Chapter 9: Confidence in Success

“How was it? Do you think you did well?”

In front of the elevator.

Im Chan-hyung asked, his voice a mixture of anticipation and worry.

Taeha turned to Im Chan-hyung and flashed his usual, confident smile.

“Yeah. I did well. I think it’ll work out.”

Of course, it was what Im Chan-hyung wanted to hear, but hearing Taeha so sure of himself somehow made him feel awkward instead.

When Im Chan-hyung looked flustered, Taeha slung his arm over Im Chan-hyung’s shoulder and asked,

“Do you know who the Director was?”

“Huh? No, who was it? Was the Director as good as you said?”

“Director Lee Hae-ik.”

“Huh?”

“The schedule for overlapped.”

While Im Chan-hyung was left stunned and dazed, Taeha muttered nonchalantly.

Only after a moment did Im Chan-hyung come to his senses, realizing that Taeha’s confidence about the audition results wasn’t just bravado.

Then he thought to himself.

“Honestly, it’s these ambiguous supporting roles that are even more competitive than main roles.”

Because the role isn’t very important, regardless of acting skill or recognition, the agencies and vested interests often have a say in casting to some extent.

That’s why all sorts of agencies—whether representing lead actors or involved in production—would try to push in the actors they were raising.

“That’s why I’d rather you audition for the project Director Lee Hae-ik suggested…”

Although it was Taeha’s connection to the Production Company Office that got him the audition, it was uncertain how much influence the production PD would have or how much they’d push for Taeha.

“But if it’s Director Lee Hae-ik, that changes everything.”

Director Lee Hae-ik was a pretty influential director.

If the Director was serious about casting and offered the audition personally, the chances of getting the role were much higher.

“But you mean it was for the same project?”

Taeha had gotten the audition through his connection at the Production Company Office and a recommendation.

And if, on top of that, he was the Director’s pick—even if the Scriptwriter or someone high up at the broadcasting station opposed it vehemently, unless they flat-out rejected it, it was basically as good as having the role in the bag.

“Judging from your recent condition, there’s no way you messed up your acting.”

Im Chan-hyung let out a sigh of relief.

“Maybe you really were meant to do this project.”

“I kind of thought so too.”

As the elevator arrived, Taeha boarded with a relaxed smile.

Taeha was thinking back to Kim Jeong-sik’s last comment.

[You really understand my script. I can feel it in your acting.]

In addition to the designated audition script for Part 1, Scene 40, Taeha had tried out a few other performances.

When Director Lee Hae-ik realized that Taeha had memorized the entire script, he grew interested and even asked Taeha to act out the male lead’s solo monologue scene.

Taeha hadn’t prepared as much for the apprentice priest role, so he didn’t do as well there, but by focusing intensely in the moment, he was able to convincingly perform as the male lead as well.

They exchanged a few questions and answers, and Kim Jeong-sik complimented Taeha for understanding his script better than anyone else.

“That’s the highest praise a Scriptwriter can give an actor.”

Taeha thought to himself.

As a Writer himself, he understood all the more what that praise meant.

“You did well. You must be hungry, right? I’ll buy you something delicious. Is there anything you want to eat?”

When Im Chan-hyung asked, Taeha answered without a second thought.

“Sundae Soup.”

“Sundae Soup?”

“There’s that original place next door that’s been around for fifty years. Don’t tell me you haven’t tried it? Just thinking about having a hot bowl again after so long makes me feel refreshed already, ahh.”

As the elevator doors opened and Taeha led the way, Im Chan-hyung found himself dazed.

It almost felt less like he was walking with a friend and more like he was serving some noble lord.

“Am I just imagining things?”

***

With its signboard boasting of being the original place, the Sundae Soup restaurant, marked by the flow of time, was bustling even though it wasn’t mealtime.

After grabbing a seat in a corner and barely finishing their order, two bowls of Sundae Soup were set down in front of Taeha and Im Chan-hyung.

“Wow, that’s fast. Seriously, they say Korea’s real fast food isn’t burgers, but gukbap. I see what they mean.”

“Yeah. Came out even faster than burgers.”

“Hurry up and try it. The broth is really something else. How could you have worked in Gangnam and never come here?”

“When did you ever come here?”

“Back in the day, when the Production Company Office was nearby.”

“Production Company Office?”

“Ah, the Planning Company. Back when I was an idol trainee, the Planning Company was around here.”

Im Chan-hyung figured it was something like that and tried the broth.

It was clean but deep in flavor, distinctly better than other places.

Even Im Chan-hyung, who normally didn’t care about food, found it delicious.

No wonder Taeha had made such a fuss.

“This is good.”

“Right?”

With that, Taeha mixed rice into the soup and started slurping it up.

Watching Taeha roll up his shirt sleeves and eat with such gusto—even burning the roof of his mouth—Im Chan-hyung felt a bit disoriented.

He wasn’t eating messily, just energetically, and for some reason, it was oddly pleasant to watch. Still, it made Im Chan-hyung question, “Is this right?”

Despite all he’d been through, Taeha’s appearance was that of a well-raised young lord.

His flawless skin and perfectly even features felt almost wasted on him.

“Slow down a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Even as he replied, Taeha didn’t stop his Sundae Soup ‘mukbang.’

After a while, as he checked his Hyeondaepon at the sound of a message notification, Im Chan-hyung quickly sent a reply and said,

“I just got a message from the production PD. They said they’ll let us know the audition results sometime next week.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

No matter what Im Chan-hyung said, Taeha was already lost in the hearty flavor of the Sundae Soup broth.

“Ahh, it tastes even better since I haven’t had it in a while. Brings back old memories. If I had some soju to go with this, it’d be perfect.”

Taeha’s voice grew quiet, reminiscing about the days when he’d have a drink with his troupe after a show.

Im Chan-hyung looked at him, dumbfounded.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t like drinking?”

“Yeah, I don’t like it. Alcohol makes you gain weight and ruins your health, so I have to hate it.”

Taeha said, almost as if convincing himself, then smacked his lips in regret.

But to keep this body’s clean liver, it was best not to touch alcohol from the start.

Im Chan-hyung, unconcerned with that, asked,

“So how do you know the production PD? You said you’d explain later.”

“Oh, right.”

Before meeting Kang Sojeong, Taeha had told Im Chan-hyung he’d gotten a recommendation for the role from an acquaintance in the industry.

He hadn’t mentioned who, not knowing how things would unfold.

And after choosing the project, he’d been so busy finishing up filming for and preparing for the audition that he never properly explained.

From Im Chan-hyung’s perspective, it was only natural to think Taeha’s acquaintance was the production PD who’d given him the audition opportunity.

The truth was, the production PD was just friendly with Kang Sojeong and wanted to cast her in another project, so they’d helped as a favor.

“I was meaning to tell you… She’s my cousin.”

“The production PD?”

“No, actress Kang Sojeong.”

Actress Kang So… Kang Sojeong?!

For a moment, Im Chan-hyung’s voice rose, drawing the eyes of those nearby.

Embarrassed, he lowered his voice but still looked stunned as he asked again,

“The, the Kang Sojeong from ? The one who just became the Hyeondaepon commercial model?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

It was the same reaction as Kang Sojeong’s.

Taeha just replied indifferently, as if he’d expected this.

“Well, you see…”

“In this industry, connections are even more important than skill. You know that. Someone like Kang Sojeong could do so much for you.”

“I’ve never seen you talk this fast before.”

“Is that funny to you? Didn’t you say you really want to make it as an actor? I want to see you succeed too. So why only tell me after six months?”

“There were reasons. Anyway, it’s good that I can finally get some help now.”

“Psh.”

“Anyway, Chan-hyung.”

He was surprised, but Im Chan-hyung’s mind was already spinning.

If Taeha had told him sooner about being Kang Sojeong’s cousin, he could’ve gone for supporting roles or bigger parts from the start, not just bit roles.

Even if Kang Sojeong didn’t pull strings, they could at least put out some promotional articles, so it was better than having nothing to work with.

Im Chan-hyung decided that if Taeha was cast in this project, he’d push out big articles with Taeha’s name.

It was the perfect chance to get Taeha’s name out there.

“Don’t even think about using it for publicity.”

But as if reading his mind, Taeha spoke up.

“What?”

“Don’t do it.”

For rookies, agencies will do anything to make their actors stand out, even putting out all sorts of press if there’s any kind of hook, like being the child of a famous person or having high test scores.

Having a celebrity in the family was a prime story for the media.

It could bring attention and raise awareness, sure.

“But it rarely helps in the long run.”

Taeha had watched this industry for a long time.

There were cases where a rookie actor was cast simply for being the son, daughter, sibling, or niece/nephew of someone the agency wanted to promote.

But if your identity became known as “so-and-so’s relative” before you could establish yourself, it was hard to ever shake that label.

“Especially for actors.”

If you believed in your own abilities, you didn’t need to tie yourself down with labels for the sake of short-term publicity or recognition.

“Right now, just getting the audition opportunity is help enough.”

Kang Sojeong had said that if needed, he could use her name at any time.

But,

[Oh, and there’s one more thing to discuss…]

As she brought it up, Taeha himself had suggested waiting for a better timing to go public with it.

“If I reveal it after making a name for myself as an actor, it’ll create a synergy effect for both of us.”

But Im Chan-hyung, not knowing this, asked,

“Why? Did your cousin tell you not to?”

“No. There’ll be a better timing than now.”

At Taeha’s words, Im Chan-hyung fell silent in thought for a moment.

Well, Taeha had already caught Director Lee Hae-ik’s eye.

He could kind of understand where Taeha was coming from.

“And keep it a secret from the President and everyone else for now.”

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Im Chan-hyung agreed, but he couldn’t shake off his lingering unease.

It was just such a shock, and he still wasn’t sure if going along with Taeha’s plan was the right choice.

Just as Taeha was about to steer the conversation away—

“Excuse me.”

Both Taeha and Im Chan-hyung turned their heads.

Standing next to Taeha was a college-age girl with long straight hair.

She seemed to be on her way out after finishing her meal at the opposite table.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt while you’re eating…”

For a moment, Taeha wondered if he’d made some mistake.

But then,

“Could I have your number, if you don’t mind?”

At those words, Taeha couldn’t believe his ears.

“My number? Did you just say number? Am I really being hit on right now? Not at a bar, but at a Sundae Soup restaurant?”

Honestly, it would’ve felt more normal if it was out on the street.

Sensing his thoughts, the girl blushed and continued,

“I just really like you… If not your number, maybe your MyStar ID…”

Taeha looked briefly troubled.

As his Manager, Im Chan-hyung could step in, but Taeha was still a nobody.

If he refused in a weird way, it might come off as arrogant.

After a moment’s thought, Taeha smiled brightly and replied,

“I can’t give you my number, but I can take a photo with you.”

“A photo?”

“I’m actually preparing to become an actor. If I make it big, you can brag about it later.”

Taeha grinned mischievously again.

“Oh.”

The girl, who’d been momentarily flustered, realized what Taeha meant.

She’d thought he was impossibly handsome—now it made sense he was an aspiring actor.

She found herself thinking he had a nice personality too.

He even seemed ready to actually take a photo if she wanted.

“Sorry, then. Enjoy your meal!”

Blushing furiously, the girl bowed quickly and rushed out of the restaurant with her friend, who’d been waiting.

Taeha watched them go, let out a short laugh, and thought to himself.

“So, the whole time I thought I just hadn’t had chances to meet people, that was just an excuse.”

For good-looking guys, every place, every moment is a chance—a stage for encounters.

And it wasn’t just the girl who’d asked for his number.

Everyone else in the Sundae Soup restaurant—men and women, young and old—were sneaking glances his way.

The reason was simple.

Taeha’s looks were just that exceptional, not something you could see every day.

“Ahh, what a superficial world where looks are everything… But am I really the main character of a world like this?”

Taeha laughed weakly at his sudden, ridiculous thought, then hurried to empty his bowl to escape the uncomfortable stares.

***

A week later.

Taeha picked up a call from Im Chan-hyung for the first time in a while.

“Yeah, Chan-hyung.”

– Taeha, the audition results are out… You didn’t make it.