Chapter 914: We are, well... uh... henchmen. (4)

Cold Brown asked,

“Are you joking?”

“No.”

“It’s true.”

What we said about Ronnie Lucas was completely real.

<From Now On, We>

The escape room variety show we had appeared on last year.

In the “Dracula Castle” special, the vampire had been played by Ronnie Lucas.

“So,”

Cold said, pointing in the air,

“You, wearing a dress, defeated Dracula with a holy sword... and that Dracula was Ronnie?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a very strange story.”

He still looked confused.

Honestly, it made sense.

If a foreign celebrity I knew suddenly said, “I fought that famous star in a dress on a TV show,” I’d react the same way.

“At the time, Lucas was an aspiring actor working part-time at a theme park.”

“Ah.”

“It was also part of a promotion for a theme park opening in Korea. The headquarters provided support.”

Now that he understood the situation, Cold asked,

“So that’s how it happened. Want to go say hi?”

“Later.”

Just as I said that—because he looked busy—

The former Lucas Ronson, now Ronnie Lucas, noticed us.

“Oh!”

He excused himself and walked over.

Now that he had become a proper actor, his appearance had clearly been upgraded compared to before.

As Cold stepped back, Ronnie smiled.

“It’s been a while. Have you been well?”

“Yes, we have.”

Unlike us, who responded casually, he looked genuinely happy.

“I really wanted to see you again. I’ve been hoping to talk to you.”

“Really?”

“I’m very grateful.”

Ronnie Lucas said,

“Being a backup dancer for your stage at the Billboard Music Awards was a turning point for me.”

He was talking about performing as a backup dancer in Blue Moon with Hailey Blue.

“Because of that, I was introduced to an agent by Hailey Blue and her husband. And that led to everything now.”

He began sharing everything that had happened since.

A guest appearance in a drama had drawn attention—

Then an indie film where he starred became both a commercial and critical success.

Apparently, it even won the top award at Sundance.

“You know it, right, Jiho?”

“No.”

He looked dejected.

Jiho replied,

“There’s no way to watch it in Korea.”

“I’ll send you a Blu-ray through my manager later. Signed!”

He lit up again.

We laughed.

We knew the feeling.

—I succeeded thanks to you! Aren’t you proud?

He wanted to show off his success.

And honestly—

It was impressive.

A breakout star in Hollywood.

“So...”

He asked,

“If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know. If it’s for NewBlack, I’ll do everything I can.”

Normally, you’d just say “Thank you” and leave it at that.

But who was I?

I took opportunities immediately.

“If someone offers to cook ramen, you say yes right away.”

That’s how it works.

So I asked,

“Would you like to do a cameo in a film?”

“A film?”

“Yes.”

I smiled.

“It’s a biographical film about a genius musician who shook the world.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve brought on the Broadway legend Frank Chow as a producer, and Academy-nominated and Emmy-winning staff are currently working on it. One of the most anticipated projects of the second half of the year.”

My members added dramatic sound effects.

“It’s called Sound of the Sun.”

“That’s a great title.”

“It’s actually about my father.”

“Oh! I know him. I saw his performance in New York—Sun Myungju!”

He praised him enthusiastically.

I explained the film and the cameo role.

“That sounds like a very appealing script. Strange... why hasn’t my agent shown me something like this?”

“Your agent must be thorough.”

“Too thorough. I want to take on diverse roles, but they seem focused on building my image...”

He sighed, then asked,

“By the way... I had things I wanted to ask you. What was it again? Army stew?”

“Budae jjigae.”

“Right. The advice you gave me there helped a lot. I handled things much better on set because of it.”

He looked eager.

Almost like he saw us as mentors.

Even though we were still rookies ourselves.

“Recently, I’ve had some... disagreements with my agent. About roles.”

The roles he wanted—

Versus the roles his agent recommended.

His agent wanted to push him into a big franchise.

He wanted variety.

“Hmm.”

Jiho stroked his chin.

“So it’s a choice between following your agent or following yourself.”

“Yes.”

“That’s simple.”

Ronnie’s eyes sparkled.

He looked like he expected something inspirational.

Jiho smiled.

“Do what your agent says.”

“...Really?”

“If an agent tried to coach your acting, that would be strange, right?”

“Right.”

“Likewise, when it comes to making an actor successful, the agent is the expert—not the actor.”

We nodded.

Ronnie asked,

“But what if my agent is wrong and I’m right?”

“That happens.”

“Then what?”

“Fire the agent and sign with a new one.”

“...Oh.”

He looked enlightened.

I wrapped it up.

“We’ll send you the script through our manager. If you like it, show it to your agent.”

“Got it. Oh—they’re calling me. Let’s talk again later!”

He hurried off.

I turned to Jiho.

“Jiho.”

“Yes?”

“If I make a bad decision... will you fire me too?”

“....”

“You’d fire Wooju?”

“....”

“So cute, though?”

The cocktail party continued for about an hour.

“Nice to meet you!”

“My spouse and I are starting a new business...”

“I heard about your film—want me to introduce someone?”

Everyone exchanged praise.

Shared information.

Promoted their businesses.

“So many people here run side businesses.”

“Yeah.”

Tequila brands.

Fashion labels.

Requests poured in.

“Can you send a birthday video to my daughter? She loves NewBlack.”

“Could we maybe do a quick video call?”

We agreed when possible.

And gained a lot in return.

“Need a music video director? I °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° know someone who won at MTV.”

“Have you found a marketing strategist for the film?”

Connections spread everywhere.

“Sunny!”

“Hello!”

Artists who once barely greeted me now hugged me warmly.

After Answer, everything had changed.

“Let’s collaborate sometime.”

“Absolutely.”

“Let me know if you need a feature.”

Contacts kept growing.

Meanwhile—

“Wow.”

Junghyun said,

“Jiho’s popular too.”

Indeed—

Jiho’s recognition had risen thanks to Shin-i.

I watched proudly.

‘Well raised.’

‘Our youngest is the best.’

We split up and talked with different people.

Models.

Actors.

Even royalty.

“My head’s spinning.”

Ri Hyuk looked exhausted.

“People keep talking to me...”

“Good job.”

We moved on.

Next—

The exhibition.

[Royal Fashion: The Dignity of a Sovereign]

Massive LED displays.

A giant crown centerpiece.

“Whoa...”

“Look at that crown!”

We explored like kids on a school trip.

“Ri Hyuk, let’s go.”

“Wait!”

“Dinner time.”

“Nooo!”

We dragged him away.

At Petrie Court—

Dinner.

“...Two more hours?”

Ri Hyuk looked dead.

We all did.

Even Biju whispered,

“I want somewhere quiet...”

We laughed.

At the table—

“Sunny!”

“Star of the night!”

We greeted people from LeBlanc.

Jimmy Robbins.

Chairman Georges Wenger.

We smiled—

But exchanged looks.

‘I want to go home.’

‘I want to go home.’

Still—

Dinner was satisfying.

The host gave a speech.

Then a performance by Grammy winner Kelly Nelson.

Then food—

But no one ate.

‘Why?’

‘It’s so good...’

Everyone focused on networking instead.

Conversation never stopped.

By the end, my throat was dry.

When it ended—

I mentally applauded.

“Sunny, after-party?”

“Come with us!”

“I want to actually have fun!”

Invitations poured in.

We declined.

“Sorry, we have schedules.”

Finally—

Only we remained.

“Phew...”

We were drained.

Ri Hyuk said,

“If we’re invited again... I’m not coming.”

“...Same.”

“Why is there an after-party after the party?”

“...Good question.”

We stood up—

Then realized.

“...Where’s Biju?”

“....”

After the Met Gala—

Photos of stars heading to after-parties spread online.

Then—

Fans waiting outside blinked.

“Why aren’t they coming out?”

Then—

“Look!”

A post.

@LU_Simmons

NewBlack were incredibly sweet. Even after the event ended, they went around thanking every server personally.

“Wow...”

More posts followed.

All saying the same thing.

—Biju came first to thank us

—Then all members came together

“....”

“....”

Souffle quietly looked away.

Pretending not to see.