Chapter 181
TL: KSD
It is not a common sight to see a man in his thirties trembling under the intimidation of a female student in school uniform.
At a glance, it looks ridiculous, awkward, strange, and in some sense, even makes one frown.
However, a person’s impression is not determined by appearance alone.
There is something more to a person than just looks.
Atmosphere, voice, way of speaking, gaze, demeanor, habits, and so on…
These are the intangible characteristics often referred to as aura.
“I understand that Ma Ki-hoon ssi made a mistake in his work, but is this the right way to handle it?”
Kim Byul had that aura.
EP 11 – Evening Bell
The atmosphere in the Management Division office was cold as ice.
Surprisingly, that chill originated from a single person.
A girl crossing her arms and pressing her brows tightly,
It was Kim Byul.
“Sigh…”
Though Kim Byul often bites her lips tightly whenever she’s mistaken for someone in her twenties, the intangible energy flowing from her was never that of a minor.
Kim Byul spent over ten years in the entertainment industry. And not just any ten years, after a brief moment of glory, she endured a decade filled with disgrace and patience.
While others held hands with friends and ate tteokbokki at snack bars, Kim Byul spent her youth in front of the camera. For her, ‘being student-like’ was a virtue she could never aspire to.
In that sense, winning Best Actress at Cannes wasn’t important. That was merely a “result.”
The pressure exuded by Kim Byul stemmed from the long and arduous “process” she had endured.
And that process was both rich and cruel.
So was the oppressive force she projected.
“Saying things like ‘must be nice to have a close younger brother’, or asking ‘is the company comfortable for you’, why do those things come up? And what was that you said? ‘A punk who hasn’t even served in the military talks back so well’?”
“Th-that was…!”
The senior who had been confidently berating Ma Ki-hoon suddenly shrank and started making excuses.
However, since it was something uttered by someone cornered and grasping for words,
There was some plausibility to it.
“Um, Actor Kim, I think there might have been a misunderstanding. What I just said wasn’t a personal attack, while training the new recruit, I let my emotions get the better of me and said something inappropriate-”
-That’s what I said. Of course, I admit it was my mistake. I feel sorry for showing such a disappointing side to an actor affiliated with our company. As a member of the Management Division, I’ll be more mindful of my words and actions so that this doesn’t happen again. Hey, Ki-hoon. Thinking back, it was my fault. I was too harsh with my words. I’m sorry…
-Before he could say all that, Kim Byul cut him off.
In truth, Kim Byul wasn’t the CEO of Baekhak Entertainment, and just because she witnessed some internal misconduct didn’t mean she had any authority to act.
More importantly, the relationship between actor and agency is not one of hierarchy.
Idols are created by the company, but actors are clients who sign contracts with the agency.
Of course, depending on the stature of the actor, the angle of the company’s bow may differ, but fundamentally, actors are just partners of the company.
And partners are outsiders.
So even if she witnessed a staff member making crude remarks to a newly hired orphan, Kim Byul couldn’t fire that employee.
But if you follow that logic, the same applies to the entertainment industry.
Senior and junior actors are not in a hierarchical relationship, and most of the time they are even in different agencies.
In theory, they’re equal.
But is that really the case?
The entertainment industry is never equal. The criteria for status are tangled with experience, fame, agency, connections, and so on. As such, disputes, punishments, and hierarchies are not handled through proper procedures but through complex and delicate human relationships.
And Kim Byul was someone who had mastered that intricate web of rules.
“Excuse me, I wasn’t the only one who heard what this person just said, right?”
In an office trembling under the atmosphere of “a Cannes Best Actress witnessing internal misconduct and causing a scene”, Kim Byul pointed out one extra.
She didn’t particularly expect an answer. This, too, was part of the punishment.
“Is it a problem for a celebrity to bring their manager to work? Was that a parachute hire or some kind of recruitment fraud? Then all of Bae Seong-won sunbae-nim’s managers should be dismissed. They’re all outsiders. I don’t think there’s any reason why only Moon In, working with his close brother as a manager, should be singled out for criticism.”
“No, uh, that is…”
Kim Byul, with ruthless precision, set the subject of the conversation not as herself but as a third party.
And since that third party was not the actual person involved, they couldn’t defend themselves properly.
While the other person stammered, Kim Byul continued her speech, disguised as a conversation.
“And what was it… ‘a punk who hasn’t even served in the military’? Everyone knows he’s from an orphanage, so bullying him for not serving is no different from calling him a bastard with no parents, right? Seriously…”
Kim Byul didn’t say anything particularly new to Ma Ki-hoon’s senior.
She merely laid out what had just happened in more explicit terms.
But that alone served as punishment.
The fact that someone could say, ‘I only stated the facts, so why is that a punishment?’ made it all the more excruciating as a form of punishment.
Now, if someone (likely a superior) were to ask what on earth had happened here, instead of some excuse about it being nothing, they would hear Kim Byul’s damning interpretation of the exchange.
Kim Byul wasn’t a senior executive at Baekhak Entertainment, but she cleverly used her social status to deliver a severe disciplinary blow to a Baekhak Entertainment employee.
And at the perfect moment, she made a swift exit.
“What, are you gawking?! Everyone move aside!”
As soon as a voice was heard from outside, Kim Byul began preparing to flee.
“Anyway, I don’t want to talk anymore, and I have nothing else to say. Since Author Moon In has some personal issues, I’ll take his manager with me. This isn’t against the rules either, right?”
Of course, the staff all nodded in agreement. Thus, no one realized that not a single person had told Kim Byul “no” up to that point.
As Kim Byul continued her masterful performance to the very end, and left the office with Ma Ki-hoon and the group that joined him, the senior who would finally bring this chaos to an end arrived.
“Hey! What on earth is going on here?!”
Baekhak Entertainment’s Management Division is split between actors and singers. Due to the Baekhak Group’s greater focus on visual media than music, the actor side holds more power.
Therefore, the division head came from the actor management side, and naturally, Kim Byul had seen this man’s face for ten years.
“Hello, division head-nim.”
“Hey! Kim Byul! Who do you think you are, abusing your power to boss over my team?!”
“Abuse of power? All I did was stop by to talk to Author Moon In’s manager and overheard some strange comments, so I said a few words. That’s it.”
Even in this situation, Kim Byul did not lie.
“That’s all. Okay? Then I’ll be on my way. I didn’t come alone, and since we have urgent business, I can’t stay any longer.”
“What? You’re leaving?”
“You can hear the details from the staff here. Take care, then. Everyone, let’s go.”
The terrified students, who had just tasted the bitter flavor of society, trailed behind Kim Byul like scared ducklings. (Even in the midst of it all, Gu Yu-na remained unbothered.)
“Hey! You’re just going to leave it like this?! Hey, you, Kim Byul!”
“See you later.”
Professional actress Kim Byul wiped away her cold demeanor completely, transformed 180 degrees, flashed a cute smile, and darted out the door.
And as muttering about “Ah- she wasn’t like this when she was younger-” trailed behind her, she made a swift escape from Baekhak Entertainment.
In the entertainment industry, rife with schemes and trickery,
The weak cannot survive…
***
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”
There was a minor incident where Min Hyo-min, who had once been harshly taught a lesson by a legendary senior after making a mistake early in her debut, relapsed into trauma, but the group safely made it to a nearby cafe.
As expected from Kim Byul’s choice, the cafe was located near an entertainment agency but still had a layout that offered some degree of privacy.
After sitting down and taking a moment to praise and worship Kim Byul, the club group explained why they had come to find Ma Ki-hoon.
“What? Kidnapping?!”
Moon Ji-seop nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
A flustered Ma Ki-hoon looked around, and sure enough, Kim Byul, Gu Yu-na, Min Hyo-min, and Min Hyo-something were all nodding in agreement.
Seeing a group of kids in the same school uniform nodding in unison was a bit creepy.
It really did seem like something was wrong with their heads. Had Baekhak Arts High School spiked the school meals or something…?
But a real man’s characteristic is to answer “let’s do it right now” at times like this.
Moon Ji-seop waited for that hearty answer from the manly Ma Ki-hoon.
However, after leaving New Light Spring Orphanage and spending a few years enjoying the sweet nectar of society, Ma Ki-hoon had become a bland, diluted version of a man, his “New Light Spring” essence washed out.
More than anything, he had a wife to support (no children yet).
Ma Ki-hoon was no longer the fearless cigarette-smuggling master, the supreme leader of New Light Spring Orphanage, the knight walking the path of extreme virtue.
Ma Ki-hoon had become a family man with much to lose…
“Hey, no, no, absolutely not. That’s big trouble, big trouble.”
His desperation was felt in how he repeated himself for emphasis.
“I tried convincing In-seop for months too. You think I didn’t try? But his mental state right now is not normal. He’s hanging by a thread. Why else would a publishing company keep a Hugo Award winner off the air…”
“Why? Isn’t it fine to just skip the broadcast?”
Ma Ki-hoon didn’t respond to Gu Yu-na’s question, which dismissed national attention on a girl who had won one of the world’s most prestigious literary prizes as something you could just ignore.
She hadn’t suffered a mental breakdown, her family wasn’t stopping her, there was no bad public opinion, and everyone around her had even begged her to ride the wave of fame, but she rejected it all.
Watching Gu Yu-na’s path, Ma Ki-hoon had felt firsthand what true madness looked like.
Ignoring the whispers of the abyss, Ma Ki-hoon continued talking as if nothing had happened.
“Anyway, kidnapping won’t work. Don’t mess with a sensitive kid and cause trouble. Just leave him alone until he recovers on his own-”
But Ma Ki-hoon couldn’t finish his sentence.
Because Moon Ji-seop was staring at him with such desperate eyes.
That resolute gaze left Ma Ki-hoon ashamed and silent, and Moon Ji-seop touched his heart with just one word.
It wasn’t a scolding.
“Hyung…”
Unlike Ma Ki-hoon, Moon Ji-seop, a current resident of New Light Spring Orphanage, was brimming with the orphanage’s spirit.
Thus, what Moon Ji-seop was looking for wasn’t savory processed meat products, but the strong older brother buried deep inside Ma Ki-hoon’s chest, the one from New Light Spring.
“Is this really how it’s going to be?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“Where’s the Ki-hoon hyung I knew? The one who slapped disobedient kids and guided them down the right, true path? Where did that Ki-hoon hyung go?”
Ma Ki-hoon’s physical discipline had become a legend at New Light Spring Orphanage. No matter how nasty a delinquent was, once he patted their cheeks, their dead conscience would revive, a miracle of life.
For the children of New Light Spring, who studied the words of Jesus who conquered the power of death, he was someone they couldn’t help but respect.
The fact that the delinquents Ma Ki-hoon slapped were elementary schoolers didn’t matter. Learning has no age limit.
So even much younger Moon Ji-seop offered his sincere counsel to the older brother he respected.
“I haven’t seen it myself, but just hearing the stories, I can tell. In-seop must be having a hard time. Isn’t this the time for us orphanage kids to step up and help?”
“…”
“We have to help each other live! We’re brothers, aren’t we!”
That’s right. The children of New Light Spring Orphanage are a family who inherited surnames and generational name from Director Moon Chung-jae.
Not everyone shares the same name for various reasons, but Director Moon Chung-jae raised them as one family. That’s the true Christian spirit. Even those not connected by a single drop of blood can become one under faith.
Ma Ki-hoon recalled that teaching, albeit a bit late.
“Dear Lord…”
Christians use a slightly more refined expression than “Oh dear” or “Oh my”, instead calling upon the Lord.
Even if it’s a formulaic phrase, language itself holds power. That’s why rallying cries like “DEUS VULT” exist.
Empowered by that sacred blessing, Ma Ki-hoon, who had closed his eyes as a timid new manager, opened them as a fearless Crusader knight.
“…All right. Let’s go.”
“Hyung…!”
Ma Ki-hoon declared a crusade.
He picked up his phone and summoned all members of the Christian world beneath the holy banner.
-Yes, hello?
“…Teacher Bang Jeong-ah. It’s Ki-hoon.”
***
Orphanage children have no parents. But a person cannot truly be without parents. This isn’t some childish nonsense joke.
Humans need someone to teach them everything. If such a person doesn’t exist, they create one. That’s human nature.
Therefore, orphanage children always had at least one adult they regarded with the special reverence reserved for a parent.
That adult might be Director Moon Chung-jae, or a priest or pastor who visited biweekly, or someone from outside the orphanage altogether.
For Moon In, that adult was his childcare teacher, Bang Jeong-ah.
She would deny it, but Moon In saw Bang Jeong-ah as a mother figure.
There was no way his peers at the orphanage didn’t know that. When you live together, everything becomes visible.
Therefore, Ma Ki-hoon’s plan to bring up Bang Jeong-ah was an attack aimed directly at Moon In’s most vulnerable spot.
Ding- dong-
The old-style doorbell made a “ding” sound when pressed and a “dong” sound when released. However, in the run-down youth rental housing, even the button creaked, creating a significant delay between “ding” and “dong.”
But the doorbell didn’t matter. What summoned Moon In wasn’t a sound, it was the voice of childcare teacher Bang Jeong-ah.
“In-seop, are you in there? It’s Teacher Bang Jeong-ah. If you are, can you answer…?”
The effect was immediate.
There was a loud clatter from inside, and the sound of someone rushing to the door in a panic.
In an instant, the door flung open, and Moon In appeared, his eyes filled with shock.
“Teacher Bang Jeong-ah…?”
There was no lie.
As soon as Moon In opened the front door, he saw Teacher Bang Jeong-ah smiling with a mixture of joy and slight awkwardness.
But the narrow, paint-chipped hallway behind her was filled with Kim Byul, Gu Yu-na, Min Hyo-chan, Min Hyo-min, Ma Ki-hoon…
And…
Moon Ji-seop spoke.
“Hi, In-seop? Do you remember me?”
“You’re…”
Moon In furrowed his brow.
A vague memory yielded an incomplete answer.
“…Moon-tteng-seop?”
“……”
Director Moon Chung-jae, in his desire to raise the orphans as his own children, passed down his surname and generational syllable to them.
The surname was “Moon”, and the generational syllable was “Seop”. That’s why many of the boys from the orphanage had names like Moon O-seop.
Since generational syllables originated from the patrilineal traditions of passing on the family name, girls didn’t receive them.
But in modern times, this system had been turned upside down.
In the harsh society of elementary school kids, where strange names could immediately make you a target of bullying, the syllable “Seop” was nearly a curse.
Thus, the term “Moon-tteng-seop”, a casual way of referring to Moon O-seop, became a slur.
For example:
-What the heck? All our orphanage’s Moon-tteng-seop lineup is gathered here.
-Ah, Moon Hye-rin. Buzz off.
-Hey, you tteng-seops! The teacher’s cleaning the yard, get out here right now!
When a boy from the orphanage hears “tteng-seop”, he never stays quiet.
Moon Ji-seop was no exception.
“Fuck. I knew this would happen.”
“…?”
“Grab him. Kidnap this bastard. Ki-hoon hyung!”
Ma Ki-hoon’s apology and his reaching hand came for Moon In at the same time.
“I’m sorry.”
“Huh? Huh huh? What’s happening right now…”
Likewise, Gu Yu-na, who handled the physical force, made her move.
“Gu Yu-na? What are you-”
“What do you mean ‘what’? There’s no such thing as ‘No’.”
“What?”
With all the spite she held for the word “No”, Gu Yu-na unleashed a horrifying death blow.
A moment later.
A clear, high-pitched scream, “Gyaaaaah!”, rippled through the quiet youth rental apartment complex.
*****