Chapter 9 : I am a living actor (9)

Anonymous Post : No, but seriously, who keeps casting Yoo Chaemin?? Like, does he have some insane sponsor or something?

└ Anonymous Reply: That’s a reach;; Just go look at his recent filmography. It’s pitiful. 

He’s only done webtoon-based dramas lately, and most of those as second male leads, lol. 

If he had a sponsor, wouldn’t they have gotten him a main role? 

Why stick him with scraps? 

He’s just considered the last hope among 20-something male actors in this era of handsome-man drought, that’s all. 

😭😭😭😭😭.

└ Anonymous Reply: He owes his parents his whole life. Born with good looks and just coasting through on that. FFS.

└ Anonymous Reply: Wait, but isn’t Yoo Chaemin a former idol? Doesn’t he have any fans?? This casting article has nothing but brutal replies.

└ Anonymous Reply: His group was never popular to begin with. They had one viral moment picked up by the general public… but they should’ve solidified a fandom with their next album. 

Too bad Baeseong totally screwed that up and their tiny fanbase evaporated. 

└ Anonymous Reply: I knew Yoo Chaemin was an idol, but I didn’t even know he was from Pump-Up. 

Guess the group’s gone and only the songs are remembered. 

Chaemin’s just known for his face + being an idol + being a bad actor.

└ Anonymous Reply: Yup, that’s exactly it. No fanbase, just vague public awareness? Like, he’s famous, but in a whatever way. Like a scentless flower. And his acting is still godawful. 

😭😭😭😭😭.

└ Anonymous Reply: LOL 🤣 poor Yoo Chaemin.

└ Anonymous Reply: Poor him? His head’s full of flowers, dude. Didn’t you see that interview after his bad acting scandal? “Acting has always been my dream! I truly want to be a great actor!” 

It’s been two years and he hasn’t improved at all. 

Still just as bad. Honestly, I feel bad for the drama staff who have to cast him just for his looks, not him.

└ Anonymous Reply: 😔😔😔That’s depressing. I actually had high hopes for this webtoon adaptation.

└ Anonymous Reply: I heard it took forever to cast anyone. The source material is good but doesn’t really fit the drama market vibe. 

Still, the director and writer are decent, so maybe it won’t be a total bust? Oh, wait, the male lead is Yoo Chaemin? Never mind then. Sorry;;;

No one—truly no one—expected Yoo Chaemin to give a decent performance. 

Not a single person.

***

I was cast as Yoon Jihwa.

The news was reported in an article, and public reaction was lukewarm at best.

There weren’t vicious attacks or serious hate comments, but not one person expressed anticipation.

Even that brief wave of discussion lasted maybe an hour or two before fading.

Yoo Chaemin wasn’t exactly a major star, and while he was infamous for bad acting, he wasn’t despised enough to be a lightning rod for outrage either.

The entertainment world churns through scandals every few hours.

This kind of casting announcement wasn’t even dramatic enough to count as a controversy.

Honestly, even if the real Yoo Chaemin had seen those reactions, he might’ve been able to endure it.

“Wow, do you really think that?”

Maybe not?

I cleared my throat unnecessarily.

Sitting across from me was an unwelcome guest.

“On second thought, maybe not. I think… I wasn’t taking this seriously because it doesn’t feel like it’s really my life, Team Leader.”

A half-mask shaped like a traditional Hahoe mask.

A sleek black suit.

Hair a dark shade of blue-black that shimmered faintly in the sunlight.

That was my direct supervisor and superior: Team Leader Kkaebi.

For reference, it was midday.

Which is how I found out that his hair color was actually blue-black—information I never wanted.

Can someone working for the afterlife just casually walk around in broad daylight like this?

Not that I had any room to talk—I was employed there too.

But I was still a new hire. More of a semi-outsider than a real employee.

“I see. Is that so…….”

Team Leader Kkaebi muttered something vague and took a sip of his iced americano.

I was drinking the same thing.

Oh yeah, he brought the coffee.

Last time, it was too late at night for him to grab any, but apparently he has this habit of always bringing drinks to employee check-ins.

It’s actually pretty good.

I had half-wondered if it came from some afterlife café.

But as if he’d read my mind, Kkaebi casually tapped the café logo embossed on the carrier—a very famous brand’s logo, unmistakably.

“Still, for someone who just climbed a mountain, you don’t look very relieved.”

He said it in a breezy voice, smiling cheerfully as he stabbed straight into my psyche.

I instinctively reached up and touched my face.

Was it that obvious?

That couldn’t be.

Back when I was still alive, the thing I heard most often was that no one could tell what I was thinking.

Even my own parents used to say that to me all the time.

Then again, wouldn’t be weird if he had some kind of mind-reading ability.

The thought actually felt kind of plausible.

Not that it made me feel any better.

This guy has a real talent for getting under your skin.

I was just about to ask if I could leave, when he dropped that line.

Yep. He was the kind of person who made you feel worse the longer you stayed around him.

Are all the other team leaders like this too?

A random thought floated through my head—one I’d probably never get the answer to before I resigned.

I hadn’t even met the others in my team, so meeting another team leader seemed unlikely.

“Well, there is something on my mind, but it’s nothing serious.”

At my response, Kkaebi’s eye sockets—those hollow gaps in the mask—narrowed subtly.

A very bad sign. 

A deeply ominous smile.

“Why are you smiling like that?” “Haha, no reason.”

Still wearing that suspicious expression, Team Leader Kkaebi replied in his usual upbeat tone.

That somehow made it worse.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re adapting well, Employee Myung Seungho.”

Ah, there it was—Team Leader Kkaebi’s final line.

Whenever he said that, it meant the conversation was about to end.

A routine closing line before wrapping up a meeting.

“Thank you. It’s all thanks to your guidance, sir.” “Wow, really?”

As if. Just a polite, meaningless phrase.

That’s what people call social grace.

Especially with someone intimidating—it helps to build a little goodwill when you can.

One of the few things I picked up from my early acting days.

And there’s no reason to go around making enemies for no reason.

Whether on set or anywhere else, I always tried to behave courteously.

It wasn’t just politeness for its own sake—it was strategic.

A set has more people than you’d expect.

I might not know their names or faces, but they all know me.

Even the smallest slip-up could turn into rumors.

Those rumors get out, and before you know it, they define your image.

“Haha……”

And in times like this, the best thing to do is just smile. 

Don’t agree or disagree—just smile.

Maybe he picked up on my intent to brush things off, because Team Leader Kkaebi didn’t say anything else and simply stood up. 

I reflexively stood as well, and he smiled again, crinkling his eyes like he was truly amused.

‘Aren’t you going to leave?’

Normally, he would’ve vanished right away, but today, he was lingering. 

What was he trying to say, exactly…?

“If you ever need help, just call on me.”

Is he really reading my mind? 

The timing was too spot-on to be a coincidence.

“No matter what it is, if it’s something I can help with, I will.”

Then he looked straight at me.

The way he stared made it feel like he really did know exactly what had been troubling me lately. 

It was creepy—yet oddly tempting.

‘Help me? How?’

I couldn’t help but wonder if he really could help, and what kind of help he meant.

“Well then, I’ll be going.”

Just as Team Leader Kkaebi placed a hand over his chest and was about to bow slightly—

“Wait…!”

The words burst out of me before I even realized it. 

Team Leader Kkaebi looked at me like he’d been waiting for it.

‘I want to crawl into a hole and die.’

Maybe I should’ve held back. 

But he did say he’d help. 

This clearly-not-normal being from the underworld said he’d willingly help me.

‘Is this why people believe in wish-granting spirits?’

For a moment, I understood the sentiment.

“Employee Myeong Seungho?”

“Ah, yes.”

I hurried to pull myself together and spoke with effort.

“…How do I… call you?”

“…Excuse me?”

“I mean, how do I contact you? I don’t even have your number…”

Team Leader Kkaebi bowed his head slightly and began shaking—silently laughing like something was hilariously funny.

‘Sigh…’

I shouldn’t have said anything. 

I let my curiosity get the best of me.

Without another word, Team Leader Kkaebi gave me his phone number before vanishing.

It started with 010, had eleven digits in total… an undeniably normal phone number.

‘Great. Hopefully I’ll never actually have to use it.’

Because honestly, I didn’t want help from that unsettling being unless absolutely necessary.

***

Spring came and went in a blink. 

The cherry blossoms fell, and the weather turned hot almost overnight.

Now it was early June, technically still late spring, but it felt like the middle of summer.

‘Ugh, it’s so damn hot.’

Even inside the van with the AC on, it was sweltering. 

Maybe the heat was making traffic feel slower than it was.

Seo Sangwoo took a sip from a half-melted frozen water bottle, then pressed it to his forehead.

“Hey! Sang-woo, your makeup’s gonna smudge!”

“Ahh, sorry. It’s just way too hot. I’ll stop in a second.”

Summer was brutal for someone like him, who couldn’t handle the heat. 

Normally, he avoided going out this time of year—but today was different.

‘Filming. I’m finally going to a shoot.’

He was on his way to film his debut drama—his first ever.

The thought alone made him whistle. 

A cheerful melody floated through the van, then faded away.

“Hey, Seo Sangwoo. You excited or what?”

His manager, who had been quietly driving, glanced over and asked. 

Sangwoo responded with a wide smile. 

His strong, sharp features softened instantly, transforming into the famously puppy-like grin his family and agency often teased him about.

“Ahh, our Sangwoo’s always loved filming so much. Too bad the role got changed…”

“Hyung, come on. Don’t bring that up again.”

It had already been two months since the casting change, and his manager was still bringing it up.

Though technically, it wasn’t exactly a “change.” 

The offer originally came for Role A, but during meetings, casting swaps happen more often than people think.

The production team, after seeing the actors in person and watching them act, made a call. 

He had to trust their decision.

Still, as Sangwoo looked out the window, he gave a small hum.

‘But honestly, it’s a little weird…’

There was something odd about the whole thing.

The production team said their initial expectations didn’t match the actors’ actual presence and performance, and that the switch felt more natural. 

But to be frank, it wasn’t entirely convincing.