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Early October.

The day of the press conference for Traitor: Seeds of Corruption, set to kick off its promotional campaign.

Journalists were already stunned by the sheer number of attendees.

“Looks like every entertainment and media journalist in the industry is here.”

“I know, right? Must be because the entire cast is famous.”

“I mean, it’s Director Yoon Seongbin. He did War with the Mob, remember?”

“With this kind of director and cast, it’s no wonder it’s getting so much attention.”

Reporters exchanged comments and opinions, but the hottest topic was none other than the rising star—

“That, and it’s because of Kim Donghu. Did you see that article?”

“Oh... The Noble Gourmet? Yeah, I saw it. How did he even end up on that show?”

They were talking about Kim Donghu.

“Focus on the fact that he was invited, idiot. What kind of journalist are you?”

“....”

“He went to Japan for dubbing, starred on The Noble Gourmet, and now he’s the model for Spicy Fire Noodles...”

A single one of those events would’ve been newsworthy enough,

but to have three explosive headlines back-to-back?

No wonder people couldn’t stop talking about him.

“If this wasn’t a press conference, I’d have a million questions to ask.”

“I know, right? Such a shame.”

“Well... I’ll just have to sneak a question in somehow.”

Gil Gildong, a senior reporter from Daily Happy, who had been following Donghu since his High Dream! days, shrugged.

“But man, look at all the vultures circling.”

“Vultures?”

His junior tilted his head as Gildong scanned the room.

“There are always people looking to stir up trouble.”

Gildong wasn’t a fan of that kind of journalism.

Sure, speculation had its place, but it needed at least a shred of evidence.

Some reporters didn’t care—they’d just write sensational headlines to grab attention.

“Don’t become like them, alright?”

“But would that even happen here? I mean, what is there to dig up?”

The younger reporter looked genuinely confused.

After all, what kind of scandal could possibly come out of a press conference?

“Are you kidding? There’s one thing we’re all thinking but keeping our mouths shut about.”

“Oh... Oh! That? But no way anyone’s going to actually bring that up, right?”

“Yeah? You’d think so? Not if they have any decency.”

But contrary to their expectations—

The press conference began, and when it was time for questions—

“The action scenes in the trailer—are they real?”

“We heard you didn’t use a stunt double. Is that a lie?”

Two insane questions were thrown out one after the other.

‘Is that a lie?’ What kind of tone is that?!

Even the other journalists were shocked at how aggressive the questions were.

And the target of those questions? Kim Donghu.

You’re asking this kind of stuff to a kid who doesn’t even have his ID yet?

‘Are they out of their minds? Completely insane?’

It was Dicepatch, a tabloid notorious for celebrity scandals and exclusive scoops.

Sure, they’d been growing rapidly with their boundary-pushing headlines lately—

‘But this is going too far.’

Even by their standards, this was beyond reckless.

And yet—

‘Why does this feel... expected?’

Unlike those around him who were shocked, Kim Donghu calmly took the microphone.

As if he’d been prepared for this.

“Should I show you, then?”

The composed way he delivered his response—

“...Did it just get colder in here, or is it just me?”

“No, it’s not just you.”

—was terrifying.

*****

Running a business often depends on how well the first sale of the day goes.

Likewise, the first question at a press conference sets the tone for everything that follows.

Sharp questions make others feel like they can be just as harsh,

resulting in a cascade of pointed remarks.

Maybe that’s why—

‘What kind of place do they think this is?’

As soon as I heard the question, I was pissed.

Everyone had worked hard to make this event happen for promotional purposes.

And yet, someone was trying to smear it.

They had a knack for crossing the line.

“Donghu, you can just ignore questions like that.”

“Or do you want me to answer instead?”

While I was still thinking, the people around me voiced their concern.

‘I don’t like this.’

One person shouldn’t be able to ruin the entire atmosphere.

I couldn’t let it slide.

“Should I show you, then?”

That’s why I responded like that.

A brief silence.

Curious and skeptical looks wondering how I planned to show them.

I shrugged and picked up a few pens from the table.

“The trailer must’ve been so well-made that it caused this misunderstanding. Haha.”

I lightened the mood briefly—

“Honestly, I’d love to swing a sword right here and give you a live demonstration.”

—but since there were no swords available,

I said I’d make do with a pen and started drawing a target on a piece of paper.

It looked like a standard archery target.

And I placed it at a distance that seemed fairly challenging.

“This is from one of the highlight scenes you’ll see later.”

In the movie, Lee Taesung throws a dagger.

It’s a technique only someone who’s mastered martial arts could pull off.

I was about to recreate it.

It wasn’t hard at all.

“Just like this....”

I lightly bounced on the spot a few times—

Whoosh!

Then, casually spun in midair and threw the pen.

And just like that—

Thud!

The pen stuck dead center in the hastily drawn target.

It was a simple and straightforward demonstration.

Of course, one hit might be chalked up to luck.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

So, I followed up with three more pens, all landing in the center.

And immediately after—

“This is a film made with sincerity. There’s absolutely no deceit in it. Please trust us.”

I spoke with conviction.

It was a stern warning not to tarnish the press conference with pointless doubts.

Even the most tactless person should’ve gotten the message.

“...Thank you.”

The reporter who asked the question quietly sat down without further comment.

To be fair, some might call my response excessive.

They might argue I overreacted to a question that could’ve been brushed aside.

But—

‘This might not end here.’

The more I thought about that reporter’s question,

the more I felt this wouldn’t be the last time such doubts were raised.

‘Actors who perform without stunt doubles are rare.’

As their market value rises, most actors avoid unnecessary risks.

That’s why I wanted to shut this down completely from the start.

‘I need to make it absolutely clear that I’m the real deal.’

That’s why I threw the pens.

“Donghu, uh... all the pens are broken.”

“What?!”

“Looks like our youngest put so much passion into it that we’ll need to buy more pens.”

“Ah, no, that’s not....”

“Relax, I’m joking.”

The mood had lightened significantly after that.

From then on, the questions were calm, focused entirely on promoting the film.

Once the atmosphere settled, they played the highlight reel.

To avoid spoilers for the climax,

they skipped the final showdown between Jo Sunghak and Lee Taesung.

Instead, they showed Lee Taesung’s winter mountain fight scene—

a narrow, snow-covered path where he fought off traitors.

It was a one-sided massacre,

showcasing Lee Taesung’s combat skills and setting expectations for the action sequences.

Normally, people would’ve assumed stunt doubles were used for such scenes.

But maybe because of my flashy pen demonstration—

“Did you train in swordsmanship specifically for this role?”

“I practiced consistently ever since I handled swords as a child actor in a past drama.”

“Self-taught?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Our youngest has this habit of practicing alone. Honestly, my dream is to just hang out with him someday.”

There was no skepticism left in the room.

The flow of praise and promotional questions continued smoothly,

ending with a photo session.

The press conference wrapped up successfully.

“We’re thinking of holding a screening for the public about a week before the release.”

During the afterparty, Director Yoon Seongbin shared his plans.

“Especially after questions like today’s... it feels like we’re past that era now.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, smartphones exist, right? They’re accessible and surprisingly influential.”

While others seemed unsure what he was getting at,

I caught on immediately.

‘Right. It’s the era of YouTube now.’

Traditional media was losing ground,

and individual content creators were gaining more power.

We were right in the middle of that shift.

“Word-of-mouth feels more impactful now. That’s why I want to hold a public screening.”

Critics and journalists still mattered,

but ordinary people were becoming the new voice of influence.

Director Yoon instinctively sensed that shift.

‘He’s sharp.’

It was impressive how quickly he adapted.

‘Now that I think about it, there’s someone else around me with this kind of sense.’

Speak of the devil—

Donghu, pick my next project for me.

A sudden text from Jinwoo-hyung popped up.

Me: Huh?

I’ve got three big offers, but I’m not sure.

Jinwoo-hyung, someone who was usually great at negotiating contracts,

was actually asking for my opinion.

*****

At the same time.

“We’d be idiots if we didn’t write about this.”

“Exactly.”

Reporters were already posting the same scene like they’d coordinated it—

The moment I spun through the air and threw the pens,

hitting the bullseye perfectly.

And then—

Ding!

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A sudden notification popped up.

Traitor: Seeds of Corruption - Rated B, B, C.

The movie had unexpectedly received another rating.

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