So, when the scandal about me and Heavenly Yuah broke out…
To be honest, I was quite surprised.
Scandals can happen anytime, after all.
When hacks write their hackneyed novels, allegations of romantic relationships are almost laughable.
What intrigued me was how such a trivial picture became a topic of conversation on the internet.
What this means is that Heavenly Yuah’s private life was completely unknown, to the extent that even mundane pictures could become an issue.
Although I already knew she didn’t engage in activities outside of acting, I couldn’t help but feel that this level of mystery went a bit too far.
It’s like a double-edged sword.
On one hand, it means her private life is well-protected, but on the other hand, it could lead to a great fall if something went wrong.
In the entertainment industry, rumor battles feel a lot like public opinion warfare.
What people believe is more important than what’s true.
This scandal, being as absurd as it was, faded away quietly, but if someone really wanted to dig in, it could get quite exhausting.
Because her private life is so well-protected, even her fans can’t properly defend her.
How can they defend her when they don’t even know who Heavenly Yuah really is?
So, while we’re at it, exposing our daily lives to the fans might also be a good way to promote.
Given the popularity of this team, we’re bound to create some buzz even without doing anything extraordinary.
Frankly speaking, at this level of fame, you could probably get applause for just about anything.
Of course, I have absolutely no intention of doing anything ridiculous.
“Besides, Flame Entertainment has already made its own show featuring the company’s actors. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but the reactions were decent.”
That’s why I could propose it to the company without much stress.
“That’s a good idea. Actually, similar talk came up during the Cheon Entertainment days…”
“Really?”
“Well, Cheon was a bit too secretive.”
“Then why didn’t you make one back then?”
“Well, because Miss Cheon wasn’t interested.”
“Ahh, I see.”
Cheon Entertainment was Cheon Yuah’s personal company, so if she didn’t want it, it simply wouldn’t happen.
Even now, if she doesn’t want it, it wouldn’t happen, period.
“So, Siwoo, could you kindly persuade her?”
“Me?”
“Yes, it seems Siwoo would be the most effective person to convince her.”
Indeed, Team Leader Seo. You really know how to delegate effectively.
You are so skilled at offloading work onto others.
Apparently, the company also believes I have the upper hand when it comes to persuading Heavenly Yuah.
It was annoying, but not without reason, so I agreed to be the one to persuade her.
“For something simple, let’s try it once.”
“I haven’t thought much about it, but it doesn’t sound bad.”
“It might end up being somewhat fun if done well.”
Everyone was in general agreement that it wasn’t a bad idea.
Watching Team Leader Seo nod approvingly in the background with a thumbs up, it seemed he had foreseen this exact response.
Once the decision was made, our unusually capable company employees immediately sprang into action, drafting the proposal like they had been waiting for it all along.
—
“Trying something too complicated will likely fail.”
“Expecting too much can ruin things.”
“Let’s expose everyday, human moments of the actors through their daily lives.”
“They’re picturesque even when still.”
After a heated discussion, a rather simple everyday variety show titled “Daily Life, Flame” was born.
As the name suggests, it was a daily variety show where Flame’s actors would gather and try various things.
With a runtime of 10 to 20 minutes, the short format suggested a focus on small, human interactions rather than anything grand.
It aligned closely with what I had imagined.
—
“Daily Life, Flame. Ep1: Offering a Meal.”
Among the company’s submitted proposals, the first selected episode was about offering a simple meal.
The company’s actors would work together to create something and treat another actor who had worked with them on the recent filming.
The chosen guest was Mr. Seo Jin-seob, the eldest cast member this time around.
Serving a meal made by younger actors to someone of their senior’s age made for a decent picture.
Even more so when considering one of the main purposes of the first episode is to promote this movie.
“By the way, how good are our actors at cooking?”
Even for a simple daily variety show, someone needed to host it.
For this, the media management team’s head, Hong Mi-ho, was selected to oversee the proceedings instead of hiring an external MC.
While there were suggestions for using a professional MC from outside, the internal opinion was that using one of the company’s own employees would have a more casual feel.
They argued it would be better to present it in a loose and light-hearted manner rather than a strictly formal production.
The selection of Mi-ho was mainly due to her beauty. Beauty is always right, after all.
The only flaw—if you could call it that—was her somewhat rigid tone, which ironically was seen as an attractive point by employees who all enthusiastically recommended her.
And she happens to also be the most popular female employee in the office as the cool beauty with a cat-like demeanor.
“I think I can do this. I have an idea in mind.”
“I know basic recipes. We should be able to handle it fine if we just follow the instructions.”
“Regarding cooking? Ah, I’ll take care of this. Leave it to me.”
The location for filming this episode was the company’s cafeteria kitchen.
Seated at the dining table, the actors were being interviewed by Team Leader Hong.
These interviews aimed to assess the actors’ cooking abilities before the main shoot.
As someone who knows a thing or two about Cheon Yuah and Moon Suyeon, their confident demeanor was hard to agree with.
“Well, let’s do a little test. Every organization needs a leader, doesn’t it? The actor who does best in a preliminary mission will become the leader of this food-serving mission.”
“What is this preliminary mission?”
“It’s a simple task. We have one very special judge here to evaluate your cooking. Each of you will present the dish you’re best at, and the judge will evaluate it.”
“Judge?”
“Let me introduce him. The special judge who will personally evaluate your dishes is… Miss Yang Miju.”
Since things would never run right without clear direction when just left to our own devices, let alone an event inviting Senior Seo Jin-seop, we needed someone who knows how to cook to lead the charge.
If we made a mistake, this could be a disaster.
The only surprising part is that this judge is our company’s eight-year-old prodigy.
“Our Mi-joo is, ah…”
“Feeling particularly smug today.”
“Where did she get that chair from?”
On top of that, today’s Mi-joo seems unusually prim and haughty. We can call it her “Zero Mode”?
She commandeered Zero’s majestic movie throne and sat on it imperiously, looking somehow grand despite her dangling feet.
She even has Yang Yuli acting as her assistant, which lends her an air of dignity.
The scene is quite amusing, but it might confuse the audience unfamiliar with our film.
Perhaps they’re aiming for that “Ah, that moment!” reaction when the movie is released.
Even if not, Miju’s expression today is incredibly cute.
“Still, this feels right. Like, I can see where this is going.”
Let’s not forget, actors can be quite competitive, much like the rest of us.
This applies to me as well.
Since we’re here, why not charm this young palatte and become the leader of this mission?
Our company actors are pretty much all a little eccentric.
It’s better for someone sane, like me, to lead rather than risk making Senior Seo’s dinner unpleasant.
“Alright, let’s get cooking.”
Each actor scattered to the kitchen to prepare meals for Miju.
I too put quite a bit of effort into my cooking.
Once the allotted time passed, we presented our creations to Miju one by one.
“This is…”
“Pan-fried duck.”
“Pan-fried duck?”
“The world’s most delicious duck fried in oil. It absolutely can’t go wrong.”
Wow, she went for something that suits her completely. Bold and straightforward.
As Miju took a quick glance at Heavenly Yuah’s dish, she sampled a piece.
“…”
After trying it, she grimaced and spit it back out immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
She then hesitated a bit before writing down the score she thought appropriate.
“7”
“Miss Cheon Yuah, 7 points.”
“What?! Are you serious?”
The scoring for this contest goes up to 100 points.
So that is 7 out of 100.
Our spoiled little judge is ruthless.
But the score makes sense to me.
Knowing a bit about how ducks are best cooked, since I know Heavenly Demon is very fond of duck, duck is indeed an oily bird, and frying isn’t ideal for it.
While some kinds of duck frying exist, they usually use specific parts for better results and are harder to prepare.
It’s not like Cheon Yuah, who destroys things rather than prepares them carefully, would bother with such intricacies.
It was probably just marinated and fried simply.
That score seems perfectly reasonable.
“Hum, it’s my turn now.”
Cheon Yuah’s failure made Moon Suyeon, humming a little tune, eager to take her shot.
She had prepared…
“Ooh, egg tarts?”
I’m genuinely surprised. Did Moon Suyeon actually prepare something decent? It certainly looked good.
“Ugh!”
“Why?”
But once again, the young judge’s palate was not won over.
She promptly spat it out upon tasting it.
“…Too salty.”
“9”
“Too salty?”
Apparently so.
Even though it was said cooking is as easy as following a recipe, it seems even that was beyond her, as she had accidentally used salt instead of sugar.
Honestly, this fits Moon Suyeon’s style.
Outside of her artistic talents, she doesn’t seem to have much else in her repertoire.
Salt tarts? 9 points and eliminated.
Still, 2 points lower than the duck frying? What exactly was she cooking?
With both failing so spectacularly, my future seems grim.
Even when others scored, I felt as though I had already lost.
Looks like I’ll never ask these two to cook again.
