“It’s fine. This isn’t unprecedented; it’s merely self-inflicted. There was no point in agonizing over what had already happened. My mood was already heavy, so perhaps a quick smoke before the meeting would help.”
Just as he was about to tidy his things and stand, a vitamin drink was placed before Seungjun.
“Drink this and get some energy, you rascal.”
Seungjun’s brow furrowed at the familiar voice. From behind him, the headache-inducing scent of Gu Wonho’s perfume wafted. No sooner had Seungjun recognized the voice than Gu Wonho abruptly poked his head over his shoulder.
“Is this a script? Can I see it?”
“No, you may not.”
Without even turning, Seungjun refused, then rose to his feet. Gu Wonho, awkwardly smacking his lips, soon entered his field of vision. His gaze only briefly touched the script before he fixed it on Seungjun, a look of pity etched on his face.
“So, you hit Director Nam? Everyone’s in an uproar, wondering if you’re some kind of thug.”
In a neighborhood where secrets were nonexistent, the rumors were bound to spread. Dozens, if not more, had surely been chattering about Nam Yiwon and him both yesterday and today.
Given that the witnessed event involved sexual exploitation, the unseen whispers and countless rumors must be truly venomous. Seungjun let out a profound sigh, as if the very ground beneath him might give way.
Gu Wonho, appearing genuinely distressed, echoed Seungjun’s sigh. The deep furrow between his brows twitched, a clear precursor to an impending lecture.
“Hey, when are you going to learn some flexibility, huh? You’re the type who’d raise hell at work but never lay a hand on anyone, and you just couldn’t tolerate *that*? I knew you were walking a fine line, but you just had to go and cause trouble.”
Gu Wonho placed a hand on Seungjun’s shoulder, who had begun silently tidying his area. His hand, remarkably small, felt warm against Seungjun’s skin. After a quick glance around, he lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Even so, blood runs thicker than water, and frankly, I get it. I probably would’ve thrown a punch myself.”
“……”
“To see someone so brilliant, with seemingly nothing to envy, living that way, it just reinforces that only the truly vile commit such dirty deeds. Don’t let it get to you. You didn’t do anything you shouldn’t have.”
The words, intended as encouragement, offered no solace whatsoever. ‘Sexual exploitation. Sexual exploitation. Sexual exploitation.’ The message he had just seen remained seared into his mind, relentlessly tormenting Seungjun.
“Senior, it’s time for the meeting.”
“Oh? Oh.”
Heeseung’s voice, arriving with impeccable timing, jolted him back to reality. Seungjun offered Gu Wonho a brief, polite nod.
“I have a meeting, so I’ll be going now.”
“Chin up. You’re the decent one here. Nam Yiwon is getting far more criticism now. Everyone’s speculating about his past works, saying things like, ‘He must have slept with her, and with her,’ making all sorts of wild assumptions.”
“…Even such baseless rumors are circulating?”
“There’s no concrete proof, but the circumstantial evidence is piling up. They say he doesn’t discriminate among staff, actors, or writers, welcoming everyone without question. Does he not even consider their standing? Truly, what a character.”
To hear that baseless rumors were not only circulating but also embellished with additional details was astounding. While Nam Yiwon might have indeed slept with Kim Doyun, he had never actively pushed for Kim Doyun’s casting.
There was an incredibly remote, yet still plausible, chance that they had simply conversed and, drawn by mutual attraction, had ended up together. Given that two unsavory characters had met, it was possible they’d engaged in a tryst without any quid pro quo. While certainly distasteful, it wasn’t illegal.
The uncontrollably spreading rumors needed to be quelled somehow. Seungjun glanced at Gu Wonho, who was now prodding Heeseung, seeking validation for his own words.
If he could leverage someone with an endlessly loose tongue, there would be no need for him to personally step forward and correct the rumors. Seungjun cleared his throat, then carefully chose his words.
Knowing they would spread across the entire broadcasting station, he deliberated, selecting a statement that was not a lie, yet might subtly quell the burgeoning scandal.
“We decided not to cast that actor. And Director Nam didn’t insist on it either.”
“Huh? Then what was that about hitting him in the parking lot?”
“I jumped to conclusions and overreacted.”
“What? That’s all it was?”
“Yes. Well then, I have a meeting, so I’ll be going.”
It was always best to keep any statement that would inevitably be embellished as concise as possible. His words delivered, Seungjun turned and strode towards the meeting room.
‘Yes. It was far better for him to be perceived as someone who had simply overreacted.’
“You didn’t jump to conclusions.”
Heeseung, walking beside him, suddenly spoke. Her face was already etched with irritation, signaling another impending outburst. Seungjun, feigning complete innocence, simply asked,
“What do you mean?”
“Director Nam Yiwon. How many chances did he give actor Kim Doyun during the auditions? If that’s not favoritism, then what is it?”
“……”
“You know, Senior, if you tell PD Gu Wonho that, you’ll just come across as the odd one. Why are you doing this? Those rumors aren’t entirely unfounded, after all.”
Regardless of Nam Yiwon’s questionable actions, Seungjun had no desire to become the source of malicious gossip. He would rather have delivered a punch to the man’s face than engage in spreading uncertain rumors.
Instead of offering an explanation, Seungjun cut her off with a sharp command.
“Don’t add another word about this matter.”
‘Frustrating, so frustrating.’ Heeseung, her patience shattered, huffed and marched ahead, quickly distancing herself.
****
With the filming schedule unforgivingly tight, only a handful of lead actors were available. To discuss the casting of the four main roles—three lawyers and a chief prosecutor—Heeseung had meticulously shortlisted roughly fifteen actors for each part.
He had firmly instructed her to seek out actors in their forties, yet a quick scan revealed that fully half were in their thirties. These were young, attractive actors, strongly suggesting Nam Yiwon had given prior instructions.
When Seungjun shot a sharp look at Heeseung, she subtly flicked her eyes towards Nam Yiwon, a clear indication that he was to blame.
“I have an actor I’d like to recommend.”
Just then, Nam Yiwon flashed a brilliant, toothy smile. His teeth, unnervingly white today, filled Seungjun with a sense of foreboding. He fervently hoped his ominous premonition would not materialize, yet life rarely unfolded so smoothly.
Nam Yiwon gracefully waved the hand holding the presenter, and the screen transitioned to a strikingly clear, oversized photograph. This image, starkly different from typical actor profiles, had clearly been taken at an idol fan signing event.
There, Jaeun, a celebrated idol with a decade in the industry, wore a cat ear headband, pressing his two fists against his cheeks.
‘Surely, not *this* guy.’ The thought had barely formed when Nam Yiwon opened his mouth, just as Seungjun turned to face him.
“I’d like Mr. Jaeun to play one of the two lawyers. What do you all think?”
“Jaeun? Idol Jaeun?”
Casting an idol as a lawyer? Unbelieving, Seungjun repeated the question. Nam Yiwon, unfazed, advanced the screen again. Jaeun’s brief profile and career history appeared, followed by stills from his sole drama,
Unlike the other actors, whose pictures were simply displayed, this presentation felt notably more elaborate.
Author Bae Wonjeong even leaned forward, eagerly asking if Jaeun had agreed to the role. Nam Yiwon, recalling the earlier, pristine fan sign photo, displayed it once more as he replied.
“Given that his agency contacted us first, I assume he’s interested, right?”
“His agency contacted us?”
“Yes. I told them we’d review it positively. Didn’t I mention this last time?”
“When did you ever?”
Seungjun bristled, his hand clenching into a fist. To lie so brazenly, when there had been no prior discussion, not even a hint! He glared at Jaeun, who was winking playfully from the screen.
It had to be Nam Yiwon’s doing, deliberately choosing such an informal photo over a proper profile. Seungjun gritted his teeth and shot a pointed look at Heeseung, who merely nodded and then cast a sidelong glance at Nam Yiwon, signifying, ‘It’s all his fault.’
“No. He’s too young, and his idol image is too strong; he doesn’t suit a lawyer role.”
“Oh come on, is there a specific look for lawyers?”
“How can an idol in their late twenties portray a seasoned lawyer in their forties?”
He had grandly declared that the leads should be in their forties, and yet, Seungjun had known it would come to this. Throughout the back-and-forth, Author Bae Wonjeong had remained silent, but now she raised her hand.
“It seems fine to me? He’s not just any idol, and frankly, with Jaeun… isn’t this a really good opportunity?”
If this were a project she had personally conceived and written, she wouldn’t dare utter such words. Seungjun shook his head at her, his expression resolute.
“His acting hasn’t even been verified yet; it’s a gamble.”
“
“In that drama, he played an innocent, somewhat naive younger man. If his real personality is exactly the same and it sparks an acting controversy, it would be utterly ridiculous.”
Despite Seungjun’s rebuttal, Bae Wonjeong did not back down.
“Even so, how can we possibly refuse someone of Jaeun’s stature? Once his casting is confirmed, articles will pour out, and the promotional impact for the drama will be immense. And let’s not forget Jaeun’s formidable international fandom.”
“We’ll be offering OTT service, and many international viewers will watch it, so it’s definitely a plus, isn’t it?”
Nam Yiwon’s casual, almost throwaway remark, finally snapped Seungjun’s patience. It was infuriating how his tolerance threshold steadily plummeted whenever that man was involved, yet it felt utterly unavoidable.
His jaw aching from being clenched so tightly, Seungjun finally opened his mouth.
“We agreed on lawyers in their forties, and now you want to cast an idol in his late twenties? Are you joking?”
“Forty-year-olds today aren’t like they used to be; they’re quite young. If that’s truly your concern, why don’t we just add a ‘looks younger than their age’ detail to the character?”
Author Bae Wonjeong lent her support to Nam Yiwon’s seemingly benevolent suggestion.
“If we style him well to match the other actors, I don’t think it will look awkward, and I like it.”
This was *good*? Had they all lost their minds? It wasn’t merely a dislike for an idol; Jaeun neither fit the appropriate age and image for the role, nor did he possess anywhere near enough acting experience.
Casting Jaeun as a lawyer would necessitate adjusting the other two lawyers to match his youthful image. For a narrative centered on listening to victims’ stories, a strong foundation of acting skill, unobtrusive and reliable, was paramount. Jaeun, however, was a choice that satisfied none of these crucial requirements.
Nam Yiwon could not possibly be unaware of this, yet he was surprisingly proactive in this casting, unlike with Kim Doyun. Author Bae Wonjeong’s agreement to this absurd suggestion could only be because Nam Yiwon was ‘Director Nam Yiwon.’
Previously, during casting for a drama they worked on together, she had meticulously offered opinions on character impressions and personalities. For her to suddenly be praising an actor’s public recognition could not possibly stem from any other reason.