Chapter 5
To sign the contract, I needed my legal guardian.
Even before my regression, I had suffered plenty because of that “legal guardian.”
Anyway, as soon as we got home with CEO Gam Seongbeom, my uncle immediately asked about the signing bonus. Just like before my regression, Gam Seongbeom offered a signing bonus that was unthinkable for a child actor.
I found out later that the reason was simple—he needed to get me out of that house. If the signing bonus was large enough, they’d let me go without much resistance.
After receiving the signing bonus Gam Seongbeom offered, my uncle, Lee Gyeonghun, agreed to my contract.
“That’s really all your luggage?”
Gam Seongbeom asked, looking at my belongings.
“I told you, that’s everything.”
“What about clothes… Hey, come to think of it, where’s your school uniform?”
“I don’t go to school.”
“Kid, why the hell aren’t you going to school?”
“It’s not because I didn’t want to.”
“…Well, you should at least go to high school.”
“Like that’s something I get to decide.”
While I was grumbling, Vice President Gam Suhan searched for something on his phone before breaking into a bright smile.
“It says you can still apply for the second-half GED exam.”
Then Gam Seongbeom declared loudly,
“Perfect! Go to Gongyeon High. With your acting skills, they won’t even need to look at your practical exam.”
“How am I supposed to pay the tuition? Even if I go, I’ll just attend a regular high school.”
“You’re going to become famous so fast that you won’t be able to attend a regular school.”
I had thought a single year wouldn’t make much difference, but compared to when I had been cast a year later in my previous life, a lot had changed.
I never expected someone to tell me to go to school.
School…
…It actually sounded nice.
While we were talking, we arrived at Gam Seongbeom’s family home.
It was the finest house I had ever seen in my life. They said it had been designed by a famous architect.
Beyond the cast-iron gate stretched a carefully maintained path lined with gardens on both sides, ending at a traditional hanok. The property was divided into two buildings, and I entered the one on the left.
Even though it was the house where he had been born and raised, Gam Seongbeom seemed slightly confused as he led me to a room. Stepping onto the wooden porch, he opened the door and said,
“You’ll stay here.”
“Seriously?”
The room was so nice that I instinctively doubted him.
After taking off my worn-out sneakers and stepping onto the porch, the large Pungsan dog that had been nudging my legs with its nose followed me inside. It even came into the room that was now my temporary living quarters after I set down my bag.
Come to think of it, this was the hanok Gam Seongbeom had supposedly lost shortly before he disappeared.
I’d stayed with the company for so many years.
Just how had he managed to lose a place like this?
Gam Seongbeom spoke.
“Hey, let me ask you one last time.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t going to ask, but no matter how much I think about it, I just don’t get it. Our company isn’t that big, and nobody even cast you. So why did you come to us?”
“Just because.”
“Bullshit.”
Gam Seongbeom chuckled.
I guess the company was still too small for that answer to work.
In my final memories, Leader Actors had become a highly respected agency…
I just couldn’t understand how such a promising company had collapsed so easily.
No matter how oblivious I had been, I knew Gam Seongbeom had been unhappy by the time my contract ended.
I still remembered what he had said the last time I saw him as CEO.
“Huiyun. Life begins empty-handed and ends empty-handed. You come with nothing, and you leave with nothing. That used to scare me… but now I envy it. Being empty-handed…”
It really was strange.
Until shortly before the company began falling apart, Gam Seongbeom had looked happy.
So had Gam Suhan.
So had Do Jaeyeon.
They had been full of hope, saying they’d finally be able to make all the projects they wanted.
And they actually did produce several outstanding works.
Most of the awards people considered truly prestigious ended up going to actors from Leader Actors.
So why had they become so miserable?
They had been ordinary people who celebrated success and mourned failure.
What had changed?
When had they become like that?
I looked at Gam Seongbeom.
“You were in that movie, Expedition, right?”
“…You’ve seen that? It’s rated nineteen and up.”
“Is that really the important part?”
“Of course it is. But… you’ve seen it?”
“I really like it. It’s a great movie.”
“…”
“And besides, I’ve only worked as a child actor. Isn’t it weirder that you’re treating me like a future superstar before I’ve even proven anything?”
Gam Seongbeom listened to me before grinning.
Then he smacked me hard on the back.
“Fine, fine! So you really love movies, huh?”
“You’re hitting me after seeing that my whole body’s covered in bruises?”
The moment I said that, Gam Seongbeom panicked.
“Sorry, I forgot… Just don’t tell my family….”
It felt good hearing him say my family again.
Not once had those words actually referred to his blood relatives.
Whenever he said family, he meant Leader Actors.
And I had always—always—been included in that family.
I nodded.
After roughly unpacking my things, I left with Gam Seongbeom to meet the legendary actor, Gam Ihyeon.
The entire way there, Gam Seongbeom warned me over and over again.
“The old man’s only talking to us now because he’s gotten weak. Back in his prime, his temper was unbelievable. He won’t go easy on you just because you’re a teenager.”
“Got it.”
I’m not moody because I’m a teenager.
That’s just my personality.
He’d probably feel deceived later.
They said Gam Ihyeon had spent his entire life knowing nothing but acting.
Because of that, Gam Seongbeom had barely seen his father growing up.
He practically lived on film sets.
One day, wanting desperately to see his father, Gam Seongbeom had decided to become an actor himself.
His father had shouted at him.
“Don’t disgrace my name with acting that pathetic.”
In the end, Gam Seongbeom hadn’t stayed an actor for very long and had moved into management instead.
It wasn’t surprising that the father and son didn’t get along.
Still, it surprised me that Leader Actors had ultimately become Gam Ihyeon’s final agency.
There really must be something between parents and children that I’ll never understand.
The detached quarters where Gam Ihyeon stayed were spacious and filled with warm sunlight.
And they were familiar.
“This is the filming location for The People of Uheonjeong.”
I muttered unconsciously.
Gam Seongbeom stared at me in surprise.
“What? You’ve seen that too? It’s an old movie.”
“It had a lot of viewers.”
I’d always watched plenty of movies and dramas.
But after living alone for five years, I’d had far too much time on my hands.
I’d watched practically everything.
The fact that I didn’t really have any particular taste had actually been a huge advantage.
That was when Gam Ihyeon, sitting in his wheelchair, turned toward me.
Every actor has something they value most.
For me, it was presence.
The force someone naturally exudes.
But even someone like me, who valued that above all else, wasn’t confident I could stand against Gam Ihyeon in a scene.
He was, quite literally, a perfectly sharpened blade.
A blade that hurt simply by brushing against it.
Even after years of illness, that presence remained this overwhelming.
Now I understood why Gam Seongbeom, who remembered him in his prime, still looked so nervous around him.
“How was it?”
Without even greeting me, Gam Ihyeon asked.
I answered.
“What was?”
“The People of Uheonjeong. The story. The acting. The directing. If you’ve seen it, you must have some opinion.”
People loved Gam Ihyeon’s powerful performances.
At the same time, they also missed the handsome face he’d had during his teen-star days.
And The People of Uheonjeong had preserved that face perfectly on screen.
After recalling the drama, I answered.
“It was amazing. There were so many cool people in it. I think that’s why people watched it.”
“Hm.”
“The script, the directing, and of course the acting—they’re all important…”
“But whether the actors look cool is really important too.”
“That’s something I have to take responsibility for.”
I wasn’t talking about physical appearance.
Well, appearance certainly mattered.
But that wasn’t all.
Even now, I remembered one particular scene from The People of Uheonjeong.
A death within a family that was completely dysfunctional.
The entire family gathering at the funeral.
That overwhelming immersion.
A group of notorious troublemakers dressed in black suits, wearing tragic expressions as they gathered for the funeral.
I could still picture it vividly.
Seven family members.
A divorced couple.
Their only daughter.
And the three children born from each parent’s remarriage.
The sight of those seven people gathering at a temple on a rainy day had been breathtakingly cool.
Before my regression, this very novel had been adapted into a drama.
But it had disappeared beneath poor ratings, malicious comments, and growing public indifference.
Unfortunately…
The drama simply hadn’t been cool.
It had missed the most important part.
Gam Ihyeon listened to me without saying anything for a long time.
Only after quite a while did he finally speak.
“Sit here.”
“Let’s talk.”
He pointed toward a chair.
Gam Seongbeom looked at me in confusion.
“What the…? My father hates people.”
“I think he likes actors.”
“Hey, I used to be an actor too.”
Still grumbling, Gam Seongbeom said he couldn’t smoke because there was a patient in the house, yet he couldn’t resist the urge, so he went outside.
Being around his father simply made him uncomfortable.
Because of that, he never saw how long Gam Ihyeon silently watched his son’s departing figure.
We sat together and talked for a while about movies, including The People of Uheonjeong.
Then I asked the question that had been bothering me.
“Why don’t either of you say a single word to each other?”
Gam Ihyeon immediately understood I was talking about his son.
Quietly, he answered,
“I wonder the same thing.”
“I’ve always wondered.”
Maybe family wasn’t as extraordinary as I’d imagined.
Even that legendary actor, who had played countless roles, didn’t know why he couldn’t even greet his own son.
Anyway.
That wasn’t what mattered.
I got straight to the point.
“Fifteen years from now, the CEO will disappear.”
“…”
“I’m going to stop it.”
“But if I do, I’ll lose another five years of my lifespan.”
Well.
I’m pretty sure there were movies and dramas where you weren’t supposed to reveal things like this.
But someone who didn’t have much time left anyway—
What was the point of hiding it?
“So…”
“Don’t kick me out.”
“Pay my tuition if I go to Gongyeon High.”
“And in exchange for those five years of my lifespan…”
“Teach me everything you know about acting.”
If I was giving something up, I deserved something in return.
He probably wouldn’t believe me.
[A penalty has been applied for revealing spoilers about the future.]
[-1 day]
[Remaining lifespan: 20 years, 6 months, 18 days.]
Gam Ihyeon spent a long time considering whether I was telling the truth.
Then he finally answered.
“All right.”
I had no idea why he believed me.
Maybe it was because I’d watched too many movies.
No matter how many films someone watched, sixteen years wasn’t a very long life.
Compared to the future of his own son, five years from a child he’d just met wasn’t much to ask.
Thankfully, that restored a little of my faith in family.
[Transaction completed!]
[Current date: June 6, 2025.]
[Remaining lifespan: 15 years, 6 months, 18 days.]
[Now tracking: “The Fall of Leader Actors.”]
Come to think of it…
When my contract with Leader Actors had ended at the age of thirty-two…
I had been as good as dead.
Maybe that was why.
I wasn’t afraid at all.
