Little Pink Starfish

In the end, PD Kang Seok-woo had no choice but to raise both hands in surrender.

Maybe it didn’t make sense from M-Show’s perspective, but from his, things going the way Han Si-on wanted made for the most beautiful picture.

“Han Si-on, what exactly do you do?”

“I’m the leader of Sedalbaekil.”

“…Hah. Wow.”

“Realistically, you only need to back Sedalbaekil for about eight or nine episodes. Around episode 10, you can start supporting TakeScene to leave room for flexibility.”

“…Seriously.”

Kang Seok-woo let out a stunned laugh and continued.

“Han Si-on, do you remember what we talked about last time? That tight relationship.”

A conversation they’d had back when negotiations with Chris Edwards had hit a rough patch.

“I heard you even talked to PD Go about appearance fees. What do you want?”

“A tight relationship.”

“Between us? We’re already close. Honestly, I never thought I’d be having these kinds of conversations with a twenty-year-old contestant.”

“I’m talking about something beyond the relationship between a show’s director and a contestant.”

“Ah… so you want to leave me indebted.”

“That’s not exactly it, but…”

“Oh, come on. Si-on, you know, right? Emotional debts only work on people you feel uneasy about ignoring.”

Han Si-on smiled.

“Of course. I remember that.”

“That debt—you’re collecting it now.”

“I doubt I or Sedalbaekil are at that ‘uneasy’ level yet.”

“Objectively, you’re not…”

But subjectively? That was a different story.

It didn’t sit well with Kang Seok-woo to simply turn his back on Han Si-on.

Still, he didn’t say any more. And Han Si-on gave a knowing nod as if no more words were needed.

“Let me know once we’re off M-Show’s blacklist. If it’s a show you’re directing, I’ll appear—no questions asked.”

“No questions? What about bungee jumping? Skydiving?”

“…Within reason.”

“Haha.”

Kang Seok-woo laughed heartily and took a swig of beer before asking:

“When are you meeting CEO Choi?”

“I’ve arranged to see him tomorrow evening.”

“What are you going to say to him?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll have to hear what he says first.”

“Han Si-on, you know, most people would say, ‘I’ll try to explain myself’ in this kind of situation.”

He always liked keeping the upper hand.

The two shared a bottle of beer and got up from their seats.

Watching Han Si-on walk away, Kang Seok-woo felt a strange sensation.

They’d met by chance, but through Coming Up Next, they’d formed an unspoken agreement.

And the results were good.

He had made Han Si-on the center of the show, and Han Si-on had massively boosted its popularity.

And now, the contract was over.

Starting tomorrow, Han Si-on would be blacklisted by M-Show, and Sedalbaekil would have to survive the pressure from M-Show and Lion Entertainment.

Still, he found himself hoping things would work out for Han Si-on.

Probably because, before being a staff member of M-Show, he was a director.

And Coming Up Next had been the best program he’d ever worked on.

Thanks to Han Si-on.

---

Though he had met PD Kang Seok-woo off the record, that wasn’t the case with CEO Choi Dae-ho.

Their meeting was set to take place at Lion Entertainment.

When he arrived there—

“Are you sure you have an appointment with the CEO? What’s your name again?”

The security guard at the entrance eyed him up and down with suspicion.

A dry laugh escaped him.

CEO Choi Dae-ho really loved pulling these little tricks.

It wasn’t entirely impossible for security not to recognize him.

Just because you run an entertainment company doesn’t mean you’re deeply in tune with every piece of content.

But treating someone who claims to have a meeting with the CEO like this? Unthinkable.

If they really thought he was a stalker or a scammer, they’d have thrown him out. If not, they should’ve at least contacted upstairs.

But the guard’s attitude was revealing.

They were skeptical—but clearly had no real intention of kicking him out.

This was intimidation.

A way of saying: “Don’t let fame from some TV show make you think the world is yours. The world is big.”

If PD Kang Seok-woo had pulled something like this, he might have let it slide.

They had an unspoken contract, both fulfilled their roles, and it was Han Si-on who broke it first.

Besides, the fact that Kang Seok-woo had been directing Coming Up Next made things easier.

He was the type to respect others if he believed they had a social intelligence similar to his own.

But Choi Dae-ho? That wasn’t the case.

Choi Dae-ho meant nothing to him.

Even if the judging panel had included MM’s CEO or NT’s CEO instead of Choi, nothing would’ve changed.

So without hesitation, he turned to leave, nodding politely to security.

“Oh—Han Si-on!”

He heard the guard calling from behind but didn’t turn around.

Even when the guard caught up to him and grabbed his arm, his mind didn’t change.

Still, not wanting to cause trouble for someone just following orders, he offered a polite excuse.

“I must’ve gotten the date wrong. I’ll reschedule.”

Of course, there wouldn’t be a next meeting.

Honestly, he didn’t need to talk to Choi Dae-ho at all.

He’d just come to try and defuse things in case Lion Entertainment kept pressuring the Sedalbaekil members.

As he left Lion Entertainment, he sent a message to Choi Dae-ho:

“Thank you for all your work. We may be adversaries for a while, but as long as it’s business and not personal, I believe we’ll be able to greet each other with a smile someday. Stay well.”

After all, he was the older one here. It was only right to respond with grace.

The reply came sooner than expected.

Just as he stepped out onto the main road and was about to call a taxi, his phone buzzed.

But—was this really CEO Choi’s style?

“Don’t get cocky. Get back up here.”

“Come apologize, kneel, do whatever it takes—look me in the eye and do it.”

Uh… did I really do something that wrong?

It’s understandable for a businessman to retaliate based on business logic, but this kind of attitude?

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know Choi Dae-ho all that well.

They never had a chance to talk off-camera, without their on-air personas.

So this reaction came as a surprise.

From the way he treated people like Lee Chang-joon, a junior from his label, he seemed tolerant toward those below him.

Maybe he was only tolerant to those who agreed with him?

Or maybe he had a high threshold for social rank?

Some CEOs are like that—laughing at jokes from department heads but taking offense when assistant managers make even minor ones.

Their “line” starts at department head. Anyone below that has no right to joke with them.

Like a caste system.

That’s the kind of vibe he got from Choi Dae-ho.

While thinking that, a call from Choi came through.

As soon as he picked up, a cold voice greeted him.

“Han Si-on. If you think your popularity will last forever and start acting arrogant, you’re making a mistake. Get back up here.”

Hmm. Yeah, that’s what this is.

People like this—no matter how reasonable your explanation, they won’t be persuaded.

It either goes their way, or it doesn’t. Nothing else.

So whether he apologized, cursed him out, or refused to return to TakeScene—it wouldn’t matter.

Still, he had his dignity as a regressor. No way was he going to curse him out.

But maybe he could annoy him a bit.

Wasn’t there a good line for this?

Then one came to mind.

It wasn’t a phrase used yet—wouldn’t become popular for three or five more years—but he didn’t even know what it meant.

He’d just seen a lot of Koreans use it.

“Eojjeol TV.” (어쩔티비 — Korean internet slang meaning “so what?”)

He figured Choi should be thankful for the early trend drop.

---

There’s a lot of content about regressors.

Novels, movies, webtoons, you name it.

In the early days, he’d consumed those stories obsessively.

To get ideas on how to live a regressor’s life.

And for comfort.

There was no one in the world who could truly empathize with him—but he could connect with fictional regressors.

He even tried to realize some of the things he saw in those stories.

But he had one big gripe with most regressor content.

Investment.

In those stories, money came too easily.

In reality, it didn’t work that way.

The most ridiculous plot? Putting tens of billions into a stock that’s about to skyrocket and cashing out with massive profits.

That’s not how it works.

Stocks have a limited number of shares, and the ones actually circulating in the market are even fewer.

If a stock’s about to go up dozens of times, the major players have already scooped it all up.

Sure, you could try pouring money into it every day.

He’d done it.

And you know what happens?

The major players back out, dumping everything on you.

They’re scared of situations they can’t control.

So unless you carefully control your volume, you can end up in a totally absurd situation.

For the record, he’d once been summoned by the FBI.

He made a huge profit on a stock, unaware it was one of those manipulated by “powerful people.”

Same goes for crypto.

Bitcoin’s an exception since it’s globally traded—but still, if you buy too much…

“…Ahem.”

Maybe he got too into it.

Anyway, the point is—money doesn’t multiply that fast.

You have to invest appropriate amounts across a massive number of assets to avoid impacting the market.

Still, his fortune was steadily growing, and it was more than enough to fund Sedalbaekil’s activities.

In a year, it would be more than he could ever use.

But before that, there was one thing to do.

Meet with attorney Choi Ji-woon.

He had something to give—and something to ask.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. I see you on TV all the time, so I wasn’t too curious.”

“Ha ha.”

After a quick exchange of pleasantries, they got to the point.

First, he had to pay up.

He’d promised Choi Ji-woon half his assets as a legal fee, but since his real estate hadn’t sold yet, there had been a delay.

“Did your house already sell?”

“No. I didn’t sell it.”

“Then this money?”

“I made some investments and got a big return. I’m paying you from that.”

“…You didn’t invest your entire net worth, did you?”

“Of course not. I diversified. Just got lucky.”

“Huh. This isn’t the kind of amount you get just from luck.”

Still, Choi’s eyes widened after checking the account—he had sent much more than originally promised.

“…Judging by your face, it’s not a mistake.”

“Nope.”

Then, Han Si-on explained the current situation with Sedalbaekil, Lion Entertainment, and the M-Show network.

After listening carefully, Choi Ji-woon asked:

“You’re asking for a favor, right?”

“Yes. It’s simple.”

“That’s not an amount you send for a simple favor.”

“Let’s just say it’s to establish our business relationship. I’d like to rely on your influence from time to time.”

Yes, what he wanted from Choi was support.

Choi Ji-woon had a massive legal network—even tracked for win rates by major law firms.

His father was a prosecutor general. His maternal grandfather, a Supreme Court chief justice.

That says it all.

In the entertainment world, CEO Choi Dae-ho might have more clout.

But society is interconnected.

If Choi Ji-woon was on his side, he could evade the pressure from Lion and M-Show and achieve his goals.

“What’s the favor?”

“I need a social affairs reporter—someone with enough rank to ignore the entertainment desk.”

“…Don’t tell me you’re trying to expose the truth about Coming Up Next?”

“No. That’s not what I’m aiming for.”

That would be for later—after Sedalbaekil’s music had become burned into the public consciousness.

“Then what?”

When he explained, Choi Ji-woon’s eyes widened.

“…You really want to do that?”