Chapter 60 The Butterfly Effect of the Premiere Night

On the television screen, the ending theme of *The Heirs* gradually faded out.

The preview for the next episode began to appear.

Kang Jae-hoon sat cross-legged on the sofa, clutching the remote control in his hand, though his eyes kept drifting toward Lee Sung-kyung.

"How was it?"

He had held it in for the entire episode and finally couldn't help asking.

Lee Sung-kyung was leisurely peeling an orange without even raising her eyelids:

"How was what?"

"The acting, the camera presence, the pacing of the lines—"

Kang Jae-hoon tried his best to sound as if he were just asking casually.

Lee Sung-kyung finally lifted her eyelids, her gaze lingering on his expectant face for two seconds:

"A bit better than the God of Toilet Plungers."

"......Lee Sung-kyung, are you actually my anti-fan?"

"Would an anti-fan watch such a boring TV show?"

Kang Jae-hoon was left speechless, completely choked up.

Right on cue, the preview for the next episode ended, cutting to a commercial for Lim Yoon-ah's skincare brand.

Her porcelain-white face looked nearly transparent under the soft-focus filter, and the slow-motion shot of her fingertips gliding across her cheek was paired with the promotional tagline: "A first-love-like touch."

"Yoon-ah's skin really is..."

Halfway through his sentence, Kang Jae-hoon suddenly realized the danger.

Lee Sung-kyung held the orange slice near her lips:

"Really what?"

"Nothing!"

Kang Jae-hoon abruptly grabbed the remote and began frantically flipping through the channels, only to find every single station broadcasting variety specials related to *The Heirs*.

SBS's promotional efforts were practically designed to weld this drama into the national memory.

"Change to this one."

Lee Sung-kyung suddenly snatched the remote control and switched it to an animal documentary.

On the African savanna, a cheetah was chasing an antelope.

Kang Jae-hoon stared at the tightly coiled muscle lines of the cheetah's back, and inspiration suddenly struck him:

"Is Sung-kyung secretly complimenting my body management?"

"......Stop gilding your own lily."

Lee Sung-kyung hurled an orange peel straight at his face:

"I'm going to sleep."

Kang Jae-hoon plucked the orange peel off his eyes and checked the time:

"It's only ten-thirty."

"Early flight tomorrow. Remember to sort the trash, crush the aluminum cans, and tie the food waste bags tightly."

"Got it—"

An alarm clock rang abruptly in the darkness.

Kang Jae-hoon jolted awake from the sofa, scrambling clumsily to turn off his phone.

Outside the window, the world was still steeped in thick darkness.

He stepped onto the cold floor barefoot, feeling his way toward the kitchen in the dark. The dull thud of his knee hitting the corner of the coffee table was exceptionally clear in the silence.

The refrigerator door was pulled open carefully.

The cold light illuminated Kang Jae-hoon's unruly tufts of hair.

Kimchi, instant porridge, rice balls in the refrigerator shelf—none of these were things Lee Sung-kyung would eat.

He hesitated for a moment, took out his phone, and searched: [Model diet before a runway show].

—Low sodium, high protein, easy to digest.

Just as Kang Jae-hoon finished packing the gimbap neatly into a food storage container, a soft click came from the master bedroom lock.

Lee Sung-kyung dragged her cabin-sized suitcase out, her face still carrying the cool aloofness of someone who hadn't fully woken up, but her footsteps paused when she saw the light on in the kitchen.

"You..."

"I—I got up to use the restroom!"

Kang Jae-hoon shoved the storage container right into her hands.

Lee Sung-kyung looked down—

Inside the container were seaweed rolls of uneven thickness neatly arranged, with the fillings bursting out of a few of them.

"Bought at a convenience store?"

"I made them."

Kang Jae-hoon pointed at the ugliest piece:

"I put too much rice in this one, so it blew open."

"......Airport security will confiscate it."

"Huh? Then should we eat it now?"

"You're eating gimbap at four in the morning?"

Kang Jae-hoon opened his mouth, then abruptly changed the subject:

"Did you bring your passport?"

"Mhm."

"Travel adapter?"

"......Mhm."

Kang Jae-hoon scratched his head, and as if suddenly remembering something, sprinted back to his room. When he came back out, he was holding a grayish-blue scarf:

"It's cooled down in Shanghai."

"My suitcase doesn't have roo—"

The scarf was already wrapped around her neck. Kang Jae-hoon's fingers clumsily tied a clumsy knot, the woolen fabric brushing against Lee Sung-kyung's chin, carrying the faint scent of fabric softener.

"..."

The tips of Lee Sung-kyung's ears turned quietly red beneath the cover of the scarf, and she averted her gaze with a light cough:

"Hideous."

"I'll walk you down."

Kang Jae-hoon flashed a wide grin, picked up her cabin bag, and headed downstairs.

Lee Sung-kyung silently slid the storage container into her tote bag and followed behind him.

Neither of them spoke a word down the five flights of stairs.

Only their footsteps echoed overlapping in the narrow space.

Outside the apartment building entrance, the manager's van already had its hazard lights blinking.

Kang Jae-hoon handed the suitcase over to the assistant and turned around:

"Sung-kyung-ah, can you send me your flight number?"

"What for?"

"Just... checking the weather."

Lee Sung-kyung stared at his messy, sticking-up hair for three seconds, then suddenly picked up her phone and tapped a few times. Kang Jae-hoon's phone in his pocket vibrated immediately—

[KE895 Incheon to Pudong 06:45]

"I'm leaving."

She turned and climbed into the manager's car without looking back.

Kang Jae-hoon stood right where he was, watching the tail lights vanish into the corner of the alley.

The morning breeze was a bit chilly, and he belatedly realized—

He had run out wearing his slippers.

Eight o'clock in the morning.

When Kang Jae-hoon arrived at the filming set and pushed open the door of the resting room, the oppressive atmosphere rushing toward him made him pause in his tracks.

The makeup artists were silently organizing their tools; the assistants were staring down at their mobile phones.

Lee Min-ho was leaning against the sofa in the corner with his eyes closed to rest, his brows tightly furrowed;

Park Shin-hye was holding her script, yet hadn't turned a single page for a long time.

"Did they fight?"

Kang Jae-hoon whispered to the stylist nearby.

"The premiere ratings are out."

The stylist lowered her voice: "11.6%."

Kang Jae-hoon blinked:

"Isn't that pretty good?"

"But this is scriptwriter Kim Eun-sook's new work!"

Kang Jae-hoon only then reacted—

A rating of 11.6% would be a passing grade report on any broadcasting station, but draped over Kim Eun-sook's golden brand name, it looked glaringly out of place.

SBS had staked the autumn prime-time slot and all its promotional resources on *The Heirs* this time, yet the premiere had actually failed to beat KBS's competing time-slot drama *Secret* (12.4%).

Although premiere ratings didn't dictate the final outcome, the blow to the production team's morale was very real.

"The directors' faces were pitch black during this morning's meeting."

The stylist continued to mutter quietly: "I heard Writer Kim is going to rewrite the script."

Hearing this, Kang Jae-hoon took out his phone and checked the Naver real-time search rankings—

#TheHeirsPremiere# was still hanging in the third spot of the entertainment section, but the real-time discussion boards had already sprouted glaring headlines:

[Has Kim Eun-sook fallen off her pedestal?]

[Lee Min-ho and Park Shin-hye actually couldn't beat Ji Sung solo?]

[On the decline of cheesy melodramas]

...

"Jae-hoon-xi."

A floor manager knocked on the resting room door: "Writer Kim wants to see you."

"Okay."

The air pressure inside the conference room was even three degrees heavier than the resting room.

"Sit."

Kim Eun-sook pushed a data sheet across the table toward Kang Jae-hoon.

"Last night's peak rating appeared during the sequence featuring you and Bo-na, reaching an instantaneous rating of 14.1%."

Kang Jae-hoon's fingertips paused on the data sheet—

The total screen time of him and Krystal Jung appearing together in the first episode didn't even exceed five minutes.

And that was the peak rating?

"Viewer feedback says your vibe is different from the other actors."

Kim Eun-sook suddenly smiled: "They praised you for acting like a warm guy who could actually exist in real life."

"..."

Regarding this evaluation, Kang Jae-hoon remained noncommittal.

If Lee Sung-kyung were to hear this, she would probably let out a dismissive, scornful laugh.

"Starting today, the number of scenes between you and Bo-na will be increased by two per episode."

Kim Eun-sook pushed the new script toward him:

"Handle it well. What the viewers want to see is chemistry that makes them smile knowingly."

Kang Jae-hoon opened the script and discovered that Yoon Chan-young's screen time had practically doubled—

Tutoring in the library, rooftop bento dates, and even a scene where he carries Lee Bo-na on his back.

"Thank you, Writer-nim. I'll do my best."

Kang Jae-hoon closed the script, bowed, and excused himself.

When he stepped out of the conference room, the set had already returned to its busy rhythm.

Kang Jae-hoon looked toward Krystal Jung, who was currently surrounded by makeup artists doing touch-ups.

Sensing his gaze, Krystal Jung blinked as their eyes met through the mirror.