Chapter 4: The Lost Year

“Why? Who is it?”

“Internet Advertisement. Lately, I’ve been getting a ton of these weird calls. Not even from a 070 number, but straight up 00.”

“Really? That must be annoying. Try installing a Spam Blocking App or something.”

“Yeah, I guess I should.”

Tae-ha nodded absentmindedly.

When combining his Scriptwriter’s skill with the Actor’s ability, Lies came out so naturally.

It seemed he had acquired a surprisingly useful ability.

“Of course, it’s better to live a life where you don’t need to Lie.”

Actually, what startled him was the Date that flashed on the Face of his phone.

Amazingly, a whole year had passed since the last Date he remembered.

“Oh Heon Ji, Han Yun-seong is the lead Actor now.”

These days, it was common for rising stars to quickly snatch up leading roles, so he figured Han Yun-seong had been cast as the lead in the next project. But that wasn’t it.

Time had passed.

“The older you get, the faster time flies by. It’s almost pitiful.”

He blinked, and a year had gone by in the Republic of Korea.

“Or… maybe not? If anything, I’ve gotten younger, so it doesn’t matter, does it?”

At that thought, Tae-ha couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah. What’s so bad about time passing? After all, I’ve even possessed someone else’s body.”

In fact, having just lost a year in the Republic of Korea he used to live in was a blessing.

“If I’d possessed someone in the Joseon Era, a Martial Arts Novel, or some Meta Web Novel or Webtoon cliché, I could’ve lost my head right away.”

He’d barely left his seat, living his life pounding away at the computer keyboard.

If he’d fallen into a place like that, he would have faced his second death in a day.

It was while Tae-ha was indulging in these wild imaginings.

“You’re heading straight home, right?”

Im Chan-hyung asked, and Tae-ha, snapped out of his thoughts, nodded.

The two of them made sure to say goodbye to every single Staff member who was packing up before heading to the nearby public parking lot.

While Im Chan-hyung entered the address into the navigation and pulled out the car, Tae-ha, sitting in the passenger seat, turned on the Internet on his phone.

He wanted to see what had happened during the year that had passed.

First thing he did was type ‘Lee Ho-jun’ into the familiar portal site’s search bar.

Immediately, the Profile of Drama Scriptwriter Lee Ho-jun popped up.

“Still, I’m the most famous Lee Ho-jun in the Republic of Korea.”

He didn’t even have time to feel proud.

Right after his year of birth, the next line displayed his Date of death.

“So I really am dead…”

As he scrolled down, articles from a year ago flooded the screen.

[Drama “Running Time” Scriptwriter found dead at home…]

[“Running Time” Scriptwriter dies on final broadcast day, cause of death is overwork]

[Scriptwriter Lee Ho-jun’s “Running Time” ends together with the Drama]

[The late Scriptwriter Lee Ho-jun, lost to overwork—who was he?]

[Korean Drama Scriptwriters Association mourns the loss of a talented Writer… calls for better working conditions]

[(Photo) Actor Do Hyun Jung visits Lee Ho-jun’s Funeral Hall]

[(Photo) ‘So Mi’ collapses in grief]

Only then did the reality that he had died truly sink in.

Yet at the same time, he also felt strangely detached, as if watching the death of someone else from afar.

“No one finds out about their own death like this…”

As expected, it was the two Assistant Writers who found his body.

They must’ve come to work and discovered him.

“They must’ve been really shocked. The police probably came too.”

It wasn’t a death he wanted, but he felt sorry for showing such a sight to his young friends.

And seeing the Actors and Director at the Funeral Hall in those photos made his chest ache.

“That was when we’d just grown close…”

Looking at the Funeral Hall photos, he couldn’t help but think of Choi Daepyo, the producer, who must have grieved more than anyone.

“He was always there for me when I needed support most…”

He had shared his anger about Baek Seung-chul and, despite saying they were just business partners, treated Ho-jun like a real brother.

He really was a rare and genuinely good person.

He probably even took care of all the funeral arrangements for Ho-jun, who had no relatives.

“I should’ve bought him a wallet or something sooner…”

At the time, he didn’t even have a chance, so it was just a lingering regret.

“He must’ve been really heartbroken… Maybe, thinking that my parents are gone is a relief.”

When the Drama ended successfully, he had wished his parents were still alive.

But seeing how things turned out, perhaps it was for the best.

“At least I spared them the pain of losing a child first.”

It was impossible to imagine how painful it would be if the child who had just found the light suddenly died.

While his heart grew heavy with all these thoughts,

As Tae-ha unconsciously scrolled down, an absurd article headline caught his eye.

[(Photo) Writer Baek Seung-chul visits Funeral Hall]

He clicked the photo, and sure enough, it was Baek Seung-chul.

“Had too much time on his hands? He really came here.”

Rather than being grateful, he felt cold inside.

From the day Ho-jun left Baek Seung-chul’s writing office to the airing of , it had been two years.

Baek Seung-chul never once reached out to Ho-jun.

“If only he’d just left me alone, it would’ve been better.”

Ho-jun, once Baek Seung-chul’s long-time Assistant Writer, was fairly well-known in the industry.

Because he took on so much work, anyone who had worked with Baek Seung-chul inevitably knew Ho-jun.

But Baek Seung-chul spread rumors among them that Ho-jun had stabbed him in the back and walked out one morning.

Saying he offered to help Ho-jun debut if he just finished the last project, but Ho-jun ran off, forgetting all gratitude.

That he didn’t even bother to thank him, didn’t handle the handover, and left unprofessionally, packing up his things.

That after leaving like that, he’d like to see if Ho-jun ever succeeded.

“He kicked me out in a hurry, but I guess my departure bothered him more than he thought.”

The way Baek Seung-chul kept piling on false accusations filled him with disgust.

“He really was someone who only wished for my failure.”

There was no way he’d visited the Funeral Hall out of genuine sadness, not after watching Baek Seung-chul for so long.

“I guess he only came because people knew me as Baek Seung-chul’s student.”

At least I didn’t die as an unknown Writer, but as one Baek Seung-chul felt obligated to come visit.

Swallowing a bitter laugh, Tae-ha lowered his phone.

“Ha.”

In many ways, a sigh escaped him.

He wanted to find those who had grieved for him and say, “I’m not dead. I’ve come back to life in someone else’s body.”

But that was impossible.

“They’d just treat me like a crazy person.”

If it were Choi Daepyo, he’d probably drag him to a shaman for an exorcism.

The youngest Assistant Writer would no doubt grab her Cross Necklace and start a Prayer.

Director Yoon might even send it to as material for a broadcast…

“For now, best to stay quiet.”

For them, Ho-jun’s death was already a year in the past.

There was no need to disturb the lives of people who were doing just fine.

Right now, figuring out how to live this new life was a more pressing task.

“Are you tired?”

Im Chan-hyung, interpreting Tae-ha’s sigh in his own way, asked while driving.

Tae-ha mumbled an excuse.

“Yeah, filming did go long. You did well, though. How did you even think of acting after changing the Script?”

Im Chan-hyung, seemingly satisfied with Tae-ha’s performance earlier, smiled as he asked.

Confirming that smile, Tae-ha exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders as he answered.

“Like you said, I’ve been studying the Script a bit. Figured changing it might be for the best.”

Suddenly, as if something was up, Im Chan-hyung stopped the car at the signal and looked at Tae-ha intently.

His smile was completely gone.

“I…”

Could it be… did he notice?

Tae-ha felt awkward, but then, thinking that was impossible, responded playfully.

“What, why are you looking at me like that? Am I too handsome?”

Only then did Im Chan-hyung crack a smile and retort.

“Just… you seem a lot more confident than usual, which is nice to see. You used to be pretty down, you know?”

“Yeah.”

Realizing what about himself might have felt off, Tae-ha glanced sideways at Im Chan-hyung.

“Well, that makes sense. After all, I’m not Kang Tae-ha. I’m someone else.”

It wasn’t really his fault, but he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

At that moment, Im Chan-hyung added,

“Come to think of it, you used to be pretty wild. Back in elementary school, at least.”

As Im Chan-hyung said this, Tae-ha’s memories of the past flashed by.

“Yeah, I was, back then…”

Actually, Tae-ha’s life had been pretty rough.

At fourteen, he lost both parents in an accident and bounced from one relative’s house to another.

He eventually settled at his aunt’s, but even that place wasn’t comfortable.

“I had to live with my cousin and his older sister in a cramped house…”

So it was impossible for him to stay the same as he was in elementary school.

After that, as he faced various setbacks and real-world hardships, his personality darkened considerably.

He spoke less and seldom smiled.

He didn’t reconnect with Im Chan-hyung until they were adults.

When Tae-ha, lost and unsure of what to do after being discharged from the Military, Im Chan-hyung suggested he try acting.

Im Chan-hyung persuaded him many times when he tried to refuse.

“Isn’t it a waste not to use what you have?”

“Isn’t it better than letting time just slip by like this?”

Maybe he saw potential as an Actor, but surely, he just couldn’t leave Tae-ha, who had no family, alone.

“Getting Kang Tae-ha signed with this Entertainment Agency and starting his acting career is all thanks to this guy.”

The more he remembered, the more Im Chan-hyung felt like Choi Daepyo had to Ho-jun.

“I should treat him well.”

With that thought, Tae-ha remembered that he had already completed his Military service and felt relieved.

“Right. This guy already finished his Military service.”

Most people who dream of becoming celebrities think they’ll enlist after securing their place while young.

So many try to postpone enlistment as long as possible.

For someone like him who almost had to serve twice, it was a relief.

“Good job, kid.”

Feeling grateful to himself more than anyone, Tae-ha hugged his own body and patted it.

“Well done, Kang Tae-ha. Thanks, thank you.”

“Why?”

Im Chan-hyung looked at him, puzzled.

Tae-ha replied confidently, unbothered.

“I guess getting confident like this makes me feel self-love too.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Maybe nothing?”

With a shameless grin, Tae-ha let go of his arms.

Im Chan-hyung clicked his tongue quietly, muttering worriedly.

“They say when a person changes too much, they’re about to die.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t die.”

Already did that, anyway.

And going to the Military twice was something he wanted to avoid, even after dying and coming back.

So this body deserved at least this much of a warm greeting.

Once again, Tae-ha hugged himself, and seeing that, Im Chan-hyung shook his head with a smile.

It felt a bit strange, but he looked brighter than ever since they reunited.

As Tae-ha fully launched into Actor activities, Im Chan-hyung thought, maybe that’s what gave him strength, and he continued driving.

***

After dropping Tae-ha off in front of his house, Im Chan-hyung drove away.

Left standing alone in front of the door, Tae-ha awkwardly pressed the door lock code.

And the moment he opened the door,

“Kang Tae-ha, you bastard…”

The sense of pride and gratitude he’d just felt toward the original owner of this body vanished in an instant.