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Chapter 21
The Betrayer
Hey. Seriously, can’t you…?
Won’t you let me off just this once…?
Jisoo spammed her with every crying emoji she had.
Sara straightened up from her reclining position and replied.
You know I don’t do variety shows.
Traitor.
That’s exactly why it’s meaningful!
Sara Seo on a variety show, after five whole years!
And right after winning the Atre Award, no less!
I’ll shoot it perfectly, I swear. Please? Please? Pleeease?
Fine. I’ll think about it.
Traitor.
Wait—you said you’ll think about it? For real? Did you screenshot this?
Hold on, can you talk right now??
Later. I’m filming.
“Who’s making you laugh like that?”
At some point, Mirae had come in and set a coffee down on the table.
“Park Jisoo.”
“Oh, Jisoo? Didn’t Writer Park just launch a new pilot? What’s the format?”
“No idea. Didn’t hear. But she did ask me to guest.”
“Are you going to?”
“We’ll see.”
Sara sipped the coffee Mirae brought and pulled the script toward herself.
“Come to think of it, it’s been forever since you’ve seen Jisoo. You, Mugeom, and Jisoo used to stick together all the time.”
“So what? Ever since Jisoo became a betrayer, I barely see her five times a year. Every time we make plans, she cancels. She’s busier than a celebrity. If I’d known it would be like this, I would’ve dropped a zero from the wedding gift.”
“That’s just what happens when you get married. Singles and married folks can’t live the same way.”
Mirae, three years into marriage, said it like an adult.
Even after hearing the explanation, Sara still didn’t quite get it.
Her lips jutted out in a sulky pout before she realized it.
With so few friends, it hurt all the more.
In the short time she’d been talking with Mirae, over twenty pleading messages had piled up from Jisoo.
Sara scrolled through them briefly, then replied she’d call later.
[Would Thursday at 7 p.m. work?]
Just as she was about to get up, another text arrived.
Sara checked the sender, and the smile slid off her face.
This is the last time. Really, the last.
“This way.”
A man with a friendly face recognized Sara and waved first.
Next to him, a stocky man ended his phone call in a hurry when he noticed her.
As Sara sat down across from them, she said:
“You could’ve finished your call.”
“Haha, no need. First time meeting like this. I’m Seo Jong-hwan from Dorea Pictures. This is Kim Ji-seok. Oh, but you two have met before, haven’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve run into Team Manager Kim before.”
“Traffic wasn’t too bad on the way?”
“Luckily, not really. What about you, Director Seo?”
As always, the meeting place was somewhere private enough to avoid too many eyes but open enough for people to come and go.
They exchanged light conversation until the food arrived. Then Sara brought out the materials she’d prepared.
“Director Choi’s works, they’ve always been recognized for artistic quality. You know he was even invited twice to Deo Rocha. Honestly, they weren’t bad commercially either. It’s just the actor scandal that ruined things…”
“Right. The chaos when the lead was arrested for marijuana during the screening.”
“Yes. If not for that, we’d have easily cleared the break-even point. The actor was the problem, not the directing. I believe his work deserves a reevaluation.”
She gave a full-on pitch, and the two men nodded seriously, jotting notes.
Sara pushed hard to highlight Eun-young’s strengths.
She also emphasized that if it wasn’t Director Choi, she wouldn’t even consider collaborating.
The mood wasn’t bad.
She even felt a spark of hope—maybe, just maybe, they’d get investment this time.
“How did you find the script?”
“Excellent. Several of our team read it, and everyone gave it high praise.”
“Right? Especially that chase scene toward the end—just reading it was thrilling.”
“Yes, well, Director Choi’s scripts have always had quite a reputation.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
As the meal wound down, the atmosphere stayed pleasant. Sara sipped the black tea that came with dessert, holding onto that sliver of hope.
The two men exchanged a look, then spoke.
“Our company is preparing a new project, but we haven’t secured a lead actress yet.”
“Oh? What kind of project?”
“A passionate melodrama. The content is… a bit risqué, so it’s been hard to find someone.”
“Ah.”
Sara began to sense where this was going.
Keeping her smile fixed, she said:
“If the script is solid, I’ll take a look.”
At her half-acceptance, Seo Jong-hwan’s face lit up.
“Then—actually, I brought the script just in case. Would you like to see it?”
“Here?”
“Yes. Do you have another appointment later?”
“No, no. Please, let me see.”
It had been a long time since she’d felt so thoroughly in the subordinate position.
With a calculated smile, Sara took the script.
But as she flipped the cover, her fingers froze.
“Director Lee Jong-hyuk… is directing this?”
“Yes. He and our CEO are close friends. Practically like brothers.”
Seo eagerly brought up the connection, though unasked.
Lee Jong-hyuk was infamous among actors.
And not in a good way.
On set, shouting and insults were routine, and violence wasn’t rare. After shoots, he dragged actors to bars, and if his glass wasn’t refilled quickly enough, someone always paid for it.
Sara knew all this firsthand.
She’d worked with him five years ago.
At just twenty-two, she’d failed to greet him properly once—and he punished her with a full month of overnight shoots.
Her health deteriorated so badly she spent half a year in outpatient treatment after that film.
Even recalling his face now made her stomach churn.
“If you agreed, I think the nude scenes could be… adjusted a little.”
Seo must have mistaken the cause of her hesitation, leaning forward to reassure her.
“This would be Director Lee’s first film in years, you know?”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“Oh! You’ve worked with him before, right? Desire, wasn’t it? I loved that movie.”
“Yes. It was… something.”
Her fingers turned the pages faster now.
Even skimming, the story was obvious.
Find some actress, shoot countless nude scenes under the guise of art.
Sara struggled to keep from sneering.
“This is something I’d have to review with my company first—”
But she never finished.
The door opened, and an utterly unexpected person appeared.
“You—what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“D-Director Choi? How did you—?”
Eun-young stood there, still panting from rushing over.
Sara was so stunned by her sudden appearance she couldn’t speak.
“I asked you what you’re doing, Sara Seo.”
“…Director Choi, I’m in a meeting right now. Let’s talk later.”
“Meeting? What meeting?”
Eun-young’s face was harsher than Sara had ever seen.
Panicked, Sara jumped up and grabbed her arm.
She didn’t want Eun-young tied up in gossip, even if they weren’t going to work with this production company.
“Director, please, let’s step outside and talk. Okay?”
“Talk? Sure, let’s talk. About why you’re sneaking around having meetings with producers without me.”
From her expression, it was clear she already knew.
Sara bit her lip, words failing her.
The meeting was a bust anyway—better to explain in private.
She handed the script back across the table.
“Sorry, I’ll have to excuse myself. And—”
But Eun-young snatched the script like a hawk.
Her eyes flared as she saw Lee Jong-hyuk’s name on the cover.
With years in the industry, she knew immediately what was going on.
“Sara Seo. Are you insane? You’d do this just to get investment for my film?”
“Unni!”
Eun-young hurled the script to the floor and shouted at the men.
“Listen carefully. I am not making this film. Don’t you ever contact Sara again. Understand?”
“Unni, wait!”
“You little—do you know who you’re talking to like that?”
“I don’t need to, and I don’t want to. So leave.”
Eun-young spoke more firmly than ever, pointing to the door.
The men scowled and jabbed fingers at her.
“Who came begging us for a meeting first?”
“Look here, Director Choi. If not for Sara Seo, we wouldn’t even have shown up. What good’s a script when the director ruins everything he touches? Tch.”
“Let’s go, Team Manager Kim. No point wasting breath here.”
They snatched up their jackets and stormed out.
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Sara’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shatter her ribs.
Unable to bear it, she finally spoke first.
“Unni. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it was just a few meetings with producers, nothing more. You’re misunderstanding—”
“Sara Seo.”
Eun-young’s voice was lower and heavier than ever.
She stared straight into Sara’s eyes.
“Who told you to do this? Who asked you? Why are you doing things no one asked for? Why?”
