Chapter 29: Ready to Soar (6)
The coordinator interviews took longer than expected.
“We’ll send individual results within a week,” Kim Ji-hyun said.
“Thank you… Could I maybe get a photo and an autograph?” an interviewee asked.
“Uh… sure.”
She replied, quickly posing for a picture and signing.
“Sigh… Interviewing is harder than I thought,” she said afterward.
“Want to take a break?” her manager asked.
“No, you’re already here because of me. Let’s finish this.”
They chose a 24-year-old recent college graduate as the coordinator. Kim Ji-hyun figured someone closer in age would communicate better and know current trends.
“We’ll go with her,” she decided.
“Okay,” the manager agreed.
Driving her home, the manager grew worried. Despite the acting controversy, Kim Ji-hyun’s fame from Revenger was undeniable. Her hiring a coordinator herself, without the agency’s help, was prime fodder for gossip. If malicious articles spread, the agency’s reputation could take a hit.
Unbeknownst to them, a camera lens glinted in the distance, aimed their way.
***
Meanwhile, after drinking with Park Woong-deok until 5 a.m., Kim Si-woo was on a boat, feeding the fish with his vomit.
“Urgh… blegh!”
He groaned, having slept barely two hours.
“You okay?”
Shim Ji-young’s manager approached, patting his back.
“Haa… my stomach’s churning…” he muttered, retching despite having nothing left.
Park Woong-deok, the culprit, was infuriatingly fine.
“What a great day. This is the real hangover cure.”
He said, smiling into the sea breeze.
The boat reached the shoot location, and everyone disembarked.
“Can I go sleep now?” Kim Si-woo asked.
“Jeez, go already. So weak for a young guy,” Park teased.
“…”
Swallowing a curse, Kim Si-woo thought, ‘I’m not weak—you’re just freakishly sturdy.’ He headed to the lodge Park directed him to and collapsed into bed, exhausted.
Hours later, someone crept toward him. His near-superhuman sensitivity snapped him awake.
“Ji-young noona?” he said, eyes wide.
“Eek!”
Shim Ji-young yelped, stumbling backward.
“What the—weren’t you asleep?”
“I was, but your footsteps woke me.”
“What? I was super quiet!”
“I’m just… really sensitive.”
She dusted herself off and checked his forehead.
“No fever. You okay? I heard you drank with Director Park all night.”
“My stomach’s upset, and my head hurts, but I’m fine,” he said.
She kept fussing over him, concern in her voice.
“By the way, do you remember last night?” he asked.
“Uh… last night? Did I… mess up or something?”
She stammered, her ears reddening despite her feigned ignorance.
Seeing this, Kim Si-woo’s mischievous side kicked in.
“Oh, nothing. Your manager was super drunk, and when I nagged her, you punched me for bullying her. Got a bruise from it.”
“What? I didn’t hit that hard!” she said, reaching for his arm.
He squinted, barely holding back a grin. “So, you do remember?”
“Ah!” Her face flushed deeper. “You… on purpose…”
“Time to get up. Slept enough, and it’s dinner time. Wonder what’s on the menu?” he said, humming as he left.
Shim Ji-young clutched her head, silently screaming.
“Haha! Told you not to do anything you’d regret,” he called back.
At the restaurant, Kim Si-woo faced a dreaded sight: Park Woong-deok, the sound director, and the lighting director, grilling clams with soju in hand.
“Hey, Kim! You’re up! Come sit—clams are fresh off the grill,” Park called.
“…”
‘They look like they’re swearing brotherhood over there. I really don’t want to go…’
Kim Si-woo thought. No one else approached or even glanced their way, knowing the consequences of joining that table.
‘Why are they calling me? Am I the one who’s done something regrettable?’ he wondered.
Cautiously, he approached.
“Why me…?”
The sound director revealed the instigator.
“Heard from Park you’re a good drinker. You’re not bailing today, are you?”
“No, my stomach’s still—”
“What, discriminating against us? Calling Park ‘Director’ but us just hotbars?”
The lighting director joked, though his eyes said ‘sit and drink’.
“We’re not old fogies making the rookie grill! Just sit and eat, Kim,” they laughed.
‘They’re just scared I’d burn the clams.’ he thought.
“Haha… just one drink.”
He said, sitting reluctantly and raising a glass.
“Well… cheers.”
He swallowed, the soju burning his throat with a fragrant kick.
“Argh! What is this?”
“Good, right?”
Park grinned, holding up a bottle.
“What’s that?”
“Traditional soju.”
“No, I mean why is ‘traditional soju’ here?”
“I brought it. Don’t worry, there’s plenty left,” Park said, smirking.
Kim Si-woo glanced at where Park Woong-deok pointed. A box held over ten bottles of traditional soju, each over 40% alcohol. His eyes dulled with dread.
“Don’t look so wronged.”
Park said.
“He who wears the crown must bear its weight.”
“What crown? If I had one, I’d toss it in a heartbeat,” Kim Si-woo retorted.
“Look around,” Park urged.
Following his gaze, Kim Si-woo noticed everyone staring. “Now you’re one of us,” Park declared.
‘One of them? A legendary director with countless awards, and sound and lighting directors so seasoned even top directors bow to them? Me, their equal?’
‘No, those aren’t admiring looks—they’re pitying me! Like I’ve wandered into a tiger’s den!’
Snapping to attention, he steeled himself.
‘Right, like the saying goes: even if a tiger bites you, you’ll live if you stay sharp.’
‘Okay! I can do this. No, I can survive!’
But he didn’t know: three tigers were too much for anyone to handle.
He sat and devoured grilled clams like a man possessed. If he couldn’t outdrink them, he’d out-eat them to end the night early. Pride in drinking? Long gone. Survival was his only goal.
One hour… two hours… three hours…
His limits crept closer, but the three men before him looked infuriatingly fine. The clams, despite his efforts, seemed endless.
‘Why are these guys still sober? And how many clams did they buy?’
His plan to exhaust the food and end the drinking failed miserably.
“Park was right—you can hold your liquor,” the sound director said.
They’d emptied seven bottles of 40-proof soju. The only silver lining? The premium stuff didn’t upset his stomach as much.
As the sound director moved to pour again, someone intervened. “Ji-young noona!” Kim Si-woo exclaimed.
“Director, stop bullying him. You’ll scare him off the set,” Shim Ji-young said.
“What? He’s enjoying it, right, Kim?” Park grinned.
“Hahahaha!”
Kim Si-woo burst into exaggerated laughter.
“Lighting up the mood, huh?” the lighting director said.
“That’s a man’s laugh!” the sound director added, clapping.
“Alright, let’s see who drops first!” Park roared.
Glug, glug, glug.
Kim Si-woo poured soju into a bowl.
“Directors, how about a modern drinking game? Loser drinks this.”
“Nice! Kids these days don’t share games, but you’re generous,” Park said.
The high-stakes game began, drawing everyone’s attention. The crew silently rooted for Kim Si-woo.
Thirty minutes later: ‘These guys aren’t human.’
The directors downed bowl after bowl, laughing and continuing the game. Kim Si-woo, who’d collapse after one, was outclassed from the start.
Then Park, with a sly grin, opened his palm for a finger-folding game. “Clockwise. Under 40, fold.”
‘Oh no…’ Kim Si-woo thought.
“Slept during today’s shoot, fold,” Park added.
‘Please…’
It was clear he was the target. Desperate, Kim Si-woo countered, “Wearing white, fold,” aiming at Park.
He shot a glance at the other directors, who nodded. ‘Hope! I love you guys!’
“Made eye contact with me just now, fold,” the sound director said.
‘No!!!’ His hope shattered.
Kim Si-woo lost. The crew watched with pity as he stared at the bowl of soju, nausea rising.
“Urgh… I can drink this, right?”
“Kim Si-woo! Kim Si-woo! Kim Si-woo!”
Park chanted, joined by the other directors and soon the whole crowd—except one.
“Don’t drink it,” Shim Ji-young pleaded.
But Kim Si-woo smiled and chugged the bowl.
“Noona, if I pass out, take care of me. I helped you yesterday…”
“Hey!”
She shouted, but the soju was already down his throat.
“Argh!” he roared, collapsing.
“I’m… heading to my room,” he mumbled.
Surprisingly, the directors let him go.
“Go on.”
Supported by Shim Ji-young, he stumbled to his room and passed out.
“Idiot. I told you not to drink,” she muttered.
“A man doesn’t back down,” he slurred.
“Some man,” she scoffed.
“Heh…”
Grinning, he fell asleep. Shim Ji-young gently patted his head.
“He’s gonna suffer tomorrow… I’ll get him some hangover relief.”
The next morning, her hair was a disheveled mess, as if she’d torn at it in frustration.
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