Chapter 5
To sign the contract, I needed a legal guardian.
Even in my previous life, that “legal guardian” had caused me a lot of trouble.
Anyway, as soon as I went to the uncle’s house with President Gong Seongbeom, he immediately asked about the signing bonus. Just like in my previous timeline, Gong offered a contract amount that was absurdly high for a child actor.
He later told me it was simply to make my uncle let me go. If the money was big enough, they would release me easily.
After accepting the offer, my uncle, Lee Kyunghoon, agreed to my contract.
“Is this really all your luggage?”
“That’s all I’ve got.”
“What about clothes… wait, where’s your school uniform?”
“I don’t go to school.”
“Kid, why aren’t you going to school?”
“I didn’t choose not to.”
“Still… at least go to high school.”
“Like I have a choice.”
While I was grumbling, Vice President Gam Suhan suddenly looked something up and smiled brightly.
“You can still apply for the second-half GED exams.”
Then President Gong spoke loudly.
“Perfect! Just go to an arts high school. With your acting skills, the entrance exam is nothing.”
“How am I supposed to afford tuition? If I go, I’ll just attend a regular school.”
“You’re going to get famous soon anyway—you won’t be able to attend a normal school.”
I thought I wouldn’t be surprised by much since I was only a year younger than before, but a lot had changed. I didn’t expect anyone to tell me to go to school.
School…?
…It’s not bad.
While we were talking, we arrived at President Gong’s family home.
It was the most impressive house I had ever seen. Designed by a famous architect.
A well-maintained path lined with a traditional gate and garden led to a hanok-style house. The building was split into two sections, and I entered the left one.
Even though it was his own home, Gong Seongbeom looked slightly confused as he guided me to a room. He opened the sliding door and said:
“You’ll stay here.”
“Seriously?”
The room was too good to trust at first glance.
I took off my worn-out sneakers and stepped onto the wooden veranda. A large Pungsan dog that had been sniffing my legs followed me inside—right into my temporary room.
Come to think of it, this must be the hanok they said Gong Seongbeom lost right before he disappeared. I stayed at that company for so long—how did he even manage to lose a place like this?
Gong Seongbeom asked again:
“Last time, I’ll ask you one more time. Why did you come here? No one even cast you.”
“Just because.”
“That’s bullshit.”
He laughed bitterly. This wasn’t something easy to believe, apparently.
The Leader Actors I remembered had been a fairly respected company.
So why did such a solid company collapse so easily?
Even if I was careless, I knew Gong Seongbeom had been unhappy at the time my contract ended.
The last thing he ever said to me came back to memory:
“Life is just a cycle of coming empty-handed and leaving empty-handed… I used to be scared of that. Now I’m jealous of it.”
Strange.
Because right before things fell apart, he, Gam Suhan, and Do Jaeyeon all seemed happy. Full of hope about the future. They were making great work too—award-winning work.
So why did they become unhappy?
I said to Gong Seongbeom:
“You know that film you were in? Operation.”
“…You watched that? It’s 19+.”
“Is that important right now?”
“It is. Still… you watched it?”
“I liked it. It’s a good film.”
“….”
“And honestly, I only have child acting experience, so isn’t it weird to assume I’d become a star immediately and treat me like one already?”
Gong Seongbeom chuckled and slapped my back.
“Alright, fine! You like movies, huh?”
“Do you have to hit me when I’m covered in bruises?”
He flinched.
“Sorry… keep this between us…”
Hearing “our family” again from him felt strangely good.
That word had never once referred to his real family. It always meant Leader Actors.
And I had always been included in that “family.”
I nodded.
After unpacking, I went with Gong Seongbeom to meet the legendary actor Kang I-hyun.
On the way there, Gong Seongbeom kept warning me.
“Our old man doesn’t talk much even with us. He’s got a nasty temper. He won’t go easy on you just because you’re young.”
“Got it.”
I’m not actually young in temperament, though.
He might think I’m lying later.
Kang I-hyun had lived his entire life for acting.
Because of that, Gong Seongbeom rarely saw his father growing up. He was always on set. When Gong finally became an actor to get closer to him, his father scolded him, telling him not to disgrace his face with such poor acting.
In the end, Gong Seongbeom left acting and became a manager instead. Their relationship wasn’t good—but strangely, Leader Actors ended up being Kang I-hyun’s final company.
There are things between parents and children that I still don’t understand.
The guesthouse where Kang I-hyun stayed was spacious and full of sunlight.
And familiar.
“This is the filming location of People of Uheonjeong.”
I muttered.
Gong Seongbeom looked surprised.
“What? You watched that? It’s an old film.”
“It had a lot of viewers.”
I watched a lot of films and dramas even before. During the five years after my regression, I had so much time that I consumed everything I could find.
Having no fixed taste was actually useful in times like that.
Kang I-hyun, sitting in a wheelchair, slowly turned toward me.
There’s something every actor values differently, but for me, it’s “presence.”
And even I was sure I couldn’t match Kang I-hyun in presence.
He was like a sharpened blade—just brushing against him felt painful.
Even after years of illness, that presence hadn’t disappeared.
No wonder Gong Seongbeom was nervous around him even now.
“How was it?”
Kang I-hyun asked without greeting.
“What?”
“People of Uheonjeong. Was it interesting? Acting, direction—anything. If you watched it, you must have an opinion.”
People loved his intense performances, but they also longed for his younger “idol” face.
That face had been perfectly preserved in that film.
I thought for a moment, then answered:
“There were a lot of cool people. I think I watched it because of them.”
“…Hmm.”
“Script, direction, acting—all important. But I realized something. Being ‘cool’ is important too. And that’s something I have to take responsibility for as an actor.”
It wasn’t just about appearance.
There was a scene I still remembered.
A dysfunctional family gathering at a funeral after a death.
Seven family members—divorced parents, their daughter, and children from remarriages—standing together in black suits under the rain.
It was hauntingly beautiful.
A remake of that story later existed in this timeline too, but it failed—low ratings, criticism, and indifference buried it. It wasn’t “cool” anymore. It lost the most important thing.
Kang I-hyun remained silent for a long time.
Then he said:
“Sit down. Let’s talk.”
Gong Seongbeom muttered:
“My father hates people.”
“He seems to like actors, though.”
“I used to be an actor too, you know.”
He left quickly, claiming he couldn’t stand being around his father.
Now it was just me and Kang I-hyun.
We talked about films, including People of Uheonjeong.
Then I asked what had been on my mind.
“Why don’t you two talk at all?”
He immediately understood.
“I wonder that myself.”
Family, maybe, isn’t as meaningful as I thought.
Even a legendary actor didn’t understand why he couldn’t speak to his own son.
But that wasn’t important.
I said directly:
“You’re going to disappear in fifteen years.”
“….”
“And I’m going to stop that. But it costs me five years of my lifespan.”
“I’ll take care of what I need in exchange. Teach me about acting.”
A warning appeared.
[Penalty applied for future spoiler.]
[-1 day]
[Remaining lifespan: 20 years, 6 months, 18 days.]
After a long pause, Kang I-hyun finally answered:
“Alright.”
I don’t know why he believed me.
Maybe I’ve watched too many films.
At sixteen, even a lot of time doesn’t feel that long.
More importantly, a child’s five years can never outweigh a parent’s future.
Still, strangely enough, that thought restored something in me.
[Deal completed!]
[Current date: June 6, 2025]
[Remaining lifespan: 15 years, 6 months, 18 days]
[Now beginning to investigate ‘Leader Actors’ collapse.]
Thinking about it, when I was thirty-two and my contract with Leader Actors ended, I was already as good as dead.
Maybe that’s why.
I wasn’t afraid at all.
