JERS 05

CHAPTER 05

Go Outside and Get Some Fresh Air (1)

I went straight down to the office and checked the profiles of our remaining artists.

There were about six left. Their ages and careers were all over the place.

A middle-aged male singer, a teenage male idol trainee, a former girl-group member who’d left after a scandal…

And one veteran actor in his eighties.

Every single one of them was someone I knew from before.

‘There’s only one person I was close enough with to call a friend… but still.’

Who should I approach first?

The one that stood out most was the boy who seemed to be in the most pitiful situation — the one around the same age as Cha Eun-young had been.

Lee Ji-woo, eighteen years old.

He’d started out as a child actor before becoming an idol trainee.

Wait, how did this kid end up as an idol?

He’d even debuted once, apparently.

While I was reading through his file, Kwon-hyung came over and filled me in.

“Oh, that kid? Yeah, he’s had it rough. His parents were… how should I put it… a little too full of themselves.
They kept saying, ‘If it’s not a famous director, our son’s not doing it!’ Remember?”

Right.
I remembered.
After his debut film hit ten million admissions, his parents refused to let him appear in anything “beneath his status.”

“The poor kid,” Kwon-hyung continued. “He had a bunch of offers, but his parents kept rejecting them.
Said they didn’t want his image wasted on some no-name movie.
Then, after you— I mean, after CEO Yoo passed away, the new guy sweet-talked them into letting him try idol work.”

It made sense in theory:
“Child actors who become idols often blow up! They can sing till their mid-20s, then transition back to acting later!”

That kind of logic.

Not completely wrong, I thought.
But it only works if someone actually takes responsibility for them.

Gi Sung-hoon didn’t.
He shoved Ji-woo into a hastily formed boy group, the debut tanked, and then he quietly disbanded the whole thing.

The new investors probably decided it was a lost cause and just pulled the plug.

The result: the other members scattered — some signed with other agencies, some became models or actors.

But why’s this kid still here?

A child star with a hit record, good looks, and youth on his side — there’s no reason he should’ve been left behind.

Seeing my confusion, Kwon-hyung sighed.

“His mental state’s a mess. Apparently, he had a major fight with his group members.
Now he refuses to step outside. Says he’s done with entertainment for good.”

“Poor kid…”

He must’ve been badly hurt.

“What about his parents?” I asked. “They must be furious with the company.”

“They divorced last year,” Kwon-hyung said quietly. “He’s living alone now.
Apparently they used to fight constantly about his career.”

“A high schooler living alone?” I blurted.

“He doesn’t even go to school anymore. The company’s idol division convinced them to have him drop out — said he could just take the GED later.”

So basically:
His parents gave up, the company abandoned him, and the kid stopped caring for himself.

Just like Cha Eun-young, I realized bitterly.

What’s the point of having parents if they just leave their kid locked away in a dark room?

My chest tightened.
At eighteen, you’re supposed to be out in the world — learning who you are, discovering what you love, figuring out how to live with people.

That’s what I’d always believed.
It’s why, when I ran this company, I’d made one strict rule:
No minor artist would ever be pressured over performance or profits.

And now look at them… they broke it the moment I died.

This boy’s current state was the company’s fault.

Then it’s the company’s job to fix it.

“I’ll go see him myself,” I said.

Kwon-hyung’s eyes went wide.

“You? But he doesn’t talk to anyone — he won’t even answer our calls!”

“Then I’ll go until he does.”

After all, I was the one who’d recruited him. That made it my responsibility.

***

With Attorney Kim handling the legal paperwork for the corporate transfer, I turned my attention back to Ji-woo.

I tried calling him first — just to be polite.

Of course, he ignored it.
He hung up on anything connected to the company.

So I tried another number — a personal one.

“Hello, is this Lee Ji-woo?”

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m calling from Joy Entertainment, just to check—”

Click.

He hung up immediately.

Yup. As expected.

The kid had closed himself off completely.

If he won’t answer the phone…
then I’ll just have to go to him.

Every day, I went to his apartment.

Luckily — or unluckily — his mother had once given the company his address.

She’d told us not to contact her about “that boy’s affairs,” but it’s helping me now.

I brought fruit and snacks the first day.
He didn’t open the door.

At first, he probably thought it was a delivery.

“Hello, this is Joy Entertai—”

The moment he heard the word Joy Entertainment, the intercom went silent.

After that, nothing.

Kwon-hyung groaned.

“I’m telling you, it’s pointless. You’re wasting your time.
Try Seo-na instead — at least she still answers texts.”

He was probably worried about me — or maybe guilty because I’d paid off his debts.

But I just smiled.

“You never know till you try.”

I remembered Ji-woo’s face — the child star who’d once cried tears of joy after hitting ten million tickets.

He’d had it.
That light in his eyes, the natural charm — the kind that made you think, this kid’s going to be huge someday.

What a waste, I thought.
He’s probably grown taller, too.

To let that talent rot behind closed doors — no. I wasn’t going to let it end that way.

***

Every day, I brought something different.
Packaged fruit, yogurt, shampoo, towels, decent food.
I’d leave it by the door, knock, and leave.

He never answered.
But the next day, the items would be gone.

So he’s at least taking them. That’s something.

Still, it felt ridiculous — like feeding a stray dog.

If this doesn’t work, I’ll have to think of something else…

I was about to give up for the day when, after two weeks, the door finally creaked open.

“Ah—!”

I actually flinched in surprise.

There he was — pale as paper, messy hair hanging over half his face, and a weak voice.

“The… the dust… it’s gone.”

“…Huh?”

Dust? What dust?
Did he have a pet?

Before I could ask, he shoved his phone in my face.

“I have to find Dust!”

On the screen was a photo of a small, scruffy dog crouched in a narrow alley. Its fur was tangled, its eyes dull.

“Is that your dog?” I asked.

He froze, then shook his head.

“N-no… it’s not mine.”

“Then why do you have to find it?”

He stammered.

“It—it always stayed around the apartment.
But it’s been missing for days now.
I’m worried it’s hurt or… worse.”

“So you were feeding it?”

He shook his head again.

“The neighbors… they posted photos on the community app every day. That’s how I saw it.”

“You’ve never actually taken care of it yourself?”

He nodded miserably.

I sighed.

“Then what are you going to do if you find it? Take it home?
You can’t just bring it back to the street again.”

He bit his lip, unable to answer.

His eyes were already glassy with tears.

Too harsh, maybe. But it was the truth.

Still… if he was desperate enough to come outside for a stray dog, maybe that was something.

“Alright,” I said gently. “If I help you find the dog, promise me one thing.”

He looked up at me, startled.

“If we find it, you clean up this place, okay?
And after that, you talk to me about your contract.
Just talk. That’s all I’m asking.”

He hesitated, then nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks.

It was a start.

A small one — but a start nonetheless.