t realize it yet.

Unbeknownst to him, Taehun had aimed for exactly that.

***

After saying goodbye, Taehun left the café and climbed into the backseat of a black sedan parked outside.

A chauffeur-driven sedan? Not quite.

“Yaaawn~ 1 AM already? How long were you guys talking? I’ve been waiting forever.”

It was Oh Soobeom, the CEO of Bum Actors.

Since Taehun didn’t have a manager or a car, Soobeom had taken it upon himself to fill the role.

It wasn’t strange for him to cast aside his CEO dignity to do so—

After all, Taehun was Bum Actors’ only artist, and the staff barely had any experience as managers.

“President Oh, you’ve been waiting this whole time? I told you I could’ve just taken the bus.”

“No way I’m letting our very first signed actor ride the bus. Until we get you a proper manager, I’ve got it covered.”

“But you don’t even have a staff member who can be a manager.”

“I’ll… I’ll hire one!”

Taehun glanced at Oh Soobeom through the rearview mirror.

The man looked utterly exhausted.

“Anyway, what I mean is, you don’t need to go this far, Director. It doesn’t look good in front of the other employees either.”

“If anything, maybe get a used company car. Something you could take out once in a while—that would make more sense.”

“Come on, that’s exactly what we shouldn’t do. You said yourself, back when you were at Gamga Entertainment, you drank almost every night.”

“You know one DUI in this industry can end your career for life, right?”

“Hey, what do you take me for? Drunk driving is a crime.”

“Exactly. That’s why I said it’s just more convenient for me this way. So just let me drive, alright?”

“Then forget the old Ki Taehun who drank. That guy’s gone. I’m different now.”

Oh Soobeom gave a resigned chuckle.

“Fine. No more appointments today, right? I’ll head straight home.”

With that, he smoothly turned the steering wheel.

“Ah!”

“What? What is it?”

“Now that we’re on the topic, there’s one more place we should stop.”

“Hey, didn’t you just say I shouldn’t be the one driving—”

“We need to hire a manager anyway. Since we’re talking about it.”

As Taehun silently typed the address into the navigation, Oh Soobeom stared in disbelief.

“You seriously want to go to Hampyeong at this hour?”

“The subway’s already stopped running. Besides, you said earlier you wanted to drive—”

‘This guy already had it all planned out.’

‘It’ll be faster to just give in.’

Letting out a sigh, Oh Soobeom pressed the accelerator.

The black sedan cut through the wind, speeding down the road.

***

A rooster’s crow signaled the dawn in a countryside home filled with the familiar smell of cow manure.

Yoon Sungwoo, the former manager of Tiamax, showed no signs of waking.

Eventually, his mother’s nagging rang through the air.

“Hey, you brat! Are you gonna get up or what? Country folks wake up early!”

“Ugh, I’m skipping breakfast and sleeping a bit more.”

“You good-for-nothing! All you care about is eating! Get up already—some guests came all the way from Seoul just to see you!”

“As if I’d have any visitors.”

Sungwoo tried to drift back to sleep.

“Sungwoo hyung!”

“Huh?”

‘Am I dreaming?’

That familiar voice… it sounded just like—

“Hyung, it’s me. Ki Taehun.”

Sungwoo bolted upright.

Ki Taehun really was standing right in front of him.

“You! You finally gave up and came to the countryside to learn farming? Yeah, I knew it. No matter how I looked at you, acting just wasn’t—”

“It’s not that.”

“What’s with the accent? That was awkward. Cut the curses and stop wasting your life out here.”

“Come work with me—no, with us.”

“Us?”

As Sungwoo asked, he noticed Oh Soobeom next to Taehun, yawning non-stop.

“Yaaawn. Oh Soobeom, CEO of Beom Actors.”

“Oh Soobeom…? You mean the legend of the manager world?”

“The same Oh Soobeom from JJ Entertainment who raised Lee Jaejun from the ground up—”

“The one who even changed his diapers, and then used his stock options to start a company and tanked it hard—”

“That Oh Soobeom?”

Taehun scratched his cheek awkwardly.

‘Changing diapers is a bit much…’

Oh Soobeom jabbed Taehun in the ribs.

‘He sure talks a lot. Are you sure about this guy?’

‘You’re not going to be doing this forever, right? Gotta raise someone new.’

Oh Soobeom finally spoke.

“If there’s one thing you got wrong, it’s that we haven’t tanked—yet.”

“If you’re interested, we’d like to work with you.”

“Work? Doing what…?”

“You’d be joining Beom Actors and going back to your old job—helping Taehun with his schedule.”

“Of course, this time, not as an idol manager but an actor’s manager.”

“What? You passed the audition?”

It was hard to believe, of course.

So Taehun gave a quick rundown of what had happened so far.

“Still… I can’t. I came here to start fresh.”

“I swore I’d stay away from the entertainment industry for good.”

Just then, Sungwoo’s mother burst into the room and smacked him on the back.

“You ungrateful brat! You should be down on your knees thanking these fine gentlemen!”

“Oh dear guests, thank you so much. I ought to be paying you to take this useless kid away.”

“Please, turn him into a decent human being.”

Sungwoo’s room was filled with empty green bottles, much like Taehun’s used to be.

He had claimed to be pursuing a peaceful farming life, but in truth, he was running away.

Tiamax had disbanded before ever reaching the spotlight, and with Taehun’s acting skills being, well, as obvious as daylight,

Sungwoo had believed there was no more hope left in that world.

But if that was the only reason…

“I’ll show you what success looks like.”

It wasn’t persuasion—it was conviction.

Taehun spoke with unwavering certainty.

“Then, uh… when do we start?”

“First, go wash your hair, hyung. We’re leaving now.”

“What? Don’t tell me we’re going back to Seoul right now?!”

As Sungwoo looked between Taehun and Soobeom in disbelief, he quickly ran off to the water pump.

After he finished getting ready and came out to the car, his mother handed him boiled eggs and sweet potatoes.

She apologized for not being able to offer a proper meal and asked them to take good care of her son.

***

“Why am I driving again?”

“Sorry, Director. I kind of overdid it on the makgeolli with pajeon last night…”

They’d just hired a new staff member, and yet, one way or another, it was still Oh Soobeom behind the wheel.