The car hummed quietly beneath us, cutting through the dark, late-night air. I watched as the streetlights painted streaks of light across the windshield, my heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and dread.
"People say Director Park does such a good job of fleshing out a story that any actor who gets cast in his movies are set for the rest of their career," I said, trying to distract myself from the conversation we'd been circling. "There are rumors that the lead role in his latest movie is a Best Actress award on a platter."
I glanced at Ajin. He was on his phone, the soft light illuminating his profile. "I bet everyone is dying to snatch that role up," I finished.
Ajin looked up from his call, his voice even. "Do you want to be cast in Director Park's movie too?"
"Of course I do," I admitted. "Some actors already have their hands on the script and are raving about it. I think he's going to open up the roles for auditions soon…"
Ajin nodded, a calculating look in his eyes. He lowered his voice back to the phone. "Director Park would definitely show up at the funeral. He's the last director who worked with Inkang. Plus, the funeral home is close to his house." He paused, then looked at me, a sharp edge in his tone. "You think so too, right? This would be the perfect opportunity to get in touch with him."
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. The funeral home. That was where he wanted to send me.
"You know what you're doing, so I'm not too worried about that..." I mumbled. "But circling back to what you said before, are you sure you want me to approach Rena?"
Ajin gave me a quick, dismissive look. "Oh, that. Don't overthink it. It's not that hard, right? It's not as if this is your first time doing this either."
"Ajin, Rena is a celebrity," I argued, the anxiety rising in my chest. "How are you so sure that I'll be able to run into her in person, and that your plan will work?"
"That's why I'm saying the funeral home is the perfect opportunity," he insisted, his voice hardening with finality. "There's no better place to approach her than there. Also, I know a bit about the type of guys Rena likes, and you're it."
My palms were sweating against the steering wheel. "I don't have a good feeling about this. This feels dangerous." I looked over at him, the memory of a past mistake suddenly vivid. "You don't want a repeat of what happened before, right? Junseo, I've kept quiet for an entire year because I wanted to try it your way. No matter what Rena did to me, I never lifted a finger against her. But look at the results. Nothing has changed."
"I'm just looking for a way to find her weakness and shut her up," Ajin countered, his voice chillingly calm. His hand clenched on the center console. "Otherwise, I'm not planning on touching a hair on her body. So I need you to work with me... and do as you're told."
I was silent, staring out into the night. My only thought was the cold reality of his manipulation.
Ajin saw my hesitation and added, "I'm just trying to protect myself."
The Meeting
The funeral home was hushed, the air thick with the scent of lilies and incense. I felt like a trespasser in my own shoes. I was wandering through the quiet corridors, looking for any sign of her, when I finally saw her.
Rena.
She was walking down a secluded hallway, dressed in black, her expression unreadable. I started toward her, trying to look both natural and respectful.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp kick. Before I could even register the pain, I was on the floor. I looked up, and a woman with short blonde hair and a black dress was sitting on the ground, a spool of thread or wire lying beside her where I had tripped over it.
"I-I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" I stammered, scrambling to get back on my feet, all my planning forgotten in the chaos of the moment.
I was outside the main funeral hall when I finally saw him. Director Park, standing alone and smoking a cigarette in the chilly night air. I approached cautiously.
"Have you eaten yet, Director Park?" I asked, trying to sound casual and respectful.
He turned, his eyes scrutinizing me. "Oh, Ms. Baek..." he said, a flicker of surprise in his voice. "What are you doing out here? It's very cold."
"I'm just on my way to an emergency clinic to grab some medicine because I have a bit of a fever," I lied easily, offering a bright, though clearly strained, smile. "It's nothing serious, though."
He took a drag from his cigarette. "Now that you mention it, your face does look a bit red. You should take better care of yourself. Your health can impact your career." His words were a strange blend of concern and professional warning. The smoke sizzled faintly as he dropped the cigarette and stepped on it.
I seized the opening. "Are you working on anything these days, Ms. Baek?" he asked.
"I've been performing in a three-act play," I replied, a genuine note of melancholy entering my voice. "We're wrapping in two weeks and I'm already sad about it!"
Director Park paused, adjusting his glasses. "Ah, a play. They're enthralling, aren't they? They're like movies in a way." His mind seemed to be turning over an idea. "She would be perfect, but..." he trailed off, looking directly at me, as if testing my reaction.
I quickly pressed the advantage, steering the topic toward his new project. "Oh, I heard you're working on a new movie. Will you tell me what it's about? I'm so curious!"
He gave a small, enigmatic smile. "Do you like quizzes, Ms. Baek? I'd love to quiz you on something before I tell you about my movie."
"Sure, go ahead," I agreed, my heart starting to pound. This wasn't just small talk; this was my audition.
"Okay, then," he said, settling into the storytelling, his voice taking on the distinct tone of a director setting a scene. "A pair of young couples go on a two-day long yacht trip."
He pulled out a graphic, as if illustrating a screenplay. "First, we have A and B are lovers..."
My eyes darted over the diagram. "A lent B a large amount of money, but because B's business is having a hard time, there's no saying if he will ever be able to repay her. B was stressed enough that he couldn't sleep without taking a sleeping pill every night."
He moved to the next segment. "B and D have been friends for ten years... and B was having an affair with D's girlfriend, C."
The tension in the story was palpable, the relationships twisted in a knot of money, friendship, and betrayal.
"C was engaged to be married to D and tried to break things off with B..."
Director Park let the dramatic cliffhanger hang in the air, his eyes challenging me to react, to understand the raw, ugly human emotion behind the puzzle. He wasn't just looking for an actress; he was looking for someone who could embody the darkness of this story.
The image of me on the ground, having been tripped by the blonde woman, flashed through my mind. Rena's face, or rather the absence of a proper confrontation with her, felt like a failure, but this conversation with Director Park—this quiz—felt like the real test.
"C was engaged to be married to D and tried to break things off with B," Director Park continued, his eyes watching my every facial twitch. "But B told C that he had a sex tape of them to blackmail her and forcibly kept the relationship going. That's when A and D find out what had been happening when they accidentally overhear B and C arguing on the yacht."
I imagined the scene: the small confines of the luxury boat, the exposed secrets, the raw, brutal emotions.
"Enraged, D punched B, but gets stopped by A and C." Director Park paused dramatically. "The next morning, everyone woke up except B."
He presented the final, grim details. "It almost looked like B had died in his sleep. The cause of death was ruled 'traumatic asphyxiation.' Someone placed a pillow over his face and slowly suffocated him."
Director Park leaned in, his voice low and intense. "Now, here's the million dollar question. There was no CCTV on that yacht. Who could have killed B, out of A, C, and D?"
I took a breath, letting the details sink in. The quiz wasn't about finding the most likely killer; it was about demonstrating my understanding of motive and criminal psychology. This was what he was auditioning me for.
"Hmm..." I started, my mind racing. "First... I don't think it was C."
"Why not?" Director Park prompted, a small, encouraging smirk playing on his lips.
"C was the victim of blackmail," I reasoned. "C would have wanted to find and delete the sex tape, more than to kill B. As long as she could erase the sex tape, C would have no reason to kill B."
I thought about the risk versus the reward. A murder leaves no room for escape, but securing the tape might. "Even if C wanted to kill B out of sheer rage... if I were C, I would have secretly killed B at another time and place." I looked him straight in the eye. "Killing him on the yacht, right after the argument, while A and D know everything and are right there... that's too sloppy for someone trying to protect their reputation."
Director Park settled back slightly, his expression softening. "That makes sense. Please continue."
I knew I was right about C, which meant the killer had to be A or D.
A was B's girlfriend, who was owed a large sum of money. A murder would eliminate the debt, but it would also eliminate any chance of repayment, assuming B was not insured or the loan was unrecoverable anyway. Her motive was complicated: love betrayed, money lost.
D was B's friend, whose fiancée B had slept with and then blackmailed. D's rage was pure, simple, and explosive, proven by the punch.
But the manner of death... Suffocation with a pillow while the victim was sleeping. This suggests a silent, intimate, and stealthy killing.
Who was best positioned to act stealthily while B was sleeping, and who had the most to lose from B being alive, besides just rage?
I focused on A. She was B's lover. They shared a bed, or at least adjacent sleeping quarters. She was physically closest to him, giving her the opportunity. Her relationship was already dead. The money was likely gone. If B was still alive, she'd be tied to a man who had not only cheated but was a financial ruin and a blackmailer of her friends' fiancée. Killing him was the ultimate breakup, a way to cut all ties to the toxic situation, even if it meant giving up on the debt.
A's motive was a calculated, cold decision to preserve her future and peace of mind, disguised as a crime of passion.
"The killer was A," I stated with conviction. "The murder was committed by suffocating B with a pillow while he slept. The lack of noise or a struggle points to someone B would naturally share space with, like his lover, A."
I leaned forward slightly, matching his dramatic tone. "Her primary motive was not just the debt, though that was part of the pressure. It was the emotional betrayal and the total collapse of their life together. With the whole situation exposed, A realized B wasn't just a poor businessman, but a morally bankrupt blackmailer who had ruined the lives of her friends, C and D, as well as her own. She killed him to end the nightmare and sever all ties to the disaster he had become."
I let the answer hang in the air, watching Director Park. This wasn't just my answer; it was the psychological arc of my potential character.
"That makes sense," Director Park conceded after I eliminated C, the blackmailed fiancée. "Please continue."
I focused on the next suspect, D, the betrayed friend and fiancé. "I don't think it was D either."
Director Park raised an eyebrow, prompting me to elaborate.
"B was slowly suffocated in his sleep, right? That doesn't seem like the actions of an enraged boyfriend," I argued. "How could someone who was angry enough to get into a fist fight just hours earlier kill B in such a calm, unemotional way? D's rage was explosive. If he had killed B, he would have likely done it impulsively, during the fight, or in some violent, immediate fashion. Suffocation with a pillow while B sleeps is too calculated, too stealthy for D's temperament."
I looked out into the darkness, imagining D's frustration. "Plus, D would have known that he'd become the primary suspect if B were to die on that yacht, especially right after their public fight."
Director Park mulled over my reasoning, the gears turning behind his glasses. "Does that mean you believe B's girlfriend, A, is the killer?"
"Yes, I believe so," I affirmed without hesitation.
He immediately presented the counter-argument. "But A doesn't really seem to have a motive. If she killed B, she wouldn't get any of her money back either. She's his lover and a creditor, not just an angry victim."
I smiled faintly, sensing the director was testing the depth of my character analysis. "That was true when A didn't know about the sex tape."
I explained my final, critical realization. "A's motive changed the moment she found out B was not just an unfaithful partner and a financial risk, but a blackmailer. By exposing the truth, B didn't just ruin his own life; he destroyed her friends' relationship and her chance for a peaceful future. The money was already gone, lost to his failing business. Her final calculation wasn't about the debt—it was about cutting the cancer out of her life. Killing him in their shared quarters, silently, while he was vulnerable from his sleeping pills, was the only way for A to ensure B would never hurt anyone else, especially not her friends, and finally grant herself peace."
I finished my explanation, my gaze fixed on his. This was the dark, complex truth he was looking for—a killer whose motive stemmed from a devastating combination of love, money, and emotional trauma, leading to an act of cold, calculated protection.
Director Park was silent for a long moment, simply observing me.
I held Director Park's gaze, waiting for his judgment. I had laid out the psychological justification for A's murder of B, arguing that she saw it as a desperate act of self-preservation from a toxic, financially ruinous relationship.
"Most people think that C or D is the killer," he finally admitted, his tone thoughtful. "Perhaps because it's easier to think in their shoes—C, with the blackmail, or D, with the rage." He gave a slight, satisfied nod. "But you're the first person to say A is the killer."
My breath hitched. The quiz was over.
"I'll reach out to Longstar," he said, naming the major entertainment agency. "Please come by to audition for A's part... though it'll be little more than a formality at this point."
I stared, the full reality of what just happened crashing over me. "That was the plot of your movie, not a quiz...!" I exclaimed, half-gasping. The entire conversation, the intricate murder scenario—it was the screenplay for the role everyone in the industry was fighting for.
He smiled, a genuine, delighted smile that softened his sharp features. "You'll have to practice acting now more than ever. As you've probably heard, Ms. Baek, I don't go easy." He didn't need to say more. I had just passed the only audition that mattered. The coveted role was practically mine.
The Other Failure
Later, I was back in the car, basking in the shock and thrill of my success, when my phone rang. It was my contact, Junseo, the one who had sent me to the funeral home with the "perfect opportunity."
"So you didn't even get a photo?" Junseo's voice crackled over the line, flat with disbelief.
I was lying down on my bed, still in the dark outfit from the funeral, utterly spent. "What photo?! I didn't even get the chance to go in and take my shoes off!" I practically shouted, throwing my arm dramatically over my forehead. I thought back to the moment the blonde woman had tripped me, the thread scattered across the floor. My mission to get close to Rena had been an instant, total bust.
I was exhausted, my fever hadn't gone away, and I was deeply frustrated by the failure that had preceded my triumph with Director Park. The contrast was jarring.
"Ugh, you know what? It's my fault for expecting you to do anything right," Junseo snapped, cutting me down.
The insult stung, but I didn't have the energy to fight him. I knew I needed his help, despite his manipulative nature. The conversation from the previous night replayed in my head:
"I don't have a good feeling about this. This feels dangerous," I had said, my voice heavy with doubt. "You don't want a repeat of what happened before, right? Junseo, I've kept quiet for an entire year because I wanted to try it your way. No matter what Rena did to me, I never lifted a finger against her. But look at the results. Nothing has changed."
"I'm just looking for a way to find her weakness and shut her up," he'd insisted, his voice hardening with finality. "Otherwise, I'm not planning on touching a hair on her body. So I need you to work with me... and do as you're told. I'm just trying to protect myself."
He was so convinced that Rena liked my "type," that I was the key to his plan. Yet here I was, flat on my back, having achieved the career-making goal he'd pushed me toward, but having failed the real mission he'd assigned me.
I closed my eyes. I had the role of a lifetime, but I was still tangled in the dangerous web Junseo was spinning around Rena.
I was still reeling from the successful, albeit unorthodox, audition with Director Park when Junseo's voice broke the silence of my apartment. His earlier anger had subsided, replaced by a cold calculation.
"Ugh, you know what? It's my fault for expecting you to do anything right," he had sneered when I reported my failure to get closer to Rena at the funeral home. He was always trying to protect himself, and my failure only increased his sense of urgency.
But then, the situation took a bizarre turn.
On my phone, I saw a text exchange from Junseo—but not to me. It was to a celebrity, Rena.
This is Junseo Yun. I'm sorry about earlier.
I stared at the screen, suddenly remembering the chaotic scene at the funeral home: me tripping over a spool of thread, apologizing to the blonde woman on the floor.
That blonde woman was Rena. And the guy she bumped into... was Junseo himself.
He's the guy I bumped into at the funeral home... Rena's thought bubble read over a picture of her looking down at the text message. I gave him my number because he was totally my type...
I'd like to at least pay to have your dress professionally cleaned, or replaced. Junseo's text continued.
It's fine! Just pay for the dry cleaning. I'll text you my bank account information. Rena replied, then added a telling, internal thought: That dress I was wearing is super expensive. But I'm only letting it go because you said you're a fan of mine.
The text messages shifted to a phone call. Rena answered with a self-important, "Ahem, ahem! Yes, this is Rena speaking."
Junseo's voice, which I heard because he was on speakerphone, was smooth, apologetic, and utterly fake. "Hi, Rena. This is Junseo Yun. How can I make this up to you? Could we meet up by any chance?"
Rena instantly softened. "Oh, I-it's fine. I told you I'm letting it go." Her tone quickly turned flirtatious. "His voice is even nicer than Inkang's..." she thought, referring to the deceased actor.
"Well, the dress is also an excuse for me to see you again," Junseo cooed. "I was hoping I could get your autograph. I told all my friends that I was going to ask you for your autograph... Will you give me a chance to ask you for one in person?"
Junseo, the man who had ordered me to go to the funeral home and approach Rena, had somehow managed to get her number and arrange a meeting himself, simply by bumping into her.
The chilling irony wasn't lost on me. He had deemed me the perfect tool, the guy Rena would like, only to end up replacing me with himself—or maybe he'd found a more direct way to execute the plan he initially gave me.
"Well, I guess I could give you an autograph as long as my manager doesn't find out..." Rena replied, completely smitten. "Then... when is the best time for you?"
The image of Junseo, leaning on his car in the dark, his expression a mixture of triumph and cold intent, told me everything I needed to know. The initial plan—"I'm just looking for a way to find her weakness and shut her up"—was now in motion, and Junseo was leading the charge.
A new phone call came through on Rena's end, interrupting her conversation with Junseo. She answered quickly, her mood shifting to petty fury.
"HA!! That's rich, coming from you. You're the person who fell prey to Ajin and made a deal with a devil!" Rena sneered into the phone.
The recipient of her venom wasn't me, but another actress.
"Fall prey? You just wait and see--" Rena started, then her voice immediately became saccharine. "Oh, hello! You're Seonghee Shim, right?"
The venom Rena spat at the other actress, Seonghee Shim, was a stark reminder of the cutthroat industry I was trying to climb. Now, not only did I have my own past secrets with Junseo to contend with, but I was caught between his dangerous new plot with Rena and the high expectations of Director Park.
The movie role of A (the calculating killer) is now a formality, but Junseo is moving fast with his plot against Rena.
Which story thread should I focus on next?
The New Plot: Focus on Junseo's direct meeting with Rena and what he plans to do to "find her weakness."
The Preparation: Focus on my own headspace, my feelings about the A character, and my immediate path to movie stardom.
I was still processing the whirlwind of getting the lead role in Director Park's movie—the role of A, the calculated killer—when the reality of Junseo's actions hit me. I had failed to get a photo or even approach Rena at the funeral home, only for Junseo to bump into her, get her number, and set up a date under the guise of paying for a dress.
He had insisted he needed me to "work with him" and "do as I was told" to find Rena's weakness and shut her up, all because he was trying to protect himself. Now, he was moving ahead without me.
I picked up the phone, my voice tight with a mixture of fear and irritation. "Junseo, what are you doing?"
"I'm in the emergency room in Y Hospital," he replied abruptly.
My concern flared instantly. "Y Hospital...? Are you hurt? Is that why you haven't been picking up?".
"It's not me, it's my—" He trailed off. He looked perfectly fine in the last picture Rena had sent me; now he was in a hospital.
Before I could press him, my fever-induced fatigue caught up. My head was pounding, and my eye felt bruised from my own exhaustion and stress. "Sorry, some things came up. Why'd you call?" I managed, lying down. "I'm feverish, and I think I'm sick. My head hurts so bad that I can't even drive".
"Well, you look just fine to me," he said, and I realized he wasn't talking to me. Jaeeo, my other contact, was in the hospital room with him.
"Hey... Why haven't you been picking up all day? What happened?" Jaeeo's voice cut in.
I heard Junseo's familiar manipulative sigh. "Ajin... I'm trying to protect myself," he repeated the mantra, his voice low enough to hide from Jaeeo.
I hung up, the conversation spiraling into more questions than answers. Junseo was clearly using the hospital visit as a pretense for his plan with Rena, or perhaps a sudden distraction had actually happened.
Echoes of the Past
As I lay in bed, the phone call with Junseo only intensified my anxiety about Rena. I remembered my argument with him the day before, before my failed mission at the funeral home:
"I don't have a good feeling about this. This feels dangerous," I'd warned him. "You don't want a repeat of what happened before, right? Junseo, I've kept quiet for an entire year because I wanted to try it your way. No matter what Rena did to me, I never lifted a finger against her. But look at the results. Nothing has changed".
His unwavering response was always the same: "I'm just looking for a way to find her weakness and shut her up. Otherwise, I'm not planning on touching a hair on her body".
Now, seeing him take matters into his own hands, I couldn't shake the feeling that his actions were leading us down a path far more dangerous than anything he'd asked me to do. It was all about Rena and her power to expose him.
I thought of the article I'd seen about Rena's drama with the other actress: "You're the person who fell prey to Ajin and made a deal with a devil!". And a high school friend of mine, Seonghee Shim, had apparently given a journalist information about "Ajin and the other two" on an internet forum. My past, a history that Junseo and Rena were both caught up in, was starting to unravel in the press.
I had earned my big break, but the drama of my real life threatened to overshadow it all.