I left the house and headed toward the still-unfamiliar WH Entertainment building.
The moment I stepped inside, my phone rang at a ridiculous, perfect timing—caller ID: “Manager.”
Just like the very beginning of Nameless Idol Tycoon.
This had to be another opening setup for Nameless Actor Tycoon.
“Oh my, if it isn’t our rising star?! Why’ve you been so impossible to reach~!”
When I said I was in the lobby, a familiar face came rushing toward me.
It was the very same manager who’d originally handled The Dawn.
“...Ah, sorry. I was a little busy.”
“Oh? Really?”
Clearly in a hurry, the manager barely finished greeting me before pushing me along toward the underground parking lot.
“You remember you’re supposed to meet the PD and staff of the new drama today, right? Having lunch together? After that you’ve got practice too.”
“Yeah.”
“Please, please, this time let’s actually practice! If you keep skipping, you’re gonna be in real trouble.”
Seo Hoyun skipping practice?
What a refreshing setup.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go.”
As always, my hand instinctively reached for the blindfold I usually carried, but I suddenly thought wasting time here would be too costly, so I pulled out my phone instead.
I’d skimmed through it back at home too, but apart from a handful of staff contacts, there was nothing saved.
Not Seo Hojin, not The Dawn, not even Lim Hyunsu, Joo Woosung, or Min Jiheon.
“Manager.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have any other celebrities or trainees you’re managing?”
Since he was always tied to me, maybe he was connected to the others in some different way.
“What kind of question is that all of a sudden? I only handle you~.”
So once again, the answer confirmed I was alone.
“...Kim Sunghyun, Jung Dajun, Sung Jiwon, Kang Ichae. You really don’t know them?”
“Huh? Who’s that?”
“Then you know Joo Woosung?”
“Hey, who in our company doesn’t know Joo Woosung?”
I clicked my tongue inwardly and muttered, “Fair enough,” before turning my attention back to my phone.
“But, Hoyun... you know you really, really have to work hard this time, right?”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, let’s be honest—you and I both know it. The company shoved you in next to Min Jiheon. They want to push you since you won Best New Actor at the film festival, but PD Jung is really strict about that kind of thing. Forcing this through was risky, so don’t piss him off. Even during the script reading you were half-assed, and I nearly had a heart attack.”
Well, good. That means the script reading’s already been ticked off.
I let his nagging flow past while I drummed my finger on the armrest.
[Stats Incoming.]
Seo Hoyun
A promising rookie actor at WH Entertainment, expected to shine despite having a terrible personality.
Singing: A+
Dance: A-
Variety: S-
Acting: A-
Charm: S-
???: ???
Luckily—or unluckily—my stats were exactly the same as when I was an idol.
Acting was A-, not bad at all for a rookie.
But online, harsh reviews about me were everywhere.
[Title: Did you see Seo Hoyun got cast in a drama??
I don’t think his acting’s good...
Feels like only young fans like himㅠ.
Is it just me who doesn’t get it?
└His line delivery’s stiff. Emotional flow’s rough^^;;
└He’s just another pretty face. There are tons like him. I’m just watching for Min Jiheon.]
[Title: Seo Hoyun is just...
No presence, no real charm.
I don’t think he can last long as an actorㅠㅠ
└Weirdly lacking presence. His face fits, but...
└└Exactly, this is what they mean by “star quality”? Such a waste~~]
Since everything about idol “Seo Hoyun” had been erased, the drama Bring Me the Camera had never aired here either. Instead, the recognition I’d earned back then had been converted into a “Best New Actor” award.
Judging from people’s reactions, it was obvious how Nameless Actor Tycoon would play out.
Prove your acting, gain recognition. Quests lined up in a neat row.
Suppressing the bitter taste, I picked up the script for Dead after Hope.
[—During the development of a new drug by a pharmaceutical company, test subjects begin mutating one by one. The company quickly quarantines them, but one escapes.
The creature makes it into the city, spreading the mutation to humans, and Seoul descends into hell...]
A post-apocalypse SF drama.
In other words, just another zombie show among countless others.
As we neared the restaurant, the manager grew more and more restless, sneaking glances at me in the rearview mirror.
“Min Jiheon will look after you. We’re under the same roof, after all~.”
That bastard avoided me when I was coughing up blood.
Outwardly vacant but inwardly cold as ice—yeah, right.
“Not really.”
“Ahem.”
The manager coughed. Even he didn’t believe his own words.
Min Jiheon was the lead in Dead after Hope, playing a righteous, humane protagonist.
On the surface, the cast lineup was star-studded, the media praising it as “luxury casting.”
“And your role, Kim Wooho—it may be supporting, but it’s major, with lots of screentime, right?”
Kim Wooho was a former national archery athlete, playing the role of aiding the protagonist.
Given his abilities and occupation, it was the kind of setup that popped up constantly in post-apocalypse works.
Well... with a few quirks.
“On top of that, he’s portrayed as a genius who won two consecutive gold medals. Do you know how rare that is in archery? But you haven’t even practiced, and I’m worried....”
“Manager, are you saying I skipped archery practice and half-assed the script reading too?”
“N-no! I didn’t mean it was that bad!!! Just, it could come off that way~.”
Sweat poured down his face.
So, actor Seo Hoyun had been living like complete trash.
Even until we reached the Chinese restaurant that had been fully reserved, the manager kept hammering in reminders.
When I entered, scratching at my ringing ear, PD Jung, staff, and several actors were already there.
‘Min Jiheon isn’t here.’
“Oh?! Seo Hoyun’s here?”
“Hello.”
“...Well, Hoyun, you made it.”
“Yes.”
The hushed stir in the room was clear.
The word “parachute” had already spread among the Dead after Hope staff.
Actors snickered or shot me hostile looks.
Feigning ignorance, I smiled innocently and sat down.
“Oh, you’re sitting here?”
“Haha, yes. I’d like to get along with my seniors.”
“Didn’t expect Seo Hoyun to come.”
Hostility, wariness, even a bit of pity.
I calmly observed the waste of their emotions.
“Oh, no need to say that.”
Winning shallow favor was child’s play.
Turning the atmosphere upside down would be even easier.
“Of course I had to come when called.”
One meal’s worth of time would be more than enough.
.
.
.
“Hahahaha! How does Seo Hoyun know all that?”
“Oh, you flatter me too much.”
“Why is only this table full of laughter?”
“No, listen—Seo Hoyun just said earlier~.”
I’d only smiled modestly, matching their tone, and the atmosphere had flipped instantly.
Catching sight of PD Jung leaving the restaurant while I was still smiling, I set down my chopsticks and stood up.
“I’ll just step out for a moment.”
“Alright~! Come back soon.”
Near a utility pole outside, PD Jung was smoking with the camera director.
When I greeted them, the camera director—still fired up from a drinking story—welcomed me warmly.
“Seo Hoyun! Came out for a smoke?”
“Haha, no. I don’t smoke.”
“Really?”
Hell no.
I’d have to go back eventually.
Ignoring the nicotine brushing my nose, I struck up conversation with PD Jung.
“By the way, PD-nim, I regretted not talking with you more inside.”
“...Really?”
“Yes, there were a lot of things I wanted to ask. About the drama, too.”
“...Ah.”
“I wanted to hear your thoughts about the image of Kim Wooho.”
“...Alright....”
Taking a deep drag, PD Jung exhaled ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) smoke and spoke.
“That’s strange. You don’t seem like someone without awareness.”
“Pardon?”
“You want to hear my thoughts on Kim Wooho’s image? I don’t like beating around the bush, so I’ll be blunt. You don’t need to try that hard.”
“PD-nim!”
The camera director yelped, shocked.
But PD Jung didn’t care at all.
“The image fitting or not doesn’t matter. You’re a parachute anyway, so there are no expectations. Just phone it in. Acting can be fixed in editing.”
Though it was meant as an insult, laughter threatened to escape me.
‘Not a fit?’
From what I’d read, Kim Wooho seemed like a role crafted specifically for me.
Just like Lee Junghoon from Bring Me the Camera in Nameless Idol Tycoon—uncannily similar to me.
Meaning it’d be an easy role to play.
“Lucky it’s me who dropped in, right?”
No reason to keep my mouth shut here.
“No one can do this role better than me.”
“......”
“......”
PD Jung was silent for a while, then stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and muttered,
“...Confidence, at least, you’ve got.”
Waving his hand loosely, he left.
“I’ll go first. See you on set.”
Quest complete!
‘As an actor, begin preparing for the drama!’
You met with the PD of Dead after Hope and discussed your role.
[Reward: 2,000 points.]
‘That counts?’
Even without a proper role briefing, the quest cleared.
And the points were generous.
The first time I’d received points as an idol, it was only 300.
“...Hoyun, your confidence really is refreshing, hahaha.”
Left awkwardly behind, the camera director fumbled to change the mood.
“Thanks for saying so.”
“I’m shocked. You’re nothing like I expected.”
“Pardon?”
“No, I mean—not in a bad way.”
Tilting my head slightly, I waited. The camera director sighed, blaming his loose tongue, then continued.
“On TV you seemed... well, a bit bland. Not much of a strong impression....”
Come to think of it, I’d seen community posts saying actor “Seo Hoyun” lacked presence.
“...Got sick and came back as a different person?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You used to be vague, but... ah, forget it.”
It was the same kind of thing the Daepaseong CEO had said the first time we met after I became an idol.
I arched an eyebrow.
‘Now this is getting fun.’
It had seemed trivial before, but if it repeated, it was worth paying attention.
After all, this world was perfect for testing things.
“Well, anyway, you’re even better in person!”
Scratching his head sheepishly, the camera director smacked my back.
“Since we’re working together, let’s do it with passion. PD Jung’s not a bad guy. Show some fire and he’ll change his mind quickly.”
“Of course. Thank you for the encouragement.”
“You’re really polite, I like it.”
Grinning, he lit another cigarette and asked,
“By the way, we’re going for round two. Wanna join?”
“Round two already, after lunch?”
“In this job, there’s no day or night. We pulled an all-nighter yesterday prepping the drama.”
He mimed holding a glass, wrist flicking, just as I spotted the manager leaving the restaurant in the background.
I pulled an apologetic face.
“Sorry, I’ll have to join next time.”
“Why? Something up?”
I just answered with a smile.
***
Twang—
The bowstring snapped forward and the arrow arced toward the target.
Thwack!
“...Wh-what?”
It landed just outside the 10-point ring, hitting 9.
At the manager’s desperate request, I’d come to the archery practice range.
I gripped the string again, drew, and released.
Whoosh, thwack!
“Wha... what the hell?”
This time, it pierced dead center.
The manager’s jaw dropped.
“What even are you...?”
I hadn’t touched a bow since filming Victory Is Mine, but my instincts were still sharp.
“H-Hoyun, why are you so good? Were you practicing secretly?”
Nocking another arrow, I replied,
“Now you understand why I skipped practice?”
I told you.
This role was set up perfectly for me.
