Holding Onto The Rope

“What do I do? Why am I shaking already? Get a grip, Lee Eun-jae!”

Eun-jae cast a spell over herself. Her heart was pounding as if she had just finished running a full marathon, and her lips felt bone-dry.

The fact that she had never shot such a massive commercial before played a part, but above all, the biggest reason was that her co-star was Se-hun.

“It makes total sense that you’re nervous. A commercial shoot this big, and your partner is the Lee Se-hun.”

Dong-hyun—her manager who had approached her notice—chimed in with a rough, grating tone. He hadn’t a clue how scorched her insides actually felt.

“Man, every time I hear it, it’s still a mystery.”

“What is?”

“That a top idol like Lee Se-hun is your college classmate. It’s just so bizarre. And he’s not even just a regular classmate; he’s the one Lee Se-hun constantly brings up in every single interview.”

Dong-hyun, completely oblivious to what was churning inside Eun-jae, shot back with a sarcastic sneer before shaking his head in disbelief.

“Do you think it’s easy for a rookie to get paired up with a top star? Just remember that I’m the one who pulled strings for this.”

The agency Eun-jae belonged to was an incredibly tiny company, lacking both a name and power. It wasn’t even a mid-sized agency, let alone a major entertainment powerhouse; it was a micro-startup. In fact, it was so small that the manager trailing her around was also the company CEO.

Despite having done absolutely nothing proper for Eun-jae until now, Dong-hyun held his head high and puffed out his chest, acting remarkably smug over this single achievement.

Clasping her fingers together, which had instantly turned ice-cold, Eun-jae shook her head.

This shoot was a rare opportunity—honestly, practically the first time—she could fully showcase her true appearance. Because she never had the chance to land main or even supporting roles, her appearance was never intact whenever she took on minor extra parts.

In action films, she was drenched in blood; in historical dramas, she wore heavy traditional headpieces. Consequently, there was never an opportunity for the public to properly recognize her face. On top of that, perhaps due to her agency’s lack of influence, even the commercials and pictorials that came her way were consistently on the edge, pushing highly suggestive limits.

‘You could hit it big if you just wanted to.’ That was the claim Dong-hyun constantly pushed, but Eun-jae couldn’t bring herself to agree.

A few days ago, when the agency brought her a commercial contract finalized without her prior consent, she had been deeply anxious. Yet, she chose to trust Dong-hyun one more time. That was how crucial this shoot was, both for Eun-jae and for Dong-hyun.

“I can do this. It’s okay,” Eun-jae muttered to herself like a mantra.

She was well aware that, despite her petite height, she had quietly gained a bit of internet fame for her figure—thanks to her long limbs, tiny face, voluptuous chest, and slender waist. However, those images merely circulated anonymously as nameless “girlfriend material” photos; nobody actually knew Eun-jae was an actress.

Just like that, Eun-jae’s presence in the entertainment industry remained completely insignificant.

As the shooting time drew nearer, her initially fluttery heart began to sink heavily. Her mood plummeted to rock bottom, leaving her internal thoughts a tangled mess.

Dong-hyun had absolutely no intention of being considerate toward Eun-jae from the very start. He gave a haughty jerk of his chin.

“Let’s head out slow. We need to greet them in advance.”

“Yes.”

Eun-jae slowly lifted her weight from the chair.

A sudden wave of fear washed over her. But one way or another, she had already entered the set, and with her makeup and styling fully complete, she had to push through regardless of what lay ahead.

Eun-jae looked down at the dress fluttering softly above her thighs.

The luxury G-brand dress, an ethereal blend of sky blue and purple, was incredibly expensive—far too costly for someone like her to normally wear. The texture of the silk brushing against her skin with every movement felt remarkably soft.

The simple joy of wearing a beautiful dress managed to infuse a pleasant flutter over her anxious trembling, causing Eun-jae to let out a faint, unwitting smile.

“Eun-jae!”

The moment her footsteps lagged slightly behind, Dong-hyun called out her name loudly.

“Yes!”

Eun-jae’s shoulders gave a sharp flinch as she quickened her pace. The joy of finally shooting a proper commercial mixed with the complex emotions of reuniting with Se-hun after so long, tangling her mind into absolute darkness.

Eun-jae was the only one who had finished her preparations ahead of the scheduled time. It was the fundamental attitude a rookie actor ought to maintain—a point Dong-hyun had stressed repeatedly.

Dong-hyun took Eun-jae by the hand and pulled her in front of the director.

But before they could even offer a polite greeting, the director abruptly tilted his head back and threw out a question.

“What kind of commercial did you think you came here to shoot?”

The question flew straight at her without a single word of greeting or introduction. His gaze stung as it swept up and down her body, as if sizing her up.

Though caught off guard, Eun-jae replied in the most polite tone she could muster.

“I was told it was a coffee commercial.”

“That’s right. But Lee Eun-jae-ssi, do you honestly think that outfit matches a coffee commercial?”

What did that mean? The situations she had experienced multiple times in the past were repeating themselves like a sickening case of déjà vu.

Eun-jae deliberately blinked her eyes, pretending to be oblivious as she looked over at Dong-hyun. ‘This isn’t a shoot where you strip down. G-brand is sponsoring Se-hun’s side, so you just need to wear the dress for the shoot.’ That was the entirety of the explanation Eun-jae had received.

Yet, Dong-hyun deliberately averted his gaze, completely ignoring Eun-jae’s eyes. The director continued to speak.

“Look, iced coffee is mainly consumed during the summer. Wouldn’t an outfit that looks a bit cooler be much better?”

“By ‘cooler outfit,’ what exactly do you mean?”

The edge of her voice trembled slightly. Eun-jae bit her lower lip, staring intently at the concept photos the director held out.

The photos, fluttering weakly in the air, were an unmistakable parade of bare skin, even at a passing glance.

“An outfit more along these lines, yeah? A bit more…”

The director’s toad-like hand traced heavy curves in the air several times, making a flagrantly vulgar demand. The busy movement of his eyes as they scanned her up and down felt thoroughly sinister, as if making it clear there was a specific reason she had been cast.

“Of course! We’ll go change right away.”

Intercepting Eun-jae’s response, Dong-hyun quickly bowed his waist to the director in a deep greeting. He then shoved the back of the dazed Eun-jae. It was a brutally rough touch.

Pushed into the dressing room in an instant, Eun-jae finally snapped back to her senses. She turned to Dong-hyun, asking hesitantly.

“The official concept proposal explicitly stated it was a dress. You’re not changing it now, right?”

Dong-hyun coaxed Eun-jae with a benign, pleasant face, as if soothing a child.

“This much is fine. You’re just wearing something a little shorter.”

“A little shorter?”

Dong-hyun pointed toward a corner. Eun-jae’s eyes followed his gesture.

Resting exactly where his finger pointed was a bright red bikini. Calling it a bikini was generous; it was nothing more than a few tiny, brief scraps of cloth.

“The size might be…”

With a shameless face, Dong-hyun swept his eyes over Eun-jae’s body in a split second. He openly locked his gaze onto her chest, asking with a smirk.

“A bit too small, perhaps?”

Eun-jae’s expression froze completely stiff. A wave of profound humiliation, far greater than anger, crashed over her, causing her body to shudder involuntarily.

Dong-hyun, whom she had considered to be at least somewhat on her side, and the director who had rolled his sleazy eyes earlier now felt like the exact same person.

Treating Eun-jae’s reaction as an overreaction, Dong-hyun let out an irritated sigh and added, “Concept designs change back and forth all the time like this. It’s just because you don’t know how things work.”

“Did you know about this all along?”

“What?”

“There’s no way a bikini would just be prepared out of nowhere like this.”

Even at a glance, the bikini was arranged beautifully as if for sale, clearly meant to look like a sponsor’s placement.

Eun-jae curled her small hands into fists. Clenching her trembling hands tightly, she shook her head.

“I won’t do it. I can’t do this.”

“What? Do you have any idea how much this commercial is worth? An opportunity like this doesn’t just come around!”

Dong-hyun snatched up the bikini resting in front of them and hurled it right into Eun-jae’s arms.

In an instant, the atmosphere turned menacing, and Dong-hyun’s tone grew harsh.

“Go change out of that right now.”

“You never told me it was this kind of shoot!”

It felt as though tears were about to burst through. Eun-jae strained with every ounce of her strength to hold them back, refusing to cry in front of him.

But he showed absolutely no mercy for her situation.

Dong-hyun violently grabbed Eun-jae by the shoulder. With a single rough, forceful pull, her fragile body was slammed flat onto the floor.

“You said you wanted to act. Do you think the actresses up at the top got there easily? It’s all the same. In the beginning, you take it off, you give it up—that’s how it’s done!”

What exactly she was supposed to “give up,” she didn’t even want to know. Eun-jae shut her eyes tightly.

The thin string of the bikini caught between her fingers. It felt just like a fraying rope on the verge of snapping.

“I told you we don’t have time. Let’s get up quickly and change your clothes, Eun-jae, hm?”

Only her name, tacked onto the end of his sentence, carried an artificial sweetness.

Dong-hyun carelessly yanked at Eun-jae’s arm. Her slender, white arm flushed red under the brute force.

Though she had endured and resisted because she refused to show a weak side in front of others, it was entirely futile. Ultimately, a clear, transparent tear broke free from Eun-jae’s eye and fell.

It was right then.

“Is this how an agency typically conducts itself?”

A chilling voice cut smoothly through the space between Eun-jae and Dong-hyun.

The dressing room door, which she had assumed was closed, stood wide open. Standing at the threshold was a man leaning back with a crooked posture.

The man’s gaze flicked over toward them. It landed directly on Dong-hyun, who was currently attempting to force the collapsed Eun-jae back onto her feet.

Just as effortlessly as he had given them his gaze, the man looked away.

Dong-hyun, who had spun around while letting out a throat-clearing curse, recognized the man’s face and instantly scrambled to his feet with an unprecedentedly submissive demeanor.

“C-CEO Kim Woo-gyeom…? What brings you all the way here… No, I mean, I didn’t mean it like that…!”

Instead of answering, Woo-gyeom walked straight over to where Eun-jae was crumpled on the floor.

Planted firmly directly in front of her, Woo-gyeom tilted his head slightly. The sharp, upward tilt of his eyes carried a terrifying coldness.

“Does a manager at this agency routinely treat their actor like absolute trash?”

“CEO, it seems there’s been some sort of misunderstanding on your part…”

“Are you telling me right now that I am misunderstanding what I see?”

“No! It’s not that… Quickly, stand up, Eun-jae. You need to greet the CEO of Delight.”

Dong-hyun was berating Eun-jae purely with his eyes. He desperately wanted to yank her up himself, but with Woo-gyeom’s heavy gaze fixed on him, he didn’t dare move.

Delight.

It was a massive entertainment conglomerate counted as one of South Korea’s top three agencies. It also happened to be the company managing Se-hun, the central figure of today’s shoot.

The distinct feature that set it apart from other agencies was that it was operated by two brothers—the eldest and second sons of the Deal Group, a corporate empire widely recognized as the backbone of South Korea’s economic growth—who served as co-CEOs.

Above all, the stark contrast between the eldest son, Kim Hyun-sung—a highly sociable man who dedicated his entire daily life to public operations—and the second son, Kim Woo-gyeom—a reclusive executive shrouded in mystery, often whispered to be a mere figurehead due to his complete absence from the public eye—was a massive talking point in the industry.

The person standing before Eun-jae today appeared to be that very second son, whose face was notoriously difficult to catch sight of.

Eun-jae lifted her eyes to look at Woo-gyeom. For the first time, their gazes locked.

He possessed a striking, gorgeous appearance—far more brilliant than she could have imagined, to the point where one could easily believe it if told he was an actor himself. Dressed in a luxury brand suit that instantly radiated his elite executive status, he was a man whose austere, immaculate features naturally commanded undivided attention, even without the clothing.

Without letting a single specific emotion leak out, his eyes slid over, delivering a blunt, unmistakable command to Dong-hyun.

“I’d like to have a private word with Lee Eun-jae-ssi.”

“With Eun-jae? Ah… Yes, yes! Of course! Eun-jae!”

Behaving precisely like a palace eunuch from the Joseon dynasty, Dong-hyun scurried backward out of the dressing room. He didn’t forget to shoot a final, threatening glare at Eun-jae on his way out.

Dong-hyun closed the dressing room door as politely and soundlessly as possible.

The moment the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, Woo-gyeom spoke to Eun-jae.

“How long do you plan on sitting on the floor?”

The arrow was suddenly aimed at her.

Wiping her eyes with her slender arm, Eun-jae pressed her hand against the floor and pulled herself up. The dress that had been fluttering so radiantly just minutes ago was now marred by ugly, messy creases.

“What is it you want to say to me?”

“What could I possibly have to say to someone I’ve never even met before, Lee Eun-jae-ssi? It was merely an excuse.”

His demeanor was completely different from moments ago. Woo-gyeom replied while letting out a sigh that felt like a passing breeze—sounding slightly annoyed, slightly burdened.

Her hand, gripping a section of her skirt, trembled violently. As if enduring a biting, shuddering winter wind, Eun-jae’s entire body shook from a volatile mix of rage, humiliation, and deep self-loathing.

Biting down hard on her lips, which were flushed redder than usual, Eun-jae finally found her voice.

“I was a fool to get all excited about shooting a commercial.”

“What?” Woo-gyeom fired back, his tone slightly irritable.

It seemed that while his outward appearance was perfectly polished, his personality was entirely different.

Eun-jae let out a clear, hollow laugh as tears continued to stream down her face. Her thread-like strands of hair spilled forward, obscuring her face. Only her reddened lips parted.

“If it’s actual acting, I can do it a hundred times over. An R-rated film? Exposure? What’s wrong with that? Even if it’s so explicit that there’s no room for negotiation, I can shoot all of it! Because that’s acting!”

“Do you even comprehend what you are saying right now, Lee Eun-jae-ssi?”

“Is taking off your clothes inherently bad? If you play a gisaeng or a strip club dancer, of course you have to take them off. Because that’s my role, and that’s my character. But listen to me carefully: I never strip for anything outside of acting. No matter where I am summoned.”

“No matter where you are summoned?”

“Oh, they certainly summoned me a lot. At the five-star hotel right next door, at private residences worth over ten billion won, and they even tell me to come to a nearby motel right in the middle of a shoot.”

Eun-jae finally brushed her hair back behind her ears. The corners of her eyes were raw and flushed red. Standing before Woo-gyeom without even blinking her round, clear eyes, she cut a deeply pitiable figure.

Eun-jae seemed to have completely forgotten what she was saying, and exactly whose presence she was uttering it in. The only things dominating her mind right now were the vivid faces of directors and producers who had shamelessly tapped on the surfaces of beds before her.

Drip.

Ultimately, another tear traced her delicate cheek and fell. The tear, resting atop her slightly upward-curving lips, plunged down to the floor. It bloomed like a petal upon the grey concrete ground.

Yet, Eun-jae carried on steadfastly.

“You said you were CEO Kim Woo-gyeom of Delight, correct?”

“And if I am?”

“I don’t have a sponsor, and I don’t have any backing. But still, thanks to Delight, I at least got to wear a G-brand dress. Thank you.”

The words felt entirely absurd to her even as she spoke them. Leaving the room ringing with a hollow, self-deprecating laugh, Eun-jae shut her mouth.

She rubbed her eyes roughly with her small hands. With a reckless touch that paid absolutely no heed to her makeup, her sharply drawn eyeliner smeared wildly out of place.

In any case, there was no way this commercial shoot—which she had completely derailed—would proceed any further.

The tips of Eun-jae’s feet, which had been facing Woo-gyeom, slowly turned away. The moment she confirmed the location of the door directly behind his back and attempted to move her feet with a clumsy nod of farewell—

Tap.

Woo-gyeom intentionally made a sharp sound with his stride. His expensive, unmistakably luxury shoes earned a sharp, distinct scratch from the single movement.

Yet, Woo-gyeom remained entirely unfazed. With a swift motion, he loosened his sleek black tie, pulling it effortlessly from beneath his collar.

He then raised his gaze slowly, throwing a question back at Eun-jae.

“No sponsor, and no backing?”

Eun-jae’s gaze, which had been pinned to the floor as if trying to dig straight into the earth, slowly rose upward.

As Eun-jae’s eyes met Woo-gyeom’s, he added with absolute clarity.

“Then that sponsor, that backing—I’ll do it for you.”

Excuse me? Eun-jae muttered a silent phrase to herself. She figured it had to be a cruel joke meant to mock her.

Sell your soul.

Woo-gyeom smiled like a dangerous, alluring demon extending an insidious proposition, delivering the final, definitive blow.

“Bring me your current agency contract. No matter how much the penalty fee is, I’ll pay it all and bring you over.”