Unexpected Deviation (1)
Even though it was vacation season, Jeong Seo-hoon was busier than during the semester.
He had taken the entrance exam for the special graduate admissions track and, as expected, gone through the interview as well.
Lee Se-jong had only exchanged formalities with him during the interview.
“Jeong, do you know that thanks to you, our department's competition ratio for this special admissions round is off the charts?”
“I had no idea.”
“It's tripled compared to last year. Over half the applicants are from other majors. It's all because of you.”
“Thank you.”
“They're all such outstanding, passionate students—I'd love to take them all, but damn quotas...”
He'd rambled on like that, wasting the entire interview time.
“You can finish your master's and PhD in four years, right? Should I prepare a professor position for you around then?”
“...I'll do my best.”
His real reason for grad school was the comet that had crash-landed next to the university campus.
To join the comet investigation team, focus on acting, and shoot a bunch of projects.
Finishing an integrated master's-PhD in four years would be impossible, but he didn't let it show in front of Lee Se-jong.
'Professor, I'm sorry. That graduation speech about balancing academics and acting equally? It was a lie—an act.'
He'd spent over a year living like he was acting out everyday life to regulate his taut soldier's ego.
So his graduation speech had ended up overly dramatic without meaning to.
“Before we wrap up the interview, do you have anything else you'd like to say?”
“Has permission to access the comet come through?”
“Hm, nothing yet. Probably still doing background checks. Who in Korea has a cleaner record than you?”
Jeong Seo-hoon could feel Rashid's ego smirking bitterly in his chest for a moment.
He was the one with the most verified identity—and the deepest ulterior motives toward the comet.
'If word got out that I'm the only human to make contact with it, the world would turn upside down.'
Jeong Seo-hoon was certain no one else had experienced what he had.
'For some reason, the comet chose me. Out of all these 80 billion-plus people.'
Wasn't that why he was trying to get deep into the comet—to uncover the reason for that choice, to chase Rashid's world?
He wanted to know why the comet had chosen him, why it kept showing him evolving visions.
'Or maybe it wasn't intentional. Maybe I just happened to be there at that exact moment.'
“Will the permit come through by the end of the year?”
“I doubt it'll drag on that long. But I don't know the UN investigation HQ's final stance yet. There's some friction with our government too... I'll look into it again.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“But Jeong, you're not coming to grad school just because you're obsessed with that comet and didn't want to, right?”
“No, sir.”
He'd almost said, 'Spot on, Professor.'
“Hey, this is getting serious.”
Jeong Seo-hoon was savoring the script for The Hunter: Devil Hunter in his head over dinner when Jeong Su-ryeon burst in, making a fuss.
“What's up?”
“Haegeuk. It's hit number one in the UK, France, and Germany right now.”
“Now?”
“What do you mean 'now'? Hitting number one per country isn't easy, you know.”
“I heard some Joseon zombie historical drama topped the charts no problem before.”
“We don't have zombies. Korean historicals are a stretch for mainstream Western tastes anyway. Point is, number one in the UK, France, and Germany means we can expect a US ranking boost too, right?”
He didn't particularly care to check, but Jeong Su-ryeon shoved her tablet in his face, force-feeding him the update.
“Vilab's buzzing right now. Hotter than usual. How do you keep tossing fanbait like clockwork and drive them crazy? If you go on sudden hiatus, they'll burn out from shock.”
“We were talking NetPrime rankings—why'd you veer off?”
“I'm saying give the fans breathing room so they can keep stanning properly. Anyway.”
Jeong Su-ryeon beamed like it was her own achievement.
“Number one in UK-France-Germany means US and Canada next, probably soon. Southeast Asia's locked at number two... We might actually hit global number one before long. Nice, huh?”
“Why the sudden hype today?”
“Global number one calls for a celebration gift, doesn't it?”
She stuck out her hand expectantly, and Jeong Seo-hoon laughed in disbelief.
Well, he thought he should act that way—and slipped effortlessly into the scripted emotion.
“You should be the one treating me. Isn't that shameless?”
“Not asking for much. Just promise to yield 1% of your inheritance share later.”
“No. I'm not setting that precedent. Get lost.”
Anyone else would take it as a joke, but Jeong Seo-hoon could tell his sister genuinely wanted that 1% inheritance slice as a gift.
“But we did separate exports too—if everyone's just watching on NetPrime, won't that undercut overseas broadcast revenue?”
“People who don't sub to NetPrime won't watch if you kill them. People who do won't touch broadcast TV if you kill them.”
“There must be some overlap audience.”
“Just assume overseas revenue starts at 20 billion won. NetPrime frontloaded that, so we could splurge on higher production values.”
Jeong Su-ryeon's face bubbled over with envy like fresh beer foam.
“Man, how much did Sejong Uncle make off just Haegeuk?”
“Professor to uncle now?”
“I called him uncle as a kid—what's the big deal? He's 'Professor' to you, but from now on, he's my uncle. Moneybags get the uncle title.”
“Professor doesn't see you as a niece. Probably thinks you're a vampire sucking his star pupil dry.”
“Whatever. Let's do a quick survey.”
“Survey for what?”
“Bait to drop on Vilab later. Pre-collect some. First question: kissing scene—which of your co-stars felt the best?”
“...”
“Come on, quick. Got a ton more. Who was the best?”
Jeong Seo-hoon stood fast, circled behind her, locked her in a headlock. With his other hand, he pinched her lips top and bottom, yanking them forward like he meant to rip them off.
In tearing pain, Jeong Su-ryeon flailed and shrieked—uk! uk!—but with her lips clamped shut, no sound escaped.
She looked like an ugly duckling thrashing in a trap.
This smug satisfaction was pure original emotion, unlike the effort of faking normalcy.
After tormenting her for over ten seconds, Jeong Seo-hoon finally released his own sister.
“You bastard. Thought you ripped 'em off. Ugh, is my mouth bleeding?”
Jeong Su-ryeon griped, peering inside with her phone's back mirror.
Jeong Seo-hoon meticulously wiped the hand that had mauled her lips with wet wipes—scritch scritch—then finished with hand sanitizer.
And said:
“Yanking Donald Jeong's yap felt the best. Write that.”
“Argh. Ten years ago, I'd pin you physically. For real.”
“Payback for childhood debts—lifelong.”
Filming began on Jeong Seo-hoon's part in The Hunter: Devil Hunter.
His character, patent attorney Yoon Se-hyeon, was also the illegitimate son of a chaebol family—a death row executioner wielding the rampages of a patent monster.
“I heard you came by set a few days ago and greeted everyone. I was out, unfortunately. Heard about it late and regretted missing it.”
“Jeong Seo-hoon. Nice to meet you.”
The drama's lead, Oh Jun-ho, greeted him warmly.
He was a star actor in his mid-to-late thirties, riding the peak of his career.
Tall with a solid build and sharp features—a handsome man whose piercing gaze suited a protagonist hunting evil.
“You're way my senior and older—feel free to drop the formalities.”
“Sure? I'm not picky about that stuff. Call me hyung casually, Seo-hoon.”
“Once we're comfortable, I will.”
“Just like they say.”
Oh Jun-ho smiled softly.
Not mockery—genuine goodwill.
“They said you never drop formal speech, keep an iron wall of distance. Is that your personality, or for self-management?”
“I'm shy with strangers by nature. Don't have many friends.”
“Fair enough, if that's you. Cool. Call me hyung when comfy. You won't keep it up forever, right?”
“I'll try.”
Jeong Seo-hoon and Oh Jun-ho sat facing each other, trading lines in an impromptu rehearsal.
“For real. They said you memorize the whole script cover to cover—and it's hard to believe even rehearsing lines.”
“Too annoying to carry around. Might lose it.”
“That's a funny reason. Mind if I use it on a talk show or variety? Or wanna do one together sometime?”
Unlike his cool, sharp image, Oh Jun-ho was easygoing and chatty. Reminded him of Cha Do-jin in a way.
'More casually close with people than Cha Do-jin, though.'
“You work out much?”
“Yes.”
In truth, he rarely exercised, but after confirming his superhuman strength, Jeong Seo-hoon decided to claim he did whenever asked.
He didn't want the hassle of explaining his freakish power without workouts.
“Yeah. I remember seeing that gym pic with Do-jin on Insta. Wanna arm-wrestle lightly?”
“Arm-wrestle?”
“There's that scene at the end where I smack you flying. You look so slender—it's acting, but better check strength to avoid injury. Safer than skipping.”
The impromptu match drew onlookers, and Jeong Seo-hoon won easily.
Oh Jun-ho's eyes widened in genuine surprise and admiration.
“Whoa, where's that power from? Totally mismatches your build. So you really flew solo in Illegal, no stunt double.”
“Embarrassing.”
“Brains, workout physique—you've got it all. Acting with you should be fun. Can't wait.”
“Looking forward to working with you.”
“Hope season 1 kills it so we go straight to 2 and 3 no sweat.”
Stern-faced director Choi Hong-rae approached the two actors.
He looked highly pleased at their instant rapport.
“Jun-ho, as I said, lots of scenes with Seo-hoon today. First time syncing—feeling good?”
“Dying to get in front of the camera and experience that hypnosis of his. Do-jin wouldn't shut up about it at drinks.”
“No such thing. Senior Cha Do-jin exaggerated.”
“If even that pulls people in, your vibe's magnetic. Don't worry about my over-immersion— you're stronger anyway. Go easy on my NG takes.”
“Got it. Circumstances being what they are, no choice. Don't stress. Minor role with barely any lines—finding a replacement's quick.”
Assistant director Kim Dae-gil finished his call and sighed softly.
“Hyung, what's up?”
“Choi Hak-soon’s out. Leg fracture, hospitalized. Need a sub.”
“Eh, nameless extra? Tons wanna do it. No need to sigh.”
“You don't get it—footwork's a pain. Director's picky on this stuff. All hassle, no reward—who's motivated?”
Kim Dae-gil clicked his tongue.
“Choi Hak-soon too—built like a mountain, but legs like twigs.”