Chapter 31
In front of the café Loyeon, now dark after closing time.
Filming for the short movie “The Shop Didn’t Turn Off That Day Either” was continuing late into the night.
“Standby—go.”
At Assistant Director Shin Yunhwan’s cue, the two actors slowly descended from the café.
“Good work today. See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, sir.”
Actor Il Hyuntae, in his forties, walked to the left.
Yeonhui, playing Hyuntae, turned right.
The two Hyuntaes exited the set and went their separate ways.
While walking the night streets, Il Hyuntae made a sheepish call to reconcile with his wife, whom he had argued with that morning.
Yeonhui, meanwhile, reinstalled a job search app he had deleted earlier and began looking for companies worth applying to.
After the two actors wrapped their scenes—
“That’s a wrap. Good job, everyone.”
Once the insert shot of the café lights turning off was completed, Assistant Director Shin Yunhwan raised his hand to announce the end of filming.
The crew offered their thanks and began packing up.
‘I should’ve done better.’
It wasn’t just because he had made a few bloopers.
Twenty-minute runtime.
A low-budget film unlikely to make it to major theaters.
But it was his first lead role.
If he had prepared more thoroughly, maybe he could’ve portrayed ‘normalcy’ more convincingly.
As Yeonhui helped clean up, his heart was full of regret.
But then—
“Yeonhui-ssi. Over here for a second.”
Assistant Director Shin Yunhwan called him aside from where he’d been helping the others.
After glancing around, he pulled out a white envelope from his coat and handed it to Yeonhui.
An unexpected payment.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to…”
“Take it. It’s not even much.”
Yeonhui had agreed to the project knowing low-budget films rarely paid.
This was an opportunity to gain experience as a lead and build his filmography.
He repeatedly tried to decline, but Shin Yunhwan was firm.
“This isn’t just a token of thanks. We got a lot of great shots thanks to you. That’s why it’s in there.”
“But it’s only natural for an actor to act…”
“You’re a pro, Yeonhui-ssi. Don’t tell me you’re one of those actors who stop acknowledging the director after filming ends?”
Shin Yunhwan flashed a grin that was almost a threat.
He insisted it was the rightful due of a lead actor.
Reluctantly, Yeonhui accepted the envelope.
“Once it’s edited and submitted… we’re aiming for the second half of the year. Can’t say if we’ll win anything, but no one’s going to overlook you easily. Or at least, I won’t let them.”
After clasping Yeonhui’s hand, Shin Yunhwan returned to the others.
“…A pro.”
Yeonhui muttered, clutching the envelope tightly.
The word “pro” wasn’t unfamiliar to him.
To be exact, it was a term deeply ingrained in his former self—Pilyeon.
Someone who took lives for money. A professional killer. That word was attached to him and his comrades like a badge of honor.
Pro.
Back then, he’d hated that word.
But now, strangely, the word made his heart race.
Bzz— Bzz—
The vibrating phone in his pocket pulled him from his thoughts.
It was Im Sohan.
“Hello?”
–Still so cold, hyung. What’s with the ‘hello’?
“You’re still filming? It’s pretty late.”
–Yup. We’re grinding to the end. Just on break now.
The two chatted briefly, swapping updates and talk about acting.
Then, Im Sohan’s tone shifted subtly.
–I got a call today. Someone asking about another actor. A scout.
“What? That actually happens? Sounds shady.”
–Right? I mean, I’m a certified lead actor, you know?
Something about Sohan’s voice felt off.
“Wait… That ‘other actor’—don’t tell me…”
–Yup. A ‘Woo Yeonhui’, they said?
Yeonhui was dumbfounded.
A rookie, barely playing extras, being referred to a lead actor for a connection?
It screamed scam.
A scam bold enough to trick even big-name actors.
“It’s a con. Not even worth responding to.”
“…Huh?”
Sohan sounded caught off guard.
A scam?
But then, as if recalling something, he spoke with newfound gravity.
–Fool the enemy, fool your allies first. That’s what this is, huh?
“…What?”
–Ha. I was so oblivious. Anyway, the ones who contacted me were JS and Haneul Star. Both are places my manager and I know the scout team leads personally.
He had heard of those names.
Two of the top three agencies in Korea.
All among the industry’s elite.
‘What the hell is he saying…? So it’s not a scam?’
Yeonhui’s head spun.
Could Sohan be in on it…?
No, that made even less sense.
Why would a lead actor con a supporting actor?
–I’ll pass your number along to them, okay? If this pans out, you owe me a big one.
“Hold on. Use this number instead.”
After a moment of thought, Yeonhui gave him a temporary work number, not the one he had saved in Sohan’s contacts.
Sohan picked up on it immediately.
–As expected of my hyung. Always thorough…
“…What? What is?”
–Sent it over. Gotta head into another scene now. Call me if you have questions. These scouts aren’t pushovers.
Click.
Staring at his phone in a daze, Yeonhui reflected.
To get into a top agency “properly,” you had to go through a scout.
Sohan had become that bridge for him.
‘If you receive, you repay. One way or another.’
Yeonhui’s eyes sharpened as he stared at the screen.
He recalled the rule that helped him survive in that ruthless past.
Haneul Star Entertainment, ranked 3rd in South Korea’s management industry.
Team Manager Kim, in charge of recruiting and contracts, burst into the conference room.
“You got in touch?”
All the scout team leads looked up reflexively.
Kim approached the man with a meaningful smile and tapped both his shoulders.
“Nice work. Now then—”
“Uh, the number he gave was a temporary one.”
A nearby team lead cut in with a subtle tone of rivalry.
Pretending not to notice the tension, Manager Kim turned his gaze back to the scout who’d gotten the number.
“Temporary or not, did you speak with him?”
“Yes. Calm tone. Seemed deliberately reserved. I tried mentioning his projects, Im Sohan, and even Jo Soonyul-sunbaenim, but… no real reaction.”
“Temporary number and no tells… So he won’t reveal his hand.”
Kim crossed his arms.
Big agencies had the advantage in scouting: capital, networks, casting experience, management skills, and finely-tuned intel.
But no matter how powerful they were, if they lacked accurate information about an actor, they couldn’t move carelessly.
Without intel, you were just a blind giant.
This rookie seemed to understand that—he was tightly controlling his information.
“He might not even want to sign.”
“He’s the one who requested the meeting.”
Kim’s eyes twitched.
He was interested in signing, but wouldn’t give up the upper hand.
This rookie clearly knew his way around the industry.
Talented, and with exceptional self-management.
“Adjust the offer. Don’t use the standard rookie contract.”
—
At that moment, JS Entertainment, ranked 2nd in the industry.
Head of scouting, Manager Gong, was having similar thoughts.
“Temporary number, tight control of information. He knows his value and is hiding it deliberately.”
A rookie with such meticulous self-management?
Some might call it arrogance—but it was, in truth, a rare skill.
One that was more crucial than ever in this sensitive era.
Manager Gong quietly signaled to his scouts.
“Other agencies might already be moving. Hurry. Reset all offer terms.”
“Yes, sir.”
Over one actor, the best agencies…
…were making silent moves beneath the surface.
Early morning. Action School.
Clang!
“You’re losing power. Focus.”
“Ngh! I am focusing!”
Im Sohan gritted his teeth and gripped his sword tighter as he blocked Yeonhui’s relentless strikes.
“Your hands are better, but your footwork’s slow. When facing multiple enemies…”
“Never give them your back.”
“Again. Watch your steps.”
Clang— Clang!
Sweat drenched the floor under Sohan since morning.
Normally, he’d grab a towel first.
But now, he didn’t even have time for that.
Yeonhui’s attacks came not from one direction—but from all sides.
As if fending off a pack of enemies.
‘This is harder than the palace fight scene. Where is this guy’s limit…?’
A few days ago, Sohan had filmed a group battle scene for “The King’s Honor.”
It wasn’t easy, but he got through it.
Now, the climax—an all-out war scene—was coming.
Meeting Yeonhui today was to practice that battle.
“Urgh!”
Sohan barely blocked a strike from behind.
“Half a beat late. Again.”
Yeonhui didn’t ease up even when Sohan started gasping for breath or bending over in exhaustion.
The more tired a person gets, the more desperate they become.
Sohan’s eyes began to fill with wild intensity.
“Graaaah—!”
As Sohan recklessly swung his sword—
Yeonhui suddenly stepped in, placing the wooden blade against his neck.
“No matter how hard it gets, what did I say?”
“Stay calm… Ah, forget it. Let’s take a break.”
Breathing hard, Sohan flopped to the floor.
“Real group fights are one-on-one…”
“But you have to feel what it’s like to be surrounded. Outside the camera, it’s all choreography—but inside, it’s real.”
“True that, sir!”
Lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling, Sohan smirked.
This guy never gave you a second to complain.
Made you want to call him hyung, for real.
“Hyung. You said Director Seok Daewan showed up during that short film shoot?”
Yeonhui nodded.
The director had watched most of the filming in silence before disappearing like the wind—only leaving money for the crew’s afterparty.
Thanks to that, everyone celebrated until dawn.
“That director’s my dream. I’d love to work with him someday… though I’m probably nowhere near ready.”
“Why not? You’ve got the chops.”
“He’s famous for ignoring actors who aren’t up to his action standards.”
As Sohan gave a bitter laugh, a thought flickered in Yeonhui’s mind.
‘He won’t just accept favors, huh.’
Fortunately, it seemed like he now had something to give in return.
Helping Sohan reach that goal was another story—but he could offer support.
And it’d be good training for himself too.
“Break’s over.”
“…I haven’t even caught my breath.”
“If you let the sweat cool, it’s even harder.”
Grumbling, Sohan picked up his wooden sword again.
Something about the training today felt even more intense than usual.
A while later, the two left the Action School after finishing practice.
“Thanks again for today, hyuuung.”
“Good work. See you next time.”
“Yup! And if you need help with your contract, call me! Promise!”
After parting ways with Sohan—
Yeonhui headed to a nearby café, not far from the Action School.
Sohan had said this was a popular spot among entertainment industry folks.
Looking around, Yeonhui spotted a few sculpted faces scattered among the regular crowd.
About ten minutes later—
“Mr. Woo Yeonhui, right?”
He stood and shook hands with the man who bowed politely before him.
It was the lead scout from JS Entertainment’s scouting team.
