The next morning, they walked along the beach with cups of coffee in hand.
They did not say much, but their interlocked fingers and the glances they occasionally exchanged spoke volumes.
It was a bright, cloudless day, and the morning sea was a deep blue.
After returning to Seoul, Seryeon dropped Yoomyeong off at his home in Suwon.
“I’ll contact you first.”
“...”
“Goodbye. Do well on your next project.”
“...Sister.”
“Go quickly. I feel like I might sit back down again.”
“...Eat well.”
“You too.”
Yoomyeong stood there for a while, watching her back until her car disappeared from view.
After that, they occasionally ran into each other at movie premieres and other work-related events, but they never had a personal conversation again. Whenever it was time to part, they would exchange lingering glances for a few seconds, silently encouraging one another.
It was several years later that she contacted him again.
“Lying down again?”
“I’m ambitiously pursuing my life goals!”
Yoomyeong shook his head at his younger sibling’s nonsense and entered his room, followed by Miho.
‘You were in that room again?’
{I like Jiyeon.}
‘You don’t even follow me to filming sets anymore.’
{I need to recover.}
Ever since that deal, Miho had seemed different.
The fox spirit no longer followed him to filming locations even once, and lately it spent most of its time in Jiyeon’s room.
Although Miho claimed Jiyeon’s warm, powerful energy was helping it recover, it also felt as though the fox spirit was avoiding Yoomyeong slightly.
Jiyeon’s room was truly a sight to behold.
After passing her civil service exam and while waiting for her assignment, Jiyeon had declared her freedom and established a new goal in life.
She refused to move an inch from the blanket spread out on the floor, comparing herself to an egg yolk stuck firmly to the ground, and even said she wanted to become like injeolmi (sticky rice cake) stuck to a frying pan while being grilled.
Beside her, Miho lay sprawled out with all four limbs stretched wide.
Every day, Yoomyeong watched the two ‘creatures’ silently competing to see who could spread themselves across the floor more completely. Naturally, Miho remained invisible to Jiyeon because the fox spirit was in a non-materialized state.
{Is it over?}
“Yes.”
Post-recording had already finished, and Director Ki estimated it would take another three months to complete the editing, CG work, and final preparations. Knowing his personality, it might take even longer.
{So what are you going to do now?}
“I have a project in mind... I need to look into it.”
{What genre?}
“Drama.”
{Ohh...}
Miho’s ears perked up as though its interest had suddenly returned.
{Dramas are great. There’s a special thrill to chasing deadlines.}
“Really? What’s so good about being pressed for time?”
{The atmosphere on set becomes much more chaotic and intense. It tastes exhilarating.}
Miho seemed to genuinely enjoy it.
“But the energy you talk about... can you only feed on the energy from acting? Aren’t there other kinds of energy?”
{Since I’m an ‘acting spirit,’ I can only feed on the energy of acting. The type of energy a spirit can consume depends on its spiritual profession.}
“Then besides ‘acting spirits,’ there are other spiritual professions too?”
{Of course. There are sports spirits that feed on the passion of athletes and their audiences. But these days, the most common are probably illicit spirits.}
Ah...
{Those illicit spirits are bad. As the times changed and illicit affairs became more common, many spirits shifted into that profession. But the energy from those things is stimulating and addictive, so it becomes easy to break the laws of the celestial realm and turn into a malicious spirit.}
Yoomyeong looked surprised by the flood of information about another realm.
“Are there really that many spirits?”
{There are fewer than there used to be. In the old days, many spirits patiently gathered gentle energy from nature over long periods in hopes of achieving enlightenment. But now, most are wandering spirits.}
“I can only see you.”
{Unless a spirit forms a contract or a powerful spirit deliberately reveals itself, humans can’t see them. Even in this room right now, there might be an invisible illicit spirit I’ve never noticed before...}
As Yoomyeong looked around in alarm, Miho burst into laughter.
{Just kidding! Why, did that hit a nerve?}
“...”
{Anyway, dedicated professionals like me, who stay committed to one spiritual profession for a long time, are rare.}
Miho puffed itself up proudly.
Seeing the fox spirit wear such an unusually boastful expression, Yoomyeong found it genuinely cute.
As Yoomyeong stroked the spirit fox’s fluffy fur, Miho’s expression softened. The awkward tension lingering between them since that day seemed to ease somewhat.
Then,
Whistle—
{Gah!}
Miho bristled and let out a sharp cry.
Startled, Yoomyeong pulled his hand away.
Miho stared intently into empty space for a moment, its eyes darting left and right, up and down. It looked as though the fox spirit was reading something invisible.
“What’s wrong?”
{I think I’ll have to leave for a while.}
“What happened?”
{I’ve been summoned... to the Celestial Realm.}
Leaving those words behind, Miho hurriedly vanished.
Only the fading afterimage of scattered light remained before Yoomyeong.
It was the peak period for the Oedipus Summer Workshop. As he entered Moebius Hall just as the workshop was wrapping up, familiar faces welcomed him warmly.
“Wow, Shin Yoomyeong! Long time no see!”
“Oh, the cover model for University Tomorrow is here.”
“How did filming go?”
Yoomyeong coolly responded to their greetings.
“I got ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) paid. Drinks are on me tonight.”
“Woah— Big brother!”
Following the logic that whoever paid was the big brother, Suho immediately started calling Yoomyeong ‘Big Brother.’
He was drenched in sweat from practice.
The fact that he was still attending the Oedipus workshop during the summer of his senior year showed remarkable dedication.
“I’ll call the chicken place in front of the school and reserve a group table. I heard they haven’t had many customers because of vacation season, so Auntie will be happy.”
Yu-ri immediately made a reservation at their regular chicken restaurant, showing her proactive personality.
“Aren’t you graduating this year, Yu-ri?”
“Yes, but I find the Oedipus workshop really helpful, so I’m staying until it ends before starting work.”
Considering Yu-ri’s strong personality, her management company was probably having a difficult time. Still, aside from the semester she took off for directing, she had decided to graduate from Cosmos without delaying any further.
Hye-Seon added, unprompted, that because she had taken two years off, she was currently in her seventh semester. She also mentioned that she planned to audition for theater companies in Daehak-ro in the fall.
Before long, they settled into a relatively quiet chicken restaurant.
A group of second-year students, new to the workshop and still full of youthful enthusiasm, greeted them brightly and promised to enjoy the meal. One of them looked at Yoomyeong in amazement and even asked for an autograph, saying they had decided to join after watching Oedipus’ performance the previous autumn.
Soon afterward, Yoomyeong sat at a table with Yu-ri, Suho, and Hye-Seon.
It was the seniors’ table.
“What’s Ryu Shin doing these days?”
“He seemed to be renewing his contract with his old management company while looking for new projects. Haven’t you signed with an agency yet, Yoomyeong?”
“Not yet.”
Come to think of it, he did need an agency.
But there was a problem.
Entertainment agencies existed to generate profit, and because of that, all kinds of restrictions followed. They might oppose projects that weren’t commercially viable, and they might even pressure actors into activities unrelated to acting. Yoomyeong wanted to focus solely on acting... but that might prove difficult.
He had considered continuing independently. However, without enough recognition to bypass the system entirely, that would likely be impossible, especially when it came to obtaining information about upcoming projects and casting schedules.
For now, Yoomyeong set those concerns aside.
“By the way, how did Junho’s performance go?”
He had heard that the script for <Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde> had been selected for a special Comet production. Yoomyeong had wanted to see it... He wondered if it was still running.
“That special Comet production? It was a spring performance, so it ended about a month ago. The reviews were excellent. Thanks to that, Junho’s building a solid career now, and apparently he even received an internship offer from Comet’s writing team.”
Yu-ri answered.
“I see... Everyone’s finding their own path.”
“You should come around more often now that filming’s over. Aren’t you returning to school?”
“I do have plans. I asked senior Yoon Hansung for advice, and he said he’d come by...”
“What? Today?”
Suho looked surprised, apparently hearing this for the first time.
“Yeah. I guess you didn’t know.”
Ding—
A cheerful notification sound rang out.
“He says he’s here now.”
Even behind black sunglasses and a black mask, the charisma of the famous actor could not be concealed.
“Wow... Incredible!”
Seeing Hansung in person for the first time, the newer members reacted with amazement. Hansung greeted them warmly.
“Learn to act properly. Bad habits are hard to fix once you get older.”
Only Yoomyeong, who understood the meaning behind those words, quietly chuckled.
After sitting down and chatting for a while, Hansung suggested they move somewhere more comfortable.
It was a considerate gesture that gave significant weight to Yoomyeong’s ‘discussion.’
As they were about to leave, Hansung offered his card.
“Oh... Today, Yoomyeong said...”
“Thank you for the meal, senior!”
As Yu-ri tried to tell the agreed-upon truth, Yoomyeong loudly interrupted her.
“Why...”
“I’ll come back next week and treat everyone. There’s no reason to refuse when such a successful senior wants to buy us dinner...”
Yoomyeong whispered teasingly to Yu-ri.
“Thank you for the meal! (You should say it too).”
“Senior, thank you!”
Hansung waved with a satisfied smile, and only then did Yu-ri finally realize what Yoomyeong was doing.
“Shall we go somewhere I know?”
“Yes. I’m not familiar with the area, so I’ll rely on you.”
“Okay. Wearing a mask is uncomfortable, so let’s head there quickly.”
They got into Hansung’s car and headed to a hidden bar inside a building.
“Welcome. Please come this way.”
As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, the manager, who had apparently been waiting for them, greeted them politely and guided them through a staff-only entrance into a private room.
The place they arrived at offered a panoramic view of Seoul’s nightscape through a wall made entirely of glass.
“Wow... I had no idea a place like this existed. Is this some kind of secret celebrity meeting spot?”
“It’s nothing special. It’s just a bar with private rooms where well-known people can relax without worrying about public attention. Soon, rookie actors like you will need places like this too.”
So it was less about luxury and more about necessity.
Despite having acted for a long time, Yoomyeong had never really felt burdened by people’s attention, so he looked around curiously.
“I’ll have one bottle of soju, spicy whelk noodles, and fish cake soup.”
Hansung ordered dishes that felt oddly mismatched with the sleek modern interior.
The manager personally took the order, accepted it without surprise, and left.
“They serve food like that here?”
“They’ll bring whatever you ask for. What they’re really charging for is the space.”
It was probably extremely expensive.
“Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve had spicy whelk noodles. This is going to be good.”
Hansung looked genuinely pleased.
“So, what was it you wanted to ask?”
“Uh... Senior, well...”
After exchanging some small talk, they finally got to the main point.
Yoomyeong, who usually spoke bluntly, seemed strangely hesitant. Hansung looked at him curiously.
“It’s about your agency...”
“Oh, are you looking to sign with a management company now that you’re a rookie actor? Do you want me to introduce you somewhere? Any company would welcome you with open arms. My agency isn’t bad, but there are places offering better conditions for newcomers...”
“No, it’s not that... There’s a project I’m interested in, and I was wondering if there’s been any audition notice for it.”
“Hmm? What do you mean? How do you know about a project if auditions haven’t even been announced yet?”
Of course, it was because he had watched the drama.
In his previous life.
