“Anyway, it wasn’t my intention to ignore you. I know how hard it is for unknowns to survive in this industry.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“There are people who are naturally good at flattery and sucking up. To be precise, people who can’t survive any other way. But Song Hyunsoo, you’re not that type. You won’t last long using those methods. It’s better to leave finding work to the company and just focus on acting.”
“I appreciate your guidance, Senior. But I’ve been around long enough to have some experience myself.”
Yoon Jooho let out a bitter laugh.
“Guidance or whatever— I’m not the type to do that kind of thing in the first place.”
“Then why the sudden change of heart?”
“Who knows.”
As if he didn’t know the reason himself, Yoon Jooho lowered his head and laughed self-deprecatingly.
“Seeing you today reminded me vaguely of someone I used to know. I guess that got to me.”
His expression and tone, as if lost in a distant past, momentarily captivated Song Hyunsoo.
But Yoon Jooho’s faint display of emotion was short-lived.
Tipping his head back, he took one last drag of his cigarette.
“Find a proper company. Not trash like UB.”
Then he flicked the cigarette butt with his fingers, extinguishing the ember.
Sparks scattered in all directions.
“Even if you toughen up and become a seasoned veteran with 30 years under your belt, this industry will still eat you alive.”
“……”
“You’ll thank me later.”
Tossing the freshly stubbed cigarette among the countless butts littering the ground, Yoon Jooho stuffed both hands deep into his coat pockets.
After one last glance at the cats still playing around Song Hyunsoo’s sneakers, he turned and walked away.
Thank you, my ass.
Who the hell would want to work at a place like UB if they had a choice?
Muttering under his breath at Yoon Jooho’s retreating figure, Song Hyunsoo wondered what the point was.
He sighed, running his fingers roughly through his hair, then picked up the discarded butt and threw it into an ashtray.
He scooped up the striped tail still pawing at him and pressed it against his cheek.
“Just because someone looks like a painting, does that make them one? Right, Stripes?”
Meow.
The air was freezing, making the cat’s warmth against his skin all the more comforting.
The news wasn’t exaggerating— this really did feel like the coldest winter in 20 years.
■
During the script reading, the only time I talked privately with Yoon Jooho was that one time.
I thought he might just show his face out of courtesy and leave early at the after-party, but surprisingly, he was one of the few who stayed until the end.
Because Song Hyunsoo also stuck around, I ended up drinking way too much for the first time in a while.
Even so, how could I possibly have a hangover from just five or six bottles of soju?
Song Hyunsoo shook his head disapprovingly and took another drag from his cigarette.
Staring up at the darkening sky, he mulled over Jeongho’s question.
What was Shin Hyojin like in person?
People who chatter about how “ordinary” Shin Hyojin is wouldn’t even be able to look her straight in the face in real life— she’s that beautiful.
And her acting?
No need to even mention it.
Joo Young mixes in a ton of English when she drinks.
The rumors about her being a “gold spoon” seem to be true.
The only thing is, she often comes off as unintentionally annoying.
And Yoon Jooho.
What was he like in person?
A lucky charm?
Yeah, right.
Let’s just say Yoon Jooho is purely ornamental— like a rosebush covered in thorns.
“Find a proper company,” he said.
As if anyone wants to sign with a trashy agency.
If he’s so worried, why doesn’t Look Planning take me in?
Must be nice having lived your whole life as a top star— your mindset on another level.
Who’s the one who really doesn’t understand how this industry works?
But that wasn’t all there was to Yoon Jooho.
The rumor that he only drinks 400,000-won bottles of water was false.
And no matter how obnoxious he acted, he never looked down on actors with less recognition than him.
At least not yet.
He even stepped far back to keep the cigarette smoke away from the cats.
Maybe it was for some other reason, but still.
Anyway, as much as he had a knack for pissing people off and getting under their skin, he didn’t seem like a complete waste of a human being.
Besides, he’s friends with my hyung’s acquaintance.
No matter what, my hyung wouldn’t be friends with some trashy guy.
“Looking at you today, Song Hyunsoo, you vaguely remind me of someone I used to know. Guess that’s been on my mind.”
But who do I resemble?
Pausing with the cigarette halfway to his lips, lost in thought, Hyunsoo suddenly furrowed his brow.
Wait… First love?
He snorted at his own lack of imagination and brought the filter to his mouth.
Me, resembling some girl?
Yeah, right.
“Hyung! The food’s boiling over!”
Jeongho shouted from the kitchen.
Hyunsoo stubbed out his cigarette against the wall and tossed the butt into the ashtray.
Watching the embers scatter, he thought of Yoon Jooho again.
Now everything reminds me of Yoon Jooho.
He chuckled at the thought— almost like I’ve got a crush on him or something.
■
Yoon Jooho’s Residence
Director Bang Sangho of Look Planning and Yoon Jooho are sitting across from each other on the sofa set.
“H-Hyung. What the hell is this? This is all blood.”
Director Bang reads through the script in his hands.
His voice is flat, devoid of any inflection or tonal variation— an utterly lifeless recitation.
On the opposite sofa, Yoon Jooho struggles to immerse himself in the emotions of the scene.
“Lee San, look at me. Listen carefully. You were never here.”
His trembling eyes flicker with madness, and his lower jaw quivers faintly.
Unlike Director Bang, he isn’t looking at the script. He’s already memorized it all.
But just because he’s perfectly memorized his lines and can recite them in front of the camera doesn’t mean it automatically translates into acting.
“Your hands are covered in blood right now. What is all this blood? Dad. That’s our dad.”
“Haah…”
Yoon Jooho, preparing for his next line, can’t hold back a despairing sigh.
Elbows planted on his knees, he buries his face deep between his thighs, hands gripping his head.
Director Bang glances at him cautiously.
“What? What’s the problem now?”
“How long have we been rehearsing this script together? How come you never improve, no matter what?”
“If I were any good at acting, would I be putting up with your temper like this? Do I have to be good at acting too? Am I an actor?”
Yoon Jooho lifts his bowed head sharply.
“There’s a limit to incompetence. Even if I asked Siri to read the lines, it’d do better than you. I don’t expect you to act well. But at the very least, you should match me enough for me to get into character. Where the hell did all your question marks go?”
Yoon Jooho abruptly stands up and walks away from the sofa.
His irritation is palpable— hands shoved into his robe pockets, silk slippers shuffling across the floor.
He heads toward the bar set up in one corner of the room.
It’s a fully equipped bar, not just for show.
When he moved into this house, he designed this second-floor space like a lounge bar.
As he scans the liquor bottles displayed in the cabinet, he rubs his right temple.
Director Bang’s gaze lingers on the back of his head.
“Couldn’t sleep again?”
“It’s not just a day or two at this point.”
“If it’s a migraine, want me to get you some meds?”
“Forget it.”
“That’s better than drinking in the middle of the day.”
“A drink or two is medicine.”
Nearly all the furniture and appliances in the room are custom-built.
The bar, display cabinet, refrigerator, table, sofa— everything is made of stainless steel, glass, and black tones.
The interior mimics Yoon Jooho’s office at Look Planning, giving the entire space a dark, heavy, and cold atmosphere.
Yoon Jooho picks out a bottle of whiskey.
Out of habit, he reaches for an old-fashioned glass to add ice but stops mid-motion.
“Whiskey’s aroma becomes richer when mixed with room-temperature water.
It lowers the alcohol content slightly while letting you enjoy the flavor more.”
The words of the bartender— actor Song Hyunsoo, who played Lee San — suddenly come to mind.
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