042. Radio Appearance (1)
“Who were you talking to?”
“…I was on a call.”
One nice thing about an advanced, civilized society is this: when you talk to yourself, people don’t automatically think you’re weird. But Min Yerin’s eye for detail was no joke.
“I don’t see any earbuds.”
“I took them out when the call ended.”
“I know it wasn’t that. Were you by any chance practicing lines?”
“Pardon?”
“Have you already signed elsewhere? Do you already have your next project…?”
“That’s not it.”
“Then…?”
“I was talking with Mr. Dongja.”
“Mr. Dongja?”
Min Yerin reacted sharply.
“Who is Mr. Dongja? Does Kwon Seonghyun know who that is, too?”
“Of course. Naturally.”
Kwon Seonghyun crossed one leg and smiled leisurely.
“Oh dear. So Yerin, you didn’t know? This person is very close to Yeonwoo.”
Was it just his imagination, or did that sound like, “This is where you and I differ”?
But that wasn’t the point he should be focusing on. The problem was that while talking about Mother Kang Yeonhwa, his attention had wandered. It wasn’t just Kwon Seonghyun here; Min Yerin was present as well. He’d made an excuse, but it wasn’t flying. She didn’t seem to believe him, either.
…Should he call this boldness, or what?
There weren’t any earbuds, so he definitely looked like some guy talking to himself. Even so, instead of treating him like a nut, Min Yerin seemed hung up on something else entirely—namely, the fact that there was something Kwon Seonghyun knew that she didn’t. It almost looked like her pride was stung.
“Who is Mr. Dongja? Can you introduce me, too? If he’s close to Kang Yeonwoo, I absolutely want to know him.”
On the surface she seemed cold and frosty, but in this moment, Min Yerin looked oddly passionate.
“You probably won’t be thrilled.”
Yeonwoo said it.
“You never know.”
…
He really didn’t understand the way actors thought. A normal person might have said, “What are you doing, standing here chatting with yourself, you lunatic,” and cursed him out. Instead, she went a step further and asked for an introduction.
[Yeonwoo! Me! Hurry and show me to Min Yerin! She said she wants to meet me, didn’t she!]
As if she really meant it. The reason was obvious, though—she just didn’t want to lose to Kwon Seonghyun.
[She’ll definitely like this form! She seems to dislike furry animals, so she’ll like a hairless one!]
Back then, Min Yerin had said hamsters were very cute. She’d said it like she was reading a textbook in clipped staccato, though, for someone whose acting was so good.
Anyway. When would the child spirit figure out that reptiles are animals, too?
“She’s going to dislike it.”
“No way. That won’t be the case.”
There was even a hint of stubbornness about her answer.
It was the child spirit who ended that uneasy standoff. He suddenly stuck his head out.
[I am the Child Spirit! Well? Feast your eyes on these sleek, beautiful scales and this unspeakably cute face! This should be more than enough to win Yerin’s heart! Come! You may shower this body with affection! Go on, adore me!]
The child spirit waved his hands in the air as if greeting her warmly. Yeonwoo pressed down on the lizard’s head, which was spouting off showily in words only he could hear.
“He’s a pet… lizard I’m raising. He’s pretty clever. He can understand human speech to a point. Living alone, I got into the habit of talking with my pet…”
He cobbled together an explanation that wasn’t too strange. Oddly, though, the other party was silent.
“…?”
He glanced over to see Min Yerin’s eyes shaking uncontrollably. As if there’d been a magnitude 9 earthquake, the tremor was plain to see. Her face had gone chalk-white; she looked like she might collapse any second. It was definitely not because she found the lizard cute.
[Why isn’t she admiring me…? You don’t think I’m cute? I specifically chose an adorable gecko species!]
The child spirit toddled toward her on short legs, step by step. He didn’t forget to blink those huge eyes up at her, either.
But the shower of praise he was waiting for didn’t come. Instead—
“…Min Yerin?”
“…”
“Ms. Min Yerin? Are you all right?”
The answer came from elsewhere.
“Looks like she fainted.”
Slurp. After a sip of lukewarm coffee, Kwon Seonghyun summarized the situation in a gentle voice.
Have you ever seen someone faint with their eyes open?
[I… I failed…!]
By the time the ever-elegant Kwon Seonghyun finished his coffee and got on the phone to call his manager to take Min Yerin to the hospital, Yeonwoo was half-heartedly consoling a shocked, despondent child spirit.
“Told you not to do that.”
“How could anyone dislike a body this adorable?!”
“Let’s be precise. It’s not dislike. She finds it disgusting enough to faint.”
[Why!]
“Don’t be too discouraged, Mr. Dongja. There’s no such thing as someone everyone likes. Even I have antis, you know.”
[What? Someone’s an anti of the Actor? Who’s that dog-blooded, rat-fink bastard? Tell me who! I’ll quarter them on the spot!]
“Hey. Your character’s changed. Calm down.”
[Ah… right. Actor, please pretend you didn’t hear that.]
The child spirit gave an embarrassed grin.
After Min Yerin was taken to the hospital, the child spirit, sobbing and moaning, declared he would shed the lizard body. Even though it must have a fair amount of spiritual energy invested in it, he didn’t hesitate at all.
Just then, Kwon Seonghyun’s manager returned.
“What’s with reporters being so fast these days? They were already waiting when we got to the hospital. I sweated bullets with Min Yerin’s manager.”
Drenched, the manager flopped into a chair and pulled out his phone.
“Look. Articles are already up. ‘Min Yerin collapses from overwork, rushed to ER,’ ‘Relentless schedule—actress Min Yerin collapses from overwork’…”
They hadn’t done anything wrong, but why did his conscience sting?
[I… I didn’t think she’d be that scared…]
“Go stand facing the wall with your hands up. And if you try to be clever before I tell you to stop, you’ll be in bigger trouble.”
[Waaah…]
The child spirit—no, still a tiny gecko that hadn’t shed—trudged over, pressed his face to the café wall, and raised his hands.
“A-hem. Before I got back, Ms. Min Yerin woke up. She asked me to pass a message to Yeonwoo.”
The manager studiously pretended not to notice the lizard being punished and spoke.
“What did she say?”
“She said it didn’t seem like you brought the lizard to scare her on purpose, so she’ll put this down as a debt… sir.”
“A debt?”
“She asked you to spare her one day. She wants to take you somewhere.”
Crunch!
A plastic cup crumpled with a sudden sound.
“Hey! Seonghyun! Your hand! Is your hand okay?! Put that down and let me see!”
“I’m fine, hyung. My strength just slipped for a moment.”
“What do you mean fine! The cup’s smashed to pieces! You’re not hurt?!”
The manager quickly wiped the spilled drink from Seonghyun’s hand and checked.
“Why are you doing something you never do? Good thing it wasn’t hot, or this could’ve been bad. Do you have any idea how many fans your hands have?”
Kwon Seonghyun’s hands, straight-boned and long, were fairly famous. Not a single unsightly knuckle; the ideal shape, so to speak. His fingers looked a segment longer than most, and apparently the strength matched. He’d crushed the cup and didn’t have a scratch.
“Something ticked me off for a second.”
“Ticked off? You? You got mad?”
The manager sounded like he’d witnessed a rare solar eclipse.
“Yeah. Hyung, one sec. Mr. Dongja?”
[Actor, you called me?!]
“Kneel, too.”
[…Huh?]
“Kneel and keep your hands up.”
[Seriously…?]
“Yes.”
The answer came back firm. Ignoring the child spirit staring at him like the sky had fallen, Seonghyun turned to Yeonwoo.
The manager snuck a glance, fascinated, at the lizard kneeling with its hands up.
“Yeonwoo. Have you ever considered going on the radio?”
“Pardon? Radio?”
The randomness made Yeonwoo repeat the question.
“Yes. You remember I said offers for you were coming to me, right?”
“I do, but…”
It still didn’t make sense. Why were offers for him going to that man?
“I’ve been turning down the small fry, but this one looks pretty decent. That’s why I brought up the agency…”
He paused, then smiled.
“A pesky gnat seems to have shown up.”
“…”
“I think it’d be great if your very first gig after joining my agency was this. But I won’t pressure you.”
He smiled again.
“The timing’s good. The drama team’s reward trip will be set for a week from now, so if you do this before that, it’ll help build recognition. It’s a late-night slot, but it actually has a lot of loyal listeners, and it isn’t a show that chews people up for cheap thrills. You’ll be the sole guest, so the attention won’t be divided. As a magnet for people who watched the drama and became curious about you, I think it’s quite good.”
Why start with radio rather than a talk show or variety? He explained it like this:
“Variety risks breaking the image viewers have of you from the drama. Under the pretext of ‘chasing laughs,’ they may force things in a sensational direction. Talk shows are similar. Once your footing is a bit sturdier, it’s good to diversify your image, but right now it’s a little risky.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. You’ve only just begun to register with people. Introducing confusion to that impression is counterproductive.”
Yeonwoo honestly didn’t know what half of that meant, but if an industry top, a virtual expert, said so, then that was that.
“Radio is live, so unlike other programs, malicious editing is impossible. As a first step, it’s solid. The host is a cheeky one by nature, but he’s known for clean, straightforward moderation.”
There were pre-recorded radio programs, but the one Seonghyun recommended was live.
“How about it? Interested? We can start slow, but…”
“I’ll do it.”
Yeonwoo answered. No need to think twice.
“Since the water’s here, might as well row.”
Recognition. That was exactly what Yeonwoo wanted. And what Seonghyun said lined up perfectly with the direction Yeonwoo had in mind.
What he needed wasn’t a short-lived flash, but a long run.
It wasn’t hard to see why Seonghyun, of all things, recommended radio. Besides, if it was a Seonghyun pick, there wasn’t much to think about. Hadn’t he hit the jackpot by following his lead?
Creak.
Yeonwoo opened the door of reinforced glass. Inside were packed with various machines, and beyond them a booth with a large picture window.
He had arrived at the radio studio where tonight’s live show would be broadcast.
“Oh! Kang Yeonwoo? Welcome! You’re early. You could’ve taken your time; we’ve still got a bit before airtime.”
As he stepped into the studio, someone who looked like a writer sprang up and hurried over.
“I was impressed seeing you on TV, but in person you’re even more handsome!”
“Thank you.”
“And your voice—so, so good! I was impressed during the phone interview, too… Our listeners are going to swoon tonight! Oh my. I’m being such a fangirl, aren’t I? I get like this whenever I see someone good-looking. It’s instinct.”
“So that’s why you go quiet every time you see me?”
“Huh? Juha, you’re already here?”
“Yeah. Just now. While you were talking behind my back.”
“How is that talking behind your back? I’m just being honest.”
“Wow, rude.”
He turned at the sudden new voice. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood there in a loose, slouched pose. One side of his head was shaved in a two-block cut; the other was grown out and swept over in curly-permed waves, giving him an overall hippie vibe.
Even with Yeonwoo’s standards, raised by time with Kwon Seonghyun, the man looked pretty affable. The most striking thing might have been the multiple piercings in his ears.
This guy was a beast. Just of a different sort.
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