CH 33
‘Today, I got 4,000… 412 are good fortune (吉), and 3 are great fortune (大吉).’
It’s only been a month since Jeongjikhan started working at the Café for the Dead.
In just that one month, Jeongjikhan had already acquired three great fortunes (大吉).
It felt like winning the lottery was within reach.
Afraid he might burst out laughing in front of Cha Seung-pyo, Jeongjikhan coughed lightly and averted his gaze.
Cha Seung-pyo observed Jeongjikhan closely, then smiled faintly and said,
“Jeongjikhan-ssi, you’ve acquired the most good fortune (吉) in the shortest time among all employees.”
“Me? Really?”
“Yes. I didn’t expect you to help so many difficult spirits ascend before even receiving your first paycheck.”
Difficult spirits?
Jeongjikhan hadn’t felt that any of the spirits were particularly difficult.
There’s a saying that most human fears grow larger in the mind.
Jeongjikhan tended to act before fear could set in, so he never felt much difficulty.
When he mentioned this honestly, Cha Seung-pyo shrugged and replied,
“It’s all relative. Based on the results alone, they were difficult spirits.”
“Is that so?”
“And you’re also the first employee in years to offer coffee refills to the spirits.”
Had previous employees at the Café for the Dead found refilling coffee for spirits inconvenient?
Were they willing to give up dozens or even hundreds of potential results just to hold onto a single good fortune (吉)?
No—without even trying, they couldn’t have known the outcome.
It was because Jeongjikhan thought about refills even when he had little good fortune (吉) that he achieved these results.
Though it wasn’t entirely unrelated to the confidence he gained from the goblin token.
As Jeongjikhan fell into thought, Cha Seung-pyo spoke in a calm voice,
“Laozi once said, ‘If you want to win someone’s heart, first open your own; if you want to gain from someone, first give.’”
“…….”
“Thinking is easy, but acting is hard. Please consider this a result of your actions, Jeongjikhan-ssi.”
“……Thank you.”
“We should be thanking you more.”
Cha Seung-pyo smiled contentedly and sat down on a bar chair.
“Could I get a cup of coffee too?”
“Of course. Didn’t I tell you last time? Unlimited refills for you anytime, Manager.”
Ever since Cha Seung-pyo helped Hanbyeol ascend, Jeongjikhan had promised to give him coffee whenever he wanted.
Jeongjikhan quickly prepared a warm Americano and handed it to Cha Seung-pyo.
“The aroma is wonderful as always.”
“That’s the charm of coffee. Just smelling it makes you feel at ease, doesn’t it?”
Cha Seung-pyo raised the corner of his mouth and took a sip.
“Delicious. As expected, the coffee you make is the best.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
“Oh, and by the way. Your paycheck will be deposited tomorrow.”
Finally, payday.
This month, his younger sibling Suhye had college entrance exams. Once they were over, the family should have a cozy meal together.
‘Once Suhye starts college, they’ll need a laptop. We should go shopping too.’
As he thought this, something suddenly occurred to him.
“Ah, Manager.”
“Yes?”
“Would it be possible… for me to take a day off tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
Cha Seung-pyo tilted his head and looked at him sideways.
Since it wasn’t discussed beforehand and was brought up just the day before, he seemed taken aback.
Afraid he might say no, Jeongjikhan quickly added,
“I plan to look for Sookhee-ssi’s younger brother tomorrow.”
* * *
“Wow!”
The next morning, on his way to the filming set, Jeongjikhan stopped by the bank and couldn’t help but gasp in surprise.
The deposit had arrived.
A salary of 2.5 million won.
What intrigued him was the familiar name listed in the transaction history.
[KarMa Entertainment]
He’d assumed it was an underworld company, but did it actually exist in the living world?
A quick online search revealed no trace of even a basic homepage.
This didn’t mean there was zero information about KarMa.
Scattered across blogs were questions about KarMa Entertainment:
-Is KarMa Entertainment a real company? Or is it just a paper entity?
No definitive answers existed.
Yet bloggers’ photos hinted at KarMa’s presence.
One image showed a building along Teheran-ro where the fallen signboard faintly displayed the letters “KarMa.”
The building itself looked pristine—only the sign appeared neglected.
‘Just like how H Company’s Restaurant for the Dead supposedly lacks a signboard.’
Whether K Company or H Company, they’d likely removed their signage to avoid detection by the living.
If they’re hiding, why leave traces at all?
He resolved to ask Cha Seung-pyo about the building later.
“Hello.”
“Oh? Jeongjikhan, come in!”
“Here, have a drink while you work.”
“Oh! Thank you so much.”
He distributed vitamin drinks bought on his way to the staff.
It was both a celebration of his first paycheck and gratitude for their open-mindedness toward him, an unproven newcomer.
“Jeongjikhan!”
Director Kim approached next, waving a script.
Jeongjikhan beamed and handed him a drink.
“Director Kim, how have you been?”
“Haha! Still kicking. You must’ve been hurt I didn’t contact you sooner?”
“Not at all. I’m just grateful you reached out despite your busy schedule.”
“Hah! How can anyone not adore you?”
Director Kim drained the drink in one gulp and thrust a thick script into his hands.
“Take a look.”
“What’s this?”
“What else? The Season 2 script.”
“What?!”
“That’s why I called you here.”
Season 2?
This web drama is a series now?
As Jeongjikhan gaped, Director Kim raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t want it?”
“N-no! I’m just shocked.”
“Hah! Same here. Who knew my romance chops were this good?”
“It’s the synergy between your vision and the writer’s talent.”
“Oh? Flattery’s a skill too!”
Director Kim roared with laughter while the writer behind him smirked, studying Jeongjikhan.
Growing together—that’s the ideal.
Jeongjikhan believed any project should be tackled with joy.
The script revealed Kang Cheol-min (played by Jeongjikhan) returning as a polished professional after his heartbreak, transforming the college rom-com into a workplace coming-of-age story.
Director Kim spoke as Jeongjikhan scanned the pages:
“Season 2 filming starts in two months.”
“What’s today’s agenda?”
“Trailer shoot.”
“Ah.”
“Thankfully, we’ve formalized contracts. No more scrambling!”
“Huh?”
Director Kim tilted his head.
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“I assumed they’d already contacted—”
Someone tapped Jeongjikhan’s shoulder.
He turned to find Lee Sunhye, the drama’s lead actress, smiling brightly.
“Long time no see, Jeongjikhan.”
“Sunhye-ssi! How have you been?”
She gestured to the man beside her.
“Meet my manager.”
“Pleasure. I’m Kwak Seungcheol.”
Jeongjikhan numbly shook hands as Kwak handed him a business card.
“We intended to call earlier, but Ms. Lee insisted on meeting in person.”
“I... see.”
“DreamTree recruits talented actors and models. We’ve followed your work through Ms. Lee and would love to have you join us.”
Casted on the spot?
When Jeongjikhan stayed silent, Sunhye interjected:
“We’re smaller than major agencies, but everyone at DreamTree pours their heart into supporting talents. You’ll thrive here.”
“This is... sudden.”
“Why hesitate? You’re unsigned—why not start with us?”
Her boldness startled him. Kwak stepped forward.
“Our actors consistently re-sign because we prioritize their comfort. For instance—”
He listed DreamTree’s roster and benefits, but Jeongjikhan tuned out.
Joining an agency might bring offers, but night shoots are off-limits. And I’m not even sure about acting full-time...
“Thank you, but currently I—”
“We won’t schedule shoots past 9 PM.”
