Creak.
"I'm back—"
Completely exhausted, Mu-yeong arrived at BigWin Entertainment. Na Geum-dong was eating a lunchbox with Tae-seok, looking exactly like they had during those long nights of table rehearsals.
"You're back? How was it? Did you do well?"
"Give us the deets. How'd it go?"
Their first words were identical to Go Gyeong-min's earlier.
It was supposed to take six hours, but in reality, it took eight and a half. That was because of frequent breaks out of consideration for Yuna and some of the other senior actors.
"Ugh. It was so tiring."
"Even just sitting and saying lines burns a lot of energy. Still, compared to an overnight shoot, it's nothing. Manager Go, how was he? Did he do well?"
Gyeong-min, who was just as worn out, nodded while taking off his coat.
"I couldn't watch from outside the set, but the vibe was good. The director praised him, the seniors' feedback was solid, and he and Yuna—still getting along like siblings."
"Good, good! You both worked hard."
"But why aren't you heading back to the dorm? Go rest properly in bed."
At Tae-seok's comment, Mu-yeong began unpacking his bag. Along with a few clothes came textbooks and scripts spilling out.
"I think I'll have to go to the site early tomorrow."
Yuna was the only one officially called in early, but it was clear Mu-yeong's schedule would be adjusted too. Na Geum-dong looked at him with teary-eyed emotion.
"You mean you want to practice more?"
"Yes. I got some notes from the director today, so I thought we could go over those. Tomorrow's class is in the afternoon, and my manager said he'll drive me after I sleep here."
"Perfect! I love it! Come, sit here."
Na Geum-dong cheerfully patted the seat beside him. Tae-seok muttered as he watched.
"You really hate going home, huh."
"Hey now! What're you talking about! This is all for the company. No— for Mu-yeong!"
"Sure, sure. Of course."
Who could understand a married man's thoughts?
As Mu-yeong slumped into a seat, the company president reached out his hand.
What does he want? Mu-yeong just stared at his palm, then slowly placed his own hand on it—like a puppy.
"No, kid!"
"That's not it?"
"Your phone!"
"Oh, you should've said so. But why?"
Still, he obediently handed it over.
Na Geum-dong squinted his aging eyes as he checked something.
"Just as I thought. You don't check your SNS messages, do you?"
"I upload photos sometimes."
"Well, a company contacted us saying they sent you a sponsorship DM but never got a reply. They reached out to the agency this afternoon."
Both Mu-yeong and Gyeong-min froze.
…What did he just say? They exchanged incredulous looks.
"A sponsorship? What kind?"
"Which company?"
Mu-yeong was curious about the item; the manager cared about the brand. Na Geum-dong scrolled through a mountain of unread DMs.
"Ever heard of Doctor Martel?"
It was a skincare brand focusing on natural base products. Not many offline stores, but it had decent influence online thanks to aggressive influencer marketing.
"Nope."
Well, of course Mu-yeong wouldn't know.
"Let's see… here it is. 'Hello, Mr. Ha Mu-yeong. I'm the PR representative from Doctor Martel. We saw your feed and would love to collaborate. Your clear and pure image fits our brand…' blah blah… payment: one big bill."
"Ten thousand won?"
"One hundred. A million won."
They wanted him to use the sponsored product, post a photo, and write a short review under 100 characters. They'd even provide sample copy if he wanted. "So? You in?"
Mu-yeong checked the attached images.
Transparent packaging—typical of brands emphasizing natural ingredients.
So Bong-gun was right. You really can make crazy money just by posting one picture!
"The rate's a bit high for a first offer, honestly."
Likely because his engagement per post was good despite modest follower count. Watching his expression, Na Geum-dong asked,
"What's wrong? Something bothering you?"
He expected an immediate yes, but surprisingly, Mu-yeong hesitated.
"No, it's not that."
"You don't look like it's not that."
"It's nice, sure. But it's a little burdensome. Clothes are one thing, but you put this on your skin. Feels like more responsibility."
Putting his face on the line meant buyers would trust him. And this was a small company he'd never heard of. Mu-yeong slowly reread the PR message.
"I get where you're coming from," Na said, "but these days, most people just go with the flow. Even if there's an issue with the product, that's separate from us."
Na was all for doing it—
—but Gyeong-min said, "He barely has any personal posts. A promo right now would stick out. Better to build his account first."
Different reasoning, same conclusion: decline.
After thinking between them, Mu-yeong decided.
"It's my first sponsorship offer, so I'd like to handle it sincerely. Can I try the product myself first and write an honest review?"
"How honest are we talking?"
"Is there such a thing as 'partial honesty'? Just… as it is."
"Hmm."
Na Geum-dong rubbed his chin. Would the brand like that? Probably not. That's practically a polite refusal.
"President?"
"Well, if that's how you want to do it, that's what we'll do. I'll call them tomorrow and check. If they turn it down, so be it—it's still an opportunity. Manager Go's right, growing the account's a good idea too."
Mu-yeong's face lit up.
See? There's a reason everyone says pollen sparkles around him—this company actually respects its actors.
"While we're on the topic, Manager Go, you'll handle his account from now on. Since Born to Lead, the only photos he's posted are…"
A stray cat.
Some chocolates.
And textbooks.
What is this! That's not what fans want to see! Na Geum-dong's complaint made Gyeong-min nod.
"Right?"
While checking if there were any other promo DMs, Na suddenly frowned.
"…Sung Hye-jun sent one?"
[Your acting was really impressive today. See you at the ritual (告祀). I'll buy you something tastier than sandwiches then!]
Na Geum-dong and Tae-seok both looked at Mu-yeong—an odd blend of shock and disbelief on their faces. Mu-yeong just smiled innocently.
"Senior Sung bought sandwiches for everyone today. President, have you tried Subway? The egg mayo is amazing."
"No, Mu-yeong. It's Sung Hye-jun we're talking about."
"Yes, he's even more handsome in person."
At that, Gyeong-min crossed his arms into an X behind him.
"President, it's fine. Nothing to worry about."
"But it's Sung Hye-jun!"
Apparently still in shock, Na Geum-dong could only repeat the same words.
"Yes, yes. I'm saying it's fine."
He'd even eaten two of those sandwiches because they were so good. And beside him had been Yuna, practically glued to his side like mochi. There was no way anything that would worry the company could ever happen between those two.
"But wait, the ritual's already scheduled?"
Na Geum-dong's mouth hung open, then he quickly changed the subject.
"It got moved up because of Yuna."
"When is it?"
"This weekend, I think."
The gosa (告祀) — the ritual held before the start of filming to pray for a box office success.
It's a tradition that's dying out these days, but for Director Jin Kyung-moon, who'd been in the industry for decades, it was absolutely indispensable.
"With all those action scenes, it's a must."
"Right, I remember hearing about one film where they had so many on-set accidents they ended up doing a second ritual midway."
"Wouldn't it be smarter to just spend that money on new safety gear? Those things cost hundreds of thousands."
"It's like insurance. If you skip it and something happens, people start talking."
"Does it really cost that much?"
He'd thought it was just about bowing in front of a pig's head — maybe with some rice cakes and fruit.
"The setup only costs a few hundred thousand won, but everyone attending has to pitch in a cash offering."
The money they stick in the pig's mouth, to pray for a safe shoot.
Since it's a symbolic act of sincerity, the more they put in, the better. The total amount — often millions of won — would later be used for the crew dinner that followed.
"Ah, that's why it's on the weekend."
It doubled as a bonding party.
"Let's see… how much should I contribute?"
Like weddings or funerals, there was an unspoken rule of giving and returning.
Still, as a newcomer attending his first ritual, Mu-yeong only needed to give enough not to stand out.
"I'll make sure Manager Go preps your share, so just go and do the ritual properly. Get rained on, see a ghost or two."
"Huh?"
"They say if it rains during a shoot, it's a sign of big success. And if you see a ghost, it means an even bigger hit. But if that happens during the ritual? That's a mega hit."
"Ah, I see."
Basically, it was all about morale — boosting everyone's spirit before the first day of battle, so they'd believe good things were coming despite the hard work ahead.
"Before that, though, shall we start with some script practice?"
"Yes, sounds great!"
"Manager Go, add 'Doctor Martel response' to tomorrow's schedule. I'll let you know once they reply."
Mu-yeong nodded repeatedly to Na Geum-dong's instructions.
Then, he sat down between them, opening his worn-out script.
The office might have been cold, but the people in it kept it warm.
"Whoa… what is this place?"
An abandoned U.S. military base in Yangpyeong.
Rusting steel structures and scattered containers sprawled across thousands of square meters of forest.
If not for the "Film Set" sign, anyone would've thought it was just a deserted construction site.
"It's a private studio set. First time I've been here myself."
"So they're still building everything?"
"Yeah. Think of it as constructing a small city."
They parked in front of a massive warehouse with a corrugated roof and stepped inside — the parking lot already full of cars.
"Long time no see, Director."
"How long has it been? Since last year?"
"I heard your drama did really well. Congratulations."
The place was packed.
A few reporters with cameras, invited staff from other productions, even some of Director Jin's acquaintances.
"Director! I'm here!"
"Oh! Mu-yeong! Glad you made it."
"Anything I can help with?"
"Haha, no. The staff will handle this. Just wait a bit — the actors are all gathered over there."
Between guests and preparations for the ritual, the director was clearly overwhelmed. Mu-yeong and his manager headed to the corner he pointed out.
"Oppa!"
"Yuna—!"
Yoo Yuna was the first to spot him. Mu-yeong picked the little girl up and greeted the other actors. The place was so noisy they couldn't exchange much small talk.
"All right, everyone, we'll begin the gosa now!"
Director Jin Kyung-moon took the mic and stood before the ritual table.
Behind him stood a folding screen, and before him — a lavish spread of food, a pig's head, liquor, and fruit: a classic Korean film-ritual setup.
"I'm Jin Kyung-moon, director of Epidemic. Thank you all so much for coming today—"
The ceremony began with formal greetings.
Next, the cast each took the mic to share brief words of resolve and goodwill.
First up was the lead actress, Yuna.
"I hope when filming's over, everyone can go home smiling. I'll work hard so I don't cause trouble even though I'm young!"
Then, she walked to the altar, spreading out her frilly skirt and bowing deeply.
Everyone smiled warmly at the child's small back.
"Dear spirits of sleep and wind, please don't linger around the set or bother anyone. Keep everyone healthy and safe, thank you."
After her, Lee Hee-jun did the same.
Each took turns bowing and placing their envelopes into the pig's mouth.
Then, it was finally Mu-yeong's turn.
He awkwardly gripped the mic and looked around.
"I wish for a joyful and successful pro—"
He wanted to say production, but stopped mid-sentence.
"Mu-yeong?"
Manager Go whispered beside him, but Mu-yeong stood frozen, staring into the crowd as if entranced.
"Ah—sorry. Haha."
"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Guess he's nervous," the director said kindly, and the manager wiped at his sweat with an uneasy grin.
But Mu-yeong just smiled.
Because he had seen it.
"Anyway, here's to a big success!"
He'd seen it — the faint, flickering silhouette of a wandering spirit weaving between the crowd.
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