Chapter 104

Sua, collapsing!

“Guh…!”

Sua fell to her knees, tightly gripping her left chest.

“This can’t be…!”

Eventually, she collapsed on the ground, convulsing slightly. Of course, it wasn’t that Sua had suddenly been faced with a terminal situation.

Just…

“…This is too dang adorable no matter how you look at it!”

Sua looked at the creature that had leapt onto her chest.

A baby arctic fox whose fur is still gray – this little one was the culprit that brought Sua down.

Simultaneously, it was also Sua’s newfound family.

“Ki-ing.”

(Mother. How are you?)

“Wow, your voice is so cute too.”

“Nya-nya.”

(I want to become as dignified as you someday.)

Though Sua didn’t know exactly what the fox was saying, it was adorable.

It was probably just random noises out of curiosity. Sua gazed blankly at the baby fox perched on her.

In the meantime, she was reflecting on a few things.

‘Raising an arctic fox has a considerable level of difficulty. It’s greedy to think I can raise it alone. I don’t want to harm this adorable little one unnecessarily.’

In the end, Sua decided, after much pondering, to register it at a care center.

Where trained caretakers could provide professional care. That made Sua feel much better. Even if something extremely busy came up for her, there would be no chance of this little one being left alone and starving.

And one more thing.

“Kiit. Ki-iiit.”

Sua thought as she listened to the delicate cries.

‘I want to communicate.’

Perhaps it was instinct. She wanted to connect with this adorable creature as much as possible, and wouldn’t it be great if they could have conversations?

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a difficult problem.

Sua immediately picked up her phone.

[Recipient: CEO Kim I-seo]

– CEO.

– Please gather scripts related to animals.

– Related scripts?

– Are you talking about documentaries?

– Or perhaps the story of a caretaker?

– I like the story of a caretaker.

– I also enjoy animations where the protagonist is an animal.

With the intensity, her mind was working sharply.

Sua thought.

What if obtaining the skills of a caretaker could allow her to experience the life of the fox itself? If that happened, talking to it might become possible. Trying wouldn’t harm anything, she figured.

Her thoughts quickly organized themselves.

Now there was only one thing left.

The most important issue.

“Name.”

What name should she give to this adorable little one?

Sua pondered for a moment.

“Let’s brainstorm together, shall we?”

Poof!

Immediately, the Sua Association was convened.

.

.

.

.

.

– Are we talking about a name?

Sure enough, Wi Ji-hye was uninterested.

– For animals, descriptive characteristics suffice. Since this fox came across the Arctic Sea, “North Fox” would do. It’s a small one, so “Young Fox” could also work.

Sua frowned.

“I want to raise it like family. Just describing its features feels heartless. I want something with a connection to me, with some deeper meaning behind it. That’s the kind of name I want.”

That’s when Kim Yu-han spoke.

– How does Sumi sound?

“Sumi?”

– Yes. The “Su” from Sua and the “Mi” from tail attached. Isn’t the tail representative of a fox?

“Hmm…”

– Besides, there’s a deeper meaning here. You might not know this, Sua, but there’s a saying, “Sumi Sang-Gwan.”

“What’s that?”

– It signifies a pattern where the beginning and end resemble each other. Interpreting it as the master, Sua, and the servant, the fox, gradually becoming alike—doesn’t that have an appropriate meaning?

“Sumi Sang-Gwan…”

Sua soon nodded.

“That sounds good, right? I’ll adopt it. Thank you!”

She cheerfully ran out of the special space.

And shortly after.

Wi Ji-hye, sitting cross-legged, asked.

“Hey.”

“What is it, Wi grandmother?”

“Is the meaning of Sumi Sang-Guan really correct?”

“What do you mean?”

– Hmm….

Wi Ji-hye crossed her arms and murmured.

– No matter how I think about it, it’s just the abbreviation of ‘Sua and Mi’ (meaning uncouth).

“Hmm, an interesting viewpoint.”

Oddly, Yu-han didn’t deny it.

◈◈◈◈◈

At the same time.

“Yes, I’ll listen.”

CEO Kim I-seo was completely absorbed in a phone call.

“Indeed, it’s not surprising. I was also considering that sort of marketing strategy. Yes, Sua can certainly handle it. There doesn’t seem to be any significant risk.”

Her expression and voice remained entirely serious.

She nodded once.

“Then let me summarize the content I’ve heard so far. Please correct me immediately if I’ve misunderstood anything.”

Kim I-seo spoke calmly.

“Until the end of the airing of Special Mobile Unit 808, Sua and Su-an will be presented as separate individuals. Mystic will prepare a separate profile to make it look like separate activities. Is that right?”

Later nodded.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll tell Sua.”

However, after hanging up the phone.

Kim I-seo’s finger passed over Sua’s contact information. Instead, she intended to call someone else first.

This was because her head, which she was confident had good business instincts, had once again triggered its unique sense.

“Sua can handle anything, so even if I tell her tomorrow, she won’t be surprised. In fact, there’s a possibility that she’s already anticipated it and is acting accordingly.”

At least, that’s what Kim I-seo thought. Therefore, her call was aimed directly at Director Ko Tae-min.

“Hello, Director Ko?”

Fortunately, the other side answered the phone quickly.

“CEO Kim. What’s the matter?”

“Could I make a simple request?”

“Sure. Just say what you need.”

They had already signed the contracts and stamped them solid.

Even though it would seem inconvenient to ask for something additional at this point, there wasn’t even a trace of irritation in Ko Tae-min’s voice.

Contrary to that, it was as if he was more than willing to help.

Thanks to this, Kim I-seo felt much more at ease.

“Regarding ‘From Tomorrow, Crescendo.’ Since we already have a solid foundation, I assume you’re about to release casting-related news, right?”

“Indeed, it must be released. We’ve acquired Ham Ah-yoon and Sua, so we cannot miss this golden opportunity. Ah, but…”

Director Ko Tae-min’s voice darkened slightly.

“Is it that you want Sua’s casting to remain confidential? It’s quite disappointing, but if this is Mystic’s request, then so it must be.”

“No, it’s important to release the news. Though…”

“Though?”

“I wanted to discuss the focus of the article.”

Kim I-seo calmly continued.

“Instead of emphasizing it as an expected work with Ham Ah-yun, could we emphasize Sua as a rookie candidate?”

“Ahh, yes, that’s not at all difficult.”

“To utilize the fierce competition that happens when every broadcasting station has at least one rookie before the drama starts airing. In the end, I want to create a competitive setup between Su-an and Sua.”

Director Ko Tae-min seemed to understand.

“You intend to separate Sua into two distinct personas. It’s an interesting idea. I like it.”

The call ended successfully.

Kim I-seo immediately checked the newly released articles.

[Su-an, Already a Candidate Without Proving Anything?]

[Kim Yu-han After Being Revealed Raises More Questions… ‘Who Are You?’]

[West Yeon-ju Fell for Su-an at First Sight? What’s His Profile?]

What should I do?

Kim I-seo could already feel her body tingling with excitement.

Anyone who knows the current truth must be feeling the same way.

◈◈◈◈◈

Late at night. Somewhere in a studio.

If a living hell made of type existed, this would be it.

Creak!

“Whoa, what is all this?”

The assistant who entered was shocked. The room looked far from normal.

The walls, where wallpaper should be, were covered with all sorts of papers.

Even the papers themselves were unusual.

Each was covered with dense text from scripts. To the assistant, it resembled a prison made of type.

“…Director Yusa, what is all this? It feels like a horror movie. You know, those cursed rooms?”

“We need to pick the winner soon.”

“Oh, the contest. Right. Not ‘soon’; it’s today, right?”

The assistant suddenly remembered.

Director Yusa, who had a busy schedule overseeing films in both Korea and Japan, was also responsible for the “Japan Noir Script Contest.” Currently, he was in charge of judging the winning entry.

“You’ve been taking a look at it between your busy schedule. Yet, you haven’t decided yet? Can I contribute with my humble understanding? You’ve narrowed down the candidates, right?”

“Of course, these two are the finalists.”

Minami Akiko and Minami Sawako.

From their names, the two authors were mother and daughter, with the daughter notably younger—still a middle schooler.

“Director, one of the finalists seems off.”

The assistant tilted their head.

“The mother is already a well-established, famous author, but the daughter has never written anything, right? She’s so young. There’s nothing there behind the mother’s shadow, isn’t there?”

“Exactly.”

However, Yusa nodded as if waiting for it.

“Can you see the difference in the texts written by the two?”

Yusa tore off a few pages from the wall and placed them side-by-side on the desk for clear comparison.

“I read them, but the content seems similar right? The daughter seems heavily influenced by her mother.”

“True. Both involve placing a spy inside a Yakuza organization. As the story progresses, the spy increasingly questions their own identity.”

“Though the overall plot might be similar, the completion level has a stark difference. The mother’s is clean and straightforward, whereas the daughter’s seems rough, right?”

“That roughness isn’t bad, it’s raw. Unfiltered.”

Director Yusa shook his head.

“In other words, she hasn’t compromised with the world yet.”

Director Yusa swept away a significant number of papers from the desk. Now only two sheets remained side by side.

“Observe. This is the key scene where the head Yakuza appears.”

[ Mother: Minami Akiko ]

A face obscured by the light, the only sign being a bl**d-stained hand gripping a sword. The expression is resolute.

[ Daughter: Minami Sawako ]

Backlit, yet everyone feels as if they can see the facial features. Like a Yasha or Oni, a creature closer to a devil. The breathing is so heavy that the Irezumi tattoos on the chest and arms seem like living carp, writhing.

“Doesn’t this child have a single speck of dirt on her?”

“…Yes, that’s true.”

The assistant nodded.

“The daughter has written everything she wants without omission.”

“Exactly, possible only because she’s young, filled with the notion that her written world will come to life exactly as is.”

“The mother, knowing it would be visualized, kept it concise.”

Scripts are meant to be concise and abstract by nature.

It’s obvious, they’re done that way to cast actors.

A script that leaves room for directors to tweak their direction and for actors to interpret their roles. The industry prefers such works. After all, the goal is to visualize.

“I agree with the mother’s work 99 out of 100 times. I can openly acknowledge its excellence.”

“For heaven’s sake, it’s 100 out of 100. Such a demanding approach should be reserved for novels. For a script, it’s a bit… risky. Let’s play it safe this time. Besides, people already have preconceived notions that movies from contest materials always flop.”

“But, Sou.”

Sou. The assistant’s name.

“Yes?”

“At least you shouldn’t think that way. Haven’t we stumbled upon an Oni, a demon? Perfectly fitting this highly demanding script like a missing puzzle piece.”

“Oni? Demon? What… Oh?”

The assistant’s face momentarily froze, as a certain person flashed across their mind. Yusa Director was likely thinking of her too.

“Could it be… that Korean actress?”

“Yes.”

“The female rookie, who aligns perfectly with the demon…”

“Exactly. So far, Japanese noir has been like a greenhouse flower—compromised, and just sharp enough.”

Director Yusa nodded.

“But what would happen if we combined such unworldly rawness in the script with the wild unknown of a rookie? Isn’t it obvious?”

Soon, his face lit up with a gentle smile reminiscent of a Korean mask dance.

“This is the answer. Absolutely.”

In his hand was the daughter’s script.

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