Chapter 9
Yoon Joo-hyuk was nothing like an ordinary staff member.
He was the kind of person who might belong above others — never below them.
To be exact, he seemed like someone who had only ever existed at the top.
Joo-hyuk knew this, too — that people saw him as arrogant and proud.
Not that he had any intention of changing.
“I like the edit. Let me know when the rest is done.”
“Yes, understood.”
After Director Sa Mi-hyun left the editing room, Joo-hyuk quietly let his gaze linger on Da-eun’s face.
For some reason, a strange thirst welled up inside him. He reached for the cup at his side with a soft clink.
He wanted to see her again.
Today, Da-eun was scheduled to stop by the agency to meet Manager Moon Gi-jung.
Do-yoon guided her into the manager’s office.
Moon Gi-jung, who was on the phone, brightened immediately and gestured for her to come in.
His hair was long for a man — soft strands brushed his cheeks and shimmered gently.
It was a leaf cut that suited him perfectly, like some celebrity stylist had designed it for his face.
Da-eun bowed politely and took a seat on the sofa.
Do-yoon quickly brewed coffee, set down cups in front of both of them, and left.
“Yes, please go ahead.”
Finishing his call respectfully, Moon let out a deep breath and sat down.
He drained his iced coffee in one gulp, then asked:
“Da-eun, I heard the shoot went well?”
“Yes. Thanks to you, everything went smoothly.”
Her calm reply made him chuckle heartily as he rubbed his palms together.
“Director Sa Mi-hyun actually called to praise you. I noticed your talent even back during the audition. Well done.”
“Thank you.”
Moon studied her quietly, then suddenly stood and fetched a tablet from his desk.
“Secret Letter is wrapped now, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then take a look at this.”
Da-eun accepted the tablet he handed over.
Several files were open — scripts for films and dramas, a mix of genres.
“These all have guaranteed supporting roles.”
BM Company, Da-eun’s agency, was also a film and drama production and investment company.
Thanks to that, they often placed their contracted actors into their own projects.
It was common practice in the industry — one reason their profit-sharing rate was higher than other agencies.
“Take your time.”
“Okay.”
While he finished his coffee, Da-eun carefully scanned through the titles.
She already knew which projects would be hits over the next three years.
Movies, dramas — she picked out familiar names and began checking each storyline.
She needed to confirm whether the plots matched what she remembered before her regression.
Then, as she scrolled, her eyes sparkled.
This was it — Writer Yang Song-hee’s romantic comedy “The Non-Marriage Principle,” the one Noh Hye-young had appeared in as a supporting role before Da-eun’s regression.
It was also one of BM Company’s investments — the supporting roles were guaranteed.
It had been a major success.
However…
Although the show had been popular, Yang Song-hee later became infamous for plagiarism controversies.
No matter how successful it might be, getting caught in that kind of scandal wasn’t a wise choice.
“Manager, I’d like to do this one.”
After a moment’s thought, Da-eun selected a project and showed him the screen.
“Hmm. Good choice. There was one spot left, actually. Can you start shooting right away?”
“Yes. I’d like to work immediately.”
The project was Writer Kim Hee-sook’s human drama “We Must.”
It aired in the same time slot as The Non-Marriage Principle and was also produced by BM Company, which had already secured a supporting role slot for it.
“Perfect. I’ll contact Director Shin Jung-geun and set up a meeting. Also—here.”
Moon handed her the We Must script along with a small USB drive.
She understood the script — since she was about to start filming right away — but tilted her head at the USB.
“These are projects scheduled for later production. I thought you might want to pick your next-next project in advance.”
That was unexpected. Da-eun’s eyes widened slightly.
“Thank you.”
“No need for thanks. It’s my job. Now go home and start memorizing your lines.”
“Yes, I’ll get going then.”
As she left the office, Do-yoon, who had been managing paperwork, jumped up to greet her.
“Heading home?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Do-yoon grinned broadly and grabbed his car keys, saying he was getting restless just sitting at his desk.
On the way home, Da-eun thought about Manager Moon.
What was BM Company like before her regression?
She’d also signed with them before graduation back then.
She’d had to terminate her contract due to burn injuries from an accident.
But Hye-young, who’d passed the same audition and signed with BM Company, had stayed with them afterward.
Because of that, Da-eun had kept hearing about the company — whether she wanted to or not.
For example, BM Company was known to be generous with new actors…
but also infamous for giving inappropriate private “instructions” behind closed doors.
Manager Moon Gi-jung, however, had always opposed CEO Bae Yong-seop’s habit of bringing rookie actresses — especially women — to investor meetings.
After years of conflict, she remembered hearing that Moon had eventually left to start his own company.
Da-eun sighed and clutched the script tightly.
Rookie contracts in this industry lasted seven years.
She couldn’t just leave the agency, so for now, she’d have to stick close to Moon.
Later, she’d follow him when he went independent.
Since his new company would be structured as a label under BM, she could move without messy lawsuits.
“Uh, Ms. Kang?”
Da-eun looked up from her We Must script.
Do-yoon was watching her through the rearview mirror, licking his lips nervously.
“The CEO wants to see you for a moment.”
That brought back a memory from before her regression.
When she had just started working as a stuntwoman — at Hye-young’s suggestion — she’d visited the agency after a shoot.
Do-yoon had been there with CEO Bae Yong-seop.
They’d exchanged greetings, and Do-yoon had joked about grabbing drinks with Hye-young sometime.
On the way home, Hye-young had scoffed.
‘That bastard only got promoted thanks to me — can’t stand the sight of him grinning about it.’
Then she’d gone on, unprompted:
Originally, Do-yoon had been her road manager.
After meeting CEO Bae, he was introduced to a “sponsor.”
At the time, Hye-young had spoken excitedly about her “patron,”
but later Da-eun realized what that truly meant — one of the dark sides of the entertainment world.
There was no way to avoid meeting CEO Bae forever.
If she was going to meet him, it was better to be clear upfront — to say she didn’t need a sponsor.
Would he even listen?
She tried to recall what she knew about him — but nothing useful came to mind.
“What about Manager Moon?”
When Hye-young was introduced to her sponsor, Moon had been excluded too.
As expected, Do-yoon’s eyes flickered nervously in the rearview mirror.
“Please don’t tell the manager. The CEO asked to see you privately.”
“I see.”
Maybe she’d meet that so-called sponsor today.
Da-eun nodded silently.
While Do-yoon focused on driving, she quickly sent Moon a message.
Manager Moon, CEO Bae called me in for a meeting. I’m on my way but I’m not sure what to expect. Do-yoon said not to tell you, so I thought I should.
She couldn’t be sure if it was just a normal meeting or something else,
so she decided to inform him — just in case.
It would’ve been strange to refuse the CEO without knowing the reason.
Moments later, a reply arrived.
If the CEO introduces you to anyone, don’t get swept up. If you’re uncomfortable, say no firmly. Send me the location as soon as you arrive.
Okay, understood.
She hoped it was for something harmless —
but if a “sponsor” really was involved, she prayed the situation wouldn’t turn coercive.
Closing the script, Da-eun stared out the window and exhaled slowly.
“Wow, you’re beautiful. Please, come in.”
The “sponsor” was surprisingly well-groomed —
not the greedy-looking middle-aged man she had expected,
but young, handsome, and even refined in manner.
As soon as she saw his face, Hye-young’s words came back to her.
“You wouldn’t think it by looking at him, but he’s surprisingly forceful.”
Hye-young had looked almost lovesick when she said that.
Da-eun had warned her —
because “sponsorship” meant more than money; it included playing the part of a lover, even in bed.
But Hye-young hadn’t listened.
Beside her, Do-yoon shook hands with both CEO Bae and the sponsor.
Afterward, Bae introduced her.
“This is the new actress I mentioned earlier. She just finished working on Director Sa Mi-hyun’s film.”
The sponsor’s eyes lit up with interest as he looked Da-eun over.
Do-yoon nudged her side, urging her to speak.
“I’m Kang Da-eun.”
Perhaps thinking her demeanor too stiff, CEO Bae burst out laughing and added quickly:
“She must be nervous. Have a seat, both of you.”
As she sat down, Da-eun discreetly checked her phone.
She’d already messaged Manager Moon the meeting location when they entered the parking lot.
Got it.
She frowned.
Did that mean he was coming — or just that he’d acknowledged it?
She couldn’t tell.
A server entered, sliding open the door and setting teacups in front of her and Do-yoon.
The tea filled the cups with a quiet pouring sound.
Watching the ripples in the cup, Da-eun finally spoke.
It was best to first understand what kind of meeting this actually was.
“I haven’t been told much about what kind of meeting this is. Could someone please explain?”
