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# Chapter 41: Shadows Behind the Articles
Our phone screen stopped in front of Minjun’s eyes. A few scrolls of the finger, and the article’s headline gradually revealed itself.
“’Former Actress Lee Sujin Reaches Settlement Over Sexual Harassment Allegations Against Rookie Actor.’”
Minjun read the headline. Read it again. The words seemed to refuse entry into his brain, as if he were reading a sentence written in a foreign language.
“What… is this?”
Minjun asked, his voice hoarse.
“It’s from 2018. When Sujin was still working as an actress. Back then, she was producing an independent film. And she cast a rookie actor. Who that actor was has never been revealed. They were bound by an NDA through the settlement.”
We lowered the phone. The espresso machine in the café whirred again. Someone bit into a piece of cake. The aroma of food drifted through the air—almond flour and sweet chocolate. But to Minjun, it barely registered as a smell at all. As if it belonged to another world entirely.
“And then another article came out in 2020.”
We turned the screen back on. Scrolled.
“’Entertainment Company CEO Lee Sujin Disciplined for Sexual Harassment Against New Employee.’”
“But what’s a disciplinary action? And why is Sujin still the company CEO now?”
Minjun asked, his voice rising without his realizing it.
“You think money solves everything? In this country, money solves almost everything. And Sujin has plenty of it. But more than that…”
We lowered the phone. Turned off the screen. And looked directly into Minjun’s eyes. That gaze burned with intensity, as if kindled by flame.
“Sujin doesn’t just have money—she has power. Power in this industry. That’s why no one dares touch her. That’s why no one brings up those articles again. Because Sujin controls the actors’ careers. So they keep their mouths shut.”
Minjun didn’t move. He became like stone. But his insides were trembling—like an earthquake. The ground beneath him was shaking.
“You’re working under someone like that right now. And you don’t even know how she sees you.”
We spoke. There was something desperate in that voice, as if we had to convey something crucial to Minjun. As if we had to prevent him from repeating our own mistake.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Minjun asked. His hands were trembling. The coffee cup on the table shifted slightly from the tremor.
“Because…”
We hesitated on the answer. It felt like speaking it would be eating ourselves alive. Our lips moved, then stopped. Moved again, then stopped.
“Because you’re someone I couldn’t protect.”
That sentence fell into the air between us. Minjun felt its weight. It wasn’t just words. It was something like a suicide note. It felt like we were extracting our soul piece by piece and laying it bare before him.
“What?”
Minjun asked, his voice shaking.
“When I protected Junho, I failed to protect someone else. That person was Sujin’s new target. I warned them. I told them to ‘run away.’ But they didn’t run.”
Our hands trembled on the table. Like dancing. But it wasn’t dancing. It was the movement of fear.
“And that person disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
Minjun asked.
“Quit acting. Left the industry. I don’t even know where they are now. No social media. No contact. Just… gone. As if they never existed in the first place.”
The café’s noise suddenly grew loud. The hiss of the espresso machine, someone’s laughter, cups being set down on tables. All of it rushed into Minjun’s ears at once. As if his brain, unable to process the current conversation, was amplifying all surrounding sounds in compensation.
“That person was my friend. An actor who started at the same time I did. We went to extra shoots together. We got rejected together. We laughed and cried together. But one day, that friend caught Sujin’s eye. And a few months later, that friend was gone.”
Tears formed at the corners of our eyes. But they didn’t fall. As if even our eyes had given up crying.
“And I can never forgive myself for not stopping them. That’s why I’m telling you this now. Please, run away. Please avoid Sujin. Please don’t believe that smile of hers.”
Minjun stared at us. Our face was deathly pale. Like a ghost. But within that ghost-like face, something desperate lived and breathed. Vitality. A desperate will to save Minjun.
“There are things you can’t stop.”
Minjun said, without meaning to.
“What?”
We asked.
“Things I’ve already chosen. Roads I’ve already walked.”
Minjun stood up. The chair scraped backward. People in the café looked at him. But Minjun didn’t care.
“You couldn’t protect your friend. But I have to walk my own path.”
“Minjun…”
We started to stand.
“I don’t think I can help you.”
Minjun said. His voice sounded cold. But it wasn’t true coldness. It was the composure that comes from extreme fear.
“But… the information you gave me. Thank you for that.”
Minjun turned and left. The café door closed behind him. The sound hit our ears like a gunshot.
We were left alone. On the table sat the coffee cup we’d drunk from. Inside it, only the residue of now-cold coffee remained. Our phone lay on the table. Its dark screen reflected our face back at us—a face drained of all color, exhausted beyond measure, lonely beyond words.
We reached for the phone and picked it up. Turned on the screen. Opened the notes app again. We saw the title: “How to Quit Acting.” We scrolled to the very end. And began typing new words.
“Minjun. You made the right choice. You don’t need to listen to me. Walk your own path. Do what I couldn’t. If you can. Please.”
After leaving the café, Minjun walked in the direction of Gangnam Station. The May sunshine was still warm. But Minjun couldn’t feel that warmth. It was as if his skin was rejecting the sunlight. As if his body was rejecting the present world.
Minjun’s phone rang. A call. The screen showed the name “Junho.”
Minjun answered.
“Minjun? Where are you right now?”
Junho’s voice came through. There was something urgent in it.
“Near Gangnam Station.”
Minjun replied.
“Come to the office. Hurry. Sujin’s looking for you. And Minjun, I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
Minjun asked.
“I have to tell you in person. Come now. How long will it take?”
“About thirty minutes?”
Minjun answered.
“Alright. I’ll wait. Come quick.”
Junho ended the call. Minjun lowered his phone. The intersection of Gangnam Station came into view. People waiting for the light to change. All of them heading toward their destinations. But Minjun could no longer be certain where his destination was.
His feet turned toward Gangnam Station. Toward the office. Toward Junho. And probably toward Sujin as well.
The building of Thestar Entertainment came into view. A gray, modern structure. Glass windows reflecting the sunlight. Minjun stopped in front of it. His finger hovered over the phone screen. That finger was trembling.
“Why am I shaking?”
Minjun said to himself, in a whisper.
And then he entered the building. The automatic door slid open. Cold air poured out. The smell of air conditioning. And something else. The smell of business. The smell of power.
Minjun stopped in front of the elevator. He reached to press the button. But before he did, he saw the mirror. The mirror beside the elevator. His reflection in it.
That face was still ordinarily plain. 174 centimeters tall, lean build, light brown eyes. But something new had appeared within that ordinary face. Something broken. Something changed.
Minjun stared at that reflection. As if his past and present were meeting within the mirror. As if his choices were being reflected back through it.
“There’s no going back now.”
Minjun whispered to himself.
And he pressed the elevator button. The doors opened. Minjun stepped inside. The doors closed. The elevator began to rise.
Junho was waiting outside Conference Room C. His face was serious. The expression of someone about to deliver news of a death. Or the expression of someone who had accepted their own.
Minjun appeared. Junho saw him. And immediately pulled him toward the stairs beside the conference room.
“Don’t go in there.”
Junho said, his voice low.
“What’s in there?”
Minjun asked.
“Sujin. And…”
Junho paused. He looked into Minjun’s eyes. There was something broken in that gaze. The look of someone who had made an extreme decision.
“And Seonjun.”
Minjun’s chest dropped.
“What’s Seonjun doing there?”
Minjun asked.
“Sujin cast Seonjun as the lead in a new project. And you were supposed to be the supporting role. Originally.”
“Originally?”
Minjun asked.
Junho took a deep breath.
“Seonjun did something to Sujin. I don’t know what, but Sujin is extremely angry right now. And the target of that anger is…”
Junho paused again. And spoke slowly.
“You.”
End of Chapter 41