Chapter 81: The Actress’s Unexpected Hobby

After the lecture at Seoul Art University, inquiries looking for Lee Junghyuk began to flood in to .

I don’t know how the rumors spread, but every single one was along the lines of, “He did it there, so why not for us?”

Seo Sun-ae, who had been skillfully declining them, had to bite her tongue not to shout, “It’s because it’s my alma mater!” and barely managed to wrap up with, “We’ll try to adjust the schedule.”

And from her perspective, it seemed she didn’t mind me doing lectures or interviews all that much.

She pushed me, saying that in this era of self-promotion, even writers need to appeal to the public.

The saying, “A writer just needs to write well,” wasn’t wrong, but she insisted that these days, managing your image was just as important as talent.

“What’s all this?”

In the end, Seo Sun-ae handed me a “bare minimum to-do list.”

“Do I... really have to do all of this? My legs were shaking so badly during the last lecture.”

“Writer. My eardrums shake every day. I’m busy enough as it is—how much longer do I have to keep fielding calls about your schedule, honestly.”

I wanted to retort, isn’t that what you get paid for? But I kept my mouth shut.

“If you won’t even do this, I’m quitting as CEO. I came here to make dramas, you know.”

With such a bold threat, I kept my mouth shut and accepted the list.

And that’s how I ended up even doing interviews, which I never thought I’d do.

This one was an interview conducted by the “Broadcast Writers’ Association.”

You could join the association after releasing a miniseries as a drama writer.

I’d already joined at the suggestion of a colleague after my first project.

But I never participated in events or year-end parties, and ended up a ghost member.

It was an association full of famous writers, and for new writers, it offered lectures and legal advice on copyrights, making it quite a useful organization.

“Hello, Writer. I’m Choi Kang-moon, a reporter with the association. Shall we take a picture first before we start?”

The interview started in a studio borrowed from the association.

I stood awkwardly in front of the camera, thinking, Do I really have to have my nervous face photographed, too?

“Our association puts out a quarterly magazine. This’ll be in the winter issue, so please give us a smile as warm as cocoa.”

Not knowing what on earth a cocoa-like smile was, I just did as I was told and forced my lips up as much as I could.

I felt the photographer tilt his head at the viewfinder, but I hurried to move on, hoping to just finish it up.

I answered the expected, cocoa-flavored questions, and the interview wrapped up for now.

“Ugh. That’s exhausting.”

I thought the interview hadn’t been that hard, but that was probably just because the interviewer had a gentle expression.

Once I stepped out of the studio, I realized he’d dribbled me around like a skilled soccer player, pulling the answers he wanted out of me.

I hadn’t noticed inside, but outside, I felt totally drained.

Rather than jumping straight into a taxi, I stopped by a budget franchise coffee shop nearby and grabbed an emergency-supply Americano.

Sitting by the window and gulping it down, I felt my spirit return.

Kkatok!

-Writer, what are you doing?
-Did you see me on TV?
-Are you overseas right now?

Looking at the question-mark rabbit emoji, I wondered what show Seo Ji-won was talking about. I racked my memory.

The drama I’d been filming recently hadn’t aired yet, as far as I knew.

-What show?
-Hul. Writer, don’t tell me you didn’t watch Dang Quiz?
-Dang Quiz? You mean the variety show hosted by Min Jae-seok?
-Yes!!
-Wow. Even if you only watch dramas on TV, you should at least know Dang Quizㅠ
-I know of it. I just haven’t seen it.
-Even when I was on it?

I almost typed, “So what difference does that make?” but thought it sounded too cold and quickly hit the left arrow button over and over.

-But is Dang Quiz really that special? You’ve done plenty of other shows.
-Dang Quiz is different! Even big-name celebrities can barely get on, and whenever someone does, it goes viral on YouTube and in clips in real-time.
-Really?
-Writer; last year, it was voted the #1 favorite variety show by the public. Lee Sung-jae and Park Eun-sook were on it too.
-Oh.
-‘Oh?’ So you’re not even going to watch my video to the end?

Instead of replying, I went on YouTube and searched “Seo Ji-won Dang Quiz.”

Several clips popped up immediately.

Just as she’d said, they were racking up hundreds of thousands of views.

-Ji-won, I watched it—very impressive. It’s an honor that you even mentioned my name.

Seo Ji-won sent a sulking rabbit emoji instead of replying.

-So, actually. Could you do me a favor? I really need your dazzling skills.
-? What skills?
-I’m going to be on TV soon, too.
-Huh? You’re going on TV?? Which program???
-Dang Quiz.

---

Luxury residential area in Hannam-dong, “Hannam The Village.”

A town house neighborhood with only a few units, each going for tens of billions—truly an ultra-luxury community.

With completely private entrances from personal garages, it was well known as a place where many famous celebrities lived.

I was visiting here for the first time ever, to see Seo Ji-won.

When I said I’d be on Dang Quiz, Seo Ji-won immediately called and shouted, “Writer, you?!” poking fun at my dignity.

But after one lecture and one interview, my spirit was so depleted that I couldn’t just sit back.

And if it was a show the entire nation watched? I might really faint on set.

Maybe I’d be better off filming with a bag over my head, only my nose and mouth sticking out.

Well. That wasn’t really an option, so if I wanted to survive the rest of my schedule, I had to toughen up somehow.

“How in the world did you get cast on Dang Quiz?!”

Seo Ji-won kept on teasing, unable to hide her amazement.

Of course, I was just as surprised, so I wasn’t offended.

From what I heard, someone had secretly recorded my lecture at Seoul Arts University and uploaded it to social media.

Grand, epic music was laid over my cynical, monotone answers, and the response I gave to the last student’s question was paired with emotional music, making it a perfect “motivation video.”

Even though it was an illegal recording, the video instantly racked up countless views and likes and spread as all sorts of memes.

No seasoned TV producer would miss such a hot video.

“Wow. This video is amazing.”

Watching it over the phone, Seo Ji-won tortured me further by saying, “Writer, your way with words is amazing. So moving.”

So Ji-won, please help me.

After my desperate plea, Seo Ji-won cheerfully agreed.

That’s how I ended up visiting her house in Hannam-dong.

“But what is all this?”

A two-story house. The first floor was Seo Ji-won’s private space, and the second floor had a dining room, living room, study, and media room.

Before I could even look around the other rooms, I was stunned by the banquet spread on the ten-person island table.

“Oh. I put a little effort in since you were coming, Writer.”

“You cook too?”

“Yes. It’s my only hobby. If I want to eat something good from a nice place, I have to ask my manager to pack it or get it delivered, but it never tastes as good that way. So, what can I do? I have to learn it myself.”

The table was filled with delicacies from land and sea—Korean, Japanese, Chinese, Western food, everything was there.

She brought out a whole roast beef fresh from the oven, carving it up, and casually mentioned she’d picked up Korean, Chinese, and Western cooking licenses for fun, and that she wanted to try for a blowfish license one day if she got the chance.

“Wow, Ji-won. This is a twist. You look like someone who’s never even gotten her hands wet, let alone cooked.”

“Hehe. That’s a compliment, right? Don’t worry about leftovers; I’ll call the staff after you leave so please eat as much as you like.”

For a second, I worried that the food would look great but be bland, and that I’d have to choke it down without saying it tasted bad. But when I put a slice of roast beef on a wrap with green beans and asparagus, dipped in truffle cream sauce, it made me think of a New York night I’d never even experienced.

It was like taking a bite of the soul food of Americans.

“How do you even make something taste like this?”

Honestly, the best cook I knew until now was Lim Seong-hee.

If she was a master of traditional Korean cuisine, Seo Ji-won felt like a top fusion chef straight out of America.

“So you mean it tastes good?”

Seo Ji-won giggled and topped my next wrap with pickled chili.

“Try it like this too. It cuts the greasiness—totally unique.”

“Wowwww.”

I shoved the roast beef wrap in my mouth, barely swallowing before I loudly declared how delicious it was.

“Do you know how much money I’ve put into this kitchen and the equipment? Cooking’s all about the tools.”

Seo Ji-won said she’d spent a fortune remodeling and imported her cooking gear from overseas.

If I hadn’t tasted this, I’d have said it was a waste of money, but tasting it made every penny make sense.

After that, I tried her inventive dishes—duck pie with black raspberry jam, coriander salad seasoned with soybean paste, egg kimbap with abalone and peach shrimp—and ended up clutching my bursting stomach as I collapsed onto the living room sofa.

I felt like I’d gained 2 kilograms in a flash.

It was just that good, so I probably ate 2 kilograms.

“Writer. Not there—over here.”

Seeing me patting my full belly, Seo Ji-won pointed to a recliner chair next to the sofa.

It was the same kind of recliner as in Director Kudo Kei’s studio.

I guess furniture has trends too, I thought, settling in comfortably, when Seo Ji-won approached with a bowl in her hand, stirring its contents with a spatula.

“Sorry, but I can’t eat another bite.”

“It’s not for eating. Here, lean back.”

Seo Ji-won scooped up some of the contents from the bowl.

It looked like a cross between porridge and cheese, and it plopped down in globs.

“This is a modeling pack I made. I’m going to put it on your face now, so even if it’s cold, bear with it.”

“A face pack? Why all of a sudden?”

“You asked me to teach you how to be good on TV.”

“I did?”

“There are three basics to being on TV. The first is your face.”

“?”

Without any further explanation, she started slathering the pack on.

“Ah, cold, cold!”