For a brief moment, Hari thought maybe she had misread the name. She wished that were the case.
But Nanhee, without a word of explanation, snatched the phone from Hari’s hand in a rush.
She tapped the screen rapidly and ended the call, and watching that, Hari could not contain herself and raised her voice.
“Answer me! What is going on! Why are you in contact with Gwak Sanggu!”
But Nanhee showed no sign of embarrassment at being caught. She responded with nothing but defiance.
“Stay out of it. I’ll handle it.”
Nanhee shoved the phone into her bag and tried to leave, but Hari followed her persistently and pressed her.
“How can I stay out of it. You know exactly what Gwak Sanggu did to me.”
“I know. So what?”
Hari was so stunned she lost her words for a moment. Knowing full well what that man had done and responding as though it were no issue at all was simply beyond her comprehension.
“What do you mean, so what……?”
“What does it have to do with you.”
“Because I’m worried! Gwak Sanggu hasn’t changed. He’ll definitely try to set up a sponsorship arrangement with you too.”
Even as Hari raised her voice, Nanhee only smirked, as though it were all needless worry and meddling.
“That’s what I want.”
“What……?”
“I’m saying that’s what I want.”
Hari’s lips trembled at the answer, too shocking to process.
Nanhee’s composure did not waver.
“I went to CEO Gwak Sanggu myself. I told him with my own mouth that I’d do whatever he asked, just please help build my career.”
“……Unnie, are you out of your mind?”
“I suppose I am.”
No. That couldn’t be right. Maybe Unnie had been taken in by Gwak Sanggu’s manipulation. Hari could only keep denying what was in front of her.
Nanhee had dreamed of being a singer from early on. She had won a nationwide audition to become a new member of a girl group and successfully debuted, but the group disbanded before completing two years. She had then attempted a solo debut that never gained traction, and now she was making occasional appearances on variety programs, fighting to keep herself from being forgotten by the public.
So of course she felt desperate. As a fellow entertainer, Hari understood that feeling.
But even so, this was something someone needed to stop.
The way a stranger had once guided her onto the right path, Hari wanted to do the same for her.
“Unnie. This isn’t right. Let’s think it over again. Okay?”
She tried to coax her almost pleadingly, but all she got in return was a rebuke.
“You, who wouldn’t even be an entertainer if it weren’t for me, have the nerve to lecture someone? I said I’ll handle it myself!”
Nanhee paid no attention and began pouring out cruel words.
“You told me once that I was the best singer in the whole world. But I was rejected from auditions seventeen times for being ugly. I clawed my way through a grueling competition and barely debuted, and for years all I’ve gotten are comments calling me an ugly fat kangaroo, and I’m still living in a rooftop room. And you? You were born with a pretty face and succeeded without even trying, so who are you to give me advice?”
“Why, why are you putting me down like that? I worked incredibly hard to become an actress too……!”
“Worked hard? Ha. Even a passing dog would laugh. However hard you worked, do you think it was even half of what I went through?”
“Don’t write me off like that!”
“Yoo Hari. Everything came easy to you. So why can’t I take the easy road? For someone ugly like me, even this is a precious and rare opportunity.”
It was the moment Nanhee’s true, vicious nature showed itself fully.
She would never know that the reason she still could not escape comments about being an ugly fat kangaroo, no matter how much she altered her face, was because of the mean look in her eyes.
“So stop pretending to be pure and good, and just shut up.”
The torrent of venom from the person Hari had considered her closest unnie shattered something inside her, and tears rolled down her face like drops of dew.
But Nanhee, even seeing Hari’s tears, seemed to feel not even a flicker of sympathy. Without a trace of remorse or regret, she walked out of the house with a blank face.
* * *
Bang! The front door slammed shut, and the corner of Nanhee’s mouth twitched upward.
Seeing Hari get so worked up over it only confirmed that teaming up with Gwak Sanggu had been the right call.
To say it plainly now, Nanhee had disliked Hari from the very beginning. They had both ended up at the same orphanage, yet the sight of Hari going around with that unclouded, angelic smile on her face had been grating to her.
She had played along and acted close because they were growing up together and there was no point in making things awkward, but she had never once genuinely considered them friends.
Hari, with her pretty face, had always been surrounded by people. Every time Nanhee saw that, jealousy rose in her like a deep-seated grudge, which made it clear that Hari and Nanhee had always been as incompatible as oil and water.
“Ugh. Now that she’s caught on, getting information out of her won’t be easy anymore. Why did he have to call at exactly that moment. Tsk.”
The first time Nanhee had gone to see Gwak Sanggu was about a month ago, one week before the ‘Yoo Hari death threat incident’ broke out.
* * *
Gwak Sanggu’s office was thick with cigarette smoke. Ashtrays overflowed, as though he had decided to ignore indoor smoking regulations entirely.
“Hello. CEO. I’m Yoo Nanhee, the one who contacted you. I’ve changed my name, so it’s Yoo Nari now.”
“I know who you are. The member who was used and discarded in a last-ditch revival project for a girl group that was already on the verge of disbanding.”
“Even with a backstory that pitiful, not a single person feels sorry for me.”
“Oh. You’ve got some fight in you.”
“Yes. Plenty of it. Enough to come find you even knowing what kind of person you are.”
Gwak Sanggu’s eyebrow twitched. He stubbed out his cigarette, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair with an air of arrogance.
“And what kind of person am I?”
“I know that being under you guarantees success, one way or another.”
“One way or another?”
“You introduce people to the right connections.”
“Ha ha!”
“Don’t play dumb. I heard it directly from someone who experienced it.”
Gwak Sanggu narrowed his eyes like a snake and curled one corner of his mouth into a sneer.
“You heard it from Yoo Hari.”
Nanhee could not hide the jolt of surprise.
“How did you know? We’ve never let on that we’re close, so nobody knows.”
“I take a great interest in Yoo Hari.”
“Ah……”
Gwak Sanggu went on at length.
He mentioned that lately, a string of ungrateful people who had forgotten how much he had done for them were leaving Breathe one after another, so supply had been falling short of demand.
He offered something resembling a compliment, saying that while her looks were on the lesser side, she would at least be compliant, which made her a valuable commodity for those who enjoyed a certain kind of arrangement.
And he said what he liked most was that she was close to Yoo Hari. After going on for a while, Gwak Sanggu smiled slowly.
“You came at the right time. I’ll make sure you get everything you want.”
* * *
Nanhee had signed the contract that very day, and from that day on she had been faithfully carrying out Gwak Sanggu’s instructions.
It was not particularly difficult.
All she had to do was contact Hari with trivial questions, asking what she was up to, where she was right now, and then pass the information along to Gwak Sanggu.
Fully outside the gates of the luxury townhouse, Nanhee waited for her manager and called Gwak Sanggu to report.
“Hari’s place is definitely the Hannam-dong townhouse. Apparently Chacha Ent used to use it as an idol dorm. Security is tight, so nothing can be done at the house itself. But she said filming for her next project, ‘Beautiful Girl,’ starts next week, so tell him to keep an eye on that.”
What Gwak Sanggu had wanted from her came down to two things.
He would guarantee her success, so she was not to complain about whatever sponsor she was paired with. And she was to cooperate in the harassment of Yoo Hari.
She had asked why he was harassing Yoo Hari, but he said it was simply a request from a very wealthy patron and that he did not know the direct reason himself, keeping his words sparse.