Chapter 3: Identity Confusion

Baek Soo-kyung looked bewildered.
“Minjun-hyung, what do you mean the plan has changed?”

Choi Minjun, in a good mood, pinched the baby fat on Baek Soo-kyung’s cheeks.

“Yoon Namhyuk is great, but the gap between you and him is still too big. What about Park Seokjin instead? He’s one of Wusan Entertainment’s aces, a senior actor with a great reputation. He’ll treat you gently.”

Baek Soo-kyung’s eyes widened.
“Minjun-hyung, didn’t you say it would only be this one time…”

Choi Minjun pressed a finger to Baek Soo-kyung’s lips.

“But you haven’t done it this time, have you? Soo-kyung, you’re short on money, right? Six hundred million won—for a nineteen-year-old, that’s no small amount, is it? Your debut as a trainee already failed. If you don’t work a little harder, how long will it take to pay back all that money? Have you calculated it?”

Baek Soo-kyung was at a loss.

Choi Minjun continued, “Soo-kyung, people like us—if we just slog our way up steadily, when will we ever live like the rich? You need to learn leverage. Do you know what leverage is? A small effort, if you find the right fulcrum, can move a huge reward. Do you know what your fulcrum is?”

Baek Soo-kyung shook his head.

Choi Minjun smiled.

“It’s fine if you don’t know; I know it for you. Just listen obediently, and I promise you’ll pay off the debt quickly.”

Baek Soo-kyung swallowed nervously and said cautiously, “Minjun-hyung, I’ll act seriously. I’ll work hard on my acting skills and treat every role with sincerity. I was the hardest-working trainee; my grades were good. I only failed to debut because I couldn’t afford connections. If you just give me a chance, I—”

Choi Minjun’s smile instantly vanished. He straightened up, stepping back toward the door, and said coldly, “Put your shirt on. Clean yourself up and come with me.”

Baek Soo-kyung’s face turned pale. To him, Choi Minjun’s words were like military orders.

The nineteen-year-old immediately took down the two hidden micro-cameras from the bathroom and room, tucked them back into his shoes, then quickly wrung out his shirt and put it on, enduring the icy dampness against his skin.

He thought: Maybe this is how most people live—seemingly well-dressed, but only they know the truth of their cold and warmth.

Baek Soo-kyung quietly followed behind Choi Minjun into the banquet hall where the elite had gathered. Everywhere he looked were impeccably dressed, respectable professionals, all smiling as they greeted Choi Minjun.

“Wow, is this Manager Choi’s new signed actor?”

“Daebak, such a doll-like face. Rare among male actors! Please take my business card—let’s collaborate sometime.”

“Oh my god, Manager Choi’s eye for talent is still so good. Do you have Instagram? I want to be one of this future star’s first fans.”

Everyone seemed to completely ignore Baek Soo-kyung’s damp, alcohol-stained clothes. All they saw was a rising star.

Not only that—many small-time actors who had pulled strings just to get in also came up to greet Choi Minjun.

Their words were filled with admiration for Wusan Entertainment’s golden manager, but always ended with: their contract was almost up, perhaps they could have dinner sometime. Though they said here’s my card, what they actually handed over were hotel key cards.

Baek Soo-kyung was dazzled.

His mind was torn between expectations for his future and overwhelming fear.

He felt lucky to have Choi Minjun as a “big tree” to rely on—yet terrified that the other actors would steal that tree away.

“Do you see?”

Standing behind him, Choi Minjun let Baek Soo-kyung observe the dazzling figures in the banquet hall. His palm slid ambiguously over the boy’s waist.
“Soo-kyung-ah, the age of accumulating wealth is gone. In this society, resources are limited. If you want something, you must snatch it from others… If you won’t, plenty of people will. That’s how the world is: either you climb by stepping on others’ heads, or others climb by stepping on yours. Have you decided which one you’ll be?”

---

Qi Huai drove the ostentatious white Ferrari that originally belonged to this body, speeding back to the high-rise apartment in Cheongdam-dong, Gangnam.

Pulling down his collar in front of the bathroom mirror, he saw the bite mark on his shoulder already turning purple.

No wonder it hurt so much… The strength had been real.

Perhaps because Qi Huai seemed in good spirits, the system, which had been holding back its questions, finally seized a chance to speak.

[Host oppa.]

“Mhm?”

[…Just now, your pheromones leaked out, right? Why? Did you go into heat for top No.1?]

Qi Huai paused, then pointed at the bite mark on his shoulder.
“He bit me first.”

[…I don’t get it either. Why would he bite you?]

Qi Huai: “Have you figured out how to repair yourself yet?”

Silence.

[Hehe! Congratulations, host oppa, you successfully stopped the protagonist-shou from meeting top No.1 for the first time, yay!!! So what should we do next?]

Qi Huai: …

“Investigate Top No.6.”

For any task-taker, maintaining the original body’s persona without collapsing was basic. Even though this mission didn’t strictly require it, thanks to the system’s bug, Qi Huai didn’t even know how many family members the original had. That was excessive.

To ensure smooth progress, he had to fully understand the original’s personal, family, and social circumstances—then stabilize relationships.

If the original even had those relationships.

“You’re sure he’s just an ordinary Chinese-American mixed kid? Used to be a model, planning to be an actor?”

Qi Huai spread out nearly twenty passports in front of him, along with the original’s bank account that only held a few million won. He and the system fell silent.

A few million won—barely a few tens of thousands of RMB.

No financial planning, no investments, meager savings—yet living in a high-deposit Gangnam apartment, driving a Ferrari, wearing Armani.

His contacts list had only five people: one landlord, two delivery guys, a director named Ahn Yonghe, and…

Qi Huai’s vision went dark.

…and one luxury car and watch rental company!

The system squealed hysterically, like a pig being slaughtered.
[Host! Your watch! You gave away a one-billion-won Patek Philippe just to change clothes! And that Armani suit! Worth tens of millions of won! You tossed it in a hotel trash bin! Those were rentals! They need to be returned! If not, you’ll have to pay market value!!! That’s billions of won!!!]

Qi Huai rubbed his temples. “Shut up.”

Debt wasn’t his concern. What worried him more were those passports.

Normal, law-abiding people don’t keep a dozen nearly indistinguishable real-and-fake passports hidden in the bottom drawer.

And yet, this same person had managed to chat up Director Ahn Yonghe on a plane, talk his way into trust, and even land a movie role.

At the banquet earlier, Qi Huai had carefully avoided the director’s talk about the plane, but from his tone, still picked up a few details about Top No.6.

The director praised him: so young, yet independent from his family, daring to chase his dream all the way to Korea—a young man with conviction.

Qi Huai had assumed the Ferrari-driving, Armani-wearing original was a rich young master. He had smiled and not corrected the impression. Who knew—it was all rented. Even the piles of suits and watches in the wardrobe turned out to be counterfeits.

So what was Top No.6’s real purpose in entering the entertainment industry? For a job? Or… fraud?

Qi Huai massaged his brow.
“They arranged this identity for a task-taker, huh?”

A suspected scammer.

The system whimpered miserably like a child crying at night.

To complete the mission, Qi Huai lacked too much: not just the most important original manga storyline, but also money—and even a legitimate identity.

Critical.

The system had promised to help him three times, but due to energy loss, each time had to be a month apart and not too excessive. So should he first ask for money—or an identity? That was the question.

As Qi Huai frowned, a call from an unknown number came through.

He answered. A warm, pleasant male voice came from the other end:
“Hello, is this Mr. Qi Huai?”

“You are?”

“Mr. Qi, hello, I’m Choi Minjun, senior manager at Wusan Entertainment. I heard you’re interested in becoming an actor. I’m sorry, I got your number from Director Ahn Yonghe. You haven’t signed with any company yet, right? If you have time, why don’t we meet?”

Within minutes, Qi Huai had arranged to meet Choi Minjun at a café near Wusan Entertainment.

Though he wasn’t sure if signing was part of the original manhwa’s plot, or why Choi Minjun wanted him, half of the protagonist group was under Wusan Entertainment. It was indeed a chance to quickly enter their circle.

The system crouched in a corner, watching his expression.
[Host oppa, have you decided your first wish yet?]

Qi Huai lowered his gaze, silent for a moment.
“Can you find the prototype of the product developed by my company in world N0827, when I was on that mission? Give me that.”

Acting he could do.
But being a chaebol was much more reliable.

---

Hannam-dong, Seoul — the Yoon Residence.

The family doctor had just left. Yoon Namhyuk lay exhausted on his bed, eyes closed.
“You’re saying, he’s someone Director Ahn Yonghe brought?”

“Yes, President,” Assistant Yoo Ji-hoon adjusted his rimless glasses. “Director Ahn seems to like him very much, and kept introducing connections for him at the banquet. They supposedly met on the plane, hit it off immediately. The man is a Chinese-American who just arrived in Korea a few days ago. He used to model in the U.S., now wants to develop his career here.”

Yoon Namhyuk sneered.
“Introduce connections… That’s just Ahn Yonghe’s personality. Whenever he meets a so-called muse, he wants to announce it to the whole world. In a while, he’ll replace him with another.”

Assistant Ryu smiled. “Your evaluation is accurate.”

“Are you sure he just arrived? It’s his first time in Korea? That waiter who took me away truly didn’t know him?”

“Yes, President.”

Yoon Namhyuk frowned. So did I really misunderstand? That whole damsel-in-distress act wasn’t staged for me?

“I see. You may go.”

“The waiter…”

“Leave it to the police,” Yoon said impatiently. “A background-clean waiter who occasionally does something bad out of greed—for the investigation, they’ll just trace it to some illegal group, say they hate chaebols and wanted to play a prank, then push out a scapegoat. That’s all.”

Deep down, he knew: the culprit was most likely his illegitimate older brother, Yoon Namwoo.

But without evidence, his father would never punish him. Likewise, as long as his brother had no concrete proof of him being with a man, his father couldn’t punish him either.

In this chaotic, disgusting household, without a trace of real family affection, brothers survived by grabbing each other’s weaknesses and playing tricks.

With a cold face, Yoon Namhyuk swept the vase and ornaments off his bedside table. They thudded onto the hardwood floor; the once-durable vase finally cracked under the strain.

After venting, he yanked out the IV needle, curled up under the quilt. His taut nerves finally eased, and he drifted into sleep.

He had always thought himself a freak.

He had desire, yet no object of desire.

He didn’t love women, nor really men. He could see handsomeness and sexiness in men—but also greed and ugliness. So even when he felt intrigued by men, he never had any urge to spend the night with one.

Perhaps I really am gay, he thought.
But the kind who can’t do it.

Even today, he seemed to have made a rare exception.