As soon as Im Hoon was cast as the male lead for YoungYoung, articles about his acting controversy surfaced. Seeing them, Tae Jin-hwa sunbae-nim contacted Yeom Hae-jin to decline the role.
She’d said she wouldn’t do it if an unskilled actor was the lead—and she meant it.
I was anxious. Very.
YoungYoung didn’t exist in my past life. It was an unknown drama with no guaranteed future. I’d hoped if we filled it with skilled actors, it’d be fine…
“Why’d she decline?”
“It’s her first drama in five years… and the lead…”
True. In my past life, she announced a drama comeback the day I died.
So, after 12 years away from dramas, living in seclusion…
‘No way she’d return after five years.’
“…My head’s about to explode.”
“Looks like it.”
“Not what I meant!”
Is there a bigger issue?
“If Tae Jin-hwa-ssi’s out… we have no choice but to ask Jo Jang-hee.”
“No way!”
“…She’s the only one with time.”
Objectively, Jo Jang-hee was the next best if sunbae-nim was out.
‘But subjectively, she can’t join this drama.’
YoungYoung centered on rookie actors. But she either acted poorly or outright ignored people.
She ignored rookie directors’ greetings. Working with her?
‘…Everyone would suffer.’
And casting Jo Jang-hee, who’s in The Tormented Him and the Happy Her at the same time slot, made no sense.
Fidgeting with my hair, I racked my brain.
I’d rather persuade Tae Jin-hwa sunbae-nim.
‘Persuade?’
How? To get Yeom Hae-jin’s attention, lost in staring at the ceiling, I tapped the table. She finally looked at me.
“Hae-jin-ah, did you try persuading her?”
“You think I didn’t?”
“Fair.”
She wouldn’t have skipped that.
“Should I try persuading her?”
“You?”
“I… don’t have her number.”
She didn’t give me her number on Banggooseok Yeopo. Classic push-and-pull. I figured I’d get it naturally if we did a drama together.
But if she doesn’t join, I’ll never get it… I forgot.
“…How?”
“Well?”
“Well?”
“Yeah, well.”
Nothing to lose. Giving up without trying is too soon. As if echoing my resolve, a sub-quest flashed.
‘…Give me a signal first.’
The blinding flash nearly took my sight. I checked the sub-quest.
[Sub-Quest Activated.]
[Sub-Quest: Learn acting from Tae Jin-hwa.]
[Reward: 3 Points]
Odd.
‘Not persuade, but learn acting?’
If it’s about acting, not persuading, I’ll set the quest aside. Tae Jin-hwa sunbae-nim comes first.
“Hae-jin-ah, contact her.”
“How?”
“Say I’ll visit her house. Ask for her address.”
“…You’re bold.”
While she texted furiously, I licked my dry lips. Visiting a respected sunbae-nim’s home? I was thrilled.
Yeom Hae-jin looked up sharply. “She says okay.”
“Really?”
“This Saturday. But… you’re not scheming, are you?”
“Scheming?”
“No, your face screams scheming.”
What scheming?
‘Of course I’m scheming.’
Why wouldn’t I?
★★★
I could’ve gone alone, but Seo-eun unnie insisted on driving me to Tae Jin-hwa sunbae-nim’s house.
“Not picking you up with all this stuff would be weird.”
“Stuff” meant the gifts for sunbae-nim.
“Unnie, you’re busy…”
“I’ve got time to drive you. And…”
She stared at me, pulling gifts from the trunk. “There’s a limit to ‘stuff’!”
The trunk was packed with gifts.
‘…First time visiting her home.’
This was nothing.
From tissues to supplements and ginseng, she wiped sweat in the cold winter, unloading them. Feeling bad, I gave her candy from my bag.
“…Can you carry all this?”
“Yup!”
“Ugh!”
She flicked my forehead, got in the car, and lowered the window.
“Going? Call when you’re heading home.”
“Okay.”
“I can’t leave a kid like you alone.”
‘With my past life, I’m well over thirty.’
I held back saying it.
“Go safely.”
“Alright, I’m off.”
She left. Alone, I grabbed the gifts and eyed the vast fields. Over 50 pyeong at a glance.
‘She lives here?’
Not an onion to be peeled layer by layer—she’s fascinating. Lugging gifts, I reached the front door. She appeared, wearing a pink sun hat.
“Bada-ya, you’re here?”
She stared at the gifts in my hands.
“For me?”
“Yes!”
“…You didn’t have to.”
But her hands were honest, reaching out.
“Wanna see what I brought?”
“…Sure. A junior brought them, so I should.”
We held a gift handover outside. Her face lit up, saying it’d been a while since she got gifts.
“Once you’re senior, people stop giving gifts.”
“Really?”
“But Bada-ya.”
She paused, unwrapping, and looked at me. “This isn’t a bribe, is it?”
“It’s my heart.”
“If it’s a bribe, I won’t take it. But your heart? I’ll accept.”
“Think of it as a bribe too, if you want.”
“Hmm? What’s that mean?”
A bribe would be nice. She tapped my nose with an elegant hand, smirking.
“Sly girl, I see through you.”
She eagerly checked the gifts. Popping ginseng in her mouth, she offered me one.
“Eat one, Bada.”
“I’m healthy, I’m fine.”
“Fine? Don’t you work?”
Work?
What? Then I recalled the vast fields.
“Today, we’re picking perilla, chives, and green onions.”
“Huh?”
“Good timing.”
Trying to process, standing still, she slung an arm around me.
“You came for a reason. I invited you for one too.”
So she had a purpose. I felt oddly happy.
“What do I do first?”
My enthusiasm burned; she laughed, saying it’s hot.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes!”
Her field was endless, like a corridor with no end.
“You manage this alone?”
“No, actor friends help farm and harvest.”
“Wow…”
Sitting beside her, gloved, I picked red peppers.
“You’re good.”
“My mom tends a small garden.”
I’d helped with her apartment garden. But…
When to ask her? I wanted to beg her to join the drama right away, but my mouth wouldn’t move.
“Why so cautious?”
“You know why.”
“Yeah, so just say it.”
“Then I’ll be blunt. Please join the drama.”
I couldn’t beat around the bush. Picking peppers, she turned and laughed.
“Why should I?”
“…Because the drama needs you to shine.”
True. A mother who took her daughter’s stigma for killing Kim So-hyun, loving and protecting her—a dual-natured role.
It needed someone skilled in nuanced, psychological acting to bring it alive.
I prayed it’d be Tae Jin-hwa sunbae-nim.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“…So now?”
Putting peppers in a basket, she squinted. “Still haven’t.”
“Why not? I wish you’d decide.”
Words I’d held back slipped out. Realizing, I shut my mouth. Turning, she walked toward the perilla.
“It’s partly the actors.”
“…..”
“And it’s my first drama in five years.”
“……”
“I can act, but… will people remember me? That’s my issue.”
Dramas are unpredictable. They can flop despite hype or soar without it. I won’t lose hope.
Hugging the basket, I inched closer. Seizing the moment, I spoke firmly.
“You can bet on hope, sunbae-nim.”
“…..”
“Can’t you?”
Youthful, bold words. And a lesson from 12 years as an extra.
Squeezing my voice, I continued, “Please bet on this drama’s hope.”
“You?”
It felt like a confession, but I whispered, “You’re my lucky charm…”
“No words you can’t say, huh?”
Saying we’d picked enough, she headed inside. I hesitated.
“Sunbae-nim, you really don’t want to do it?”
“No, it was 50-50. But your ‘hope’ talk tipped it to 60-40.”
“So 60’s for joining…”
“Yup.”
I raised the odds. Relief. She opened the house door; I slipped off my shoes.
Her home was simple, with just enough furniture. Setting the basket on the kitchen table, I scanned for my chance.
“But Bada-ya.”
“Yes?”
Elegantly removing her hat and gloves, she continued, “Practicing for historical dramas?”
“…Uh, historical drama practice.”
Honestly, I hadn’t practiced at all, too busy memorizing lines.
“You’re not practicing, are you?”
“There’s still time.”
“You told me to bet on hope, but you’re doing nothing?”
She hit me hard.
“Disappointing.”
“…What?”
“I’m disappointed.”
A bell rang in my head, and I froze.