MHD - 19

Two weeks—this was the final grace period Hee-soo had been given on the day she met with Chairman Cha Joo-won. 

Cha Joo-won had urged her to grovel before Baek Dong-hwan as soon as possible, but that was truly her last resort. She knew exactly what kind of humiliation awaited her if she went to him. 

The only stroke of luck, if it could be called that, was that several auditions for dramas and films were scheduled this month. Desperate, Hee-soo pleaded with Joo-won, promising to secure a role within the month. 

But her initial thought—that she could succeed if she just tried hard enough—was naive. Despite running around tirelessly, Hee-soo wasn’t even given a chance to audition. 

That morning, at a drama production company, she barely managed to exchange greetings before being forced to leave. The mention of an audition made the company’s representative visibly uncomfortable. 

“Sorry, we’ve decided not to hold auditions after all. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” 

By now, sitting idly in the car with no results had become a familiar routine. Hee-soo and Yoon-seok parked in front of a film production company they planned to visit later that afternoon and passed the time waiting. 

“Should we stop by Nonhyeon-dong while we have some extra time?” 

Hee-soo placed the stack of scripts she’d been holding onto her lap and muttered to herself. Turning her head, she spotted a large glass building across the street through the car window. 

“Nonhyeon-dong?” 

Yoon-seok, seated in the driver’s seat, turned to look at Hee-soo. She flipped through a few pages of the script in her hands before sighing deeply again. 

“There’s AHAS Studio in Nonhyeon-dong. Maybe I should drop by and say hello.” 

“Nuna, wouldn’t it be better not to go if it’s just going to be another wasted trip? It’s so frustrating seeing how humiliatingly they turn you away everywhere you go.” 

Yoon-seok’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked at Hee-soo. Lately, he seemed to tear up every time he saw her. 

Hee-soo gave a weak smile at his words. 

“This isn’t the time to cling to pride or dwell on the past. I did make mistakes, after all.” 

“Nuna, you were so exhausted back then. I thought you might… die.” 

“I wanted to die. But here I am, still alive.” 

“...Nuna.” 

As they exchanged memories of those difficult times, flashes of the past raced through Hee-soo’s mind like an old film reel. To prevent unwanted emotions from overwhelming her, she lightly shook her head. 

“Oh, Nuna, wait! The film production company is calling!” 

Yoon-seok fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone and answering the call with a slightly flustered expression. 

“...Yes. Oh, really? I understand. Please contact us later.” 

After hanging up, Yoon-seok’s face looked bitter, and something about it felt ominous. Hee-soo observed his expression for a moment before asking hesitantly, 

“Was it canceled again?” 

“Yes. They said the audition has been canceled. It’s strange. How can this keep happening back-to-back? What should we do?” 

Hee-soo didn’t have an answer to Yoon-seok’s question. 

If someone wasn’t deliberately interfering, this string of strange events was inexplicable. And behind it all, there was no doubt that Baek Dong-hwan was pulling the strings. 

Dong-hwan controlled the top movie theater distribution lines in the industry and had significant investments in several production companies—he was a true heavyweight in the film world. 

It was as if his voice echoed in her ears, warning her to kneel and beg for mercy. 

“Nuna, let’s at least grab lunch.” 

Seeing Hee-soo lost in thought, Yoon-seok tried to sound cheerful as he suggested. 

“You go eat. I’ll stay in the car.” 

Her appetite had vanished completely. Though her body felt drained, eating only made her feel bloated and nauseous. 

Yoon-seok stared at Hee-soo for a moment before choking up and speaking.

“I’ll at least bring you some coffee and a sandwich.” 

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Yoon-seok quickly got out of the car and hurried across the street to the sandwich shop. 

For the past three years, Hee-soo had been like a broken machine beyond repair, hiding in the corner of her room, unable to even meet his eyes when he visited her. Just seeing her move and make an effort now felt like a blessing. But Yoon-seok’s heart was always uneasy, fearing she might retreat back into her shell at any moment. 

As Yoon-seok carried her favorite iced Americano and ricotta salad sandwich and rushed back toward the car, he suddenly stopped in his tracks while crossing the street. 

“Damn it.” 

A curse slipped through his clenched teeth. Despite the call they’d received about the audition being canceled— 

Several familiar-looking actors were emerging from outside the glass building. Each held scripts in their hands, clearly having just finished auditions. 

“Hey, Nuna!” 

Yoon-seok urgently climbed back into the car and called out to Hee-soo. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turned around to find Hee-soo’s gaze already fixed on the actors standing outside the building. 

Staring out the window, Hee-soo asked in a drained voice, “Is this place also funded by Chairman Baek Dong-hwan?” 

“...Yes.” 

“Really?” 

Under her relentless questioning, Yoon-seok finally admitted the truth. 

“Almost no recent films bypass his involvement.” 

“I see.” 

“Nuna, why don’t we just go home and rest today after all this?” 

“What are you talking about? We still have one more stop left.” 

Yoon-seok’s heart ached at Hee-soo’s forced smile as she looked at him. Trying not to show her disappointment, she lowered her head and flipped through the script at the bottom of the stack she was holding. 

If it weren’t for those three years of absence, who would dare cancel a meeting with Seo Hee-soo? 

This industry was notorious for blatantly shifting allegiances based on box office performance, but seeing Hee-soo reduced to this state pained Yoon-seok deeply. Back in the day, scripts begging for even a single review would pile up endlessly. 

Directors and producers had flocked to her because her emotional depth set her apart from other actresses of similar age. Even now, if judged solely on acting ability, she could hold her own against anyone. Watching her practice lines in the car made it clear that her three-year hiatus hadn’t dulled her talent at all. 

There were many temptations that came a female actor’s way, but Hee-soo had never taken shortcuts. She had always relied solely on her acting skills to succeed honestly. 

Yet, her unwavering integrity felt like a boomerang during times of crisis. Wishing she had someone influential to lean on, Yoon-seok sighed deeply. 

“Has there been no progress with that person from Gangrim?” 

Recalling Jae-hyuk, who had once shielded and escorted Hee-soo, Yoon-seok tilted his head thoughtfully. He remembered Hee-soo mentioning that they had known each other for a long time. If Lee Jae-hyuk truly was a close friend, wouldn’t his powerful background be helpful in situations like this? 

“Nuna, are you close with Vice Chairman Lee Jae-hyuk from Gangrim?” 

“Why?” 

At the mention of Jae-hyuk’s name, Hee-soo’s head shot up. 

“You hate these kinds of things, I know, but couldn’t you ask for help at a time like this? Honestly, if all these audition and meeting cancellations are because of Chairman Baek Dong-hwan, how can you possibly—” 

“No.”

Hee-soo cut off Yoon-seok’s words with a firm denial. 

“Don’t ever mention that person’s name again. Please.” 

It would be nice to ask for help, but… 

Thinking about Jae-hyuk’s dismissive attitude—”Is this all you need?”—made her certain it was a bad idea. She could already imagine his sneer, mocking her desperation. He’d probably say something like, In the end, money is all that matters to you, isn’t it? 

Whether it was Baek Dong-hwan, Lee Jae-hyuk, or even Jung-chul—they were all the same. 

People who had much couldn’t possibly understand the desperation of those who had little. 

Hee-soo deliberately lumped Jae-hyuk together with the others in her mind. Thinking of them as the same kind made her feel slightly better. 

“Let’s not talk about such unpleasant things. Let’s focus on preparing for the remaining audition.” 

Hee-soo handed the script to Yoon-seok and asked him to read it. Yoon-seok hesitated, as if he had more to say, but eventually took the script and began reading it carefully. 

“Love... Why do we have to break up?” 

Yoon-seok’s voice sounded stiff, like an automated response. But despite his mechanical delivery, Hee-soo was already immersed in her character. 

“Because I love you. Because I love you too much, I’m warning you not to step further into my filthy life.” 

Yoon-seok forgot he was supposed to read the next line as he stared at Hee-soo, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“...So please leave me here.” 

As she gestured for him to continue, Yoon-seok had already slipped into viewer mode, his gaze clouded with emotion. 

“Nuna...” 

“Hmm?” 

“It’s so sad...” 

Yoon-seok blankly watched the tears tracing the curve of Hee-soo’s cheek before hurriedly grabbing a tissue. After blowing his nose loudly, he suddenly clenched his fist and shouted, “Fighting!” 

“Nuna, hold on. Another call just came in.” 

In fact, Hee-soo hadn’t even realized she was crying until Yoon-seok mentioned it. Crying while acting had become second nature to her. 

False tears had no temperature—they were neither cold nor warm, simply flowing down her cheeks. Wiping them away was enough; there wasn’t even a sense of sadness. 

As she shifted her gaze back to the script, Yoon-seok hesitantly spoke after ending the call. 

“Uh, Nuna... I’m sorry, but the remaining audition has been postponed.” 

“Why?” 

“The director said an urgent schedule came up...” 

After a brief moment of thought, Hee-soo opened her mouth. 

“Tell them I’ll wait. I’ll wait anywhere, no matter what.” 

“Nuna, maybe today...” 

“I think showing this much sincerity might get a reaction from them.” 

Yoon-seok didn’t look entirely convinced by Hee-soo’s decision, but he reluctantly nodded in agreement. 

“Alright. I’ll go make a call outside.” 

Hee-soo silently watched Yoon-seok step out of the car to make the call. Standing in front of the car, he repeatedly bowed deeply to an empty space, likely pleading earnestly with someone on the other end. 

“I’m sorry, Yoon-seok.” 

She had anticipated it wouldn’t be easy, but the wall of rejection was higher than she had imagined. 

Having spent three years locked away in her room doing nothing, she had already given up expecting any warm welcome. She thought showing determination now would be enough, but she wasn’t even being given a chance to prove herself.

If things continued like this, she might have no choice but to kneel before Baek Dong-hwan tomorrow, just as Cha Joo-won had suggested. 

“It’s okay.” 

Hee-soo muttered the words to herself, as if offering encouragement to her own weary heart. 

“I’ve overcome worse than this. I can handle this too.” 

After mumbling a few more weak words, Hee-soo bit down on her lip and tightly gripped the stack of scripts in her hands.