Then he started searching the room.

Meanwhile, Choi Yoon finished thoroughly appreciating Kim Tae Rin’s photo and casually scanned the room once.

“Do you play baseball?”

“Yes.”

“Are you good?”

“No.”

Han Seo Jung, who had been answering like this, pushed a box back.

As the box opened halfway, something glittered through the gap. Tilting his head slightly to look inside, he saw it was full of various trophies and plaques. Han Seo Jung’s name was engraved on all of them in a row.

Han Seo Jung picked up a bundle of documents and pushed it back as well.

Choi Yoon stepped backward and bumped into a bookshelf.

Turning around, he saw there were quite a lot of books.

Most were related to baseball or rehabilitation, followed by medical books on dementia and various essays. Having cut ties with academics, there were no workbooks, and the 3rd year textbooks scattered on the desk had childish doodles dirtying their covers.

“What will you do if you can’t go to school like this?”

“Anyway, I’m the only one going to school here. Being the only one means there’s no one. No one cares. Whether I go to school or not. Except for elder sister.”

That’s absurd. The parents wouldn’t stand for it. Come to think of it, Han Seo Jung doesn’t have a guardian.

“Found it!”

Han Seo Jung stood up abruptly. He lifted an old bundle of documents with all his might and placed it in front of Choi Yoon.

Choi Yoon couldn’t take his eyes off the large printed letters between the red strings.

Hambok Flower Steak Proposal.

Choi Yoon finally realized why he hadn’t been able to find any evidence despite thoroughly searching the restaurant.

It wasn’t that Choi Yoon had missed it, nor that Kim Tae Rin had destroyed it.

It was because Han Seo Jung had been keeping it.

He sensed it. That this old and faded document was the reason Kim Tae Rin had become an undercover agent.

Choi Yoon picked up the documents and placed them on the desk. They were quite heavy due to their volume.

“I took it when elder sister was throwing it away.”

“Tae Rin did? She threw it away?”

“Yes. I couldn’t just let it go, so I kept just a part of it.”

Just a part, he says. This isn’t even all of it. There’s so much here.

Han Seo Jung hastily implored:

“Don’t tell elder sister. Absolutely not. Understood? Elder sister thinks she threw all of this away.”

Choi Yoon grabbed the string. Just as he was about to pull and untie it, Han Seo Jung pressed his palm on the documents to stop him.

“Isn’t elder sister too precious to rot here?”

Choi Yoon stared intently at Han Seo Jung, gripping the string tightly as if someone might snatch it away. Han Seo Jung also didn’t remove his hand covering the documents.

“So please do well this time. The census must never be used to discriminate against youkai. Because youkai are equal to humans. Our village has participated in protests with that mindset. I know that conveying that is the most important purpose. I know, but…”

Ah, he’s expecting something from me.

There’s a condition for Han Seo Jung showing this to Choi Yoon.

“Please help elder sister’s cooking skills get some spotlight too.”

However, it wasn’t for Han Seo Jung’s personal gain.

Choi Yoon’s eyes softened. He spoke kindly.

“That’s what I want too. Basically, the restaurant will be the setting. It’ll probably be in an entertainment format. So sensitive issues like the census or discrimination won’t be shown on the surface.”

Han Seo Jung visibly relaxed.

“Like editing and such. Please make sure elder sister doesn’t get criticized. Even now, there’s an uproar on the internet calling her a gold digger and whatnot. It’s a bit upsetting. You know, right?”

“I know. Once the broadcast starts, all that talk will disappear. Tae Rin is so pretty that rather than calling her a gold digger, people will be telling me not to flirt with her.”

Han Seo Jung finally smiled.

“Please, really.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Then.”

Han Seo Jung pushed the documents towards Choi Yoon as if he had made up his mind.

“I’m just worried she might only be consumed for her pretty face.”

Even before Han Seo Jung finished emphasizing again, Choi Yoon pulled on the string. He applied force and broke it.

The paper was yellowed around the edges like well-baked bread, dry and also cool to the touch.

It wasn’t just one or two. Even though only a handful had been taken from the top, there were already over a dozen that came to hand.

It had a long history. The oldest one was from as far back as 6 years ago.

Since Kim Tae Rin was said to be the same age as Choi Yoon, six years ago would have been when she was nineteen. Not even twenty yet.

However, the proposal was robust for having been made by a nineteen-year-old.

Even to Choi Yoon, who had seen numerous proposals while sweeping up all sorts of advertisements, it was sophisticated and eye-catching at a glance.

Above all, it clearly conveyed that Kim Tae Rin had made it because she truly loved it.

There were simple versions ending in three or four pages, booklets exceeding dozens of pages, and even printouts of presentations. Without exception, they all set the biggest goal as high quality at a low price.

The proposals evolved and evolved each time, and if laid out in a row, it was like seeing Kim Tae Rin’s chronicle.

Like Choi Yoon, who had lived only looking at cameras day and night, it was clear that Kim Tae Rin had lived pursuing only Hambok Steak.

Just as he was about to feel a regretful sense of kinship, a printed email appeared.

It stated that after reviewing the proposal, they wanted to buy only the patent rights at an appropriate price as it did not align with the brand direction the company was pursuing.

The company’s logo was familiar. Haewoo Foods. A leading domestic company, with deep ties to Choi Yoon as well. Lee Kang Woo, the representative of Choi Yoon’s agency, was once the heir to Haewoo Foods.

After turning a few more pages, Choi Yoon realized what product this was the blueprint for. A few years ago, Haewoo had introduced a premium line of frozen foods targeting the global market and hit it big.

Especially popular was a hamburger steak sprinkled generously with garlic flakes and edible flowers. Even Choi Yoon, who rarely ate at home, had been curious enough to buy and cook it. When plated, it looked so sophisticated that it didn’t seem like frozen food. It was pretty, delicious, and expensive.

A suspicious file folder clamped tightly with a thick clip also appeared.

Haewoo Foods had first promised Kim Tae Rin continuous orders. Believing this, Kim Tae Rin partnered with another subcontractor to secure a production line, but Haewoo kept placing orders far exceeding the promised quantity. Just when Kim Tae Rin managed to take out loans and expand the production line, they suddenly reduced the order volume without warning.

As a result, the newly built production line came to a halt, causing massive losses. Only then did Haewoo approach with a deal to purchase Kim Tae Rin’s patent rights. This was described in detail.

In the end, Kim Tae Rin, who had no choice but to hand over the patent rights to pay off debts, was left with nothing but lost years.

Printouts of emails protesting to Haewoo. A lawsuit for damages. Charges of defamation and obstruction of business. Patent acquisition rights and patent sale contract. Countless transcripts of attempts to visit and negotiate, but to no avail. Even the withdrawal of the lawsuit.

Choi Yoon understood why Han Seo Jung couldn’t pass this by and picked it up.

It wasn’t just documents. It was a dream.

Choi Yoon remembered when he had secretly received scripts and was caught by Lee Kang Woo.

“You don’t need to see them. I’ll decide.”

Lee Kang Woo roughly swept away the scenarios on the table without even looking at them.

The arrangement that Choi Yoon had carefully prioritized was disrupted.

Those he hadn’t even seen the titles of yet, those he wanted to recommend thinking they might suit other actors better than himself and had folded the covers to set aside, those with roles and stories he liked so much he had read several times and stuck post-its on scenes he wanted to act out. Without distinction, they all piled up neatly in front of Lee Kang Woo.

“Elder brother…”

Choi Yoon gathered his courage. Lee Kang Woo threw the scripts into an empty box as if discarding them. At the heavy impact sound, Choi Yoon unknowingly stiffened his shoulders.

“You said you’d let me do what I want this time.”

“What you want to do?”

At the end of his words, Lee Kang Woo turned to face Choi Yoon. Choi Yoon unknowingly clenched his fists tightly, then quickly spread them open. But feeling awkward, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt tightly again.

“I told you not to grab your clothes like that. It makes you look stupid.”

Lee Kang Woo said coldly. Choi Yoon was startled and let go of his clothes. Not knowing what to do, he slightly clenched his hands.

He could feel Lee Kang Woo’s gaze scanning him up and down. Choi Yoon tried hard to straighten his back.

“Get your act together. Don’t you know everyone’s watching you?”

Don’t be nervous. Relax. It’s just saying what I want to do, what’s wrong with that? It’s just because I’ve been quiet all this time, if I express my opinion, he’ll consider it.

“There’s something there I can do well. The story is good too, and the role isn’t that different from my image. Although the director is a rookie now, I think they’ll definitely make it big. I want to work with them before that happens…”

“You lack discernment, so it won’t work.”

“J-just take a look at least.”

Choi Yoon approached and grabbed the box. Fortunately, Lee Kang Woo didn’t stop him. Choi Yoon hastily put his hand in the box and rummaged through the scenarios. His hand trembled with urgency.

“This is a bit different from the youth films we’ve shot so far. It’s kind of like a thriller. And also, that…”

Ah, Lee Kang Woo opened his mouth. Choi Yoon stopped his hand and looked at him.

“I know what you’re saying.”

Lee Kang Woo continued expressionlessly.

“The director is Jung In Ha, right?”

“Huh? That’s right.”

“You don’t have time.”

Lee Kang Woo grabbed Choi Yoon’s chin with his fingertips. He tilted it slowly and examined it.

Even when Choi Yoon had collapsed unable to endure the murderous schedule, Lee Kang Woo had inspected Choi Yoon’s face in this way. As if checking for any flaws on an expensive object.

“Your face changes every day and your atmosphere is different. At a time when you need to be careful with each work, you want to do a project that might not even make it to theaters?”

Lee Kang Woo coldly brushed away Choi Yoon’s hand clutching the scenario blankly. Lee Kang Woo sealed the box tightly and then shoved it into Choi Yoon’s arms.

“Throw it away.”

Pushed by the weight of the box, Choi Yoon stepped back. He couldn’t bear to look up at Lee Kang Woo’s face.

“While you’re throwing it away, clear out that useless greed in your head too. How can you have so much greed when you can’t even act? If you want to do art beyond your means, you should pick up a camera and film by yourself instead of dragging others in. If you choose to go independent because it looks cool when you’re still wet behind the ears and then fail, can you take responsibility for that? Do you even know how many mouths are depending solely on you right now?”

The box of scenarios he should have thrown away then overlapped with the bundle of documents before his eyes.

How did Kim Tae Rin feel when she handed this over with her own hands?

Was she relieved? Regretful? Or angry?

What kind of face do people make when they decide to discard a long-cherished dream themselves?

Did Kim Tae Rin force a smile then? Did she cry as if bursting? If neither, was she always cleanly colorless as usual?

Before he could even dare to imagine, he found it hard to breathe.