Chapter 7

"Entertainment Life Bible Chapter 7 (7/280)"

***

The kind of person who critiques the direction of a movie and starts talking about ratings as soon as the topic of a drama comes up—that’s me.

My theater-obsessed sister once commented on me like this:

“You work in broadcasting... but you’re not creative at all. You lack imagination. Why do you even watch performances? What’s the point of always keeping up with dramas and movies?”

‘What did I say back then?’

“I don’t need imagination since I’m not an actor. Imagination is only necessary for the actors, writers, and directors. I analyze. That’s what I do.”

I don’t remember exactly, but I think I responded something like that.

My thoughts on this haven’t changed.

‘...But maybe my sister is right. Maybe I do lack imagination and creativity...’

– The next station is Huexia, Huexia Station.

So, I, who am not creative, lack imagination, and am analytical, have just arrived at Daehak-ro.

About 15 kilometers north of our home in Shinlim-dong, Daehak-ro.

‘I’m not sure if this is the right choice.’

I didn’t choose Daehak-ro after deep contemplation and analysis.

Now that the long-awaited "Entertainment Life Bible" has arrived, I couldn’t just sit around and waste time.

I decided to contact someone, anyone, around me and put on some clothes to go out.

“Haa— What’s this hangover soup?”

I met my sister, who yawned widely and came out of her room.

She didn’t even glance at me, happily went to the table, and when my mother said, “Chunho bought this for you to eat,” she scolded, “Why are you doing something you never do?”

But she looked happy despite her grumpy expression.

‘Close... family, after all.’

Before the regression, I had drifted far away from my sister.

We didn’t have a big fight, but at some point, we had drifted apart.

‘Is there any combination as incompatible as a theater person and a broadcasting person...’

Even though we worked in similar fields, we had drifted apart entirely because I had neglected my family.

Suddenly, it felt like someone whispered in my ear, “Pay attention to your close acquaintances.”

Without thinking, my mouth opened.

“Sister, are you performing at Yeonwoo (煙雨) today?”

That’s why I’m standing here now.

‘It’s been a while.’

Even after founding GOD Entertainment, I often visited Daehak-ro whenever I had time, but it felt like a long time psychologically.

They say the 3rd exit, which leads directly to the entrance of Changgyeong Palace, and the 4th exit, which leads to the university area, have the most foot traffic.

But my choice, learned from my sister, has always been the 1st or 2nd exit.

‘The mecca of theater performances, perhaps.’

Around Maronie Park, the 1st and 2nd exits are surrounded by over a hundred small theaters, the street of theater performances.

This has always been my destination.

‘Still thirty minutes to go.’

Standing at the intersection a block away from Maronie Park, where my sister’s theater company, Yeonwoo (煙雨), is located, a gentle voice spoke to me.

“Are you here to watch a performance?”

A young woman, wrapped in a promotional item larger than her body.

‘Hmm?’

Looking at the promotional item, it was indeed covered with various performance posters and schedules.

She was a ticket seller.

“Ah...”

She was promoting that tickets sold on-site are the cheapest.

But in fact, tickets bought online with discounts are even cheaper.

So, I should have refused the ticket she handed to me with a big smile.

– “When I was young, I did everything in Daehak-ro. I cleaned the theater, sold tickets...”

The face of Park So-hwa, who was thirty-six and still happy, overlapped with the ticket seller’s face.

I ended up buying a ticket for the evening performance of "Anne’s Voice" without thinking.

‘I’ll have to watch it twice, no matter what.’

Even though my sister said, “You have to buy it,” and handed me a ticket that also said "Anne’s Voice."

***

“Thank you for watching our performance today! Thank you!”

On the stage lit with red and yellow lights, the lead actor bowed several times.

‘About thirty actors have come on stage for the curtain call...’

Even though the small theater has fewer than sixty seats in total.

Both the 3 PM and 8 PM performances had fewer than twenty audience members.

‘It’s a good performance, but it’s probably running at a loss.’

I couldn’t easily leave my seat, feeling sorry.

I was also quite disappointed.

I had seen the play twice in a row, and I had a subtle expectation.

‘Fate. And a benefactor.’

I had hoped to meet someone mentioned in the "Entertainment Life Bible" here.

‘Maybe I’d meet a future star.’

It was ambiguous.

The lead actor was someone I didn’t recognize at all.

Among the supporting actors, there were some familiar faces who later appeared in the media, but that was it.

“Excuse me...”

Feeling that I was wrong, I felt deflated.

Sitting dazed in the theater as people left one by one, someone suddenly tapped my shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll move...”

Instinctively apologizing and looking up—

“Eh...?”

A round face with square-framed glasses.

A checkered green beanie that even a ghost wouldn’t take.

Standing in front of me with a perfectly matching awkward expression, my mouth opened wide.

Lee Ho-jin, the main director of "Your Home."

“Hello, Director. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Naturally greeting him, Lee Ho-jin’s face, which had been uncertain, lit up.

“Right! You’re the drama publicity person, Chun Ho... Chun Ho?”

“Yes, I’m Chun Ho, the publicity person for ‘Your Home’ this time.”

“Ah, you know me?”

That day, Lee Ho-jin and Min Hae-yeon, the writer, were not at the initial meeting.

It’s a bit funny, but at the internal meeting between the broadcasting station and the drama production team, the main director and writer usually don’t attend.

‘Without the director or writer, we can talk freely about the work.’

“Of course. I knew you were the director of the drama I’m promoting.”

I just knew him from the future.

That terrifying checkered green beanie is unforgettable once seen.

‘Indeed, the green bear... He’s been wearing it since then.’

I could feel Lee Ho-jin’s unique character, even though we had no personal connection.

“Ah, thank you. I saw you a few days ago in the JWN lobby cafe. Oh CP told me you were our publicity person.”

“I see. It’s an honor. By the way, are you here to watch a performance, Director?”

“Ah, I come here often. I was supposed to meet Oh CP, but he had an emergency.”

Oh Young-seok...?

Reading the curiosity in my eyes, Lee Ho-jin continued with a troubled look.

“...You know, our casting is still...”

“You’re here to find hidden gems.”

My natural response made Lee Ho-jin chuckle.

“Indeed, as a publicity person, you speak so nicely.”

“Why not? If you catch the director’s eye, you might get a role in our drama. They’re gems and raw stones.”

Laughing, Lee Ho-jin, my mouth started chattering like a motor.

***

‘Is this a success or a failure?’

The conversation with Lee Ho-jin was brief but not bad.

‘No, it was very good.’

There’s usually a subtle distance when meeting a director and a publicity person for the first time at a broadcasting station.

But with the common ground of watching a play in Daehak-ro, the distance naturally decreased.

‘Moreover...’

“Since your sister is a theater person and often comes to Daehak-ro, you must have noticed some actors. If you think someone is ‘the one,’ please tell me without hesitation.”

The words Lee Ho-jin left as we parted ways were a significant gain.

Even though the implicit approval of Oh Young-seok and Yoon Seok-jin, the CEO, had been given, it’s common for the director to clash with the casting process.

It was a stroke of luck.

‘Lee Ho-jin, who will become famous for his delicate direction, is indeed a benefactor...’

However, the "Entertainment Life Bible" said to become a benefactor, not just to meet one.

Become a benefactor.

I,

To someone,

Be a benefactor.

‘So, who is that someone?!’

Recalling the people I met today as I returned to the theater company Yeonwoo (煙雨) after seeing Lee Ho-jin off—

‘Damn, I really don’t know.’

Stepping down the creaky wooden stairs halfway, I pushed open the iron door with the sign "Yeonwoo (煙雨)."

For some reason, the inside was already quiet.

‘Did they finish cleaning up already?’

It didn’t seem like I had talked to Lee Ho-jin for that long.

The silence in the theater after the performance—

“Shining star, spread your wings~ Fly high toward your dreams♪”

...I turned my head toward the voice that broke the silence.

Wearing earphones in both ears, she didn’t seem to notice my presence—

‘Who is she? A theater student?’

A figure in a pink hoodie was cleaning between the seats, humming a song.

Swinging a mop like a standing microphone.

‘She’s cute.’

I walked quietly to the office behind the stage, thinking it might be awkward to meet her.

“It’s me.”

“What? You didn’t go?”

“I was waiting to go with my sister.”

“What? Doing something you never do.”

While entering, I asked the grumbling sister about something I was curious about.

“By the way, who was outside? There was someone cleaning alone... Is it a part-time job?”

Frowning at my question, my sister put down the documents in her hand and stood up.

“Phew. That kid hasn’t left yet.”

“An employee? Or an actor?”

“Our youngest. There’s a kid who wants to do theater and comes to work.”

“Wow, a student? Park So-hwa. She’s still doing well.”

“Shut up. It’s not like that.”

My sister, who rolled her eyes, opened the office door and walked out, shouting.

“Hey—!”

“She seems to be wearing earphones...”

“Sohwa!”

‘...What did she say—’

I chased after my sister, who was heading toward the stage with determined steps.

“Park So-hwa! What have you been doing all this time instead of going home!”

The pink hoodie, who had been moving between the seats, finally turned around, noticing my sister’s presence.

“Teacher! Can I go up on the stage once before I go home?”

My sister, who was being begged with a bright smile, made me feel a sense of joy.

‘When she was young, she was more confident. She said what she wanted to say.’

It was a side I hadn’t seen in the thirty-something Park So-hwa, who had been weakened by the hardships of being an unknown actor.

“Don’t go up on the stage unless it’s for a performance—.”

“Let her.”

“What?”

The two women, who had been grumbling, turned their gaze to me, surprised by my sudden words.

“The stage is already cleaned, and the cast has all gone home. It’s just us, so let her go up once.”

The sudden support made So-hwa’s eyes sparkle, and she turned to me with bright eyes.

Despite her reluctance, my sister finally gave in.

“...Just for five minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Although she didn’t seem to want to, the permission was given.

But So-hwa’s face was clearly filled with joy.

Her steps up the stage stairs, swinging her arms, were as light as a butterfly.

“...Is she really that happy?”

In my previous life, I met this girl for the first time when she was well into her late twenties.

‘Was it when I had just transferred to FINE?’

When I quit my job at JWN, a network that had been praised for breaking down the barriers between terrestrial and cable TV, after nine years.

Everyone was curious about my next move.

“With nine years of experience in broadcasting publicity, which agency’s publicity team would he join?”

‘Back then, everyone thought I was crazy.’

But the place I chose was FINE Entertainment, one of the top three entertainment companies in the country.

And it was the management team, not the publicity team.

‘I was crazy. It was a mistake.’

At FINE, they had offered me the head of the publicity team.

It was a reasonable offer from the company’s perspective.

After nearly a decade in publicity, I had built a network of contacts with journalists from various media, as well as many production and talent agencies.

But I insisted on the management team, and after several reconsiderations, FINE gave me a position in the management team.

‘In the entertainment industry, where you’re considered a veteran after three years, I, with only nine years of broadcasting publicity experience, chose to be a new manager.’

They must have been wondering how long I would last.

At the time, I was driven by the passion to discover my own actor and showcase my management skills.

‘Back then, I really scoured the streets of Daehak-ro.’

Looking for the raw talent that I could polish into a gem.

That’s when I met So-hwa.

– “I’m not that young. I’ll be thirty soon. I’ve tried a few media auditions... but they didn’t go well.”

That was the first thing So-hwa said to me when I offered her my business card and asked if she had an agency.

Her words revealed her frustration with the high walls of the media industry, which were hard to break even with all her theater experience.

To her, I said this:

– “I’ve been in the broadcasting industry long enough. Let’s work together. I’ll help you. You can become a much better actor than you are now!”

It was a statement fueled by passion and determination.

I regretted it and resented myself.

The moment I heard the news of Park So-hwa’s passing, I regretted those words.

‘...This time, absolutely...’

As I was lost in the thought of not repeating the tragedy, I was jolted awake by a firm voice.

“Ah! Ah!”

In the center of the stage, lit only by the auxiliary lights illuminating the audience, a young So-hwa in a pink hoodie and faded jeans stood, stretching her chest and warming up her neck.

Then—

“Hello, everyone. Thank you for visiting Yeonwoo Theater today.”

Sohwa, facing the audience of just me and my sister, smiled and gave an elegant bow.

“My name is Park So-hwa, the youngest member of Yeonwoo Theater. The performance you will be watching today is ‘Anne’s Voice,’ a silent play depicting the daily fears of a young girl named Anne.”

‘She’s skilled.’

Had she been a stagehand before the performance?

Sohwa skillfully introduced ‘Anne’s Voice’ and then used her body to convey the message instead of her voice.

She placed her extended index finger near her lips and slowly brought both hands to her ears.

‘Please listen to the silent story Anne is telling.’

Her expression, with slightly lowered eyes and a raised mouth, conveyed a sense of earnestness.

Her movements were smooth and natural, flowing like water.

“...She’s good.”

“Right? She has talent. It’s rewarding to teach her... Sohwa! The stage is slippery!”

My sister’s face, warning her to be careful, was filled with pride.

‘I didn’t know So