Ch.20But I blocked it, didn’t I?

The time had already reached October.

At this point, the High Dream filming was steadily progressing.

Since my scenes hadn’t come up yet,

I was leisurely enjoying my school life.

But at the same time, I had one concern.

‘I should start looking into this soon.’

That concern was about finding an agency.

For High Dream, I didn’t need to worry about appearance fees since everything was based on rookie rates.

But future projects would involve complicated processes like contract fees and other matters.

It would be too much to handle all of that alone.

‘Should I really join ST Entertainment?’

The best option at this point seemed to be ST Entertainment, where actress Kim Yuryeon worked.

A nest where someone I knew—a former top actress in the industry—was staying.

If I joined them, all the small problems I might face would disappear.

‘Hmm, I need to think about this more.’

But I didn’t want to make hasty moves either.

Usually, actor contracts run for at least five years as a baseline,

so making a careful decision was best.

“You kids, I told you to study but none of you did!”

While I was lost in these thoughts, our homeroom teacher, Mr. Jang Boseok, entered the classroom.

“The midterm exam results are out, you brats.”

“Aaaaaahhh!”

The news came like a disaster.

Hearing those screams, our teacher laughed heartily, seemingly enjoying the students’ misery.

“You should study before complaining like that. How can you be disappointed when you didn’t even study?”

Then his gaze suddenly fixed on me.

Clap, clap, clap.

He started applauding out of nowhere.

What’s this about? What’s happening? My confusion didn’t last long.

“Well, at least there’s some good news. Our class produced the top student in the school. Kim Donghu! Come out here quickly!”

The teacher called me while putting on an awkward regional accent.

‘I’m the top student?’

Me, who frequently missed school?

“Our class president got the top score in the school, which raised our class average significantly. Let’s give him a round of applause!”

Wait, since when am I the class president?

I gave Minhyeok that look, and he immediately started explaining.

“When you were absent last time, we all decided to make you class president.”

For your information, I’m the vice president.

Because I’m your manager.

“…What are you talking about?”

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about it. We all agreed.”

Why am I becoming class president when I wasn’t even there?

I told you I can’t come to school often, right?

But my objections were drowned out by applause.

That’s how it was back then.

An era when public executions often occurred—

teachers singling out students to congratulate them in front of everyone.

And perhaps everyone wanted to join in the celebration?

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

As if it had been a while.

[Sims – Real Life] sent me a message.

But this time, the format was different.

Before, it was just simple text, but now:

-[Cybers QA, Cracks Appearing? “Mass Exodus of Team Leader-Level Managers, Directors Also Among Them”]

-[Choi Seokho’s Challenge! “Creating a Space Dedicated to Actors,” Launches Veritas Management in the Entertainment Industry]

It came in the form of news articles.

And the headline that really caught my eye was the last one:

-[First Signed Actor an Unknown Rookie? “A Monster Who Shines More Brilliantly Than Anyone,” CEO Choi Seokho Shows Pride]

Is this talking about me?

+++++

At the same time, in an office in Bundang.

Preparations for a new business opening were in full swing.

“Hey, please put that down carefully!”

Amid the PP boxes moving back and forth,

a man directing their placement was moving without even a moment to wipe his sweat.

“Th-that sofa goes over there! Yes, yes! And please put the flower vase over there!”

The man was overcome with strange emotions as he watched the office gradually taking shape.

‘I wasn’t planning to leave so soon.’

While directors typically think about building their own nest eventually,

not many managers actually put that into practice.

Because there’s too much to lose.

You need to recruit actors, position yourself against your former company,

and most difficult of all, you become just “you” without the backing of a big corporate name.

Having to please the same people you used to bow to.

Everything that was taken for granted under the Cybers QA name would no longer be so—

that kind of reverse experience would overwhelm anyone.

But still.

“Even so, treating managers like money-making parts is just wrong.”

Wrong is wrong.

What Cybers QA did was like

firing the entire server management team because there hadn’t been any server issues for years.

So I just wrote my resignation and left.

Because it was disgusting.

At the same time, I made a resolution.

To create a company where both actors and managers would be respected.

But the problem was that while leaving was good, I had no actors to recruit.

More precisely, I had some, but they disappeared.

‘Cybers QA…’

My former workplace, now just another big corporation.

The power of that corporation could easily crush a one-man management company like mine and still have power to spare.

I wasn’t blind to this situation.

Still, I believed I could recruit at least a few rookie actors.

“…Over there, yes, yes, that chair is the CEO’s chair, so please put it here.”

An office empty except for the workers.

Thinking about this made Choi Seokho’s voice slightly melancholic.

An office into which he had poured all his money for a new start.

A space representing his all-in bet with maxed-out loans, now sitting empty.

Could there be a sadder story?

“Isn’t there a rookie actor who could just drop from the sky?”

Yeah, if that were possible, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

Choi Seokho patted his cheeks.

Pull yourself together, Seokho, you can do this.

You’re a lucky guy.

You can do it. If you work hard enough, recruiting actors will be no problem.

‘Yes, I am a lucky guy.’

Getting into this building was lucky from the start.

A seven-story commercial building, great location, large parking lot.

And a kind building owner who promised not to raise the rent much.

‘Rumor has it he made a fortune betting on the World Cup.’

As if that could be true?

That’s ridiculous.

+++++

November.

A time when final exams and winter vacation were slowly approaching.

Perhaps due to the increasingly chilly weather,

the outdoor brand that once took South Korea by storm had reappeared.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen North Face padded jackets.’

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say all teenagers wore North Face padded jackets.

At that time, it had reached a level of popularity that could only be described as madness.

‘I couldn’t afford to wear one before, even if I wanted to.’

North Face padded jackets, or “Nopa” as they were called, weren’t something you could wear just because you had money.

It was more like a class system.

It was the exclusive domain of the so-called “school bullies,”

and those lower in the hierarchy might even have theirs taken away.

But of course, I:

‘Luxury brands are still the best.’

Thanks to the uncles in Bundang who were paying me,

I was wearing Moncler.

I’m not particularly sensitive to cold, but it’s nice to be warm.

Hoo.

As I exhaled lightly, a faint breath appeared and disappeared.

‘It’s cold, but there are so many people.’

Seeing the line of reporters in the distance, I couldn’t help but grimace.

‘Is this because it’s the third public filming day?’

Making film.

Not just showing the drama itself,

but turning the filming process into content as well.

It was one of the essential tasks for promoting a drama.

But I hadn’t had the chance to participate in making films until now.

‘Because I didn’t have many scenes.’

The first script reading, the first filming—

all were conducted privately because they were firsts.

By the time they switched to public filming when everyone had found their rhythm,

I hadn’t had the opportunity to be filmed for behind-the-scenes content.

‘But it’s two hours before filming starts, and everyone’s already here so early.’

Following my father’s teaching that the youngest should arrive early,

I came early today too, but it seemed impossible to get through the crowd silently.

“Excuse me, I need to pass through.”

Rustle, rustle.

Perhaps everyone understood the plea of the boy laden with kimbap and coffee.

The reporters, though annoyed, slowly made way.

Then.

“Oh? He’s so handsome!”

Someone stated the obvious quite loudly.

“Ah, um, I’m just…”

Flustered.

The reporter who had loudly called me handsome fumbled around before pulling out a business card.

“I’m Gil Gildong, a new reporter from the online media company Daily Happy. It’s you, right?”

“Pardon? What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re incredibly handsome, unbelievably so, so that day at the interview…”

“Interview?”

“Ah, I mean audition! Audition! You’re the only one who passed the public audition, right?”

I probably shouldn’t confirm that, right?

My mind raced quickly.

‘Let’s bolt.’

After tucking the coffee and kimbap into my arms, I just ran.

“Y-you are, right? You are! The unbelievably handsome Kim Donghu!”

How does he know me? What’s going on? Is he a stalker?

Just as these thoughts crossed my mind, a realization struck me like lightning.

‘Ah, Facestorm!’

Come to think of it, I hadn’t even thought about checking it since becoming an actor.

How many followers have I gained for even a rookie reporter to recognize me?

While running, I quickly opened my phone to check Facestorm.

10,000.

For that time, it was an unbelievable number.

I hadn’t posted a single thing, just uploaded a few face photos, and I had 10,000 followers.

No wonder people recognized me.

The only fortunate thing was that I had blocked all DMs.

If I had allowed those, my phone might have exploded.

‘That’s a relief.’

As if any important messages would come through there anyway?

‘Let’s focus on filming.’

+++++

60 days.

1,440 hours.

86,400 minutes.

5,184,000 seconds.

The common thread among these numbers was that they all represented two months.

And simultaneously, it was the amount of time Studio Geumgang had been going crazy.

“Are there really no talented people out there? How can there be no talent?!”

“This is why kids these days are hopeless! Argh!”

Despite numerous audition notices and actor recommendations from various agencies,

they couldn’t find an actor for the student soldier role in Endless Frontline.

How could they all perform the same academy-taught acting?

Do they think war is all about crying and shouting?

The only good news was that they were at least filming the movie.

They were buying time by pushing the student soldier scenes as far back as possible.

But even this had its limits.

Director Park and Director Kang were on the verge of losing their minds.

They didn’t want to give up.

Between completing a movie at 100%

and bringing it to life at 120%,

they knew which one was closer to success.

“Should we search through social media or something?”

Should we really resort to scouting?

Do we have to go this far?

With a sense of resignation, Director Park opened Facestorm.

This was the last thing he wanted to do.

‘Tag search… handsome, middle school student.’

Would this turn up anything?

Even as he thought this, he felt foolish.

If it were this easy, why had they been holding auditions all this—

“Huh?”

Wow, why is this kid so handsome?

But there was something peculiar about that face.

At first, he thought it was just a handsome face.

But there was something else—a quiet sadness like calm waves that had weathered a war.

“…Director Kang, what do you think of this kid?”

“What, Director Park… bringing just a photo without seeing his acting…”

What’s with the face?

“…He might be good? But isn’t he just a regular person?”

“Couldn’t we ask him to take a test?”

This wasn’t how things were supposed to be done, it really wasn’t.

It made no sense.

But he was so handsome.

And he matched exactly the face they had been imagining.

Ah, this really shouldn’t work.

Tap, tap, tap.

His mind said no, but his body was diligently composing a DM.

Or at least, trying to.

“He’s blocked messages.”

“What?”

“He’s blocked contact.”

Blink, blink.

“Then what do we do?”

To Director Kang’s question, asked while blinking like a goldfish,

Director Park calmly replied:

“We go find him.”

Shinbit Middle School—that’s where everything was.