How a Loan Shark Survives as an Actor Chapter 53

Chapter 53

 

The recovery of Woo Junseo’s image was good news for the drama team as well.

Right before the final episode aired, that controversial article had broken, drawing everyone’s attention in an instant and even pushing the issue onto the real-time trending searches.

Everyone was calling him crazy and cursing him out, but then someone said, “Wait, isn’t the final episode airing right now?” and they all went to watch it together.

Which meant…

 

< “Our Space” achieves a record-breaking performance with a double-digit ratings finale. >

 

The drama had wrapped up with an incredible record.

For a drama that had been treated as nothing more than filler between major productions, it was an unbelievable luxury.

The broadcasting station was practically dancing with joy, laughing happily as contract offers poured in.

Of course, the production staff, including Director Jang, felt both happy and bitter.

“Doesn’t it feel like the drama became famous because of the scandal rather than the drama itself?”

“It couldn’t be helped… Up until Seulho proved his acting skills in the early episodes, plenty of people were actually focused on the story.”

The staff, who had grown deeply attached to the project as filming progressed, couldn’t help feeling somewhat disappointed.

Still, nobody could deny that this outcome was far better than becoming “a drama that disappeared without either praise or criticism.”

The drama had given Director Jang the power to push forward future projects however he wanted, given the staff stronger portfolios, and given the actors an opportunity to gain public recognition and attention.

From beginning to end, it had been chaotic and unbelievably exhausting.

But in the end, everyone got a happy ending.

 

***

 

“Thank you all for your hard work!”

“Great job, everyone!”

Today was the day all the cast members gathered to shoot a magazine pictorial.

Once this was over, there would be no more official schedules related to the drama.

“It’s really over now…”

I muttered without thinking.

The feeling was hard to describe.

Choi Ran looked at me with surprise.

“What? Are you sad?”

“Not sad. It just feels kind of strange.”

Maybe it was because we’d spent months working ourselves to the bone.

The project had felt like it would never end, so it was hard to believe it actually had.

It was a good thing… the sooner it ended, the sooner I could move on to more projects and raise Yoo Seulho’s value.

But for some reason, I kept looking back.

“There are scenes I wish I could film again now.”

“Like what?”

“The scene where I swung at Woo Junseo at the end. If I did it now, I think I could make it look even more vicious.”

I glanced toward Woo Junseo’s group, who were laughing together in a corner of the studio.

Following my gaze, Choi Ran’s expression immediately soured.

“You’re right. I should’ve just punched him back then.”

“I seriously considered pretending it was an accident. But there was a young friend present, so I held back. That’s an age where seeing good things is important, isn’t it?”

“…What? You actually say things like that?”

Choi Ran rubbed her arm dramatically as if she had goosebumps.

Then, for some reason, she looked embarrassed and said,

“Thanks for looking out for me, but I’m not that young. I’m only two years younger than you, and you keep–”

“Huh? I was talking about Wooju.”

I patted the dog’s head.

The dog had been glued to my leg all day.

Maybe it was because we hadn’t seen each other in a while, but he had no intention of leaving my side.

“Wooju’s nine years old. Isn’t that really young? In human years, that’s basically elementary school age.”

“…”

Even if he’s a dog, you should still respect young kids.

When filming the scene where Kang Minwoo swings at the male lead, I’d genuinely struggled with the decision until the very end.

The reason I ultimately held back was because of this guy.

‘Pant, pant.’

As if he knew about my sacrifice (or maybe not) the dog happily enjoyed my hand on his head.

“I see…”

After being silent for a while, Choi Ran rubbed her face and said,

“I think you’re misunderstanding something. For a dog, nine years old isn’t young.”

“Really?”

“I’m not totally sure, but one year for them is about seven years for us, right? So if he’s nine…”

She calculated for a moment.

“That makes him around fifty-six.”

What?

He’s my senior?

I lowered my head and stared at the dog with the bright eyes.

I thought he was just a kid.

Turns out he was older than me.

‘Even older than I was back when I was a loan shark.’

The sudden age gap made me stop petting him.

As if dissatisfied, the dog nudged my hand, demanding more.

“Nope. Time for you to go home.”

I pointed toward the trainer who had come to pick him up now that filming was over.

The moment Wooju noticed the trainer, he pressed himself even closer against my leg.

“Wooju, you have to say goodbye to the actors. We’ll see them again. Say goodbye~”

The trainer spoke gently, as though talking to a person rather than an animal.

After smiling kindly at Choi Ran, the trainer suddenly grabbed my hand.

“Mr. Seulho, thank you so much this time. Wooju usually handles any shoot without problems, but he had a hard time adapting this time. Thanks to you, he got through it well.”

“It wasn’t because of me. He was just good at acting.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could visit our training center someday. Wooju is going to miss you a lot.”

I simply smiled in response.

I didn’t like making promises I couldn’t keep.

“Take care, Wooju.”

‘Woof!’

That was how we said our final goodbye.

Beside me, Choi Ran glanced over.

“You separated more calmly than I expected. I thought you’d be tearing up.”

“Why? Do you think this is sad?”

“No? We can just meet again later.”

I nodded.

That was exactly like Choi Ran.

“Yeah. So let’s meet again too.”

She froze briefly at my words before smiling.

“Sounds good. Keep that promise.”

With those words, Choi Ran left as well.

Though before she departed, her manager and older sister Choi Yoon cornered me for over thirty minutes to thank me for everything.

‘It’s really over.’

My manager had dropped me off and immediately left to handle some business, but he still hadn’t returned.

I considered taking a taxi.

But then I remembered Hyun Jingae practically crying over the phone, begging me to wait just a little longer.

So I endured.

That was when it happened.

“Yoo Seulho.”

At Woo Junseo’s low voice, I slowly turned around.

Part of me was actually curious what kind of trouble he’d start this time.

But instead…

“I realized I never said it. You worked hard. Especially in the beginning… it must’ve been tough, right?”

Woo Junseo smiled warmly and patted my shoulder.

‘What’s this?’

Calling it unexpected wasn’t quite right.

I knew every word out of his mouth was a lie.

Thinking he’d changed after going through hardship wasn’t possible either.

I’d seen too much filth for that.

‘Is he just in a good mood?’

The most reasonable explanation was that he was feeling fantastic right now.

The fact that someone who had looked ready to kill me throughout the second half of filming was suddenly acting magnanimous told me everything.

“Yeah. Seulho worked really hard.”

Sure enough, Park Sang-in… who had reclaimed his position as Woo Junseo’s lackey, approached with a grin.

“But it worked out in the end. Thanks to Junseo, the drama finished successfully. It must’ve been hard handling all that attention as a supporting actor. Pretty overwhelming, right?”

The implication behind his words was painfully obvious.

‘Ah.’

So now that he had his flattering servant back, he was feeling good again.

I almost laughed.

‘Sure. Enjoy it while you can.’

You should enjoy things while they’re available.

From my perspective, knowing what was going to happen next, all I could do was laugh.

“Hey, aren’t you going to answer? Junseo spoke to you first. You should be grateful.”

When I simply stared at him without responding, Park Sangin frowned aggressively.

‘This guy really found his true calling.’

He seemed far better suited to being a lackey than an actor.

“You act so high and mighty. Do you really think you’re somebody? In the end, the one who made the drama a huge success was Junseo.”

“Okay. Your boss is amazing. Cool. The best.”

I rattled off praise for Woo Junseo without even pausing for breath, then sighed.

“Can you leave now? I’m exhausted.”

They’d already finished complimenting themselves.

Why did they need validation from me too?

“Hah! You little!”

Apparently my indifference got under Park Sang-in’s skin.

He charged toward me.

At that moment…

“Let’s go. No need to bother someone tired.”

Still smiling, Woo Junseo lightly tapped Park Sangin’s arm.

Park Sang-in immediately relaxed.

“See? That’s how generous you are, Junseo. Nobody becomes a top actor for nothing.”

“Ah, stop exaggerating.”

Woo Junseo laughed and slung an arm around Park Sangin’s shoulders.

Their friendship looked so solid you’d never guess there had ever been tension between them.

‘But once a relationship cracks, you never know when it’ll break completely.’

Sometimes all it takes is a tiny push.

Park Sangin seemed to think I’d missed out on the seat he currently occupied.

In reality, it was the exact opposite.

‘Eventually he’ll realize he’s swallowed poison.’

Of course, I had no intention of telling him that.

“Junseo, want to go drinking? I already called some people.”

“Are they pretty?”

“Would I introduce you to ugly girls?”

“Man, I’m trusting you one more time. Last chance.”

As the two laughed and headed for the exit, Woo Junseo suddenly glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

Our eyes met for a brief moment.

Yet he acted as though he’d never looked my way and continued laughing as he walked out.

‘At least I won’t have to see him for a while.’

I felt much better.

‘Though this is only the beginning.’

Compared to the villains I would have to deal with in the future, Woo Junseo was the mildest one.

There would be plenty of people trying to interfere with what I was about to do.

Thinking of the faces I expected to encounter, I pulled out my phone.

“Let’s see.”

A list of names filled the screen.

It was Director Jang’s gift.

Last week, he had sent everyone a message saying:

“I’m going to hide in the mountains for a while and train my mind.”

Then he disappeared.

But right before vanishing, he had sent me a separate email.

Keeping his promise.

“That’s quite a long list.”

It was the list of directors Director Jang had promised to introduce me to.

People who were supposedly always desperate to find actors like me.

“Who should I call first?”

I whistled as I looked through the contacts.

Of course, I wasn’t planning to choose my next project immediately.

‘There’s something I need to do first.’

Namely…

‘The time has come.’

It was time to change agencies.