“Oh, so that’s why you know so much. As expected from a professional—your eyes must catch everything right away.Wow. Then you must be really good at portraying realism too. I hadn’t thought about medical dramas since they’re all professional terminology, but maybe I should do some research…”
Writer Min was once again veering off on a tangent.
“I can take a look if you’re okay with it,” Yeonwoo offered.
Writer Min blinked again.
“You can do that too? Oh, right—you said you’re a pro. That’d be great. I’ve been feeling like my head’s about to explode, my shoulders hurt, my legs hurt, everything hurts.”
“Then please give me a moment.”
“Do I need to do anything?”
“Just turn around and relax.”
As soon as she turned, Yeonwoo lightly scratched his finger to draw a drop of blood.
Of all days to forget my talisman memo pad…
The one he always carried in his coat was missing today.
Well, blood is more effective than paper anyway.
Talismans were like circuits for channeling Yeonwoo’s power—guiding and focusing it. But blood, imbued directly with his energy, was an even more potent medium.
Let’s see… She’s got four grudges attached to her. Two of them carry lifespans. Fourteen days, and eight days. Nice.
Using his bloodied fingertip, Yeonwoo traced an invisible line in the air. He could feel the power gather and respond to the movement.
He glanced downward.
[…]
The little child who had been struggling to pull off the grudges was watching with sparkling eyes.
Just a bit more. I’ll clear them all for you.
Smiling faintly, Yeonwoo flicked his finger.
The solidified energy gathered into his palm.
Tap.
He lightly placed his palm on Writer Min’s shoulder.
Tap. Tap.
Then moved across her shoulder, gently brushing her head and down again.
Barely a touch—so soft it looked like he was just brushing away dust.
But then—
-Ding! [You have successfully harvested a lifespan.] [Lifespan harvested: 14 days]
To Yeonwoo, the results were clear.
The chime of success was joined by—
[Krrreeeek!] [Kyaaaaah!] [Guuurrrgh…]
The grudges screamed as they were obliterated—crumbling into nothingness.
Maybe it was the use of blood.
They vanished without a trace, leaving only a final death rattle.
Hmm. Maybe I overdid it?
It probably wasn’t necessary to go that far for grudges this weak.
The spiritual energy still lingered heavily in his palm.
“Huh?”
As the grudges disappeared, Writer Min tilted her head.
“My shoulder suddenly feels so light! And my neck isn’t stiff anymore either…”
“You can turn around now.”
“What did you do? My head feels so clear!”
She touched her own body, amazed.
“Do you have the hands of God or something…?”
“…Excuse me?”
What the hell kind of cringey term is that?
“How did just a few taps make my whole body feel so light?”
“Are you feeling better?”
“Completely!”
Her reaction was intense—but understandable.
Carrying grudges is like wearing ankle weights on your whole body.
Of course she’d feel lighter now that the invisible pressure was gone.
And there was one more with a similar reaction.
[Woooow…]
The little ghost clinging to Writer Min’s skirt looked up at Yeonwoo in pure awe, like a cartoon hero had just saved the day.
“How did you do that? I’ve tried acupuncture and physical therapy, but this stiffness wouldn’t go away until now!”
“That’s my secret technique, so I can’t exactly say.”
“Oh, trade secret. Sorry for asking!”
Writer Min nodded quickly, accepting the answer.
“No need to apologize.”
A voice cut in from the side.
“Huh? Seonghyeon. I was just asking something personal.”
“Ah… So that’s why Yeonwoo was busy. You two seem close already.”
“Not really. I’m just working hard to get close.”
“That’s troubling, Writer Min. Yeonwoo is my manager.”
Seonghyeon had stepped in during another actor’s scene.
“Well, he’s your manager now, but no one knows the future, right?”
“Exactly. And that future might mean he stays by my side.”
Both were smiling.
Their tones were calm and polite.
But…
Why does it feel cold in here?
[A clash of titans…]
Dongjaryeong murmured from Yeonwoo’s chest.
“He shouldn’t be tied down when he has potential for bigger things.”
“I agree. But I’m already making preparations, so there’s no need for concern.”
“Oh… Really?”
The atmosphere shifted again.
“Well then, can I root for you? Isn’t it better to do things together than alone?”
“That’s unnecessary. I believe in taking care of my own people.”
“Oh, right. You said you’re shy with strangers.”
Their conversation sounded like coded dialogue. What the heck were they talking about?
Then Seonghyeon turned to Yeonwoo with a soft smile.
“Yeonwoo. You have to watch my next scene, okay?”
“Would I even understand what I’m watching?”
[Yeah, Yeonwoo doesn’t know acting at all. I’ll watch for you, Seonghyeon!]
“It’d be great if Dongja watches too.”
[You can count on me! I’ll make sure Yeonwoo watches it with me!]
“Reassuring, aren’t you?”
Is this spirit secretly a spy planted by Seonghyeon?
Yeonwoo began to seriously consider it.
“I’ve never seen Seonghyeon ask someone to coach his acting.”
“He probably didn’t mean it seriously.”
“Are you sure…?”
Writer Min continued asking Yeonwoo all sorts of questions.
What does he do in his free time?
What genres does he like?
Would he ever consider getting makeup professionally done?
Why the hell is she asking me all this?
To Yeonwoo, it made zero sense.
And of course—
The child hiding behind her skirt popped out again, eyes meeting his.
Grateful from being helped twice, the kid wasn’t hiding anymore.
Major progress.
Ah. I need to go gather more lifespans.
Residual spiritual energy from using blood instead of a paper charm still clung to his hand.
Normally, a charm would use up the energy when it burned, but blood had amplified and preserved it instead.
Just thinking about tapping his way through the crowd, harvesting lifespans like fruit, made him feel full without even eating.
But his plans were thwarted again—this time, by someone else.
“Was it awkward?”
It was Seonghyeon again, appearing after every scene to ask.
“It was fine.”
“But you were looking somewhere else.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Do you remember what line I said?”
“…‘What is this weird crap now?’ I think?”
“Oh, you do remember. So you were watching.”
“Seonghyeon, could you please stop coming here after every take?”
“Am I bothering you?”
“Yes.” Yeonwoo answered like a knife.
You’re gluing my feet down.
He was already attention-grabbing enough—having him approach like this constantly just made it worse.
He tried to be firm.
-Ding! [Lifespan available: +3 days]
“I just feel like I can focus better when you’re watching…”
“…”
Was this really worth offering lifespan over?
Still—free lifespan was free lifespan.
If all he had to do was watch now and then…
“Alright. But please stop coming every time. It breaks my focus.”
Not yours. Mine.
“If I’m going to focus on your acting, that’s the way to go.”
“Oh, I see. I’ll do that, then!” Seonghyeon nodded with a bright smile.
And with Interrupters 1 and 2 finally gone—
It was time to start serious harvesting.
But—
“Oh god. Look at that damn mutt prancing around the set like he owns the place.”
Turns out Yeonwoo wasn’t the only one who’d been waiting for this moment.
At first, Yeonwoo didn’t think anything of it.
Because, well—there was nothing to think.
Especially if someone was just muttering nonsense like a soaked dog.
“F**k. Is he deaf or just pretending? Walking around ignoring people like some hotshot—does he think he’s the star now just ‘cause he’s a celeb’s lackey?”
“…”
“Unbelievable. He doesn’t even flinch. Now even some lowly manager thinks he’s somebody?”
“…”
“He probably only got here ‘cause of Seonghyeon’s connections. Unreal. What a punk. Hey. Hey!”
Someone was muttering insults like they were talking to a wall.
Not worth paying attention to.
What a weirdo…
It was, of course, Lee Deokchun—whose name still made Yeonwoo want to laugh.
His face was red and puffed like a balloon.
[Yeonwoo. That squid-looking dude is totally picking a fight with you.]
Oh, that’s what it was?
I thought he was just babbling to himself.
If Deokchun knew what Yeonwoo was thinking, he’d probably explode.
[He looked so sweet and polite on TV—but he’s this kind of person? I’m shocked! Who does he think he is, picking on our Yeonwoo like this?!]
The hamster-sized ghost was so angry it nearly popped out of Yeonwoo’s chest.
Yeonwoo gently pushed it back and turned his head.
“You talking to me?”
“Oh? Finally answers. Man, acting all high and mighty. What are you, just a flunky for Seonghyeon with your neck all stiff and proud? Yeah, I’m talking to you, punk.”
“Punk?”
“Yeah, punk. Got a problem? Gonna go crying to Seonghyeon about it?”
Deokchun shoved him with a smirk.
“If you’re a manager, act like one. Don’t be loitering on set being annoying. Use some damn tact and go sit in a corner.”
“Hah…”
What the hell is this guy?
Yeonwoo was speechless.
Power-tripping in showbiz? Yeah, he’d heard of it.
‘If Seonghyeon were pulling rank, maybe I’d understand. But this clown? Trying to flex?’
An incredulous sigh escaped his lips.
“Oh? Now you’re laughing? You think this is funny?”
Deokchun scowled.
“You think just ‘cause Seonghyeon’s got your back, you’re safe? You think a little assistant manager like you won’t get blacklisted? Want me to tell the director how much of a pain in the ass you are? You don’t even understand how scary social media is, do you? One post from me and you’re done. How are you gonna survive if you get fired, huh? What will you eat?”
It sounded practiced—like he’d done this many times before.
Is he an idol or a thug?
One of the most disgusting types of people:
Those who abuse the powerless.
Those who think their status, wealth, or strength makes them better than others.
Maybe they grew up pampered, always in the spotlight, and started thinking they were something special.
But that doesn’t give anyone the right to trample others.
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