The second half of the tour took us deep into the heart of the production pavilion complex.
As Producer Park led our group across a glass skybridge connecting the main JBC towers to an adjacent studio wing, we stumbled directly onto the set of an active, high-budget broadcast. The soundstage had been converted into a fictional, sleek counterpart of their JBC — JTBC.
"Silence on set!" an assistant director roared through a megaphone, waving his arms at our tour group. "Rolling! Scene forty-two, take three!"
Right in front of us, sitting at a glass executive desk, was none other than the famous lead actor Kang Tae-oh, clad in a tailored charcoal suit, shooting an intense love-confession scene with his co-star under two massive crane cameras.
Before Min-ah could collapse from a fan-girl overload, a frantic line producer spotted our group hovering near the entrance.
"You! The practitioner group! Perfect timing! We need background extras for an authentic corporate tour scene! Just walk past the glass wall in pairs when the director shouts 'Action'!"
Without waiting for agreement, we were deployed into the scene. Min-ah and I walked past the background glass in smooth, synchronized steps—me trying my absolute best not to look directly into the camera lens, while Min-ah executed a realistic "attentive intern" nod.
We had officially made our live Korean drama debut.
By 6:00 PM, the tour concluded, and our group was guided into JBC's top-floor executive dining hall for the traditional corporate welcome dinner.
The feast was entirely covered by the company. Long, dark-wood tables were loaded with sizzling meats, high-end side dishes, and endless bottles of spirits. But what made my stomach twist into a nervous knot wasn't the food; it was the surrounding people. The hall was packed with famous news anchors, top-tier investigative journalists, veteran variety show directors, and media executives.
And sitting right at the center of the head table—thanks to a warm gesture from Mrs. Lee, who offered us two empty seats beside her—was the actual President and CEO of JBC.
His nameplate read President Kim Dok-ja.
I sat rigidly on my cushion, my broad shoulders slouched to minimize my presence, while Min-ah sat beside me looking like she was facing a supreme court trial. Sitting directly beside the ultimate media reader of the country was an entirely different level of psychological pressure.
"So..." President Kim Dok-ja started, setting his glass down with a sharp clink as his sharp, amused eyes locked onto my flushed face. "This must be the Ukrainian boy who has been causing so much noise over at Kirin Arts! My daughter talks about you constantly at the dinner table!"
'His daughter?' I blinked.
Before I could guess her identity, President Kim smiled warmly, waving his hand.
"She's a first-year trainee at Kirin. She's actually in the exact same Applied Music class as your freshman bandmate, Leo. I caught your H-Wnot performance stream from the Autumn Festival... it was thoroughly refreshing, San-gun. It reminded me of the golden indie days back at the Seoul Academy of Arts."
I let out a modest, airy chuckle, scratching the back of my neck.
"Ah... thank you, President-nim. We just play our best."
Since Min-ah and I were the only underage teenagers at a table of high-ranking media adults, we were restricted entirely to tall glasses of chilled orange juice while the executives toasted with premium soju and beer.
The atmosphere quickly shifted away from us as Mrs. Lee and her veteran colleagues began reminiscing about their early field reporting days. Fueled by the alcohol, they started spilling hilarious, deeply embarrassing broadcast blunders from the late 2000s—stories about Mrs. Lee accidentally dropping her microphone into a muddy trench during a live storm report, or a senior director falling asleep behind the control console during a national address.
It was information I felt I legally, as would Ji-hoon say, shouldn't be privy to, but beside me, Min-ah was silently absorbing every single word, her analytical eyes cataloging the administrative tea like a human tape recorder.
Recognizing that staying any longer would only lead to more dangerous corporate secrets, I quickly stood up, bowed politely to President Kim and Mrs. Lee, and manufactured a smooth excuse about evening studying to pull Min-ah out of the hall.
As a gentleman, I accompanied Min-ah on the subway ride back to her residential district.
The cold winter air felt crisp and grounding after the suffocating heat of the executive dining hall. We walked down a quiet neighborhood street lined with massive, private gated estates and traditional walled houses.
I looked around at the towering marble gates and sleek security cameras, my jaw dropping slightly. I knew her family was comfortable, but... I didn't realize the Database Queen lived in an estate that was no less wealthy than the Lee family mansion.
We stopped outside her front gate, the iron intercom glowing softly in the dark.
"So..." I asked, rubbing my gloved hands together to stay warm. "Did you enjoy the JBC excursion?"
Min-ah turned to me, her usual guarded, sarcastic mask completely gone, replaced by a radiant, genuine smile behind her frames.
"Are you kidding? Absolutely! It was the best day of my entire year!"
I smiled back, leaning my weight against the brick pillar.
"So... is our deal officially considered settled now?"
Before Min-ah could open her mouth to answer, a sharp, cold, and intensely familiar male voice cut through the quiet night air from the shadow of her driveway.
"Which deal?"
We both whirled around.
Stepping out from behind the estate's brick archway, his hands shoved deep into his black leather jacket, was a guy with styled, dyed silver hair that caught the moonlight. His sharp, dark light gray eyes locked onto mine with dangerous intensity.