BIE 100

Chapter 100…

Finally Released

–Boom!
–Ugh!
–Be quiet. Come out already. Enough fooling around.

As the movie reached its climax, the entire audience held their breath, completely immersed.
When the final scene showed Woo Soo-han jumping out of the window and plummeting fast, everyone screamed.
It felt so real — as if someone had actually fallen right before their eyes.

The film that had left no room to breathe finally ended.
As the end credits rolled, Yuna gasped in awe.

“Amazing!”
“Oh! Hey! This is gonna be a huge hit, right?”

Yuna and Yun-seong started hyping each other up, convinced the movie would be a box-office smash.

“Really? Director! They said it’s going to be a hit!”

Then another voice chimed in from behind them — that strange man from earlier.
Yuna felt something off for a moment.

“Huh?”

Director.

The movie’s director was Jo Gam-dong — a name too unique to forget.

When Yuna turned around again, her pupils widened.

“…Huh?”
“What’s wrong? Is that guy behind us bothering you again?”

Her brother and roommate Yun-seong turned to look as well, puffing up his shoulders like an animal trying to appear bigger to another male.
And then, the moment he looked — he froze too.

“…Huh?”
“It’s him, right?”

He was wearing a cap, but they were sure.
They’d seen that face so often lately.

“Heh, yeah. I’m that—”
“Woo Soo-han?”
“Ack!”

Right there in front of the siblings sat Woo Soo-han, cap pulled down and hand clamped over his mouth, staring at them in shock.

Tears blurred his vision.

“Uh, why are you crying?”
“Did we say something wrong…?”

Such kind people.
They didn’t realize what a precious thing they had just done.

“You called me by my name.”
“Sorry?”
“Usually people call me a beggar first.”
“Ah…”

That was it.
Normally, when people recognized him, they’d shout “It’s the beggar!” rather than “It’s Woo Soo-han!”
He’d gotten so used to it that his automatic response was, “Yeah, I’m that beggar.”

But these two had called him by name.
How could they not be precious?

To share his gratitude, he invited them to a coffee shop.
They found a half-partitioned booth and sat together — not because he thought he was a star, but because he wanted to treat these rare people properly.

“We’re real fans!”
“No joke — look!”

They showed him their phones.
He’d been right. They were true fans.
It was the first time he’d seen his face as someone’s phone wallpaper.

“Can I take a picture?”
“Huh?”
“I’ve never seen anyone use my photo as their wallpaper before.”
“Pfft!”

They burst out laughing.
He didn’t mind. It made him happy.

Then Yuna, flustered, hurried to explain,

“Ah! Not because it’s funny — it’s just, you look the same as on TV. I thought celebrities would feel more… different— wait, why are you tearing up?”
“Sniff.”
“Hey, Yuna, you made him—”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve been treated like a celebrity despite being a beggar, but this is the first time someone’s treated me like just a celebrity.”
“Ah…”

The three of them locked eyes — and suddenly all burst into tears together.
None of them even knew why.

“Should we check on them? They’ve been crying for a while…”

A concerned café staff member whispered, but the manager just glanced over and replied,

“Shh. They’re not breaking anything. Maybe something sad happened.”
“Oh… okay.”
“Just pretend we didn’t see.”

So, out of respect for their emotions, the café staff looked the other way.

“Seriously, people need to see you now! They keep calling you a beggar, beggar — I don’t get it!”
“Thanks.”
“You’re my favorite actor.”
“Thanks. But let’s leave it at that — I’m not homophobic, but I don’t swing that way.”
“Pfft—ha!”

Yes, laughter was good.

“Hahaha! You’re hilarious, man!”
“Thanks. Wait, your dad’s a fan too?”
“Our whole family is!”
“Wow… I’ve had people recognize me before, but this is the first time I’ve met fans like you.”
“Really?”

He meant it.
Sure, someday they might move on to another celebrity — that’s just how things go.
But their sincerity right now was real.

“Yeah. You two are true fans.”
“You’ll get even more famous soon!”
“Really? Hah… looks like I’m getting farther from being a beggar.”
“Hey! Stop saying that!”

He couldn’t help it. The fear still lingered.

“In a world where the rich can become poor, what’s the big deal if a beggar stays a beggar again?”
“Uh… I guess?”
“Yeah. I’ve met old guys showing off old photos, bragging that their family used to own half the city.”
“So those people really exist, huh.”
“Yep.”

After chatting about useless things, they finally took a selfie together and parted ways.

“Bye!”
“Bye!”
“I’ll keep my promise!”
“Promiseee!”

And thus, a random fan meeting came to an end — leaving everyone warm-hearted.
Just as they’d predicted, the film debuted at #3 on the box office chart.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I frowned at Director Gam-dong.

“If you chew any harder, you’ll bite your fingers off.”
“Huh? Ah… I’m just nervous.”

First-day audience: 42,000.
Total production cost: 3.5 billion won — marketing included.
They’d need ten times that number to break even.

When filming started, everyone said, “We have so much funding!”
Originally, the plan was a tiny 300–400 million won budget — all scraped together.
Then the “Old Man” producer backed them, and Gam-dong went wild during filming.
Now he was terrified.

“But #3 is good, right?”
“Good, yeah, but what if it crashes after this? The first day’s just a launch bump!”

When he started talking casually, I knew he’d lost it.
With his nails gone from biting, he now paced the room like a hamster on caffeine.

He’d looked like a cuddly teddy bear before filming — now just a jittery mess.
Maybe I should boil him some chicken soup tonight…

[Please be understanding…]
“I would if you’d come watch with me. I told you to go to the theater for a live reaction, but you chickened out! And at the stage greeting, you were stiff as a log.”
[Really? I figured… yeah, sounds right.]

Yeon-ju tilted her head beside us, looking at Gam-dong pitifully.

“What now? Only two days left in half the 200 theaters…”
“Hmm.”

At first, “200 theaters” had sounded huge to me — and it was, from our perspective.
But most were just off-hour screenings — midnight or early morning, maybe one or two daytime shows.
Only about 70 had full-day runs — still impressive, especially since the Old Man’s influence got them there.
Without him, it might’ve been fewer than 100.

“Anyway, the coin’s been tossed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean now?”
“Whether it lands in my begging bowl or someone else’s, time will tell.”
“Can’t you use a normal saying? Like dice or arrows?”
“From where I’m standing, coins feel more real.”

Then Gam-dong suddenly trembled.

“Haa.”

He sighed. His phone was ringing — but instead of just answering, he froze like it was the 1980s.

“H-hello?”

His voice shook as he answered — then dropped the phone.
At least it landed on the sofa — meaning he still had some sense left.

–Hello? Director! Director!”
“Ah! This is lead actor Woo Soo-han speaking.”

I quickly intercepted and put the phone to my ear.
Yeon-ju leaned closer, curious.

But then I wondered — do ghosts even hear through their ears?

–Oh! Where’s the director?”
“He’s out of it. What’s wrong? Did we bomb?”
–No, they’re expanding screenings! Some limited-show theaters are switching to full-day runs!”
“That’s good news, then?”
–Very good!”
“Then why is Gam-dong—”

“Kyaaaaahhh!”
“Jeez…”
[You scared meee!]

Gam-dong finally snapped out of it, shrieking like a dinosaur and jumping around the room.
It might’ve been cute if he were a kid. As a grown man? I just wanted to pin him down.
Still — better than biting his nails again.
And honestly, I was thrilled too.

“Yes! Running royalty fee!”

Running royalties, let’s go!

–‘The Devil Lived in My Dream’ hits #1 after just three days!

“…”

Director Jo Gam-dong stared blankly at the article.
Day 1: 40,000 viewers.
Day 2: 70,000.
And now, box-office #1.

Sure, it had released between summer and Chuseok blockbusters — no major competition.
But the film industry had been in such a slump that even modest success felt miraculous.

Most films that opened strong at #1 with heavy marketing couldn’t even hit 400,000 before being pulled.
That’s why he’d been anxious even after debuting at #3.

“Director! Marketing says we should make a milestone promise!”
“A… a million views promise?”
“Nah, at this pace, with day-four totals, we’ll hit 400k soon — aim higher!”
“T-two million?”

Everyone burst out laughing at his modest guess.

“He’s hopeless!”
“Bro, this isn’t a dream, right?”

Smack!

The sting on his back made him twist in pain — but he was happy it meant this was real.

“Camera’s rolling!”
“What?”
“Want another smack?”
“I-if we hit two million, then… uh… what do we do?”
“…”

Gam-dong froze.
The crew laughed, and someone said,

“Usually the lead actors make these promises, don’t they?”
“That’s true.”
“But directors often join in too.”

As chatter spread, Soo-han spoke up.

“It’s Gam-dong’s first film. He should be the one.”

“Wooooo!”

Cheers erupted.

“Then… should I dance?”