Chapter 13: Turning the Tables

Flustered and fidgeting, Director Han Jun-hyuk and Cheon Ian laughed heartily at me before escorting me to the photo zone.

Only then could I stand where the other actors had, waving to the reporters with both hands.

‘To think I’m standing in front of reporters like this.’

In an unfamiliar setting, I moved as the reporters directed.

“Im Bada-ssi, wave to this camera!”

“Look here!”

“Make a finger heart!”

Only after complying could I finally escape.

After greeting the reporters, I darted into the restaurant, my heart pounding so loud it echoed in my ears.

Still trembling, Cheon Ian tapped the back of my hand.

“Why so nervous?”

“…Oh, Sunbae-nim.”

“Come on in, let’s eat some beef!”

“Yes!”

Inside, my seat wasn’t in a corner but at Cheon Ian’s table.

“Alright, everyone’s here, so I’ll take the mic.”

Cheon Ian bowed, grabbing the microphone.

“Hello, I’m Cheon Ian, who played Lee Geom-il in The Life of a Prosecutor. I learned so much about acting through this drama. If there’s a season 2, don’t do it without me!”

Celebrities are celebrities. I clapped as he spoke fluently about his wrap party thoughts.

As others shared their thoughts, Director Han Jun-hyuk handed me the mic.

“Our Bada should share her wrap party thoughts too.”

Glancing around, all eyes were on me. I stood, holding the mic.

“…Hello, I’m Im Bada, who played Jo Arin in The Life of a Prosecutor. This was my first project. I’m thrilled to have started my acting journey with this drama. Thank you so much!”

Gripping the mic tightly, I bowed to the crew.

Amid applause, I sat back down, and Director Han took the mic.

“My turn now?”

He shouted, “There’s no plan yet, but for The Life of a Prosecutor Season 2!”

“To Season 2!”

The director, crew, and staff raised their glasses, shouting. Smiling, I sipped my drink as Yeom Hae-jin put a piece of meat on my plate.

“Don’t forget me.”

“I won’t.”

“Once you make it big in this industry, people like me…”

“I won’t forget. Really.”

Would I even have done The Life of a Prosecutor without Hae-jin’s call?

“Hae-jin, you could become famous too.”

“Me? No way.”

“Why not? Who knew I’d make it big? You’ll rise too.”

We both just had bad luck. In my past life, Hae-jin was unlucky too.

In this life, I hope luck finds you, who brought me luck.

“Oh… heard about that person?”

“Who?”

“Byul. Ryu Byul, you were close, right? No contact?”

Were we close…?

Ryu Byul was a former child actor I met in our university theater club. We didn’t become friends instantly like in a drama.

Ryu Byul was stubborn, and I didn’t like that.

Quiet, barely participating in club activities, and not friendly with us.

But I once saw her perform in a play.

Ryu Byul’s delicate acting showed her love for it, but the world didn’t love her back, labeling her a “failed child actor.”

Restarting with theater in Daehakro, she earned recognition for her skills, eventually landing a lead in a weekend drama, becoming known as the “kind daughter” of middle-aged viewers.

“Byul’s doing well, right?”

“…Yeah, she is.”

If I recall, Ryu Byul’s filming a movie now. It’ll probably hit ten million viewers, like in my past life.

“You haven’t contacted her?”

“Of course not.”

Our occasional contact had completely stopped.

“When I grow more.”

“Hmm, yeah… Before that, wanna do a drama with me?”

“If I’m doing a drama, make it a historical one, please.”

“I was actually thinking about a historical drama.”

Hae-jin winked, answering as if it were obvious.

Her filming techniques are meticulous and detailed, praised by professors as perfect for historical dramas.

“Did you find an agency?”

“Me?”

I paused, mid-bite with some lettuce wrap.

“Oh, I’m thinking about joining Cheon Ian-sunbae’s agency.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah. I realized I need an agency.”

This experience taught me that. Right after The Life of a Prosecutor ended, script offers poured in.

No matter how I thought about it, having an agency sort through scripts seemed better than drowning in them myself.

While chatting with Hae-jin, Director Kim Jin suddenly approached.

“Bada-ssi!”

He handed me a script.

[The Tormented Him and the Happy Her]

Reading the title, I felt dizzy.

To see this script again. I thought changing my life’s flow would mean avoiding The Tormented Him and the Happy Her…

Unaware of my thoughts, Director Kim Jin continued.

“It’s The Tormented Him and the Happy Her, and the female lead hasn’t been cast yet…”

“Not cast yet?”

Hae-jin frowned beside me.

“You said it’s still in discussion! Why lie to Bada!”

Hae-jin, fiercely opposed, snatched the script from me.

“Hey! Yeom Hae-jin!”

“What, Sunbae!”

“It’s in discussion, so we’re just considering her.”

“Not trying to trick an innocent actor into it, right?”

Discussion.

They’re probably inflating the actor’s pay. Obvious tactic. How did I miss this before?

I regretted it deeply.

★★★

Director Kim Jin was sweating bullets.

‘…Is she really a rookie?’

The rookies he knew often lost their sense of reality the moment they gained a bit of fame. They hadn’t experienced enough of the real world.

And as Yeom Hae-jin said, negotiating the pay for the actress in Director Kim Jin’s The Tormented Him and the Happy Her was proving difficult.

Whether it was to inflate her value or not, they kept playing games, so they targeted a rookie actor.

They’d push forward with a rookie for the drama shoot, and if negotiations fell through, they could just discard her with the excuse that she didn’t fit—simple as that.

Even if she was slightly famous now, she was still a rookie. No name recognition, no buzz, so even if they used and dropped her, it’d quietly fade away.

If casting failed, snagging a naive rising star for a smooth shoot would be ideal. That’s why they approached Im Bada.

“Are you seriously thinking that?”

“Whoa, no way! You know how much of a star Bada-ssi is.”

“I’m not that big.”

“Huh?”

What’s with this pressure? As Im Bada’s dark eyes pierced Kim Jin, a seasoned aura radiated from her, like a veteran with a decade of experience.

“I’ve heard a lot about directors using rookies to ruin them.”

“…What?”

“Oh, I’m not saying you’re like that.”

Im Bada smiled, sipping the beer in front of her.

“Seriously, Sunbae! Don’t trick our innocent Bada.”

“It’s fine, Hae-jin. Director Kim Jin’s probably just mentioning it since we’re here.”

If Yeom Hae-jin was a feisty kitten, Im Bada was like a jaguar, quietly sizing up her surroundings before a hunt.

‘She’s not naive? No, I can’t get dragged into Hae-jin’s pace.’

Kim Jin shook his head, maintaining his salesman smile. Yeom Hae-jin pointed at him with her chopsticks.

“When I visited your film set, Sunbae, didn’t you torment a rookie actor?”

“That was because the rookie was bad.”

“No way! You made a rookie cry from all that torment!”

“Isn’t it normal to criticize a bad actor? If they’re bad, it affects the drama.”

A bad actor impacts the drama, and that naturally reflects on the director’s skills.

Kim Jin had ambitions—to become a top director and go global.

“Bada’s off-limits!”

“You’re meddling in your sunbae’s work now?”

“I’m saying this because I know what kind of person you are!”

Yeom Hae-jin slammed the table, shouting no.

★★★

“Ugh!”

Kim Jin tried to stop Hae-jin from derailing things, but I cut in.

“Kim Jin-ssi, I’m sorry.”

“…Huh, what?”

Glancing at The Tormented Him and the Happy Her script Hae-jin had taken, old memories surfaced.

When the drama aired, I was alone in a dark room, clutching the script and crying.

I blamed and berated myself, thinking it was all my fault, that my poor acting deserved this.

But the truth was it was his scheme to push me out.

The memories of what Kim Jin did to me lingered, pooling like stagnant water.

In the end, the script I’d seen as my life’s hope became unreadable.

It was all because of you.

So I’m going to throw your words back at you.

“I’m still not skilled enough for a lead role.”

“You’re top-tier among rookies! Not skilled enough? Still, I wish you’d at least look at the script. It’s good. Written by the same writer as the classic rom-com Run, Girl.”

“Someone told me otherwise.”

I looked at Kim Jin, curling my lips into a smile.

“That my acting’s terrible and my face isn’t pretty enough for a lead.”

“Who said that!”

“Some crazy guy.”

“What a lunatic.”

At my words, Yeom Hae-jin jumped up, fuming. Meanwhile, Kim Jin averted his gaze, scratching his neck.

Even without Hae-jin’s protests, I knew Kim Jin’s intentions. He likely wanted a backup actor in case the lead refused. If casting failed, the shoot could get delayed, delayed, delayed, and maybe canceled.

“Hmm.”

This is tricky.

Have I become cynical? Seeing Kim Jin squirm made me feel strange.

Is this why they say to get famous?

I tapped the script of The Tormented Him and the Happy Her and smiled.

“But Kim Jin-ssi.”

“…Yeah?”

“I’m kind of busy.”

“Busy? Why?”

“I’m reviewing a ton of scripts that came in.”

“Why go through them one by one…?”

“I don’t have an agency yet, so I’m doing it myself. The next project is crucial for a rookie, right?”

You said things to me.

If it weren’t for my drama, you think you’d get scripts for your next project? With that acting? How do you expect to be a lead?

…If you’re a lead, at least act well.

Hey, stop! Your acting’s garbage.

Your words ringing in my head ruined my life. But in this new life, I could say no.

“You get what I mean, right?”

I slid the script back to Kim Jin. He sighed, staring at it.

“…Yeah, I get it. You’re right.”

“Yep. Good luck with that actor’s negotiations. You never know.”

No matter how many awards this drama wins, I won’t work with you.

“Well, maybe if there’s a chance next time…”

I laughed at the word “chance.”

Will I get a chance, Director?

If there’s a chance.

To you, who gave me hope with those words.

I mirrored the smile Kim Jin gave me back then and said, “Sure. If there’s a chance.”