Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Only the sound of pages flipping echoed through the quiet classroom.
Then—
Drreuk-.
The door opened, and someone entered.
“Seungchan, just in time.”
“Hello.”
A familiar face—it was the action director Seungchan had seen during the last shoot.
“I just wanted to help you coordinate the moves for the scene,” the director said.
Before any action scene, actors practice “moves”—timing and rhythm are synchronized to prevent injuries and make the fight look realistic.
“By the way, what about Myeongjun…”
As the action director looked around the waiting room, the classroom door opened and in came Lee Myeongjun.
“Good to see you, Myeongjun,” the director greeted cheerfully.
Myeongjun approached quickly and replied, “Hello, director. What’s the plan today?”
His manner was very polite compared to Seungchan’s. It made sense—Myeongjun had trained at the action director’s own action school, and it was thanks to him that Myeongjun even got a minor role.
“Since today’s first scene is an action scene, we need to coordinate the moves,” the director said. He then looked at Seungchan.
“It’s your first time matching moves too, right?”
Seungchan’s previous scene had been simple—a one-sided strike—so no proper coordination was necessary. But this time, the fight scenes had increased substantially.
“I was going to practice anyway. It’s great that you’re here to help, director,” Seungchan replied.
Myeongjun smiled brightly at that comment, and Seungchan felt a subtle unease.
‘He’s up to something.’
That smile hid his true intentions. On the surface, it looked friendly, but Seungchan could sense the hidden edge. Having lived as Cheon Myeon-gwi in his past life, he was skilled at reading people’s intentions.
‘I hope this passes quietly…’
He didn’t want trouble, but if the line was crossed—
‘He’ll regret it.’
He wasn’t planning to stand idly by.
“Seungchan, have you memorized the choreography?”
“Yes, I have.”
Seungchan calmly replied. He had already memorized the action moves according to the storyboard.
“Good, very diligent,” the director said with a satisfied smile.
“And you, Myeongjun?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“Excellent. It’s clear who taught you well.”
The director patted Myeongjun on the shoulder.
“Let’s start then.”
Under the director’s guidance, Seungchan and Myeongjun began rehearsing their moves.
“First, Seungchan, move sideways and fake a kick at Myeongjun’s ribs. Myeongjun, you know what to do, right?”
“Of course!”
“Good. Seungchan, you start.”
“Yes.”
Seungchan approached and faked the kick, and Myeongjun moved back at the right moment, hitting the wall naturally. His movement was smooth and precise.
‘Not bad.’
It wasn’t just talk—being a former stuntman, he moved with agility.
“Next, Myeongjun throws a punch, and Seungchan, you just turn your head at the right timing.”
The director explained kindly, and Seungchan nodded.
“Myeongjun is just faking the strike, so don’t flinch. Hesitation could get you hurt.”
They rehearsed several more times, and Seungchan executed every move flawlessly.
“First time doing this, right?” the director asked in surprise.
Indeed, it looked simple from a distance, but proper timing and coordination required real skill. For Seungchan, however, it was easy—having survived as Cheon Myeon-gwi, this level of action was child’s play.
“You’re excellent.”
“All thanks to the director’s guidance,” Seungchan said humbly.
Humility, he knew, could be a useful weapon if wielded wisely.
“Ha ha, I do have some skill,” the director said, smiling.
“Myeongjun, you did well too.”
“Thank you.”
“Let’s run through it a few more times, safety first.”
“Yes.”
They continued practicing several more rounds. Seungchan grew more natural with every move, impressing both the director and the two minor actors observing.
Meanwhile, Myeongjun’s gaze grew colder and sharper.
The shoot began.
In the middle of the classroom, Nam Siwoo stood terrified. Opposite him, the delinquent group, including Myeongjun, loomed threateningly. Nam Siwoo shrank under their gaze.
“Hey, I warned you! I said no milk!”
Myeongjun shouted at Nam Siwoo. The staff watched tensely, and Seungchan observed quietly.
This scene was set up for Nam Siwoo being bullied by Myeongjun’s gang.
‘Clumsy.’
Myeongjun’s acting lacked genuine emotion. His expressions and movements were unremarkable.
‘No talent.’
Seungchan judged him without malice—it was just an objective assessment.
‘But Siwoo’s improved.’
Nam Siwoo’s acting had noticeably improved, whether through practice or growing confidence. His eyes conveyed real emotion, though slightly rough, it still communicated well.
“Cut! Siwoo, good job!”
Director Park Taeho’s cheerful voice rang out, brightening Nam Siwoo’s face.
“Delinquent roles, tone down the voice and hold back your emotions a little.”
“Yes, sir.”
Myeongjun’s face darkened as he responded and returned to position.
Then the assistant director approached Seungchan.
“Seungchan, let’s get ready.”
The next scene introduced Kang Hyuk—Seungchan’s character.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good, reliable as always,” the assistant director said, giving a thumbs-up.
“Everyone, get ready. Kang Hyuk enters,” he announced, and the crew hurried to their positions.
“Seungchan, come this way.”
“Yes.”
Seungchan waited outside the classroom, recalling his lines and actions until the director’s cue.
“Action!”
He slowly opened his eyes.
Drreuk-.
He entered the classroom with the teacher actor. The noise ceased instantly as all eyes focused on him.
“Class, a new student has arrived. Kang Hyuk, greet your classmates.”
Kang Hyuk, played by Seungchan, stepped forward.
“My name is Kang Hyuk.”
The single line resonated in the room.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Quiet type, good. Sit in the empty seat.”
The teacher indicated a seat. Seungchan bowed slightly and sat next to Nam Siwoo, turning his gaze to the window.
“Cut! Neat, excellent.”
Director Park was very pleased. Seungchan’s acting precisely matched his vision.
Though brief, the line effectively introduced Kang Hyuk as a key character, exceeding the expectations of both director and writer.
“Definitely different,” one staff member remarked.
“I can’t help but get absorbed,” another said.
Although short, everyone could feel Seungchan’s distinct presence.
“Prepare for the next scene.”
“Yes.”
“Action!”
The next scene: Nam Siwoo being bullied at the back of the classroom while Kang Hyuk, asleep, rises to intervene.
Drreuk-!
The classroom door slammed open. Myeongjun’s face was full of rage, eyes sharp as blades.
The students held their breath as he strode toward Nam Siwoo.
Siwoo curled up, but it was no defense.
Myeongjun kicked him violently.
“Hey! You tattled? Smoking at the playground, you tattled?”
His voice was harsh, stomping Nam Siwoo relentlessly. Siwoo protested, but Myeongjun’s anger intensified.
“Stop…”
From the corner, Seungchan, lying on the floor, rose calmly.
Without a word, he approached Myeongjun and delivered a precise kick to his ribs.
Having rehearsed several times, Myeongjun was pushed against the wall as if in real combat.
“Too noisy to sleep, huh.”
Seungchan rubbed his eyes leisurely, his voice casual, as if nothing had happened.
“You bastard! Are you crazy?!”
“No.”
Seungchan’s calm reply made Myeongjun’s eyes widen.
“Transfer student, you’re going down today!”
Myeongjun swung his fist at Seungchan in anger. Seungchan lightly twisted his body to evade and prepared to strike.
‘This little bastard.’
His gaze turned icy—the provocation was blatant.
The script called for him to be struck, but Myeongjun ignored the planned choreography.
‘So this was his plan all along.’
Seungchan realized Myeongjun had been scheming.
‘You picked the wrong person.’
In the brief moment before Myeongjun’s punch landed, Seungchan considered his options.
He, who had survived as Cheon Myeon-gwi, would not ignore such provocation. Yet he decided:
‘Better end it within limits.’
In the martial world, he could have broken the arm. Here, in modern times, with many witnesses, escalating the situation was pointless.
Seungchan raised his arm, positioning his elbow precisely in the path of Myeongjun’s punch. He also feigned surprise.
Everything had to look accidental.
Crack-!
When elbow met fist, a chilling sound echoed through the classroom, as if bones had shattered, followed by a terrifying scream.