Beautiful World
* The novel is set on a parallel-dimension Earth.
[Song Dahyun's POV]
The first impression that struck me when I stepped into his house was sheer size. A spacious entryway, elegant doors, and a long corridor stretching ahead. At a glance the place looked well over two thousand square feet—easily larger.
The interior was almost entirely white, with black accents woven through here and there, and the dainty display cabinets made the whole place feel as if a woman lived there. The cute little cabinets and the ornaments inside them…
Did a woman decorate this?
The hallway was long. And my heart was pounding harder with every step—from fear. My body was still trembling. No matter how much I told myself it was for the sake of acting, the thought of offering my virginity to a man whose face I had never even seen was slowly devouring my mind.
I had already cried enough downstairs, or so I thought. But the moment I actually entered his home, my self-worth crumbled all over again and a wave of misery washed over me. Every step felt as heavy as lead, yet I did not have the courage to ignore Director Ahn Jeongeun's command—disguised as a suggestion.
What kind of person is he? Since he's playing Mu-hyeok, does he look like a thug?
Then a large living room came into view, and as I stepped inside, a man rose from the sofa. He was smiling brightly, welcoming me, and that alone was a relief. His face wasn't my type, but he was handsome enough that a fresh wave of reassurance rose in me.
Ah… at least he doesn't look completely grotesque.
Feeling relief over something so small made my situation feel pathetic, but there was nothing I could do about it. The moment I saw him, I offered a greeting.
"Hello. I'm Song Dahyun, a rookie actress."
"Ah. I'm also a rookie actor… Kim Ian. Nice to meet you. I've been a fan for a while."
He approached. With a face full of smiles, calling himself a fan, he held out his hand, cheeks faintly flushed. It seemed he wanted a handshake, so I took it. A rough, powerful grip. He gently clasped my right hand and gave it a light up-and-down shake.
"…Director Ahn Jeongeun…"
"She's a mischievous one, isn't she? The director? I spoke with her earlier. She said you don't necessarily have to have sex—as long as you can act well enough on the first day of shooting."
That's the same thing. He's saying if a virgin can shoot a real-sex film without any experience, then she doesn't have to sleep with him first.
The way he innocently relayed that message made him look briefly foolish. No matter how many videos I watched and imitated, the pain of a first experience alone would keep me from performing a proper bed scene. Absolutely. Then every scrap of irritation on set would pour onto me, and any future project with Director Ahn Jeongeun would become a pipe dream.
"It's fine. I have no experience, so there would definitely be problems during filming."
"Ah… I see. Well… have a seat for now. I'll bring something to drink and a few light snacks. Coffee? Green tea?"
He scratched his head with an expression that said he'd just realized something. A genuinely simple, honest face. How those bold lines could shift into so many different expressions was almost fascinating. The only real worry was whether the man in front of me could actually pull off a thug like Lee Mu-hyeok.
"Coffee. Black, please."
"Got it. Ice?"
"If you have some, yes."
He disappeared into the kitchen. The strange thing was that while walking down the hallway my head had been full of every negative thought imaginable, yet after talking with him for a few minutes, something ticklish had settled in and all the tension had simply vanished. Come to think of it, there had been a faint scent for a moment—something very fragrant… but what had it been? I couldn't quite remember. It had definitely been a lovely fragrance.
The sofa was made of extremely high-end material. I had seen this brand often enough in morning dramas to know it was absurdly expensive. I had earned a fair amount from commercials over the past two years myself, but my parents managed the money, so luxuries like this were out of the question.
Looks like he lives well. And there's a view of the Han River.
Mapo-gu real estate wasn't exactly cheap, but the river view was nice. From the living room the place looked closer to twenty-six hundred square feet—an enormous home. And from what I'd seen on the way in, it was a two-story penthouse.
What bothered me was the perfume lingering throughout the house. Not one or two scents, but several. I guessed there were quite a few women around.
Whirr, grind-grind-grind…
The sound of some machine running came from the kitchen. From the rich aroma, he was brewing coffee. After a brief clatter of dishes he reappeared carrying a tray. And when I looked at his face again, I thought I was going insane.
Thump-thump.
It wasn't the heartbeat of tension or fear. His features came into sharp close-up, and my heart was racing in time with that bright smile. I had never been the type to fall easily, and I still had a guy I'd been crushing on since high school. Yet this was unmistakably the feeling of falling in love—the flutter, the pleasantly pounding heart, the flush climbing from the nape of my neck. On top of that, knowing I was supposed to have sex with him, I could feel myself growing wet between the legs, twitching, soaking my panties.
I'm crazy. How can I feel this about a man I've known for less than ten minutes? He's not even my type.
It wasn't as if he'd slipped me anything—I hadn't eaten or drunk a thing yet. And there was no such thing as a real aphrodisiac, much less a drug that made you fall in love. I had simply looked at his face once, watched his simple, honest manner, and fallen for him. Or maybe the despair of impending sex had driven my brain mad and made it invent love for him.
Is that it?
Was the self-loathing and terror so extreme that my brain was dumping love hormones? Even thinking something so bizarre made me feel pathetic.
Clink.
"Here you go."
He set a pretty glass—easily over four hundred milliliters—on the table in front of me. Ice floating on the surface. Being iced coffee, the aroma didn't reach me, but the water droplets beading on the glass looked especially large. Sweet castella cake and coffee… afraid he would notice how flushed my face was, I lowered my head and picked up the glass.
"Thank you. I'll enjoy it."
"Of course. You're welcome."
Come to think of it, his voice was a clear mid-low tone that carried distinctly. My ears and nose were sensitive, yet his diction didn't grate at all—it tickled my ears.
Haa… fine. Let's look on the bright side.
Even if I avoided him now, I would still have to have sex with him during the May shoot. To catch Director Ahn Jeongeun's eye I had to prepare thoroughly, and by the time filming started I needed to reach the point where I actually enjoyed sex with him.
Sex isn't that big a deal. And… he seems well-off, so he won't be after my money. He probably has plenty of women, so he won't cling either.
Slurp.
The coffee smelled wonderful too—a kind I had never tasted. Judging by the refined aroma, it was probably expensive.
"I really enjoyed Three Men, Three Women."
Ah… that sitcom from two years ago…
There had been talk of plagiarism and the rest, but after making my face known in a youth drama I had shot that sitcom for a full year. I hadn't been a lead—just a friend of the main characters—and I had exited the show by going abroad to study.
"Ah… thank you. But I don't think I've ever seen your face before. Which works…?"
He had introduced himself as a rookie actor, yet he was a complete stranger. He had complimented me, so I needed to return the compliment, but I knew nothing about his work, so I asked.
"This is my first film. My boss… well, Senior Go Hyerim is my boss, and she recommended me. Because of my physical condition."
He answered with a flushed face, and at the mention of Senior Go Hyerim I stared at him blankly. A one-person agency—no, with Senior Jeong Hyeon-jin it was a two-person agency—and he was signed there… A mercenary little thought crossed my mind: if I got along well with him, maybe I could solve the agency problem too.
He looks naive, but this guy has luck…
Who was Go Hyerim? The hottest actress in Chungmuro, and with Jeong Hyeon-jin under the same roof, it was an agency where you could pick and choose your scripts. I wondered whether this man even understood what an enormous stroke of fortune that was.
"Ah… so you're signed there. That must be nice."
"Huh? Ah… yeah, it is."
Scratching his head seemed to be a habit; he raked his fingers through his hair and flushed a little more. I was curious how he had gotten in, but pressing further felt rude, so I swallowed the question.
"When you say physical characteristics… you mean that… big… thing, right?"
"Ah… yeah. Exactly. Somehow my boss found out about it and told the director."
"But you didn't go to a performing arts high school? Or are you from the provinces? Your accent sounds like Seoul."
If he had attended any of the arts high schools in the capital region, I should have known his face from the exchange competitions. Yet he was a complete stranger. He had said he was born in '84, so one year below me—we should have crossed paths at least once.
"Ah… I went to a regular high school. Regular university too. It all started because of my girlfriend… that's how I met Senior Go Hyerim."
"Ah… a regular high school…"
A sudden unease. Could a total amateur really pull off a thug, a gangster role? It was a fairly substantial part… But then I remembered what kind of person Director Ahn Jeongeun was, and the doubt faded.
"You have a girlfriend, and you're okay with a movie like this?"
"Well. It's acting. She pushed me into it. I didn't want to do it."
Scratch, scratch. Irritation flared for a second. Didn't want to?
Didn't want to? Do you have any idea what kind of opportunity this is…
Some people would sell their bodies just to scrape together a chance like this, and he was saying he hadn't wanted it? Did he even understand what he had been handed?
My expression must have twisted, because he flinched and started scratching his head again.
"That sounded like a jerk thing to say, right? My boss and my girlfriend both gave me the same look."
"Huh? …Ah… I'm sorry."
Even seeing my face, he just smiled apologetically like an idiot. Well—if Senior Hyerim and that girlfriend of his were actresses, they would have felt the same way I did. How does a complete beginner land a supporting role, and a weighty one at that?
Money? I shook my head. Knowing Ahn Jeongeun, it wasn't money. She was the kind of director rumored to finance her films with family money—she was not someone swayed by cash.
"Don't worry. Senior Go Hyerim certified me as an acting genius."
He pointed at himself with his thumb and put on a cocky expression—so obviously acting that the performance itself was transparent. That ridiculous, self-satisfied face made a laugh burst out of me.
"Pfft… what is that? An acting genius?"
"My girlfriend's a freshman at Dongra University. We ran into Senior Go Hyerim by chance at the Stella Hotel café. She told me to try acting in the hotel room, so I did, and everyone called me a genius… well, it's a little embarrassing."
Born with it? Should I be jealous?
Like every art, acting was nine parts talent and one part effort. You could strive your whole life and still stagnate without that flash of insight, and without talent you got crushed by the gifted people around you and quietly disappeared. That was this industry.
Dongra University. The moment the name left his mouth, I remembered choosing Korea National University of Arts a year earlier when deciding on college. Only after enrolling had I heard seniors say that for an actress, Dongra was the best choice—and regretted it more than once.
So his girlfriend is on the Dongra line.
The Dongra actress network was famous enough that people joked the women pulled each other up, pushed each other forward, and kept the good roles among themselves. Even directors like Ahn Jeongeun were well known for filling most of their casts with Dongra graduates whenever possible.
"Alright, I'll trust you. And I'll trust Director Ahn Jeongeun's eye too."
"Haha. Okay."
Scratch, scratch. That head-scratching habit of his again. My throat felt dry, so I lifted the coffee and took a sip, then bit into the castella and savored the taste. That was when something brushed my thigh.
When did he get this close…
At the sensation of a leg grazing mine, I looked down. He must have been edging closer little by little. I hadn't noticed—I'd let my guard down—but earlier he had clearly been sitting a good fifty centimeters away. Now he had moved right up until our thighs were touching.
Thump-thump.
My heart was pounding explosively now.