The manager looked about to spring up and rush out at any moment.
“Hyung. Nothing concrete has come up yet.”
“Huh, why?”
“Because Kang Chaheon is busy.”
“Ah.”
At that all-too-convincing reason, the manager who had leapt to his feet sank back down with a deflated hiss.
“By the way, Rowoon, are you in touch with Kang Chaheon?”
“Yes. Well… sometimes.”
For some reason, the manager’s face turned satisfied again.
“You two were glued together on set every time. I guess you got pretty close.”
Close, huh.
He did say he didn’t dislike me, but—
‘Are we close?’
Considering he went out of his way to come find me and even told me about schedules that weren’t fixed yet, I couldn’t say we had no personal connection…
‘Mm. It’s probably more that he feels sorry for me and is looking out for me.’
As for the messages he sent whenever he had a spare moment, those seemed more like he was bored.
At any rate, Rowoon decided to leave the manager’s misunderstanding alone.
If he denied it, he had a feeling the man might get teary-eyed.
“Right. If you’ve got that kind of offer, it’d be a bit of a shame to go overseas. Even if Y Brand is famous, PD Han’s variety show is the safer bet.”
He was PD Han, who would turn anyone into a star just by having them appear.
If you knew how thick the fanbase for PD Han’s variety shows was, it was absolutely not something to miss.
“Got it. Then I’ll take it that we’re passing on the Y Brand thing. But is there any word on when that variety show will happen?”
“Apparently the main figure, Kang Chaheon, is busy. From what I heard from him, they’re thinking after the director’s cut release of Gwiro…”
“Oh man. The timing is perfect, then. In that case, the shoot will proceed in advance, so we should at least set up a meeting. With this kind of thing, you’ve just got to go for it so there’s no backing out.”
As if he hadn’t been anxiously checking the time for when the commercial would air,
the manager sprang to his feet and hurried off to make calls somewhere.
‘Phew. Thank goodness. I almost ended up suddenly heading overseas.’
There was another reason Rowoon couldn’t easily accept Lee Jinmyeong’s offer.
A reason he absolutely couldn’t tell the manager.
‘When I don’t know how the third commission will turn out, going abroad… isn’t ideal.’
For whatever reason, the Observers who gave Rowoon commissions didn’t find it easy to move around.
Even for the second commission, they’d barely managed to gather the personnel after quite a long wait.
If he went overseas…
‘I won’t hit a “die of old age abroad and bad ending” there, right?’
So for now, it was right to stick to domestic.
Of course, what he’d said to the manager wasn’t all a lie either.
It was true he needed to build recognition at home first.
These days, strangely enough, even overseas fans were paying attention to domestic recognition.
There were no small number paying heed to domestic chart rankings and running streams, you might say?
‘For now, I should wait. Lord Cheonghwa told me to wait.’
Separate from the fact that Rowoon, having successfully completed a crazy-hell “Inferno” difficulty commission, landed the Taewoon commercial everyone coveted—
[Are you insane! How could you throw in that kind of commission without any heads-up! Our kid almost died!]
After the second commission ended, Cheonghwa’s reaction was anything but ordinary.
[These old geezers with no sense of decency!]
Cheonghwa trembled with what seemed like intense anger.
A long lifespan of over 100 days didn’t offer any particular comfort.
[One hundred days! Once a commission starts tangling, it’ll vanish in no time!]
…Rowoon, who had thought it was long, felt sheepish.
[Is this something just for my benefit? Instead of treating the goose that lays the golden eggs with care, they’re trying to slit its belly?]
Ding.
Ding-ding.
It seemed the Observers were making excuses, but Cheonghwa was adamant.
[Do you know or not that our kid almost died this time! Let’s all keep some professional ethics, shall we? Hm? No, racking up lots of merit is fine. It’s good. But what are you thinking, putting up something impossible as a commission!]
Ding-ding!
Ding!
Excuses popped up again, but Cheonghwa only snapped back in fury.
[What do you mean you don’t know! Anyway, you people overflowing with merit—are you proud of not knowing reality at all! It’s not like you’re frogs forgetting when you were tadpoles! We were lucky our kid is a prodigy who handled it all so well. If not, huh?]
Suddenly turned into a “prodigy,” Rowoon felt embarrassed and his gaze rolled away.
[Our kid would’ve died, and I would’ve died. I’d have lost even the official wish-submission box I worked so hard to open. It all would’ve ended! You get that? Keep this up and we’re all dead!]
Rowoon, the living wish-submission box, tried to gently rein in Cheonghwa.
“Um… Lord Cheonghwa. I really am okay. I received a lot of merit this time, and work went well, too. Thanks to that, I even shot a commercial.”
[Okay my foot! You almost died!]
Clicking his tongue at Rowoon, Cheonghwa went tsk-tsk.
[Anyway, the problem is you’re this nice. I thought you were too nice even before, but you’re too nice!]
Strange.
It definitely sounded like praise, but the tone felt like he was getting scolded.
[Being nice isn’t bad. But always remember this: you are not alone, so you must always be careful, and careful again!]
Not… alone?
‘That word choice is kind of…’
It was true he and Cheonghwa were a community of fate, but the phrasing sounded a bit odd.
[This won’t do. I’ll have to go and throw a proper exorcistic tantrum.]
“Pardon?”
[Only then will they stop getting the idea to put up commissions with ridiculous conditions like this time.]
With that, he thrust his chest out proudly.
[Now that my horns have sprouted, getting in should be comparatively easy.]
And atop Cheonghwa’s head, as he said, there really was a tiny horn, about the size of a fingernail, standing there imposingly.
When Rowoon claimed the reward for completing the second commission, Cheonghwa had undergone yet another evolution.
Something like a protrusion had sprouted then.
‘…I didn’t think it would be a horn.’
Honestly, if Cheonghwa hadn’t said anything, he would’ve just thought it was some kind of bump.
[The size is still a bit small, which I don’t love. I’ll show you later just how stately these horns of mine are! Ahem. Do you know how many immortals once adored these horns?]
Of course he didn’t.
[Anyway, I’ll be back shortly. Nothing harmful will happen to you, so leave it to me.]
Up until then, the Observers’ messages had kept dinging like background music.
But as soon as the little-horned water drop snapped, “Tsk!” and vanished, the message sounds soon faded away too.
That was already over a week ago.
‘Just how thoroughly are you turning things upside down…’
There was no way to know the affairs of heaven, so all Rowoon could do was wait.
In the meantime, the manager who’d gone out to make calls came back, his face flushed.
“Rowoon, the remote!”
Reflexively, he turned his head to check the time.
The first broadcast time that Lee Jinmyeong had told them about had drawn right up to their noses.
‘I monitored it on set, but I wonder what the finished cut will be like.’
According to what he’d heard, the rough cut had passed with unanimous, tremendous praise.
How he knew that was because Chairman Seo of Taewoon himself had called.
—This! What I recommended as a favor turned into us getting on our knees in thanks!
It was only now being said, but there had been some voices of concern within the company as well; however, once they saw the rough cut Lee Jinmyeong sent, those all vanished.
—By the way, Director Lee seems to like you an awful lot. Try getting along well, you two. Director Lee is a good person. Very capable, too.
He certainly was capable.
As for being a good person…
‘Well. That’s good enough. He doesn’t have prejudice, no prejudice.’
He could have disliked Rowoon, the parachute, but rather than reject him or throw his weight around, he wordlessly showed consideration so Rowoon could recognize his own shortcomings.
Thanks to that, while shooting with Lee Jinmyeong, Rowoon was able to discover a version of himself that had grown one step further.
“Oh, it’s on!”
Right as the time came, the manager shouted.
The moment he, fully prepared from early on, began recording—
[The place you love]
A short phrase appeared and the screen changed.
It began with a man returning home after work.
The man, looking weary, lets out a deep sigh as he steps out of the elevator.
The polished tips of his stylishly sleek shoes catch the light and gleam.
His slow steps quicken, and soon he stops at a certain spot.
Beep-beep-beep-beep—
A series of electronic tones anyone would recognize follows, and then the man’s face is shown in close-up.
A face that, for lack of expression, had felt all the more fatigued, now takes on life.
His expression shifts, blooming bright as a flower, and the close-up plays in slow motion.
It was the kind of face that would make even passersby unconsciously steal a glance.
Next, the man, now inside, takes off his top and hangs it up.
Following his fingertips, what the camera shows is Taewoon’s logo.
Beep!
The man’s finger in close-up presses a button; as he turns away, the clothing care system starts up on its own.
Meanwhile, the man goes into the kitchen and begins to cook.
A neatly appointed system kitchen and refrigerator, etc.
The latest home appliances that had not yet been announced pass one by one across the screen in a way that is never blatant.
The man carries the finished dish to the living room.
The TV is also a latest model slated to be announced soon.
Click!
Placing the food down, the man suddenly looks back.
A sofa that looks plush at a glance comes into frame, and the man strokes it with satisfaction.
Then, as if the consummate professional businessman you could only see somewhere in Yeouido had melted, he leans back against the sofa with a fully relaxed face.
It’s a completely different, unguarded look from when he got off the elevator.
If you’re Korean, rather than sitting on the sofa, you’d choose to lean back against it and sit on the floor.
‘They must have put that in deliberately for contrast.’
Even without any special narration.
Even without forcing an awkward emphasis.
As you watch the ad, you naturally come to understand.
What message, what image it is that Lee Jinmyeong wants to convey.
Click!
The screen gradually fades to black as the man lies down on the bed and turns off the light.
[The place you love]
The phrase from the beginning was again embroidered on the screen with gentle BGM.
That phrase soon—
[The place I love]
—the “you” in the middle blows away and changes to “I,” then slowly fades.
And the Taewoon logo rises.
An everyday slice of life that might seem monotonous.
But the footage passed through Lee Jinmyeong’s magic was different.
The man’s vibe shifting again and again created an anticipation that it would continue even after the lights went out.
Seeing this video, Rowoon thought:
‘The director… really is someone impressive.’
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