Chapter : 20
Strictly speaking, Pa Tae-young had never once said that Baek A-yeon was his muse.
To be exact, however, he had once said that “Baek A-yeon’s expressions are so predictable, and her acting has no soul.”
Sang-hyuk, who was debating whether to repeat that remark, swallowed his words. There was no need to provoke that temper of hers.
“Ah, damn it. This is ridiculous.”
“A-yeon, what now?”
Sang-hyuk, looking tense, glanced toward A-yeon, who was staring at an article on a portal site. Her frown suggested she had found some nasty comment.
“Don’t worry, it’s not a hate comment. It says Joo Ye-seul’s been picked as the acting director for their audition. That woman’s acting can’t even compare to my little toe.”
Joo Ye-seul—her face was too plain to be called beautiful, but her acting ability had earned her recognition as a top-tier actress.
She’d spent a long time as an unknown, but she took on every kind of role—from bit parts to supporting ones—infusing each character with her own color, and eventually proved her talent.
She was the complete opposite of Baek A-yeon, who’d landed a lead role at debut purely on her looks. To A-yeon, Ye-seul was practically her “rage button.”
“Come on, oppa. Honestly, does Joo Ye-seul even have the career for that? They’re shooting with a bunch of nobodies for that audition, but someone like me—a top-tier actress—should be in it!”
“Yeah, right. But I guess you’re too expensive, so they went with Ye-seul instead.”
The things you do to survive in this business…
Sang-hyuk held back from pointing out that A-yeon’s acting wasn’t even close to Ye-seul’s level. A manager’s duty was to protect his client’s fragile ego.
He stifled a sigh, smiled, and handed her a cup of coffee. Somehow, he knew—it was going to be another long day.
“…I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
The head of strategic planning at AJ Entertainment looked at Do-jun with a bewildered expression.
Maybe it was his imagination, but something about Do-jun felt off today. Normally flawless and composed, Seo Do-jun asking someone to repeat themselves was not something anyone had seen before—it was almost shocking.
The director glanced briefly at Chief Kang, then hurriedly continued.
“Ah, yes, sir. Regarding the filming of The One: Actresses, the program will begin official acting lessons starting next week. I believe it’s to prevent any unnecessary skill gaps between participants from major and smaller agencies.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“They’ll divide into Team A and Team B. Team A will be led by Lee Hyuk, Team B by Joo Ye-seul.”
The moment Lee Hyuk’s name came up again, Do-jun’s brow furrowed. Sensing disapproval, the director quickly spoke again.
“Should I tell them that’s not acceptable? Maybe we could let each agency handle its own training—”
“…No. Even if AJ Media’s handling the investment, JBN Broadcasting has full production control. It’s their call; we’ll have to respect that.”
Whether intentional or not, the fact that Lee Hyuk was always near Yoon Hae-in bothered him.
She and I are nothing.
And yet, the fact that it did bother him made him feel ridiculous.
The director, watching Do-jun’s face, brightened as if recalling something.
“Oh, and the PR team reported that searches for actress Yoon Hae-in have more than doubled compared to last week.”
At the mention of Yoon Hae-in’s name, a ripple spread through Do-jun’s mind. He grabbed his jacket from the wall and looked toward the director.
That look clearly said, you may leave now. The director gave a small bow and stepped out of the office.
As soon as the door closed, Do-jun turned to Chief Kang.
“Chief Kang. Did you hear about it?”
Chief Kang, who had been watching him with an amused expression for a while, met his gaze steadily.
They’d known each other for twelve years—since their university days.
Kang had been by Do-jun’s side since his rookie-scouting days in the U.S., so he prided himself on knowing the man’s mind better than anyone.
And recently, every time he heard the name Yoon Hae-in, Do-jun’s ears practically perked up like a rabbit’s.
Officially, they were boss and subordinate, but privately, they were close enough to be called brothers. Which made Kang’s stare all the more piercing.
Do-jun avoided the look, pretending to stay calm as he spoke.
“I heard there’s a new café in Yongin. People say the coffee there’s amazing.”
“A busy man like you—how do you even know about cafés in Yongin?”
“When in Korea, do as Koreans do. I heard trendy people take selfies in suburban cafés these days.”
He was trying to sound casual, but the truth was—his mind was on one thing only: Yoon Hae-in.
He’d heard she was filming an underwater scene today with Pa Tae-young, and he couldn’t stop wondering how it was going.
“Just say you want to go to the Yongin Dramia set, sir. It’s written all over your face—literally.”
“I mean, I don’t have to go personally… but if you think we should check it out, I’ll go with you.”
“Wait—when did I ever say—!”
Ignoring Kang’s protests, Do-jun grabbed his jacket and strode toward the parking lot.
Underwater shoots were dangerous. What if something went wrong? Dark clouds had been gathering for hours; heavy rain was on the way. Would they even be able to continue filming?
Thoughts piled upon thoughts.
Why am I even worrying about this?
Ever since hearing her name from the director, Yoon Hae-in’s image kept flooding his mind.
What was this strange feeling?
As he briefly questioned himself, Do-jun’s sedan sped out of the parking lot—its destination now clear.
“Listen carefully. We’re only shooting ten cuts. Whether you can show your own color within that time is entirely up to you, Yoon Hae-in.”
He could still remember her face from the studio shoot days ago—the air, the humidity, even the light in her eyes as she looked into the camera.
Five years away from the lens, yet she’d been more natural and confident than models who did it daily.
Was it because he hadn’t expected anything, so the result seemed greater?
Or was it because Yoon Hae-in was the person he’d unconsciously been searching for all along?
He’d done hundreds of underwater shoots, yet never met a model who truly satisfied him.
The repetitive, experimental test shoots had worn him out—he’d been teetering on the edge of a slump.
Pa Tae-young checked Hae-in’s makeup and costume once more. It was a faint hope, but he prayed the same Yoon Hae-in from that day would appear again today.
“Lighting setup complete!”
“Ladder connected! Added a reflector too!”
As the staff called out, the equipment before the massive water tank came to life. The lighting that illuminated it would surely make Hae-in shine even brighter.
“Removing the canopy!”
Rain poured from the sky. When they pulled back the tarp covering the tank, the downpour was so heavy they didn’t even need the water truck anymore—rain was already flooding the tank.
Raindrops splashed across the surface, catching the lights and creating an ethereal atmosphere.
“Hae-in, are you ready?”
“Yes.”
She gazed at the tank and nodded. She had rehearsed this countless times in her head. She was ready. She was determined to make that tank her stage.
Ji-ah, who had been fixing Hae-in’s hair until the last moment, stepped back. Wearing a sleeveless black dress, Hae-in gripped the ladder and slowly climbed up to the edge of the tank.
People began to gather—among them, A-yeon, eager to watch closely.
“Hae-in! Once you’re in the water, dive down slowly, like you’re gliding. Then strike your pose at the bottom, got it?”
She’d heard those directions more than ten times and practiced them hundreds. There was nothing to be afraid of.
