Another consequence of the old body’s misdeeds…!
But contrary to Rowoon’s initial guess, the main target of the article wasn’t him, but rather Director Kim Seong-ha.
“Where’s that leak coming from? Director Kim said he’d lock down any weird rumors. What’s going on?”
Rowoon scanned the article with mild embarrassment.
Huh. I guess I automatically assumed it was the old owner’s fault.
Serves him right for raising so much havoc…
His manager, standing next to him, appeared stunned, grabbing at the back of his neck with a spluttered “Huh… oh, come on!”
“Rowoon-ah, hold on. I’ve gotta check this. I mean, aren’t they supposed to handle these things? Management, or something?”
That big, bear-like but usually gentle manager’s face hardened; he took out his phone and stepped outside.
So the real star of these sensational headlines is the director rather than me.
Rowoon was a bit relieved.
Given the original occupant’s record, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a thousand enemies.
The old “Lee Rowoon” had obviously trod on people’s toes. A negative reputation in a rumor-heavy industry, combined with a bad attitude, was a sure recipe for trouble.
“Of course, I’m the one stuck with it now.”
“Rowoon,” his manager said after returning. “I found out that article was published maliciously on purpose. There’s apparently a faction determined to stop Kim Seong-ha from making a comeback, and they’re using you to sabotage him.”
He explained briefly and then added:
“I told the company to handle it, so don’t worry—”
“Okay.”
Though Rowoon fully expected to pay for the old occupant’s sins, it was his manager who raged on his behalf. Rowoon was grateful: He’s a really good guy.
But if this sort of thing keeps happening, that’s gonna be a problem.
The trouble was, there was no immediate way to show people he was different now. It wasn’t as if he could say,“That old maniac is gone, and I’m actually somebody else!”
They’d probably think he was insane—or that the maniac was at it again. Both outcomes spelled disaster.
“Are you really okay?” his manager asked.
“It’s not even an article targeting me specifically…”
Sure, the old occupant’s burden weighed on him, but…
I guess I’ll just have to prove myself over time. In a way, it’s a better situation than having zero chance. Now I just need to make a good impression going forward.
Comparing it to his days in Garion, this was practically a blessing.
At least now he had the chance to redeem himself. He remembered the bombs his groupmates had set off back then…
Wait. Could there be more major scandals I don’t know about?
The old occupant was a deadbeat but maybe salvageable, or so the manager seemed to think. Still, if the old occupant had done something too big…
Then I’d have no clue until it blindsided me.
He felt a sense of danger.
But maybe it’ll be fine. If there was that big a vulnerability, they’d have used it by now.
He reassured himself:
Hey, it’s not even front-page news on the society page, so that’s good enough.
Rowoon decided to be optimistic. Indeed, his only option was to rebuild the old occupant’s career and reputation from rock bottom—there was nowhere to go but up.
I have to keep a positive outlook!
“…Once I show a change in attitude, I’m sure people will think differently,” he said.
The manager, unaware Rowoon had just traversed heaven and hell in the space of a moment, was touched by that response.
“Exactly! If you demonstrate you’ve changed, your fans will see your sincerity. They absolutely will…”
Fans? Did the old occupant even have any fans left? But either way, as long as Rowoon worked his hardest, he could only go up from here.
It’s literally life or death for me.
At least the quest was pausing penalties for now, but once it ended, who knew? If the next quest also hinged on the occupant’s dreadful reputation, that might kill him again.
He recalled:
If I’d failed the audition, I’d have died over old occupant’s nonsense about ‘the project’s out of my league’… I can’t let that happen again.
However, things already seemed dicey—the negativity could force them off the film before it began.
“Hey, Hyung,” Rowoon asked. “You think this movie is still safe?”
“We’ll be fine. The company says they’ll handle the articles. No big deal.”
“What if it gets canceled…”
“Director Kim wouldn’t have held such a grudge for so long if it was so easily sunk. He probably saw something like this coming.”
“…Yeah, maybe.”
But then the manager’s eyes moistened again.
“Rowoon, you’ve grown so much. The old you would’ve gone nuts threatening to sue every journalist in sight…”
“…I did that?”
“Plenty of times. The number of journalists you threatened might have surpassed your limbs, y’know?”
Did the old occupant have some disease where he’d die if not constantly stirring up trouble? Even Rowoon, no expert, knew picking fights with reporters is never wise.
“Rowoon, you’re so serious about this film—makes me proud.” The manager rubbed his reddening nose and whispered, “Amnesia is… the best…”
Rowoon’s expression twitched.
“Anyway, you don’t need to worry. Director Kim will figure something out, and our company’s on it. Just keep calm, okay?”
The manager tried to keep Rowoon—who’d just begun to show enthusiasm—from feeling discouraged.
That evening:
<Mr. Lee Rowoon?>
It was Director Kim Seong-ha again.
Surely he’s not telling me to bow out over that article…
His fears were unfounded:
<Rowoon, I—I’m really sorry. Because of me, you’re getting dragged into these nasty rumors. I feel so guilty…>
“Wha—so I’m not off the film…?”
<Off the film? Did you want to resign over those articles…?>
Rowoon sensed the director practically jumping through the phone line.
“No, not at all. I was worried my involvement might hurt the film’s image…”
<Oh, well, that’s no problem. My image is already shot to bits. It’s not even a blip in comparison!>
Is that not worse?
<Ahem. That’s not what I meant to say…>
“So it definitely isn’t getting canceled?”
<Definitely not. Didn’t I tell you? I’m staking everything on this.>
“Phew. That’s a relief… I might just die if I don’t get to make this movie…”
<…! So you really love this project that much…?!>
The director’s voice, subdued before, brimmed with energy now.
“…Huh?”
<Got it. I’ll do everything in my power to make this film a success, so as not to betray your trust and passion.>
He spoke with heartfelt emotion, thanked Rowoon profusely, and ended the call.
Rowoon set his phone down, perplexed:
Feels like he’s misunderstanding something…
Still, a highly motivated director was great news for Rowoon. If a random smear piece shut the film down before it even started, that would have been disastrous. After a brief crisis, the outcome wasn’t bad—the project wasn’t canceled, and the director was even more fired up.
And, as if to put wings on that success, more good news came in quick succession.
“—!”
The article was gone.
Not only had the piece featuring Rowoon’s face vanished from the entertainment section, but all negative columns about Director Kim also disappeared.
Wow, that’s thorough… is this the power of a big corporation?
The difference from the small-time, near-exploitative “agency” he’d endured in his last life was stark. They were removing negative press not just about the star but also the entire film. Rowoon was genuinely moved.
“Hyung! Did you see the news today?”
His manager had just returned with food.
“Huh? Something else got published?”
“No, it’s all gone.”
“Oh, phew, you scared me. For a second I thought more stuff came out. Our PR team’s been running around like mad. The boss was furious, so I left early—didn’t want to get roped in.”
Strange. “So the PR team didn’t take it down?”
“What? The articles? Already gone? Our PR’s good, but not that fast…”
They exchanged confused looks.
Another happy development arrived two days later:
“Rowoon, did you hear? They locked in funding for Kim’s film!”
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