CRT Ch 14

Cha Yilhyun held the phone to his ear, frozen. He had called Seok Ryu several times, but all he got was a message that the phone was off. Unlike his slow hand lowering the phone, his mind raced sharply.

The sound of someone entering made Seok Ryu turn off the phone. Was he so cautious that he couldn’t even take calls freely? Though he seemed like a typical manager-actor pair, sometimes Seok Ryu acted like a hunted man.

The news of securing the rights to The Lake of the Gods had the company in a festive mood. The moment the writer signed the contract, Cha Yilhyun called an emergency meeting with the executives. With momentum building for the stalled project, Cha Yilhyun was quite energized. Seok Ryu’s adherence to the rule of not answering calls except from him also put Cha Yilhyun in a good mood.

But a single rejection from Seok Ryu extinguished his enthusiasm in a way that surprised even himself. Turning off the phone was a clear refusal.

“Am I that bad…?”

“What?”

His sudden comment drew the attention of the department heads. The executives were seated at a U-shaped table, taking a break. Director Kwak was absent, having gone to meet the key figure behind this success. The planning team director glanced cautiously at Cha Yilhyun.

“May I take my phone back?”

“Oh, I used it well.”

With permission granted, Secretary Yang collected the phones in front of Cha Yilhyun and returned them to their owners.

Cha Yilhyun leaned back in the leather chair, rubbing his hands. Unconsciously gripping the phone tightly during the call with Seok Ryu had left his knuckles sore. A deep sense of futility washed over him, as if he’d scattered a nearly completed puzzle.

Cha Yilhyun was impulsive by nature. With countless distractions and endless replacements available, he had lived consuming moments based on fleeting emotions. But this moment of rejection from Seok Ryu left him without a substitute, with no answers.

Seok Ryu was like a crystal artifact crafted from the world’s fragility. His delicate neck seemed sculpted for the sensual texture of the choker necklace from the start. The mark on his neck, resembling a tattoo, piqued curiosity about its story.

Sometimes, Cha Yilhyun wanted to dismantle that refined perfection piece by piece and reassemble it.

Pressing his temple with his thumb, Cha Yilhyun bit an empty molar. Seok Ryu’s tongue and moans still seemed to writhe in his mouth. His mind relentlessly projected continuous images. The scenarios he scribbled about Seok Ryu mostly followed similar beginnings and endings.

In the heart of the city, Seok Ryu, with a frightened expression, searches for Cha Yilhyun, who watches voyeuristically from hiding. Fearing abandonment, Seok Ryu trails Cha Yilhyun, willingly complying with any degrading act demanded.

Or, in Cha Yilhyun’s home, Seok Ryu is bound naked in a cage. After days without a drop of water, when Seok Ryu pleads for relief, Cha Yilhyun pretends to relent, pouring his semen through the bars into Seok Ryu’s mouth. Seok Ryu seemed like a persona born for such purposes.

Yet, those lips, inspiring sadistic fantasies, would also suit a smile. Cha Yilhyun wondered why Seok Ryu had such dark, wet eyes and what their story was. He questioned whether these feelings were truly for one person.

As the break ended, Director Kwak returned from meeting the hero who secured the rights. Cha Yilhyun flipped through a file.

“Let’s have the meeting.”

💎

The next day, Seok Ryu and Yejun headed to the PR team’s office at Team Leader Seo’s summons. Since only a few knew about the rights acquisition, the company was calm. In the elevator with just the two of them, Yejun spoke in an excited voice.

“Biryu is super slender, so I need to lose another five kilos and take martial arts lessons. Oh, and Biryu expertly handles falcons—don’t I need to find a falcon trainer to learn from?”

“I’ll switch you to a diet that supports weight control and compile a list of martial arts academies. I’ll also check for nearby zoos.”

Seok Ryu jotted down tasks in his notebook. Manager Byun had brilliantly secured another role in place of Seunghyun, which Yoon Inoh had taken. He also landed a variety show appearance and a supporting role.

Seok Ryu looked at Yejun with a heavy heart. Failing again to make Cha Yilhyun a devotee left him ashamed. Fortunately, his relieved master graciously gave Seok Ryu another chance. Having barely cleared the second hurdle, he felt a decade older.

Though it was a hard-won victory, securing the Biryu role for Yejun—wouldn’t Yejun acknowledge him a bit? Of course, Seok Ryu had no intention of resting here. His resolve to make Cha Yilhyun Yejun’s devotee remained unshaken. If Yejun extended his binding period, Seok Ryu was ready to leap off a cliff.

Yejun stared at his phone, mumbling.

“Why’s Inoh so quiet? If he knew I got Biryu, he’d come charging, foaming at the mouth…”

“The company’s keeping it under wraps, so he probably hasn’t heard.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t stay quiet if he knew.”

Having secured the rights to The Lake of the Gods, Yejun had no reason to write an apology letter to Yoon Inoh. Yejun was now the hero who saved Songhyul and fulfilled the CEO’s lifelong dream.

Entering the PR team’s office, Team Leader Seo greeted them warmly. In an empty meeting room, Seo finally let his excitement show.

“Yejun, you’re amazing! We chased this for five years, and you nailed it in days!”

“No, I didn’t do much…”

“How’d you convince the writer? Spill the behind-the-scenes—it’ll help with PR later.”

“I got lost going to Inoh’s place and ran into him by chance. I didn’t even know it was Isaac at first and asked for directions. Later, he invited me to his place, and we stayed up assembling a puzzle and trimming his nails…”

“Haha, even his nails? Sounds like a long story, so let’s set a day for an interview.”

Yejun grinned shyly. Seo looked at him with utter adoration.

“Oh, did the CEO contact you?”

“No, he probably doesn’t have my number.”

“He’ll want to talk to you—I forgot to pass it on. Oh, come to the banquet hall by 1 p.m. The CEO invited the main and supporting cast of The Lake of the Gods for lunch. We told the others it’s just a big drama launch, so you know to keep quiet, right?”

Yejun, overwhelmed with emotion, could only open and close his mouth.

“I’ll keep it secret!”

If the drama’s leads were invited, Yejun’s Biryu role was surely confirmed. Hesitantly, he asked, “Is Inoh coming to the lunch?”

“He’s cast as Daul, so unless something comes up, he’ll be there. Why?”

Yejun rolled his eyes, mumbling. Sensing something off, Seo probed subtly.

“This industry’s tough with all the gatekeeping—normal mental strength doesn’t cut it. Should I remove Inoh from the list? You’re the star of this banquet anyway.”

Seo had apparently heard rumors of Inoh targeting Yejun.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant…! It’s the CEO’s invitation—how could I say who should or shouldn’t come?”

“The CEO doesn’t care who attends. I’ll handle it, so Yejun, just bring some antacids. You get indigestion when you’re nervous.”

“Hehe…”

Yejun scratched his head, laughing awkwardly. Seok Ryu was slightly surprised. His master was using his devotees more adeptly than he’d worried. It would be a chance to humiliate the arrogant Yoon Inoh while cementing Yejun’s position.

Seok Ryu asked Seo, “Is Director Choi Chanki attending the lunch?”

Seo’s gaze turned cold.

“Watch your mouth. Is the director your buddy? There’s talk about interns acting out, so behave.”

“Just tell me if he’s coming or not.”

“What’s that?”

As Seo’s expression darkened, Yejun, sweating, apologized on Seok Ryu’s behalf.

“Sorry. He’s probably just curious since he’s such a big name.”

“The director hates these events, so he won’t come.”

Yejun’s soothing calmed Seo quickly.

After parting with Seo, they waited for the elevator in the hallway. Seok Ryu pulled the wine-red phone from his pocket. He’d kept it off since abruptly ending the call with Cha Yilhyun.

“The CEO’s number is in here. I can give it to you if you need it.”

“No, no! It’s fine, I’m not calling him just because I have it. It’s fine.”

Yejun flinched, waving his hands. Though his lips smiled, his eyes were stiff. He carried the phone for emergencies but never considered it Seok Ryu’s. When Yejun bought him a new one, Seok Ryu would return it to Cha Yilhyun.

A middle-aged guard, sweating profusely, stepped off the arriving elevator.

“Here you are! A delivery for Park Yejun requires his signature.”

“A delivery for me?”

Yejun’s eyes widened in confusion. With time before the banquet, they headed to the lobby.

The delivery was a frame as tall as an adult. The sender was Isaac. When Yejun unwrapped it, a golden tree with vine-like branches gleamed dazzlingly. Isaac had apparently finished the puzzle they’d started together. A small envelope contained a card with a message.

[I wanted to show the finished piece to Yejun first. Sorry for declining the banquet invitation.]

—Isaac—

Isaac had been invited to the banquet too. With his personality, he’d never manage food in a strange place with strangers. Since Yejun and Isaac didn’t know each other’s faces, meeting would only complicate things, so it was for the best.

Yejun admired the golden puzzle, letting out gasps of awe. Had Isaac been there, Yejun’s bright smile might have washed away his guilt toward his friend. Devotees enthralled by the garnet showed loyalty without knowing their master’s face. But the memories Seok Ryu shared with Isaac would sour, becoming something he’d never want to revisit.

In his inexperienced days, Seok Ryu felt loss watching targets change overnight. Through repeated meetings and partings, he realized it didn’t have to be him. No matter how ardent their courtship or touching their gifts, none of it was his.

Just then, burly guards dragged out an unfamiliar man in a shabby jacket and sneakers.

“I’m here to meet a friend! He’s a staff member here!”

A hulking guard found a small camera in the man’s bag and jacket pocket. Checking the confiscated wallet, he raised his voice.

“D-Day reporter Hwang Kwang-il? Who do you think you are, sneaking in here?!”

The exposed reporter laughed cheekily as the guards hauled him away. Thinking he’d found a decent target, Seok Ryu whispered to Yejun.

“I’ll try persuading that reporter. If he writes favorable articles about you, it should help.”

“A reporter? Just a paparazzi digging into celebrities’ private lives for a third-rate magazine.”

“Is that so?”

Seok Ryu gave up readily and reached for the frame. The adult-sized frame was shockingly heavy. As he asked a guard to carry it, Yejun rolled up his sleeves.

“No matter what, to someone old enough to be my father… Give it here.”

Yejun helping the elderly guard was a sight too good to keep to himself. Seok Ryu pulled out his phone and quickly snapped a few photos.

“Could you hold still for a moment?”

“Posting on SNS again? People see through these staged shots nowadays.”

Yejun had diligently posted about helping an elderly trash collector with their cart or warmly treating the youngest staff. He’d also subtly included great poets’ verses and famous quotes. Since persuading everyone was impossible, it was Seok Ryu’s clever workaround. But people were too savvy these days to be easily moved.

Yejun hefted the frame and strode to the elevator. Seok Ryu hurried to press the button.

“I should be carrying it. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s a gift from the writer—I should carry it.”

Yejun hugged the frame tightly, letting no one touch it. Guardian stones were naturally weak, but Seok Ryu was especially frail for physical tasks, ever since a sculptor he served cut off both his arms.

One day, the sculptor, wanting to recreate the Venus de Milo, severed Seok Ryu’s arms. Heewan restored the bones and muscles, but the performance never fully recovered.

💎

Since the rights were secured yesterday, Cha Yilhyun and key executives had been in high-intensity marathon meetings. Director Kwak, after taking painkillers, continued speaking.

“Winsplay might cling to a verbal contract with the writer. The legal team will push for a settlement, but the issue is Winsplay might demand an astronomical sum.”

They had to consider the possibility of a lawsuit over The Lake of the Gods. Since Winsplay hadn’t formalized the contract, they were legally disadvantaged. Even if they raised moral objections, the public would side with Songhyul. Compared to Winsplay’s inconsistent output, Songhyul’s consistently high-quality works made fans hope they’d perfectly recreate The Lake of the Gods.

“Give them whatever they ask.”

Cha Yilhyun’s words drew grimaces from the legal and finance teams.

“It’s a matter of corporate pride—Winsplay will play dirty to prevent us from producing the drama.”

“They’ll change their tune when they’re desperate for cash.”

“Do you have something specific in mind, sir?”

“We’ll monopolize Songhyul’s and third-party works on Winsplay’s platform.”

Rubbing his dry eyes, Cha Yilhyun added, “Within two years, we’ll acquire Winsplay.”

It was the final card Cha Yilhyun had planned to play if Isaac didn’t budge. But with the writer miraculously handing over the rights, there was no need to waste energy on futile efforts. Of course, if Winsplay dragged things out, that would change.

Kwak and the board’s eyes widened. If Songhyul aggressively dominated content, Winsplay, with its weak production capacity, would collapse quickly. K Cinema and Jin Media, mid-to-upper-tier in market share, were also considering sales, and Songhyul planned to buy if the terms were right.

Pressuring Winsplay financially burdened Songhyul too, but once Cha Yilhyun decided, he charged forward, and the board didn’t argue further.

Cha Yilhyun spun his chair and fiddled with his phone, a sign his focus was nearing its limit. Kwak pulled the mic closer for closing remarks.

“We’ll update on the rest. Until the official announcement, all staff are urged to maintain strict confidentiality about the rights.”

After the marathon meeting, filming would start immediately, with blind ads and teasers released sequentially in a month. Everyone prepared meticulously to handle the 500-billion-won behemoth.

As the meeting ended, the board members stood one by one. Kwak, neatly organizing documents, said to Cha Yilhyun, “Shouldn’t you get some rest? You need to review the revised teaser this afternoon and attend the banquet.”

“Move the review to the morning.”

“Contact the studio.”

Kwak instructed his secretary and looked back at Cha Yilhyun.

“We planned the The Lake of the Gods acquisition party after the announcement. If you have a preferred date or concept, let me know.”

“Why have a party?”

The CEO’s odd response stumped Kwak.

“It’s a joyous day—you achieved your lifelong dream. Didn’t you suggest the party?”

“I’m happy, so why are you all celebrating?”

Kwak was speechless again.

“We’re thrilled to see years of hard work bear fruit. I thought the party was partly to reward Park Yejun…”

“The party’s for me.”

With moody music, candles on a cake, and Seok Ryu seated across from him.

Kwak’s eyes narrowed.

“You meant a private party. My mistake.”

Cha Yilhyun propped his chin on his hand, staring at Kwak.

“Are you sure the writer gave the rights because of that guy?”

“You heard him say it while signing the contract—because of Park Yejun. You remember running into him at the writer’s place, right?”

Cha Yilhyun lowered his eyes, his expression ambiguous. Kwak, stacking files, furrowed his brow. With a skeptical look, he spoke.

“With filming starting soon, what’s your plan for the Biryu role?”

“Hold an open audition.”

Kwak looked as if he’d been slapped. The atmosphere chilled, and board members leaving the room paused. Kwak reminded Cha Yilhyun of a critical fact.

“The writer gave the rights on the condition that Park Yejun gets Biryu.”

“Is that in the contract?”

Kwak’s lips curled coldly at the CEO’s question.

“What if the writer threatens to withdraw the contract?”

“We’ll sue.”

Kwak glared at Cha Yilhyun, grinding his teeth. The board murmured at Cha Yilhyun’s response. His astronomical investment in The Lake of the Gods stemmed from pure fandom. It wasn’t a joke that he got hooked on real estate while playing Blue Marble—business and play had no boundaries for him.

But Cha Yilhyun spared no one who obstructed his goals. Many had been blindsided by his innocent demeanor.

Kwak steadied his breath to persuade him.

“We’ve already scouted thousands nationwide. You rejected Yoon Inoh outright and weren’t impressed with the portfolios I scraped together.”

“I’m not asking for much.”

“Top-tier acting is a given, plus androgynous, decadent charm, melancholic eyes, and skin so pale it’s almost transparent, sparking a desire to defile. Finding a unicorn might be easier.”

Cha Yilhyun yawned exaggeratedly at Kwak’s nagging, looking bored. Kwak suppressed his rising anger at the shameless CEO.

“Biryu should go to Park Yejun. We’re having this cushy argument thanks to him.”

The board exchanged glances and began persuading Cha Yilhyun.

“Park Yejun has a strangely sexy vibe—way better than Yoon Inoh.”

“He’s the best rookie we’ve signed so far.”

Cha Yilhyun observed their expressions with curious eyes. Not just Kwak’s allies but even the planning team director, Kwak’s rival, spoke in unison, as if possessed. Propping his chin on interlaced hands, Cha Yilhyun scanned the board in a long shot.

“If they want Biryu, tell them to prove it at the audition.”