Chapter 34: Once is Chance, Twice is Fate (3)
“It worked out fine.”
Kim Si-woo said vaguely.
“Then let’s grab food and hear the details.” Shim Ji-young suggested.
“What, another afterparty?”
Si-woo asked, glancing nervously at Park Woong-deok and the lighting and sound directors.
‘Not them too, right?’
Fortunately, Shim Ji-young clarified,
“No, just us. Park’s too busy for an afterparty until at least the public premiere.”
“Got it,” Si-woo said, relieved.
“Even with a great film, one viewing doesn’t catch every flaw. The real work starts now.” she continued.
“Directing seems toughest—managing everything, taking all the responsibility…”
Si-woo nodded, silently vowing, ‘I’ll stick to writing. Directing? Never.’
The group—Shim Ji-young, Jung Se-yeon, their two managers, and Si-woo—headed to a quiet restaurant near the theater. After ordering, Shim Ji-young dove straight in.
“So, did you make up with her or not?”
“What’s that about, unnie?”
Jung Se-yeon asked, clueless but curious, her manager equally intrigued.
Si-woo sighed.
“Guess I’ll start from the beginning…”
He recounted the entire saga with Kim Ji-hyun.
“So? Did you make up?” Se-yeon pressed eagerly.
Recalling the day of her apology, Si-woo began.
***
A few days earlier, after Kim Ji-hyun’s apology, Si-woo had wrestled with his thoughts. Objectively, he had no reason to tolerate her behavior. They weren’t lovers, and this was the real world—youth or inexperience didn’t excuse mistakes. She had to own her actions.
He could understand her feeling left out, but her way of expressing it was wrong. While not malicious, her actions strained their relationship. Yet, cutting her off entirely felt too harsh. In the brutal acting world, having someone to lean on was valuable, even if he didn’t need to be that person. He figured she’d naturally drift away if someone better came along.
Since she showed no hostility, keeping things amicable could be strategic—a favor owed for the unpredictable future. She’d get her reconciliation, and he’d have a safety net.
So, his solution was clear.
“Ji-hyun-ssi, do you want to stay on good terms with me?”
“Yes… yes,” she nodded.
“Even if I don’t cast you in my projects anymore?”
The goal was to keep work out of it. They’d inevitably cross paths in the industry, but he’d minimize entanglement. If her interest was purely in his scripts, she’d cling or refuse, but surprisingly, she agreed readily.
“Okay. But… can I call you if I’m struggling?”
“Sure, I guess,” he said.
“What about when I’m stuck with acting?”
“No way.” he shot down firmly.
“Okay…” she accepted.
She tested the boundaries of their relationship, and he drew a hard line against work-related matters. Still, Ji-hyun seemed content to restore some connection.
With the talk done, they stood.
“I’ll head out. You get home safe, Writer-nim.” she said.
“You too, Ji-hyun-ssi.”
Their relationship was redefined.
***
Back at the restaurant, Shim Ji-young, her manager, Jung Se-yeon, and her manager exchanged cryptic looks after hearing the story.
“What? Did I mess up? I thought I handled it maturely,” Si-woo said, confused.
The four shared glances.
“Seems about right.” Shim Ji-young said.
“Probably,” her manager agreed.
“I’m getting the vibe too,” Se-yeon added.
“What vibe? Tell me!”
Si-woo demanded, feeling left out.
“Hmm… should we tell him?”
Shim Ji-young teased, her eyes gleaming like she’d found a juicy plot twist.
“Kim Ji-hyun’s got a thing for you.”
“What? No way,” he scoffed.
“She’s fine with no roles in your work but still wants to stay in touch. Why else?” she pressed.
“Well…” Si-woo faltered.
His phone buzzed, cutting him off. “Hold on.”
Checking it, he saw a message from, of all people, Kim Ji-hyun: [Writer-nim, eaten lunch yet? I had katsu.] Attached was a selfie.
“Oh? Is that Ji-hyun?” Shim Ji-young teased.
“No… it’s not,” he said, hiding his phone.
“Hiding it? It’s her, isn’t it? Show us!” Se-yeon chimed in.
“It’s nothing,” he insisted.
“Tch, stingy. Anyway, handle it and let us know if there’s good news.” Shim Ji-young said.
“Let’s eat,” Si-woo redirected.
As the food arrived, he quickly replied: [About to eat now.]
His head spun. ‘Does Ji-hyun really like me? Why? We only met at shoots and dinners. No way, right?’
Shim Ji-young’s words muddled his already settled thoughts. The conversation shifted back to the movie.
“So, you haven’t signed with anyone yet?” Shim Ji-young asked.
“Nope. W Studio reached out, but I turned them down. Still thinking about my next project,” Kim Si-woo replied.
“Cool. You free today? How about signing with our agency?” she proposed directly.
Si-woo’s expression turned indifferent, clearly unimpressed.
“What? Is our agency not good enough?” she teased.
“No, it’s just… being tied down feels like a hassle,” he said.
“Come on, let’s at least talk it over lightly. We can grab cool drinks and desserts.”
She pressed, more serious than he expected.
“Alright, fine,” he relented.
He assumed she’d already mentioned his attendance at the technical preview to her agency, preparing to pitch him to her CEO. With Don’t Forget’s promotion looming, she likely wanted to secure him before competition spiked post-release.
After the meal, Jung Se-yeon left for a schedule, and Si-woo and Shim Ji-young headed to Triple Actors. While Ji-young stepped away to the restroom, Si-woo waited outside and heard an unpleasant, familiar voice.
“Hey, you!” someone shouted.
He turned to see Park Sung-ah pointing aggressively at him. “The criminal?”
“Sigh…” Si-woo groaned.
“You said you’re an actress, and now you’re here…” he muttered.
“How’d you get in? Sneaking around? Last time was bad enough, but now… what, you’re not stalking Ji-hyun unnie, but me?” she accused.
Her relentless criminal treatment sent Si-woo’s stress levels soaring.
“I’m not a stalker. Just leave,” he said curtly.
“This isn’t a place for people like you! Security! There’s a suspicious person here!” Park Sung-ah yelled.
Her shout drew the attention of actors and staff. Security guards rushed over. Some actors vaguely recognized Si-woo from the ‘Don’t Forget’ audition but stayed silent, wary of getting involved in a potential mess.
“Actress Park Sung-ah, what’s the issue?” a guard asked.
“This guy’s super suspicious! Probably a stalker!” she insisted.
“I’m not a stalker. She’s got it wrong,” Si-woo countered.
To the guards, a known agency actress trumped an unfamiliar face like Si-woo.
“Sir, do you have a pass?” one asked.
“No,” Si-woo admitted.
“Then how’d you get in?”
“I came with someone I know.”
“Who?”
They pressed, seeing no one else around, their suspicion growing.
As they moved to search him, Shim Ji-young emerged from the restroom, touching up her makeup. Noticing the commotion and spotting Si-woo at its center, she hurried over.
“What’s going on? Si-woo, what trouble did you cause?”
“Ask her.”
He said, nodding toward Park Sung-ah.
The guards paused, seeing Ji-young’s familiarity with him, and turned to Sung-ah.
“So, what’s the deal? He’s my guest.” Ji-young said.
“Oh… he’s your guest, Ms. Shim. She said he was a stalker, and he had no pass, so we were checking,” a guard explained.
“I vouch for him. Can you leave us? The attention’s uncomfortable,” she said firmly.
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”
The guards apologized, bowing and retreating.
Ji-young turned to Si-woo.
“Sorry, you came all this way and got hassled.”
“It’s fine. Not your fault, not theirs either. I don’t have a pass. Guess today’s just not my day.”
He said, glaring at Park Sung-ah.
He excused Ji-young and the guards but pointedly left out Sung-ah. Her first impression was awful, and this second encounter was worse. He’d already marked her as an enemy. Unlike Ji-hyun, whose initial kindness earned her a chance at forgiveness, Sung-ah had no such leeway.
“Si-woo,” Ji-young called.
“Sorry,”
He said, uninterested in contracts or talks. Stressed and annoyed, he just wanted to rest at home.
As he turned to leave Triple Actors, Ji-young felt a rare surge of anger. The film was a success, and things with Si-woo had been good. If ‘Don’t Forget’ surpassed 10 million viewers, he’d be the writer of two consecutive blockbusters. She might be close to him now, but that wasn’t guaranteed forever. Even if a contract didn’t happen today, securing priority for future projects was crucial. But a rookie actress had ruined it.
“Sigh… today was supposed to be perfect, and it’s all messed up. Si-woo barely leaves his house.” she muttered.
Approaching Park Sung-ah, who stood dazed, Ji-young’s voice was icy. “You?”
“Y-Yes?” Sung-ah stammered.
“You called him a stalker?”
“Yes…” she admitted.
Sweating under Ji-young’s furious gaze, Sung-ah braced herself. “What’s your name?”
“Park Sung-ah, sunbae-nim.”
“Alright, Sung-ah. Let’s have a talk.”