Rurin And The Song (5)

El immediately untied Doongi.

“Doongi, let’s go.”

Before El even finished speaking, Doongi was already sniffing the floor and running.

“Woof woof!”

To El, the bark sounded like a gesture saying, “Follow me.”

“Let’s follow him.”

“Huh?”

“Not ‘huh’—put your shoes on!”

In a rush, El knelt and put the shoes on Rurin’s feet. Rurin, who had come to the doorway, was utterly confused as she got dragged out.

El threw the money and gift bag inside, locked the door, and pulled Rurin down the corridor. Doongi kept sniffing the street, trying to track his housemate.

The reason El rushed like this was because the letter’s content clearly wasn’t normal.

It seriously read like a suicide note.

Even if it were a stranger, El would still try to help—so of course he would for someone he knew.

Following the barking Doongi, they spotted Lee Jin-seong, just getting into a taxi. Unfortunately, by the time Doongi reached him, the cab had already pulled away.

So El immediately hailed another taxi.

And so, the chase began.

Rurin sat next to El with a puzzled expression, repeatedly asking what was going on, while Doongi panted heavily, tongue out, front paws raised.

They paid triple the fare and jumped out—only to spot Jin-seong heading into a building. In the alley, he had pulled something from under a tarp like it had been prepped in advance.

That item was none other than a fuel canister—the kind used for kerosene, diesel, or other flammable liquids.

El scowled as soon as he saw it.

Going into a building with a fuel canister? Only one conclusion comes to mind.

Doongi ran, and so did El and Rurin. After hearing the explanation in the cab, Rurin didn’t seem very interested—but her rule was simple: if El ran, she followed.

The 3rd to 5th floors were used by a company called UU Entertainment. The guard who should’ve been at the entrance was gone—had Jin-seong arranged for that too?

As soon as Jin-seong got in the elevator, he pressed 3F. The stench of fuel radiated off him.

El ran in and pulled Jin-seong out of the elevator.

“Woof woof!”

Doongi barked aggressively, likely because of the smell.

Jin-seong looked stunned, glancing between El and Doongi. El had seen it—how Jin-seong was about to douse himself the moment he pressed the elevator button.

It was clearly an attempt at self-immolation. So when he saw El, he asked with shock:

“H-how are you here…?”

“You were so focused on that canister, you didn’t notice us tailing you. Normally, you would have.”

El shouted, voice shaking with anger, as he dragged Jin-seong out of the building.

El brought Jin-seong home and listened to his story.

It was awful in every possible sense.

No matter the circumstances, it was still the wrong choice. Jin-seong had attempted suicide—worse, he’d nearly caused a murder-suicide.

Was it the thought of his daughter’s pain that clouded his judgment with rage?

But the regular staff were innocent. Most of them likely knew nothing.

Only the CEO and a few perpetrators were probably guilty.

Of course, that all hinged on Jin-seong telling the truth.

This man didn’t seem like he’d stop until the agency—who may as well have killed his daughter—was punished. So he had to be stopped by force if necessary.

Regardless, Jin-seong was a victim. So El’s meddlesome streak kicked in again.

Even he didn’t feel the need to fix all the world’s injustices.

That’s why he retired from that other world and chose a peaceful life running a restaurant.

But he wasn’t indifferent enough to ignore the pain of someone he knew. So now that he’d heard the story, he planned to help Jin-seong get his revenge—if it turned out to be true.

Of course, that punishment wouldn’t be violence—it’d be social ruin.

He was in this world now—so it had to be done in the way of this world!

“I understand the situation. I’ve got a good plan. Can you just stay with Doongi for a few days? I get that no one believes you and you made a desperate choice, but it would have only created more victims.”

“But…if no one believes me, what kind of good plan could there possibly be…?”

“This world runs on the internet, right? Then we just use that to deliver justice.”

Jin-seong looked up at me in confusion from where he was kneeling. I didn’t make him kneel—he was just that hopeless.

I convinced him to wait a few days. After some coaxing—and a threat to report his arson attempt—I finally got him and Doongi to go home.

I don’t blame him as a father. Wanting to sacrifice himself to avenge his daughter made sense.

That’s why I’m helping.

So I made a plan.

If you want to catch a tiger, you need to enter its den.

What I needed was certainty.

So far, I’d only heard Jin-seong’s side. I needed to infiltrate the agency and confirm it for myself.

I didn’t need legal proof—just personal confirmation that it had happened.

If it really did happen, we’d make sure they paid for it. Simple.

But to gain that certainty, I needed to infiltrate the company. Infiltrate, and confirm it directly.

And right in front of me stood the perfect candidate for the job.

She was very annoyed, but in the end, I managed to rope in my dear wife.

“You must absolutely not release your aura, alright? It keeps people from even approaching you.”

“How many times do I have to say it? I have great ears!”

“Of course. A dragon’s ears would never be bad.”

“Exactly!”

Rurin nodded proudly.

Right now, Rurin and I were in front of UU Entertainment’s building for Phase 1 of the operation—to be scouted by them.

Rather than going in for an audition, getting scouted looked more natural and less suspicious. It’s less sketchy if they “discover” you than if you knock on their door.

“Rurin, just stand here. Fiddle with your phone a bit—like you’re waiting for someone.”

“But the only one I ever wait for is you.”

“Exactly. Pretend you’re waiting for me.”

Yeah, acting like this right in front of the agency building felt pretty ridiculous.

But if their eyes weren’t painted on, there’s no way anyone would ignore Rurin—even with her aura repressed.

This isn’t me being biased because she’s my wife.

Objectively speaking, she’s absurdly beautiful.

I swear I’m not wearing love goggles!

Even elves—known for their beauty—would take a step back next to her.

If a goddess who could land ads just by smiling doesn’t get picked up, that agency deserves to go bankrupt.

Filled with that confidence, I watched from a distance. Rurin grew bored and annoyed, texting me every time.

[Just wait a bit longer.]

[“A bit” has passed several times already.]

[Still—just a little longer!]

Soon she started squinting at me with a deeply resentful look. She even stomped the ground and growled like she always does when at her limit.

Just as Rurin was reaching her limit, something finally happened. A man approached her.

The question was—was this just a random guy hitting on her, or a scout from the agency?

Statistically, being in front of an agency meant it was probably the latter.

But if it was just a pick-up attempt, I’d need to chase him off—so I ran over.

Chief Manager Im from UU Entertainment burst into the CEO’s office in a frenzy.

“Director! Sir! This is huge! HUGE!”

Director Park, annoyed over tanking ratings of their latest rookie drama, shook his head at Team Leader Im.

“What is it this time? I don’t trust your hype anymore.”

“Today’s different! Look at this first!”

Im confidently swiped through his phone to show off fresh photos he’d just taken.

“Hmm? Not bad I guess. She’s not signed to anyone? Pretty decent-looking.”

“She’s way more than decent! My phone camera sucks—that’s why it looks off. Her aura was on another level! …Though she did sound kinda cocky…”

Im didn’t finish his sentence—Director Park started whacking him on the head with a file folder.

“Hey, you idiot! You should’ve brought her in and made her sign the contract right then and there—why the hell would you just let her walk away? Are you joking? You think this is your first day doing business? How many times do I have to say, once they sign, it’s over! If she just walks off with your card, she’ll ask around and probably end up with some bigger agency, dumbass! I don’t know about the aura or whatever, but she definitely has a look that’ll rake in cash. Damn it, this close to a payday and you’re playing games? And you’re worried about her being cocky? You think cocky kids are rare in this industry?”

“B-but she said she had something urgent and really couldn’t come with me! I tried to bring her, I swear! She said she’d call us. It’s true!”

Director Park yanked his tie loose and fumed. He threw the file folder away after tiring himself out beating Im with it, then dropped back into his chair.

“Cut the crap and go get her right now. You have to lock them in when they don’t know anything, that’s how you get your money’s worth, you bastard! And with everything we spent covering up the mess with Lee Eunji’s father acting out… Goddamn it! Could’ve just taken the payout—why the hell did he have to go and kill himself? Suicide, really?”

Im shrank under the abuse and slipped out of the office like he was running away. Just as he was about to make a call, his phone rang first. The caller was the same person he had been planning to dial.

“Hello, this is Im Kyunghan from UU Entertainment.”

The moment he answered and heard who it was, Im was shocked and bolted back into the director’s office.

“What now? I told you to work, and you crawl back in here again? You want another beating?”

“No! It’s not that-”

Im frantically waved his hands and lit up as he addressed Director Park.

“She’s coming! Said something about ‘Oppa’—whatever—but she’s on her way here and wants to meet. Seriously, when you see her in person, there’s no way you’ll call her ‘just pretty.’”

“Yeah? Fine, skip the hype. If she’s even remotely useful, we’re locking her in. That group we were planning doesn’t have a center anyway. Even if she can’t sing, we need someone who can hold the spotlight.”

While the director and manager were still whispering, Im’s phone rang again. He rushed down to the first floor, met El and Rurin, and personally escorted them straight to the director’s office.

And just like that, Rurin entered the director’s office.

For some reason, her steps were unusually graceful. The mood in the office flipped in an instant. Director Park, who had been smugly thinking he’d found a girl group center, began mentally cursing himself.

Maybe this time, Im’s overreaction had been spot on.

Between idol work, acting, and commercials—it felt like money was raining from the sky.

That’s how stunning she was.

And it’s not just about looks for a celebrity. You need that natural shine—an aura. All top stars have it.

That’s why even if they can’t act, top stars still dominate commercials as “actors”.

“G-get her over here!”

Director Park waved his arms, excited now too. This was a whale they couldn’t afford to let go. Whatever she was, she was pure gold—and he knew it without a doubt.