Most of the fan-meeting recaps were positive.
≫ What do you mean our king-cute youngest black panther cried
What on earth happened at the fan meeting
└ Ugh, from Iwol’s contact names getting exposed to Giyeon crying because of the fan event ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ I regret not going a million times over—noir heart of jealousy......
≫ The youngest line was literally sobbing, it was so cute and my heart hurt
Funniest bit -> the mid-line trying to hold it in just because they’re “older” even though they’re barely older lolㅠㅠㅠㅠ Hey, you’re babies too—if you want to cry, cry (actually I want to see it)
└ I have to love them so damn much... drown them in affection...
└ The older they are, the less they cry—elders were literal iron walls lol
└ God I want to see the eldest ugly-cry; seeing the youngest cry felt like my chest ripping, but if the elders cry my mouth corners are going to rip from grinning
≫ Reading through fan-meeting recaps
I lost it at the part where Cheonghyeon was crying and suddenly went, “Ha, I should stop... I’m Kim Iwol’s Cutie Pretty Visually...”
└ Seriously, what was Kim Iwol thinking when he saved the members’ names like that
└ No one is more all-in on Spark than Kim Iwol
└ After that dropped, the physical distance between Choi Jeho and Kim Iwol became 100 meters—actually hilarious
≫ Preview of the crying youngest just dropped
Damn this crappy world
└ When will I stop loving tears falling from eyes that look like they only make icicles
└ Wow, he really cried a lot;;;; Are the kids having a rough time lately ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ
└ Spark’s been grinding so hard lately, maybe that’s why... sigh, kids, walk only on happy roads
≫ So when’s the next fan meeting
You did Seoul, now you’ve got to hit Daejeon, Daegu, Busan, Jeju, and even Dokdo
└ Add Seosan, Cheorwon, Gangneung, Cheonan-Asan, Jeonju, Yeosu, Pohang
└ Let’s just fly them around by drone
≫ Idols who say “it’s a 2-hour fan meeting” and then slam 4 hours
Because of that, Sparklers and staff kept trading looks like “when do we run the event cue” lolololol
@@: Should we run it now?
@: Ri... right now?
Right now?! × We did this bit like 300 times—but it was great
└ Ahhhh even imagining it is adorable
≫ Watching Spark after seeing some loser skip his fan meeting to go date makes my chest feel clear
They danced like crazy, sang a million songs, and if there was no MR they sang a cappella
Kind of mom-core handing each of us a shopping bag on the way out, but whatever
└ Whoa, shopping bags? First I’ve heard—what was in them
└ Photocards, and since it’s fall and your throat gets dry they put in little mini humidifiers ㅠㅠ The letters weren’t handwritten but they printed and included all six members’ notes... ㅠㅠㅠㅠ If it had been random I might’ve actually cried
└ Oh and there was pudding lol—Jeho’s older sister was super into pudding lately and bought a ton, then they had to eat nothing but pudding for three days before it expired lol—so Jeho got smug about picking good pudding for his share
└ Oh Choi Jeho, you giant baby-adult anaconda
└ Not a single word there is wrong
There were plenty more reactions full of satisfaction. Thank goodness.
Depending on the MC, the mood on site can change drastically, so not appointing a separate MC seems to have been a good call.
If someone repeatedly mispronounces member names or crosses lines with jokes, fans who carved out precious time can’t fully enjoy the event from that moment on.
Thankfully, with Jeong Seongbin’s much-improved hosting, it worked. He looked a bit worn out the next day, but that’s how everyone grows.
The fan song we uploaded separately to MeTube was a hit, too. Thanks to that, my steps felt light as we headed to the shoot.
After a few loops through the community posts, our van arrived at the site.
“Iwol, we’re here!”
“Yep—let me hop out first!”
Leaving our manager to park, I headed for the office—no, the set.
What kind of ad-lib is waiting for me today?
Back at Hanpyeong Industries, Deputy Nam’s curveballs used to slam into me; on “In My Office,” it’s the ad-libs that keep testing me. I’m stuck in perpetual defense of defense.
“Iwol, early again today!”
“Hello, A.D.”
Actors’ call times are nowhere near crew call. Everyone has different jobs, sure, but it’s not like I’m some big-shot actor arriving right on the dot; if schedule permits, I come early.
Hair and wardrobe are adjusted on site to match the day’s scene and tone.
Since Do Younghwan is “ordinary employee #1,” his hair is either down or a light comma; as a supporting role, his look barely changes, and because I usually arrive first, I finish prep in a flash.
Once I’m ready, my routine begins. Namely—
“Mm. Looks spotless, as always.”
—wiping down Do Younghwan’s desk.
On day one, the director called the actors an hour before the shoot.
The brief: decorate the desks to suit your character.
Judging from the audition too, they place huge weight on character analysis.
Some people hauled in loads of favorite miniatures from their cars; others stuck a bunch of Post-its by the monitor for a “professional” vibe.
One of the leads—the actor playing Ji Seongin—brought a separate desk calendar already packed with notes. I thought, so that’s lead-actor class.
So what did I do?
I cleared everything. Except the books, monitor, keyboard, mouse, and mouse pad.
“What, is Do Younghwan a minimalist?”
As I peeled off the stock index tabs next to the monitor, the staff chimed in one by one.
The director added, “Iwol—if this is a way to stand out, then...”
“Oh, no, that’s not it.”
I opened episode 1 and pointed to a short stage direction I’d underlined in red.
“Who knows what Younghwan is thinking—but that’s the charm.”
A line from Ha Seomyeong.
“I wondered how to make that surface. He’s not antisocial, he’s competent, so where does the odd charm come from?”
“Mm. True.”
“So I referenced this.”
The director checked the printout I’d brought: “The desk of a person who’s ready to quit at any moment.”
I’d brought screenshots of positive comments too, just in case. Hard to see it negatively.
“But Iwol—did you predict I’d ask for desk dressing? When did you prep this?”
Indirect approval. I took back the pages.
“If you hadn’t asked, I was going to propose it.”
“Now that’s something.”
And that’s how Younghwan’s desk became all-white and impersonal. And every time I “clock in” here, I wipe it down. Old habits from Hanpyeong.
“A guy this tidy probably has a resignation letter hidden in the drawer, right?”
Ha Seomyeong walked up, teasing.
He sometimes does wild things, but he’s consistently kind to everyone and keeps the vibe good. I try to meet him there.
“It’s a big company, so wouldn’t resignations be e-approval?”
“Haha! True—I pictured you carrying a laminated resignation.”
Then he clapped.
“This exchange is great. How about we tweak it and toss it in as an ad-lib later?”
“‘I didn’t print it—I’ll submit it through e-approval.’ ...Something like that?”
“Exactly, exactly. You’ve got great instincts.”
He gave a thumbs-up. I bowed in thanks. Not sure it’s good that I’ve ended up in his good graces.
For office workers, lunch is worth its weight in gold.
While the gym-rats peeled off for the company fitness center, Seon Guan’s crew walked the riverside with coffees.
“Ugh, isn’t it getting colder by the day?”
One coworker rubbed her arms.
“Thinking about winter coming is awful...”
Another agreed.
Suits are terrible for warmth. Even with thermal layers top and bottom, you can’t beat the knife-wind. Everyone at My Asset Management knows that far too well.
“Still, winter means the big event. You’ve all got 2,000 won cash tucked in your pockets, right?”
Seon Guan rallied the team with a grin.
The fish-shaped pastry stands lined up by the nearest subway station and the takoyaki cart that came by the river on Wednesday nights were such Yeouido-office hot spots, they were on the secretly shared “seasonal seafood” map.
Colleagues who’d benefited all last winter patted their pockets.
“Of course.”
“Naturally.”
There was an unexpected inclusion: Do Younghwan, Seon Guan’s junior—the type you’d expect to say, “Oh, I’m fine with sweets,” and pass on fish-shaped pastries.
He never frowned unless it was for artificial tears, stared at the monitor with a placid face, typed like he barely existed, then went home.
And he’s walking around with pastry money in his pocket?
“Younghwan, you prepared too? Gonna get pastries?”
Seon Guan asked.
Younghwan stared somewhere into the air.
“No. I’m buying a lottery ticket after work.”
“...”
Seon Guan followed his gaze.
A banner across the avenue flapped: “Three first-prize winners.”
Younghwan said, “If you don’t see me next Monday, please don’t look for me.”
The team went speechless for a beat. But his eyes said he was entirely serious.
“Y-Younghwan, even if you quit after you win, don’t ghost us, okay? Please?”
“Hey! Don’t you dare try to mooch the kid’s first lottery win!”
Seon Guan pried the team off him. Younghwan silently followed behind them.
“Cut!”
The director’s short “OK” came down.
I exhaled hard.
How are we putting in this many ad-libs?
My original line ended at “Naturally.” Everything from “I carry 2,000 won for a lottery ticket” on was ad-lib.
Since I’d dressed the desk like a man dreaming of quitting, I had to match tone to answer.
I’d hoped the director would cut if it wasn’t working, but that didn’t happen. Looks like Younghwan will air as your typical “lotto on the way home” office worker.
And I’m getting paired with Ha Seomyeong as a budding comedy duo. My lines have doubled.
Thank you and I’m embarrassed. Please don’t do this to me. I’ll study the script even harder, but still...
While they filmed a scene I wasn’t in, I wore my copy thin in a corner. Someone took the empty chair next to me: Ha Seomyeong.
“First drama—pretty tough, right?”
“No. Everyone’s helping so much, I’m happy to be here.”
“Yeah?”
He smiled.
“I doubt that.”
“I’m sincere.”
“Really? Impressive. I had a rough time.”
I answered his easy banter with my most sociable smile. I don’t have that many faces I can wear in this situation.
“About the ad-libs—sorry. Reading the script, I felt there weren’t many spots where the lines had pop.”
“I see.”
“How many people watch a drama start to finish these days? Most people do clips or compilations. And those are mostly from the fun bits—good back-and-forth, interesting pairings, tasty dialogue.”
“...”
“From where I sit, Younghwan is perfect for that. Let’s build some fun points.”
“Y-yes!”
He had me shouting “fighting” right along with him. He gives off the energy of a straight-arrow, forward-driving boss.
Feeling the urge to flee, I glanced around for anything I could help with.
He watched me and laughed.
“Exactly what Euni said.”
I couldn’t place who “Euni” was for a second.
Then someone came to mind: Coach Oh Eun, UA’s vocal trainer.
“You know our coach?”
“Know her? We were on the same team.”
I’d learned by chance as a trainee that Coach Oh Eun was from a girl group that hadn’t made it. I’d heard they disbanded, but I had no idea he’d been on that team.
Which means he also walked the hard road from idol to actor. And on a level nowhere comparable to my bit-part dabbling.
But he didn’t show any of that. His eyes only held positive energy.
“She doesn’t talk people up often, but she said one kid who’s really polite and works hard would be coming. Asked me to take care of you if you suited me.”
“Asking someone to ‘take care if they suit you’—that’s exactly our coach.”
“She’s a little exacting. Anyway, I watched you after she told me—and what do you know, just like she said.”
He handed me a drink—a fruit juice that was over 4,000 won for not even that much.
“I once told Euni to go solo. Said she totally could, so what’s fun about teaching kids?”
She really can sing. The ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) fact that she still has things to teach even to beyond-idol-level singers like Jeong Seongbin and Park Juu means there’s no area she can’t coach.
“But lately I think I get it. She’s a trainer at a small company, I’m a still-settling actor in the middle... but.”
Let’s do well. He offered his hand.
I bowed and took it, saying I’d count on him.
Even on a set where I felt alone, someone was looking out for me. That meant a lot.
“Oh, and UA’s going to get a proposal soon. Not sure if it’ll be a direct pick.”
“What kind of proposal?”
He winked.
“An OST request.”
(To be continued)
