이 포스팅은 쿠팡 파트너스 활동의 일환으로, 이에 따른 일정액의 수수료를 제공받습니다.
# Chapter 45: The Decision Before the Mirror
Lee Soo-jin’s pen froze between her fingers.
It was the smallest gesture, barely perceptible. But Min-jun caught it. The way prey senses a predator’s slightest movement.
“Netflix role.”
She repeated it. Her voice was composed, but something calculated lived beneath it. Min-jun felt it. Since that conversation with the others, his senses had sharpened. Like someone who’d tasted poison could detect the faintest flavor in food.
“Yeah. You said the decision hadn’t come through yet.”
She’d spoken again. She leaned back in her chair, toward the window. Seoul’s nightscape illuminated her face.
“But this is kind of a strange question, isn’t it? Why are you asking me this now?”
Min-jun didn’t answer. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. As if his own throat had betrayed him.
“I asked you. Last week. At Thestar. If you wanted to stay. Do you remember what you said?”
“Yes. I said I wanted to.”
The words felt foreign in his mouth. Like he was speaking through someone else’s body.
“Right. You said you wanted to. And I offered you a contract. Good terms. Do you remember what that contract was?”
Silence stretched between them. Seoul’s lights continued their endless flow beyond the window. Lives moved through the city in a thousand places. But time had stopped in this room.
“If the Netflix casting confirmed, I’d give you special support. Better roles. More opportunities. And…”
Lee Soo-jin looked at him again. Her eyes glinted in the darkness.
“And I said I’d take care of you. Personally.”
The words hung in the air. Like a great bird spreading its wings. And Min-jun was trapped entirely in its shadow.
“What do you think that meant?”
She asked.
“I… I’m not sure.”
He answered. It was a lie. He knew. They’d explained it clearly enough. But acknowledging that he knew was the same as accepting it. And accepting it meant his own destruction.
Lee Soo-jin stood. She walked toward the window, taking in Seoul’s glittering expanse. Her silhouette cast against the glass. Like a scene from shadow puppet theater.
“You’re thinking about something right now. Someone told you something. And it’s shaken you.”
Min-jun didn’t move. But his heart was racing.
“It doesn’t matter who that someone is. What matters is they told you that you should run away, right? That you should never leave my side? Something like that?”
Silence. It said everything.
Lee Soo-jin turned slowly. Her face was directed at him again. Still soft-looking. But beneath that softness lay something of steel.
“What do you need right now? Money? Work? Someone to see you?”
The questions came like bullets. And every one hit its mark. Everything he’d needed.
“I can give you all of it. Why do you think I’ve survived twenty years in this business? Why did I switch from acting to management?”
“I don’t know.”
Min-jun said.
“Power. And power means knowing other people’s weaknesses and filling them. You’re weak right now. Lonely. Afraid. And I want to fill that void in you.”
Lee Soo-jin returned to her desk. She sat. Her gaze met his directly.
“While you’re here, you’ll see a lot of things. How other actors fall apart. How they kill themselves. How they get crushed by the system. And then you’ll be grateful to me. Because I’ll protect you.”
Min-jun’s body went rigid. The word “suicide” had driven itself into his brain like a nail. He thought of that rooftop again. A week ago. The cold wind, Seoul’s lights, the void opening beneath his feet.
“Did you… did you do something to someone?”
He asked. His voice was barely audible.
Lee Soo-jin’s face froze for just a moment. As if time had stopped in a photograph. Then her smile returned.
“You’re a smart kid. That’s why I like you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Min-jun said. He hadn’t known those words would come. But they did. As if something inside him had pushed them out.
Lee Soo-jin picked up her pen again. She began to rotate it. Once. Twice. This time, the motion looked threatening.
“You’re walking a very dangerous path right now. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Min-jun answered.
“Then you have to make a choice. Right now. This moment. Will you hold my hand and keep walking, or will you try to survive this industry alone? And you need to understand something. You can’t survive alone. This industry doesn’t allow solitude. Alone means death.”
The words hung in the air like toxic gas. And Min-jun was breathing them in.
“The Netflix role…?”
Min-jun asked.
“You got it.”
Lee Soo-jin said.
In that moment, the world stopped. Min-jun’s ears heard nothing else. Lee Soo-jin continued speaking, but her words had become silent movements, soundless shapes.
You got it. You got it. You got it.
The phrase repeated in his brain like an incantation. And that incantation was transforming everything. The warnings, the pleas to run—all of it receded into shadow. Because before it stood this: acceptance. Success. Validation.
“So what are you going to choose?”
Lee Soo-jin asked again. Her voice was gentle now. Almost maternal.
Min-jun opened his mouth. At that moment, his phone rang.
Junho’s name lit the screen. Junho. The man who’d brought him down from that rooftop. Who’d saved his life. He was calling now.
“Answer it.”
Lee Soo-jin said. It was an order.
“It’s fine.”
Min-jun replied.
“Answer it.”
Lee Soo-jin said again. Harder this time.
Min-jun picked up.
“Min-jun. Where are you?”
Junho’s voice was tense. Like a parent searching for a lost child.
“At the office.”
Min-jun said.
“The office? Now? At this hour?”
“Yes.”
Silence. Min-jun heard Junho breathing on the other end.
“Are you with Soo-jin right now?”
Min-jun didn’t answer. But his silence told everything.
“Min-jun, get out of there. Right now. Tell me. What did Soo-jin just say to you?”
“She said I got the Netflix role.”
Min-jun said. His voice was mechanical.
A long silence came through the phone. And in that silence, Min-jun understood that Junho had grasped something.
“Min-jun. That’s a lie. The decision hasn’t come through yet. Soo-jin is lying to you.”
“How do you know?”
Min-jun asked.
“I know. And you need to get out of there. Now. Immediately.”
Min-jun looked at Lee Soo-jin. Her face was composed. But something danced beneath the surface. The satisfaction of a plan executing perfectly.
“Director, Junho is telling me to leave.”
Min-jun said.
“Go.”
Lee Soo-jin said. And she laughed. A genuine laugh. The laugh of someone who knows she’s just won something.
“But remember this. You’re already in my hands. You got the Netflix role. And that’s going to change you. You’re not a nobody actor anymore. You’re an actor now. And that actor belongs to me.”
Min-jun stood. His legs trembled. As if his own body was rejecting him. He walked toward the door.
“And Min-jun.”
Lee Soo-jin spoke again. Her voice followed him from behind.
“That friend of ours.”
Min-jun stopped. His hand was on the doorknob.
“Do you know what they told you?”
“Yes.”
Min-jun answered.
“And you believe them?”
“I’m not sure.”
Min-jun said.
“That’s fine. You don’t have to know. Because I do. And you’ll find out soon enough. Who really takes care of you in this industry. And who that is.”
Min-jun opened the door. The hallway extended before him. Dim lighting. Beyond it, an elevator. And beyond that elevator, the world.
He walked. One step. Then another. His footsteps echoed in the hallway. Like his own heartbeat. And within that heartbeat, something new was being born.
Not fear. Not hope.
Uncertainty. And that uncertainty was what moved him.
The elevator arrived. The doors opened. He stepped in. Pressed the button. Ground floor. Lobby. The world outside.
The elevator descended. From the 27th floor to the first. As it fell, Min-jun saw his reflection in the elevator’s mirrored walls. A reflection within a reflection. Was that his face? Or someone else’s?
The face was pale. But within that paleness, something had shifted. As if something inside was awakening.
Mirrors don’t lie. They show. Exactly. That’s why mirrors terrify.
The elevator reached the lobby. The doors opened. Min-jun walked forward.
Junho was standing there. The moment he saw Min-jun, his face crumbled. Like someone who’d found what they’d been searching for.
“Min-jun. Are you okay?”
Junho asked.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
Min-jun answered.
“Good. Let’s go then.”
Junho extended his hand. Min-jun looked at it. Freckles from age marked its surface. And above those freckles lay warmth.
Min-jun took it. A warm hand. Larger than his own. A hand that could lead him somewhere.
They left Thestar Entertainment’s lobby. The streets of Gangnam Station at night spread before them. The May night felt cold.
“What did Ji-eun tell you?”
Junho asked as they walked.
“That I should run.”
Min-jun said.
“That’s right. You should run.”
“But I got the role. Netflix.”
Min-jun said.
“I know. That’s why it’s more dangerous.”
Junho said.
They walked through the streets. A taxi passed. People passed. Everyone living their own lives. But Min-jun’s life was splitting now. Between two paths.
His phone buzzed. A text from them.
“Min-jun, where are you? I know what you’ll choose. You’ll choose Soo-jin. Everyone does. Eventually, everyone does. But remember. Ji-eun was like that too at first. And now Ji-eun is somewhere none of us can reach.”
Min-jun read the message. Then deleted it. But the words were carved into his brain. Ji-eun. That name was now part of him.
“Min-jun, what are you thinking?”
Junho asked.
“I don’t know who I want to be.”
Min-jun said.
“That’s good. You don’t need to know yet. Because if you know, then you have to protect it. And protecting something in this industry… is very expensive.”
Junho said. His voice was deep. Like someone who’d already paid that price.
They kept walking. Through Gangnam Station’s nighttime streets. Min-jun felt his hand still in Junho’s. A warm hand. A hand that wouldn’t let go.
And Min-jun decided not to let go of that hand.
At least not tonight.