Page 32 of Tell Me Where It Ends

I nudge him with my knee. “Well, as long as they don’t stick you with some hot, up-and-coming young actress, I think I can handle it.”

He shoots me a look of mock offense. “Hey! I’m a professional.”

“Oh yeah?” I tease. “What about the last client you had? The idol-turned-actress? I hear she’s a real handful.”

Shin groans dramatically. “She’s a handful indeed.”

I smirk. “You like it though. Admit it.”

We both laugh, and the tension eases—but then his expression turns serious again.

“I just want to support you,” he says quietly. “But I don’t want my feelings to complicate your career.” He hesitates, his gaze still on the ocean. “And… are you okay with dating someone who makes way less than you?”

I take his hand, lacing my fingers through his. “Shin, of all the things I worry about—and the list is professionally curated and very, very long—that isn’t even on it. You trusted me when I couldn’t trust myself. You’re the safest place I’ve ever known. That’s the only currency that matters.”

A small, genuine smile finally reaches his eyes.

“Besides,” I add, leaning my head against his shoulder, “acting careers don’t last forever. You might have to be my sugar daddy one day.”

He chuckles, warm against my ear. “I’ll start saving, then.”

On that note, I suddenly snap my fingers. “That reminds me… today is Black Friday! I need to check online and buy toilet paper in bulk.”

Shin gives me an incredulous look and shakes his head. “Min-hee… you’re an actress, and they paid you two hundred million won per episode in your latest drama. And you still want to buy toilet paper in bulk?”

I shrug, ignoring him and checking out my online purchase. Old habits die hard—especially when you grow up with an alcoholic dad, an unreliable brother, and a non-existent mom, andare forced to be the only responsible one in the house.

A comfortable silence settles between us, filled only by the rhythmic whisper of the waves.

“Did you always want to be a manager?” I ask into the quiet.

He tries to deflect with a joke, a small smirk playing on his lips. “To beyourmanager specifically? It was my lifelong dream since I first saw you.”

I give him a completely unimpressed look. “Seriously.”

The humor fades, replaced by something more wistful. “I studied journalism,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I wanted to be a sports writer. Maybe a commentator. Slam Dunk fan and all that.”

The image of his nerdy, adorable childhood room flashes in my mind. Of course.

“So what happened?” I ask softly.

He picks at a loose thread on the blanket, avoiding my eyes. “I needed a job after I graduated—I couldn’t be a burden on my parents. I took an internship at the agency and paid my dues for a few years. Managed a couple of rookie groups, some actors. The usual grind. The work was anything but journalism.”

He pauses, finally looking at me, his expression turning serious. “And then, eight years ago, your previous manager was reassigned. There was an opening on your team.”

I just stare at him, a little confused. “So they just… assigned me to you?”

A small, almost shy smile touches his lips. “Not exactly. The board’s plan for you was… predictable. More of the same rom-coms until your idol fame faded.”

Classic. Be a marketable idol until your late twenties, then pivot to rom-coms until your late thirties. Finally, be replaced by a younger, fresher face in the industry. Rinse and repeat.

“But I’d seen you in the practice rooms late at night,” he continues, his voice low and certain. “Long after everyone else had gone home. You weren’t just rehearsing; you were taking the scripts apart, line by line, trying to find the truth in them. I knew you were more than what they saw.”

He takes a breath. “So when the position opened up, I made a pitch. Not a career plan for you, but an argument for me. I told them you deserved a manager who would bring you challenging scripts, who saw you as a seriousactress, not just a former idol. I argued that I could be that person. I fought for the assignment.”

The revelation hits me with the force of a physical blow. All this time, I thought I was just his job. His next task. I never imagined…

“You… youchoseme?” I whisper, the words feeling too small for the moment.