Chapter 5: The Return
by GideonIt wasn’t a surprise. I’d already run through this scenario in my head. I even suspected I’d fallen right into a trap set by CEO Moon Woo-jin and Director Bae Eun-hye.
But that didn’t mean I had a plan for this outcome, or that I was mentally prepared for it.
“I’ve been out of the game for six years.”
“Your experience as a director doesn’t just vanish because you took a break.”
“You know better than anyone that directing and on-set filming are worlds apart.”
“I know. That’s exactly why I’m offering you this role.”
Neither of us was budging. We were both backed into a corner.
“You know how I am,” I said. “If CEO Moon drags Lee Seo-rim here by his underwear, do you really think I’ll just accept him as a cast member?”
I’d be lucky if I didn’t throw salt all over CEO Moon Woo-jin.
“Once you’re out, you’re out for good,” he replied. “I like you because you’re so responsible.”
I’d expected this, but I never thought it would actually happen. A sigh escaped my lips.
“Backing out of a casting isn’t easy,” I said. “And frankly, it feels like I’m stealing my disciple’s spot, so I don’t like it.”
“What else don’t you like?”
She asked as if she already knew the answer, just wanting to hear me say it.
“The scene is too explicit.”
It was a perfectly valid excuse to refuse.
“Go on.”
She nodded encouragingly, urging me to continue.
“And the other actors are all top-tier.”
The male lead, Do Zion. The female lead, Seo Ji-soo. A prime-time drama starring the two biggest names in K-drama and film. What were the chances for a supporting actor like me to even survive in a role like that, especially one that required such a daring scene?
“I’ll tone down the level of explicitness.”
“What?”
Just like that? I couldn’t believe it.
“I’d prefer you to keep it modest if you take the role. But your legs… I’d like to see those on display.”
My legs? Cha Jubin hastily pressed his thighs together, his posture turning polite and reserved. He suddenly felt self-conscious about the shorts he’d thrown on in his rush to get here.
“Your legs are beautiful, Yeon. And the line of your arms from your shoulders is stunning. Your abs aren’t bad either, you know.”
“Just tell them to make me strip completely.”
Jubin tossed out the joke, but Director Bae Eun-hye’s expression immediately hardened as she shut him down.
“No, not completely naked. Even if it’s for the camera, I can’t stand the thought of you being fully exposed. Save that for your future spouse.”
Jubin burst out laughing. She knew—from a few drinking sessions—that he was adamantly against marriage. Yet, she never gave up hope that he might one day marry and start a happy family.
“The other actor was cast before you, so that’s non-negotiable. But I can promise to tone down the scenes. If Seo-rim voluntarily gives up the role, there won’t be any issues, right?”
Ugh, is there any other excuse I can use? Something a real deal-breaker.
“If I get cast, I’ll have to hand over all my students to another director. I can’t just quit irresponsibly without a proper transition.”
“Here’s the deal. For the time being, just bring all your students to the set.”
Director Bae Eun-hye was relentless, leaving me no room to escape.
“I can’t bring them every single time.”
“While I’m giving you a few passes, CEO Moon needs to find a way to fill your classes with another director. If he can’t pull that off, he’ll have to resign voluntarily.”
This had now become a matter of the CEO’s very competence. God, I just want to step out of this room for a minute and breathe.
“Tell me everything,” Jubin said. “If there are a hundred reasons why this won’t work, I’ll give you a hundred solutions.”
Ha, I lost. Cha Jubin closed his eyes, taking a moment to think.
“If you need the money, I can wire the deposit right here, right now.”
She didn’t want to bring money into this—it was messy. Besides, she wasn’t skilled or experienced enough to even be negotiating the amount.
“You know it’s not about the money.”
“I’m showing you how desperate I am, Yeon-a. It took me seven years to get this project off the ground. That’s longer than your entire hiatus.”
“…I know.”
That’s exactly why I’m being so careful. I don’t want to be a burden. She checked the time and picked up the marker again.
“I’ll give you exactly one hour to make your decision. The contract is already ready.”
Look at this. The contract is already ready. The game was rigged from the start.
“I’m going out for a smoke.”
Cha Jubin took a deep breath and left her office.
He pushed open the door to the building’s designated smoking area, stepped inside, and dialed CEO Moon Woo-jin with a cigarette already between his lips.
The sound of windshield wipers slashing back and forth echoed through the line—Moon Woo-jin was clearly driving.
“Did you talk to Director Bae?”
“She won’t reinstate Lee Seo-rim even if we bring him back. Do you have a plan?”
“What did Director Bae say?”
The cigarette in Jubin’s mouth burned down rapidly. He had just admitted, in his own words, that he was the one who had set this whole mess in motion.
A heavy, exasperated sigh escaped from the other end of the line.
“Ha… Yeon-a. Director Bae says she’s too stressed to film Lee Seo-rim’s scenes. The actor is quitting.”
“Then you should be the one to beg Director Bae to lower the intensity,” I said, my pheromones curling visibly in the air before me.
—She flat-out refuses to film the scene. Director Bae said she could tone it down, but cutting it entirely is out of the question. It’s the highlight of the entire project.
It was the highlight. I’d helped Lee Seo-rim rehearse, memorizing the script myself, so I knew exactly how crucial that scene was.
The issue was the level of explicitness, not whether the scene should exist.
—Do you know why Director Bae chose you as her second choice?
“I’m afraid I wasn’t told the reason.”
—Because you and Lee Seo-rim have almost identical body proportions.
“Ah.”
Now I understood why Director Bae Eun-hye was so insistent on having me. Period dramas were prepared months in advance—sometimes years.
Costumes were already being made to fit the cast members. If the casting changed now, it would take a considerable amount of time to redo them.
Lee Seo-rim was so similar to Cha Jubin—not just in facial features, but in height, build, and proportions—that he’d earned the nickname “Little Joo Yeon” within the company.
Sigh…
The pheromones he exhaled tasted exceptionally bitter today. Why did it feel like the entire universe was trying to throw him into that den?
—I’m already on my way to Ilsan with Lawyer Kim. Yeon-a, don’t you even think about backing out…
“CEO.”
The mention of Lawyer Kim meant they were determined to make him sign the contract right then and there, no matter what.
He wouldn’t even be able to stall for an hour.
This was a personal limit he had reached, a matter of unresolved emotions and private turmoil.
“I won’t take that role. I mean…”
CEO Moon Woo-jin, who had been pressing the issue with a sense of urgency, fell silent.
“I can’t.”
A heavy silence hung in the air. If I worked with Zion again, I knew I’d be completely at the mercy of his pheromones, just like before. It wouldn’t just be a fan’s admiration anymore.
—Then why are you still clinging to this industry like you can’t let go?
The blunt truth left me speechless. When CEO Moon Woo-jin of all people asked me that…
—It’s not like you’re going to start an entertainment company like me. And you don’t want to be an acting director for the rest of your life, do you?
The relentless barrage of questions left me reeling.
—You just want to act until the day you die. Am I wrong?
I stared blankly at the burning cigarette, listening to CEO Moon finish his piece without a word.
“And I missed your acting so much that I just caused a little trouble.”
That sounded way too ominous.
“What… what kind of trouble?”
“I’ve known you for years. You think I don’t know how you tick? I have my ways!”
His voice was booming with a confidence that set off every alarm bell in Jubin’s head. This man was a loose cannon when he went off the rails, and when he caused trouble, it was never just a little trouble.
“Um, CEO Moon. You seem a bit too excited. I’m driving right now, and there’s nothing more I can say. Me being here isn’t going to—”
Jubin habitually tried to soothe Moon Woo-jin, his voice calm and steady.
“Don’t freak out, no matter what happens next. I’ve already done it. Don’t blame me.”
“C-CEO…”
The line went dead.
“Haaah…”
Persuasion failed. Total failure.
Jubin rubbed his face with one hand, a dry, weary gesture. Just then, Zion sent him a link. The headline made Jubin’s eyes widen in disbelief.
“What the hell is this…?”
[ Leaf on the Snow Supporting Role Suddenly Recast. Lee Seo-rim Out, Acting Mentor Cha Jubin Returns. A Comeback After Six Years. ]
He read it again, and again, and again, unable to believe his eyes. The article was an exclusive by a reporter CEO Moon Woo-jin frequently met with.
I missed your acting so much that I caused a little trouble a moment ago.
This was CEO Moon Woo-jin’s doing. He must have resorted to such a drastic measure when his final plea failed.
It was absurd to be forced back into the spotlight without even knowing it, but at this point, it felt like the entire universe was pushing him to return.
Strangely, being pushed didn’t feel that bad.
“Fine, let’s do this. I’ve got nothing left to lose.”
He’d already hit rock bottom. There was nothing left to lose.
Worrying is just a waste of time.
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