The previous memories of Tae-ha were like archived records—if you entered a search word, related memories would come to mind.
“That’s how it usually was…”
But not this time. As soon as he opened the door, the scenery of the room that lingered in his head belatedly surfaced.
The old officetel one-room the Entertainment Agency had arranged for him was extremely cramped, and above all, filthy.
By Tae-ha’s standards, it was nothing short of a pigsty.
“Kang Tae-ha, you punk. No matter how busy you are, you could at least clean up a little. You painted your hair white, but look at this place.”
Tae-ha grumbled as he quickly opened the window first.
It was so messy that he could almost smell the stench.
“I was originally planning to figure out where Kang Tae-ha’s soul had gone in this room….”
But right now, that wasn’t possible.
“Cleaning. I’ll leave everything else for now and start by cleaning.”
It didn’t suit his temperament to leave a place he didn’t know how long he’d have to live in in such disarray.
Especially in Ho-jun’s case, he’d worked as an Assistant Writer for a long time, so he had an unusual fondness for the space called home.
That’s why the place Choi Daepyo arranged for him after signing the script contract was also a Three-room Apartel.
Even considering his career as an Assistant Writer, it was quite an exceptional treatment for a rookie.
Normally, rookies hardly ever got a Scriptwriters’ Office before they were even scheduled in a program.
“Choi Daepyo really was generous.”
He remembered the time when he moved from the Kosiwon to the Scriptwriters’ Office, feeling quite moved. Now, finding himself back living in a cramped one-room, he felt dumbfounded.
“No, that’s not it. Still, being able to live in a place like this is better than nothing.”
While clearing away the stacks of paper, half-eaten cup noodle containers, snack wrappers, and other trash piled around the room, Tae-ha muttered.
It wasn’t even a joke—until recently, Kang Tae-ha had lived in a side room where the heating didn’t even work properly.
If he had regressed to that time…
“Let’s just be thankful that I can at least live in an officetel one-room.”
With that, Tae-ha finally finished cleaning and sat down at the desk, letting out a sigh.
“Phew… That was tough.”
And then, while belatedly cleaning the desk, he found a notebook he hadn’t noticed before.
“Huh? This is—”
It was Tae-ha’s diary and acting analysis notebook.
Seeing the notebook, memories of writing down his thoughts and feelings day and night surfaced.
As he opened it with a strange feeling, a photograph stuck in as a bookmark fell out.
It was a photo of five boys together.
***
The year he entered high school.
After living at his Sookmo’s house all through middle school, Tae-ha’s next destination was an unexpected place.
He ended up signing with a newly-established Entertainment Agency that was planning to debut a boy Idol group through street Audition.
“I had absolutely no interest in show business before that.”
Though he had a decent face, Tae-ha wasn’t the type to enjoy being in the spotlight.
He didn’t have any particular talent for singing or dancing, either.
“Not that I was any good at studying… sigh.”
He was in a situation where he wasn’t good at anything, nor did he have anything he wanted to do.
He had no idea what he could do to make a living as Tae-ha.
He couldn’t keep freeloading off his Sookmo’s family forever, and that just made him feel all the more impatient.
After accidentally overhearing his Sajon Nuna, only three years older than him, complain that she couldn’t even use the bathroom comfortably because of him, he became even more desperate.
“Even if I felt sorry, I couldn’t help feeling bitter too.”
He planned to earn money and become independent as soon as he became an adult, but he wasn’t sure it would work out as planned.
Then came the offer from the Planning Company—even providing a Dormitory was an extremely tempting prospect.
Looking back, this was one of the few jobs where Tae-ha, who wasn’t good for much besides his face, could actually make a lot of money.
“Idol.”
It was the Dream and Hope that suddenly came into Tae-ha’s life.
If only he could achieve Success, he’d never have to cling to anyone again—in fact, he could live proudly.
He’d also be able to repay the material and emotional Debt he owed his Sookmo’s family.
With that, Tae-ha made up his mind, left his Sookmo’s house, and moved into the Dormitory.
He even took the necessary steps to transfer to a school near the Dormitory.
Dance, singing, acting, foreign languages.
He had to learn all sorts of new things, but Tae-ha worked hard.
Having a clear goal made all the difference.
Above all, the other members of the Debut Group were a great help in Tae-ha’s growth.
Practicing together every day, they became closer than family.
Those were the very members in the photo he used as a bookmark.
“If only I’d just succeeded as an Idol…”
But the heavens were not so generous to Tae-ha.
The CEO of the Planning Company failed to secure additional investment from outside, struggled with funding issues, and eventually shut down the company.
Naturally, Tae-ha and the members, who were just about to release their album and start promotions, had all their activities halted. They were kicked out of the company, burdened with Debt.
“And that’s not all. Everything that had been invested in us for Debut came back as Debt….”
The only thing Tae-ha gained was the humiliating title of ‘Failed Idol,’ and, devastated, he worked part-time at a Factory that provided room and board to pay off the Debt.
It wasn’t that he never considered asking his Sookmo for help, but their family wasn’t in a position to even lend him a million won.
It was also embarrassing to contact them, having left the house claiming he’d come back only after achieving Success.
“Self-respect doesn’t feed you, I guess… But back then, Kang Tae-ha was only twenty.”
At least he hadn’t taken any dangerous paths just to make money.
So Tae-ha broke his back working off tens of millions of won in Debt, then enlisted in the military as soon as he was done.
He was already worn out from Factory work, and with no money left, he had no way to make a living afterwards.
“I really toughed it out.”
Looking back with a bit more life experience, Tae-ha could see that his choices had definitely been somewhat naive.
If he’d had something or someone safe and solid to rely on, there were hardships he wouldn’t have had to endure.
But young and with nothing to his name, Tae-ha had simply done the best he could.
“Just like I did under Baek Seung-chul back then…”
The more he recalled Tae-ha’s life in detail, the more he felt a strange closeness, as if to a longtime younger brother, and only one thought came to mind.
At least, not everything in Tae-ha’s life had been shadowed by hardship.
After being discharged from the army, Tae-ha, still uncertain about his future, scraped by with odd part-time jobs in a tiny side room.
And around that time…
“I met Im Chan-hyung, who was building his career as a Manager.”
When Im Chan-hyung first suggested acting, Tae-ha just shook his head in silence.
He was afraid of failing once again.
But his desire to somehow achieve his unfulfilled Dream was probably even greater.
“Wanting Success, wanting to be confident, wanting to shine from on high and be loved by people—a deep and lingering longing.”
After Im Chan-hyung’s lengthy persuasion, Tae-ha made up his mind to try his hand at being an Actor.
“Maybe it’s because we make foolish choices when we’re young, but that’s also why we can try again.”
After all, all he knew was how to ‘steal’—if being an Idol didn’t work out, maybe being an Actor would. Luckily, it wasn’t too late to try acting.
Having finished his military service was even an advantage for an Actor.
For the next half-year, Tae-ha poured everything into his effort, thinking that there would be no third failure, and that this was the Last Opportunity given to him in life.
The proof of that was this notebook.
“Just looking at the notebook, you can tell how serious Tae-ha was about being an Actor.”
was the first proper project Tae-ha landed after signing as an Actor.
Even though it was just a small bit part with only a few scenes, he’d analyzed the script inside and out.
“Unfortunately, despite all that, I think my acting was honestly just average.”
To be fair, that was true.
Acting is also a matter of talent—there was nothing he could do.
“Well, these days, even if you just act normally with a good-looking face, that’s good enough. There just aren’t that many who can actually act.”
Tae-ha muttered, remembering how, whenever he was casting for a drama, he would feel frustrated at the acting ability of young male Actors.
“Maybe he actually did have quite a bit of potential.”
Honestly, Tae-ha’s looks were better now than when he was a teenager—this was his real prime.
He’d slimmed down, lost his boyishness, and his features stood out more.
Ironically, the traces of hardship from his life gave his gaze a touch of sorrow that only added to his appeal.
“But even so, it would’ve taken a long time to succeed. No, there’s no guarantee of Success at all.”
The entertainment industry isn’t a place where Success is assured by ability alone.
If your talent doesn’t stand out like an awl, you’re likely to be buried.
Without solid backing, even luck has to be on your side.
“Though now, things are different.”
The current Tae-ha had abilities that the former Tae-ha did not possess.
Placing the acting notebook neatly on one side, Tae-ha leaned deeply back in his chair.
“Actor….”
In his previous life, he’d never considered becoming an Actor.
He’d always thought it was an attractive profession, but his face was too plain to dream of being an Actor. He didn’t have any particular talent for acting, either.
Sometimes, to explain the feel of a script to Actors or Assistant Writers, he would demonstrate with a sample performance, but every time he’d hear, half joking, half serious, “Your acting’s so wooden, it’s not helping at all.”
“That’s why it’s so strange. That I can act now…”
Even Tae-ha’s unique ability to immerse himself, which could be called his strength, now applied not only to script analysis but even to acting.
With Tae-ha’s decent acting skills and his original immersion ability coming together, he was able to deliver surprisingly high-level performances.
“A talent that stands out like an awl.”
That was one key that had been forged for his Success as an Actor.
As his thoughts wandered, Tae-ha stared quietly at his reflection in the mirror on his desk.
“In the end, I don’t know how you died or how I ended up in this body… but what you want is still the life of an Actor, right?”
It really would be a shame to give up the Dream of acting, with such a face and acting skills.
“But this face…”
Looking at it for a long time, he felt it resembled someone.
It was a fleeting impression that came only after staring for a while.
At that moment,
Bzzz, bzzz.
His phone vibrated.
He checked, and it was the same unregistered number as before.
“Who is this, calling like this? Hello?”
He pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear.
At the voice that came through, Tae-ha froze in place.
– Tae-ha, it’s me. Sojeong.
It was a voice he never thought he’d hear again.
“Sojeong… Why is Sojeong appearing here?”
Sojeong was the Actress playing ‘So Mi,’ the female lead in .
He could vividly recall her affectionate calls of, ‘Writer, writer!’
Since it was her first time as a female lead in , she often visited the Scriptwriters’ Office,
And they would frequently exchange calls and messages, talking a lot about her character.
She was unusually easygoing for an Actress, and since it was both their first time as main cast, they shared many concerns and deep conversations.
“But why…”
As his shocked mind started working again, Tae-ha’s memories came rushing back along with a realization.
“Nuna?”
– That’s right. Have you been well?
Actress Kang Sojeong.
Her other identity was none other than the Sajon Nuna who had found living with Tae-ha uncomfortable.