Romance and the Lab, Germination (2)
Yoo Jeong-ah, Chae Ji-hyun, Han Seo-hee, Lee Seo-hyeon—the four actresses sat spaced at precise intervals, as if they'd coordinated it beforehand.
Whether it reflected the actresses' preferences or the production team had cleverly arranged the seats ahead of time, no one knew.
Their eyes blazed like flames, all locked on Jeong Seo-hoon.
The intensity was enough to make anyone feel the heat; Cha Do-jin unscrewed the lid of his water cup.
This is blatant discrimination, isn't it?
He grumbled lightly to himself, but it wasn't genuine complaint.
None of the four currently piqued his interest.
Still, as a fellow actor, getting such differentiated stares stung a little.
Actors these days really need brains and pedigree for extra favoritism.
Korea University valedictorian, early graduation, four-hit streak, peerless acting talent. Top it off with ballad-prince-level singing, and even top star Cha Do-jin got overshadowed.
"Cha Do-jin-ssi."
"What? Next to me?"
"There's a nameplate right here."
Only then did Cha Do-jin glance at the empty seat's nameplate and grumble lightly.
"Come on, a two-shot side-by-side would just humiliate me. Isn't the production team being too harsh?"
Visually, Cha Do-jin was in no way inferior to Jeong Seo-hoon.
But the age gap—that taut 22-year-old skin couldn't be bought with clinics.
It was like debating which of two suns burned brighter...
"Your jokes are over the top. If you with that face complain about humiliation, others will hate on you."
"Face isn't everything. People see just my looks, but with Seo-hoon, they'll X-ray right to that sexy brain. Feels different."
Friendly banter flowed easily.
The actresses' gazes stabbed at Cha Do-jin. Who do you think you are, hogging Jeong Seo-hoon? The heat was palpable.
Cha Do-jin reveled in it, patting his shoulder lightly to flaunt their closeness.
Song Jeong-woo, chuckling silently at the quiet gaze tug-of-war, clapped lightly to reset the mood.
"Reading starts now."
One of the making-film cameras zeroed in solely on Jeong Seo-hoon.
The scenery warped, transforming into a university campus all around.
In a world stripped of PD, writer, and staff, Jeong Seo-hoon saw actors clad perfectly in their roles.
From leads to supports, all immersed without distinction.
'Fallen comrades...'
Lifting his eyes, beyond the campus's distant edge, a battlefield loomed.
Ruins brimming with death and grief from strife, the campus like a miniature centerpiece.
Were those encircling soldier corpses the audience?
'The lens scenery shifting like this has to mean something.'
No effect without cause, no cause without intent.
The lens evolving from battlefield to drama-fitting scenes screamed deliberate design.
So, what was the design?
Would nearing the comet unveil it?
Above all, what did the comet look like now?
'UN team's lockdown suggests they can't relocate it.'
Too massive?
But something that big should've vaporized Seoul.
Yet bizarrely, it spared school buildings mere hundreds of meters away.
"Um... You're the new Professor Hwang Geon-wook, right?"
Han Seo-hee's subtly trembling voice snapped Jeong Seo-hoon from reverie into Hwang Geon-wook.
He fixed a calm gaze on the pretty, bubbly undergrad flailing from first-impression shock.
Breaths dragged with extra pauses, but the PD gave no prompt.
His mere stare hushed the entire reading room.
"Where's the dean's office?"
A utterly simple question.
But that abyss-deep gaze pulled at her soul; Han Seo-hee fumbled her timing.
No one sensed awkwardness. Even the PD held breath, watching.
"The dean's office?"
"I-I'll guide you!"
Song Jeong-woo read the lines, steering flow seamlessly.
Han Seo-hee dove into character, no room for self-reproach.
"Are you an alum?"
"If so, ditch 'professor' for 'senior'?"
"N-No! Of course not!"
"Briefly. Dropped out, headed to the US."
"Why quit?"
"Level mismatch, better offer, rampant corruption. Pick one."
"One of those three, right?"
'Professor Hwang Geon-wook' flicked his eyes up-down in reply.
His jaded eccentric-genius stare felt utterly real; the other three actresses inwardly gasped in admiration.
"S-Second?"
"Wrong."
"Th-Then third?"
"That too."
'Undergrad Han So-ra' caught his faint, twitching smirk. Twisted emotion laced it, yet somehow beautiful.
"All three."
Silent sighs rippled outward.
Jeong Seo-hoon seized breaths with mere short lines—yanking, shoving, squeezing.
Cha Do-jin's face grew gravely serious. Lagging in acting? Pride wound for a senior.
Benevolent rivalry ignited sparks within.
The other actors too.
"Scene 23. Professor Kim Jung-ae barges into Professor Hwang Geon-wook's office. Hwang gazes calmly. Kim fumes."
Song Jeong-woo PD recited the cue; Yoo Jeong-ah (Kim Jung-ae) exhaled deeply, shifting gears.
"Professor Hwang Geon-wook?"
"That's me."
"Know why I'm here?"
"You haven't said, so no."
"Then listen. The new TDX-3—I reserved it for 168 hours from tomorrow 11 AM."
"Ah, that's it."
"Ah, that's it? That's what comes out of your mouth?"
Yoo Jeong-ah's venomous glare made even nearby Cha Do-jin flinch.
Staff inwardly applauded the visceral blood feud.
"But the schedule flipped? Your name replaced mine? Explain."
"I told the dean I'd use it then."
"Bragging thick connections? Fine, but this crosses lines. Moderation with dean's favors avoids colleague gossip."
"So I should've queued like everyone?"
"Yes! School rules! Universal!"
"I joined with guaranteed anytime priority."
"Ha, scout perk? Caltech rules, not Seoul National!"
Deep in Kim Jung-ae, Yoo Jeong-ah bristled head-to-toe.
Chae Ji-hyun and Lee Seo-hyeon inwardly muttered: Why's she cranking so hard? Intense...
Jeong Seo-hoon stared steadily, then subtly rolled his head side-to-side, loosening muscles.
That tiny motion broadcast world-weary boredom crystal-clear.
"Not scout. Import condition."
"Pardon? Import... condition?"
"Top-priority guarantee. That's the TDX-3 import deal."
Yoo Jeong-ah's face crumpled in dismay.
Sensed derailment, but not the shape—flawless bafflement.
"What do you...?"
"Not Foreign Ministry charm got US export nod."
"......"
"I vouched."
For a beat, the entire reading room snared in his gaze.
The script reading barreled on without hitch.
"Professor Hwang Geon-wook? Way too my-way? Sounds like a real oddball."
"Why? Seemed fine. No crazy demands, runs students on strict schedule."
"Just his eyes rub me wrong. Like he's the only human, rest chimps."
"Genius gonna genius. Problem?"
Chae Ji-hyun and Lee Seo-hyeon nailed the grad student duo-friends.
Chae Ji-hyun, venting Hwang gripes, suddenly jabbed at Cha Do-jin.
"There! Professor Cha Young-woo passing!"
"Psychic. How in that crowd?"
"Can't miss the white egret in crows."
"Go egret solo."
"Professor Cha Young-woo too handsome for academia? Movie star success easy."
"Pffft!"
Sudden guffaw shattered flow.
Cha Do-jin teary-eyed, clapping in cathartic belly laughs.
His refreshingly hearty mirth lightened everyone's chest.
No scolds despite the break.
All empathized, joining the chorus; laughter spread like wildfire.
Only Jeong Seo-hoon stayed stone-faced.
Song Jeong-woo, wiping tears, to Kim Sang-hee:
"Writer Kim, that line belongs to Jeong Seo-hoon actor, right?"
Cha Do-jin, clutching aching gut:
"Writer-nim, speaks my soul. Why toss my line his way? Embarrassing."
"Deliberate. Viewers knowing Seo-hoon's future prof gig? Exposes real him over Hwang. Kills immersion."
"Ah. But gap's huge; not elitist, but that line kills me."
"Cut it?"
"No no! Just too funny, breaks focus."
"Phew. Hope viewers chuckle too."
"Casuals laugh past it. Guaranteed. But Seo-hoon—how stay straight-faced?"
Laughter's wildly contagious.
Even unfunny jokes catch if everyone's howling.
His own line, no less.
"Hwang Geon-wook forgot how to laugh."
"......"
"......"
Eerie hush fell; grins evaporated one by one.
Song Jeong-woo clapped to refocus.
"Alright, nail the rest. Flawless so far. Keep it up."