A Brewing Storm
"What did you just say?"
Park Moon-cheol lifted his head slowly, wondering if he'd misheard. But Lee Hee-jun's face didn't flinch.
"I said I'm auditioning for the role of Jin."
"Why would you audition? You were fixed as Louis. And besides, the production company said they weren't casting for any other roles."
Hee-jun calmly tidied his cuff and muttered, "We had a difference of opinion during the meeting. Anyway, I prefer Jin over Louis. It's a bigger role, more important. I've been doing soft, kind characters for years now—it's time for a change."
"And who told you that you could just decide that on your own?"
"...Then whose decision is it supposed to be?"
"You should've coordinated with the company. This isn't just any director—it's Jin Kyung-moon. You're turning down a confirmed role to audition for another? What if you don't get it? How are you going to make up for the lost opportunity cost?"
Park rolled up his sleeves, exasperation radiating off him. The atmosphere turned heavy. Hee-jun exhaled sharply, meeting his glare head-on. His manager, caught in the middle, wanted to vanish.
"You're already thinking about failing?"
"Hee-jun, get a grip. You've been acting for five years. In the past three, have any of your lead roles actually succeeded? Isn't it about time you had a hit?"
A lead role that doesn't perform well only drains your image. Recognition without results—no one in the industry wants that.
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed your scripts drying up?"
"Oh, come on, sir."
"You're young, that's why you're still getting chances. But if you don't lock something solid now, you'll regret it when you're older."
He meant: you'll be left behind.
An actor's price tag is hard to raise—and just as hard to lower. No one wants to hire someone whose box office results don't match their fee. Even a flashy supporting role that blows up is better—for the company and the artist both.
"If you don't swallow your pride now, it'll be a lot harder later."
"That's practically a curse."
"Ha… What the hell did you even do there?"
Park sighed and snapped toward the manager. "You! What happened at that meeting?"
The manager flinched, bowing his head in silence. Hee-jun waved his hand dismissively, clearly annoyed.
"Forget it. Anyway, that's how it went. The production said they're discussing Jin, so I'll probably audition soon. That's all you need to know. If that doesn't work out, I'll look over that daily drama offer from JTV."
He stood up, brushing off the tension.
He didn't care if it was the company—he was the actor. If he didn't want the role, what could they do? He nudged his manager toward the door.
"Let's go."
"Hold on. You—stay."
"Me?"
"Who else?"
Park motioned for the manager to stay. Something wasn't right.
Hee-jun arched his brow in warning—don't say anything stupid. Then he left.
Smack!
The door shut. Park gestured for the manager to come closer.
"What really happened in that meeting?"
"Uh… what do you mean…"
Damn it. The man was like a bloodhound.
"Monnette was firm—they were only casting for Louis. So why'd their attitude suddenly change? And why is that kid, who was all polite before, suddenly acting like this?"
The manager clenched his eyes shut. He and Hee-jun had already agreed on what to say, but Park could sniff out a lie like a ghost.
Sorry, Hee-jun.
He'd planned to just tell the company that they'd "adjusted opinions" after the meeting. Less embarrassing that way. No need to mention that a total unknown had appeared out of nowhere.
The production seemed willing to cover for us too… damn it.
"Well, sir…"
And so, reluctantly, the manager spilled everything—from the moment they arrived at Monnette to the time they left. His paycheck, after all, came from Park Moon-cheol, not Lee Hee-jun.
"…So, yeah. It got a little complicated. Hee-jun didn't want to play Louis anymore, and it looked like Monnette had someone else in mind for that part…"
"Mm-hmm. So that's what happened?"
Park nodded slowly, finally seeing the full picture. The production company must've felt bad and left the door open for another role as consolation.
"That little bastard Hee-jun… cute, isn't he?"
Park let out a humorless chuckle and stubbed out his cigarette. Now that he understood the situation, he knew exactly what to do.
"Find out who's being considered for Jin."
"What are you planning to do?"
"You have to know your opponent before you play your cards. Do you think Hee-jun even has a shot at beating whoever that is?"
He clicked his tongue, scolding the manager. Still, it was too late to reverse things—so they'd have to push forward. If Hee-jun could climb from supporting to lead, all the better.
"All right. I want a report by tomorrow."
"…Yes, sir."
If they couldn't boost Hee-jun's talent overnight, the next best move was to drag the other guy down. No actor or agency was without a weak spot.
As the manager turned to leave, Park suddenly stopped him.
"Oh, wait."
He'd just realized something.
"Who's the rookie they were talking about?"
"The rookie? You mean the one who dropped by to say hello?"
"Yeah. You know him?"
"I'd never seen him before. I think his name was Ha… Ha… Moo-young?"
At that, Park's brows furrowed sharply.
"What did you say? Ha Moo-young? As in that Ha Moo-young?"
"…Who's the Ha Moo-young you know, sir?"
"Never mind. Get out."
The moment the words left his mouth, the manager bolted from the room like a man escaping a tiger's den.
"Damn it."
He'd just had a cigarette, but he already wanted another.
Click, click.
The lighter flicked open and shut as Park muttered under his breath.
"Why does that name keep scratching at my nerves…"
Celebration
"Congratulations! Oh, this is a huge day!"
Na Geum-dong strutted around the office, his shoulders bouncing. Moo-young just watched, expressionless. The man was on his fifth lap around the room—how did he still have energy?
"Moo-young, you hit the jackpot! Absolute jackpot!"
"Sir, could you please sit down? You're making me dizzy," grumbled Go Kyung-min.
Normally, the man got winded just climbing stairs—why was he this fired up now?
"Oh, come on, Manager Go! You should be doing a victory lap with me! We can't just sit still on a day like this!"
"I'm reading the contract. Reading."
"Take your time! You've got until next week to review it!"
Kyung-min shot him a side-eye glare and went back to reading. Na Geum-dong collapsed onto the couch, panting.
"Finally tired, sir?"
"If Moo-young wants, I'll do another lap!"
"Haha, no thanks. I'm fine."
"Still, Moo-young, you're really lucky. To make your debut in Director Jin Kyung-moon's film—that's incredible. And not as an extra, but as a supporting role!"
Moo-young covered his cheeks, grinning bashfully.
Honestly, it still didn't feel real.
The production company he'd always admired.
The legendary director he respected.
And even the role he wanted most—everything had fallen into place perfectly.
And his partner in the film? That was just the cherry on top.
"I'm really looking forward to working with Yuna. Our acting chemistry should be great."
"Of course! That kid's no ordinary child actor, you know. Did you see The Man Next Door? She's already got the instincts of a pro. People call her a one-of-a-kind genius among child actors."
At that, Go Kyung-min shot a glance at Moo-young.
'A one-of-a-kind genius,' huh? He couldn't help but think—Moo-young wasn't any less of one himself.
The synergy between the two will be insane.
Genius meets genius.
Even the brief interaction between them back at the office had been electric—something the audience would definitely remember.
"Boss, could you check the front section again?"
"Huh? Ah—right, right."
Kyung-min handed the contract back to Na Geum-dong for review.
"As you know, debut film payments for rookies usually follow a set range," he began.
"Moo-young, this is your official debut, right?"
"Yes, that's right."
"For most rookies, the pay's somewhere between 2 to 3 million won minimum, maybe up to 10 million if you're lucky. It's a tough market—career history matters a lot, so it's not easy to earn much as a complete newcomer."
Moo-young quietly nodded, sipping his green tea.
"But in your case, both the director and production team think very highly of you. And since Louis isn't a minor role, they decided on this amount."
₩9,000,000.
It wasn't a huge sum. Considering the movie's production would take at least half a year—possibly a full year—it was modest. But still—
"I'm really happy with that," Moo-young said sincerely.
"I mean, how could I complain?"
He'd felt like he owned the world when he got a ₩2-million signing bonus before.
And now—₩9,000,000! Even after taxes and the agency's 70-30 split, it was still several million won.
"Exactly. You don't know how lucky you are. Some rookies don't even get paid at all—they take jobs just for the debut credit."
Sometimes, the agency even paid the production just to get their talent on screen. It was an investment—spending money now to build exposure later.
"If the production gives you a ₩2-million travel allowance, you usually just hand it right back."
"But you—Director Jin Kyung-moon's film and full pay? That's a spectacular start. I'm being completely honest here."
Especially since Director Jin was famous for treating his staff and actors fairly. He always made sure everyone got what they deserved—his philosophy was simple: work well, treat people right.
"That's probably why Yuna's side agreed, too."
Since she was a minor, there were strict labor regulations to follow. And the film's dark, violent tone would naturally make any guardian hesitant. The only reason they felt safe was because of the director's reputation.
"Anyway, we'll handle the full contract review and get your confirmation at the end. You'll probably be the next confirmed cast member after Yuna."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Monnette said filming should start around late June or early July, so let's get your schedule sorted in advance."
"Oh, but… I don't actually have any schedule to sort."
Moo-young laughed awkwardly. There was still about a month left before filming. He was free now, and he'd probably still be free then.
Kyung-min checked the sticky notes pinned on the board.
"You've got that Born2Re model shoot coming up, and we'll need to prepare new profile photos. Also, won't your final exams and end-of-semester stuff overlap with that timing? Once things start piling up, you won't have time to breathe—so get ready early. A month sounds long, but it flies by."
"Ah, I see."
Moo-young clapped his hands lightly in understanding.
Right. He'd have to manage his grades too if he wanted to stay in school next semester. He pulled out his phone to jot down his to-do list—
"...Huh?"
He'd gotten a text—from the class rep.
['Hey, Moo-young. Applications for Today University models open today. Interested? They're even giving out scholarships.']
"'Today University?'"
What was that again?
The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. While he was puzzling over it, Kyung-min stacked a pile of photographer portfolios on the table.
"Manager-hyung, do you know what Today University is?"
"Huh? Oh, that? It's a nationwide campus magazine. Promotes universities and student life. Anyway, Moo-young—these are the photographers I shortlisted for your profile shoot."
They were all professionals specializing in actor portfolios. Finding someone who could really capture Moo-young's tone and image was tricky—and expensive.
"The best ones are booked solid for a while. These are available sooner, but honestly, the quality's just average. What do you think?"
He spread out the sheets—photos arranged by price, turnaround time, and sample work.
"Hmm…"
Moo-young studied each page carefully but couldn't find one that really clicked.
Seeing his hesitation, Kyung-min rummaged under the table.
"Wait a sec. I think I've got an issue of Today University here somewhere…"
As an agency, it was practically required reading. The magazine showcased attractive, talented students from campuses nationwide.
He finally pulled out a slightly dusty issue from last year and set it on the table.
"Here. It's basically a lifestyle magazine that features each university—introductions, campus spots, interviews, that kind of thing. Why, are you thinking of applying?"
"A friend just told me about it. Apparently, they even offer scholarships…?"
"Yeah, it's a great opportunity. Quite a few people got their start there. Song Joong-ki and Hwang Oh-seul were Today University alumni, remember?"
But Moo-young barely heard him. His eyes were glued to the magazine. The cover shimmered faintly.
He brushed his fingers across it—
"Dusty, huh?"
"No, it's fine."
That shimmer—those sparkling particles—looked exactly like the flower dust.
But why? What was this supposed to mean?
He glanced between the portfolios, the magazine, and his class rep's message, deep in thought.
"Hey, Manager-hyung."
"Yeah?"
"Do we have to* hire a photographer separately for the profile shoot?"
"Well, how else would we do it?"
Moo-young's lips curved into a small grin as an idea formed.
"What if… I use the photos from the Today University shoot as my profile instead?"
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