“That heartless bastard!”
In a small office paid for out of his own pocket, Director Kim Seong-ha erupted in anger. The assistant director, seated near enough to touch him if he reached out, clucked his tongue and tried to calm him down.
“Come on, you knew those scumbags had no conscience. Getting angry only hurts you, Director. We already saw this coming, didn’t we?”
As the assistant director said, Director Kim Seong-ha had known from the start that inflammatory articles would appear. He’d all but deliberately courted them by going public with an open audition.
“I know, I know. It’s exactly why we’re making such a spectacle in the first place.”
“Right? Then please relax. You’re shaking my chair every time you freak out.”
“…Sorry about that, AD. But still…!”
“Once we succeed, those articles will vanish on their own. Wasn’t that the plan? To succeed boldly and shut them all up?”
Without looking away from the monitor, the assistant director spun the mouse wheel.
“Besides, it’s not like any big mainstream media picked this up – just some third-rate rag.”
“But… but they dragged Lee Rowoon into it!”
“…Huh?”
Only then did the assistant director stop scrolling and look at the director.
“Lee Rowoon? Did he get mentioned in an article?”
“Don’t you see? Because of me, Lee Rowoon’s getting bad press he doesn’t deserve!”
“…?”
The AD scrolled again. “Well, yes… and I told you – his rep’s not great. Right?”
“You’ve seen him yourself. You actually believe those rumors? I hear all sorts of crazy crap about me, but you know it isn’t true.”
“Sure, but that’s different from your situation, Director.”
“How is it different? You and my crew both know this… but the general public believes everything those jerks said.”
“Okay, yes, but…”
Director Kim Seong-ha believed fully in the Rowoon he had personally witnessed, a real diamond in the rough. It was a clichéd phrase, but nothing else fit so well.
No way a talented actor like him should be hounded by rumor.
He seemed gentle – probably too timid to defend himself. And his agency? They’d done nothing to shield him. Maybe it was naive for the director to think kindly of that “friendly” group.
His train of thought accelerated wildly, though he didn’t notice.
In his mind, Rowoon was a tragic victim of injustice, an actor with huge potential, forced to languish in undeserved scandal. The similarity to his own situation made it easy to empathize with him.
“Guess I have no choice – I should call him and apologize, right?”
“Huh? That’s a little much, Director.”
“What if Rowoon quits because of me? That would be a disaster… Wait, what if he doesn’t answer?”
“Director? Did you hear me? I said that’s—”
“Seems like his agency isn’t protecting him, so it’s better if I contact him directly. Who knows what nonsense they might stir up?”
“You said you were friends with them – didn’t you say they’re your juniors?”
“Sometimes friendship blinds you. Remember how that friend I once trusted stabbed me in the back?”
Conceding defeat in this nonsensical exchange, the assistant director shook his head.
After pacing the cramped office several times, Director Kim Seong-ha finally mustered the courage:
<Hello? Director?>
“Uh, I— I’m really sorry. Because of me, you’ve been dragged into this nonsense…”
He poured out an emotional apology over the phone, leaving Rowoon momentarily terrified by the word “quit.” But in the end, it went well.
Actually, it was great.
How could anyone be such a truly upright young man?
Kim Seong-ha was sure Rowoon must be furious about the nonsense in the tabloids – it’s common enough in showbiz for an actor to avoid controversies. And sure, if they’re big on “image,” they might bail on his project – especially an unlaunched film with negative press. In that case, he’d be forced to beg them to stay.
<I might die if I don’t make this film.>
It was like the heavens opened. Kim Seong-ha couldn’t fathom how vast Rowoon’s capacity was.
He’s definitely bound for greatness.
He was even encouraging a director who wasn’t sure of himself!
Yes… I have to reward this faith.
Sure, Kim had set the stage to provoke trouble, but part of him still felt uneasy. That’s the life of a film director: you constantly face risk, judged by the public every time, no matter how seasoned.
And “Guiro” especially had been rejected all over.
<Yes, I’m counting on you, Director.>
That gentle voice reaffirming its trust – was there a director alive who wouldn’t be moved? Doubt, overshadowed by the actor’s genuine support, gave the director renewed confidence.
“AD…!”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re saying you’re delighted that Rowoon is so nice and believes in you.”
“Let’s make sure we succeed! Let’s flip off those scumbags!”
“Sure, Director – now can you settle down?”
Sure, more dirty moves or sabotage might lie ahead… but if someone so clearly destined to shine believed in him, those obstacles suddenly felt trivial.
“Seriously? Rowoon’s that good? Then why all those rumors? Wait, maybe you’re right, and there’s more to it than meets the eye?”
The assistant director’s mutterings, searching for logic, never reached the starstruck Kim Seong-ha.
He’d initially feared everything was ruined by these hit pieces, but surprisingly, it was all fine.
Maybe that’s why…
“Huh? Director? All those articles are gone.”
The next morning, the AD reported good news.
“What? Those guys never move that fast. Are you sure?”
They had filed official takedown requests the instant they saw the articles, but by experience, those guys were never this prompt.
“Did you pay them off or something?”
“No way. We don’t have that kind of money.”
“Then why on earth would they pull those articles? Did they fear me?”
“That can’t be it.”
“What the…”
And that wasn’t the end of the surprises – or rather, the good news:
“By the way, Director, someone’s coming by today, right?”
“Oh, yeah – from LW Finance.”
A few days ago, Kim had gotten an unexpected call:
–Hello? You want to invest? Yes, absolutely, we’d be thrilled!
LW Group. A giant, globally rooted conglomerate. Their primary businesses were shipping, trade, and defense, so the public didn’t hear their name often, but rumor was they ranked among the top five in pure capital. Out of nowhere, they offered him investment funds.
Kim was a little suspicious but hardly in a position to refuse. He set up a meeting for today.
“AD… am I trembling?”
“I’m nervous too. I don’t mesh well with big corporate guys.”
“Right? High-level finance folks can be so strict.”
“I’ll make sure we’re well prepared so they can’t pick us apart.”
They thoroughly tidied the small office. When the appointed time came—
“…Huh?”
They found themselves facing a frosty-eyed male beauty. Next to him stood a man who practically shouted “I’m his secretary!” and handed over business cards. The moment Director Kim and the AD saw them, they blinked rapidly in shock:
‘LW Finance… Senior Managing Director?’
Wait, what? They’d been expecting an investment rep, so why a senior managing director?
“Um… why would the managing director from LW Finance come here…?”
Director Kim, on the verge of meltdown, tried to hold onto his sanity. He didn’t know much about the big conglomerates, but he’d heard LW was expanding into electronics and finance to boost brand recognition. People said at the pace they were signing up customers, the “Big Five banks” might soon become the “Big Six,” headed up by one of the royal family in the group.
“You said you were looking for investors. Was I mistaken?”
“N-no, that’s correct, we are. Absolutely.”
“So… is there a problem?”
Everything about the man radiated quiet intensity. He looked far too young – maybe mid-thirties at most, but carried a vibe that forbade underestimating him. With his cool, handsome face, he could’ve passed for an actor in a corporate drama.
‘Is the real “royal family” always this good-looking?’
Any lingering doubts were dashed when the AD checked his phone, recognized the man’s photo, and mouthed to the director that he was indeed the real deal.
“All right, you’ve confirmed who I am. Shall we talk business now?”
He smiled slightly, and Director Kim felt a strange sense of déjà vu. But that didn’t matter. The key question was why someone of his caliber would personally show up in this tiny office to invest in their movie.
This is unbelievably lucky.
Kim had been prepared to fund production with his own savings, albeit not comfortably. He definitely wasn’t about to refuse a generous investor. So he gathered his wits and began:
“A-all right, let’s start with the timeline and budget plan for production—”
Thus began a sudden presentation that nearly drained Kim’s soul, but he had to do it right if he wanted the money. The problem was that the prospective backer seemed extremely uninterested.
“U-um, next… the cast is mostly set, so the approximate casting fees are…”
He was explaining staff wages, extras, set construction, location costs, and so on when the man finally spoke:
“This one.”
He pointed at the screen that the secretary had just scrolled back a few pages. Filling it was a bright, almost pretty face – yes, it was Rowoon, the actor with whom the director had a heartfelt phone call last night.
“This person. Doesn’t he have no acting ability? Why would you cast him?”
It sounded like a rebuke: “Don’t waste my money.”
In that instant, Director Kim completely forgot that this was his crucial prospective investor.
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