Romance and the Lab, Germination (4)
“I know a great place. It's awesome there.”
The group headed to the karaoke bar Im Seo-rin recommended. They all piled into Jeong Seo-hoon's Benz van.
“Whoa, this is seriously roomy and nice. Oppa manager, can't we switch to one of these too?”
Im Seo-rin's manager replied as if there was no reason not to.
“If you want to switch, Seo-rin, we'll switch. It's a 17-seater, so yeah, it's spacious and comfy. We haul around a ton of outfits and people anyway.”
In the manager's eyes, Jeong Seo-hoon—who traveled with just a single road manager and no stylist—was the odd one out.
But what about that skin...
What kind of guy had skin this flawless without a speck of foundation? Porcelain-smooth and crystal clear.
His tone was even, uniform—like a pro stylist had meticulously airbrushed it to a perfect, bright glow.
A no-makeup guy outshining a full-glam Im Seo-rin in skin quality and health.
Wonder which skin clinic he goes to.
He had to be hitting up some ultra-exclusive spot. The manager subtly craved the intel but figured it was too soon to ask.
Hope this doesn't turn into a scandal with Seo-rin...
The manager mulled it over alone, then chuckled quietly to himself.
As actors, they were worlds apart in rank.
But as celebrities? Im Seo-rin held her own—no contest.
Undisputed top solo female artist, with 15 million followers to boot.
Global recognition? She edged out Jeong Seo-hoon.
Wonder how the scandal machine's rep plays out this time.
To the manager, she was his precious artist, doted on and protected.
Debuted too young, never tasted love. Post-stardom, she'd lived caged by the public's endless eyes and ears.
Seo-rin will date someday, sure.
A selfish wish crept in: let her first be Jeong Seo-hoon.
Perfect in every way—and that impossible rarity of zero dating history.
No wonder chaebol moms are losing their minds to make him their son-in-law...
* * *
The spot Im Seo-rin picked was a clean karaoke joint frequented by celebs.
Pure vibes: booze and belting tunes, nothing more.
The chick who'd been battered by four fierce flamingo hens in the script reading room? She exploded like a dolphin hitting water.
Im Seo-rin personally rigged the mics and sound, kicking off with her latest title track.
Kim Sang-hee, shoulders bouncing, suddenly dashed forward for a shoulder-hug duet. Her clear, ringing voice pumped the room to the brink.
And this was pre-drinks.
“Can't you just love me a liiiittle?!”
The fresh, bubbly track twisted into a wild soprano wail at the end. Kim Sang-hee clapped and cackled.
The deafening roar finally dipped, letting conversation creep back in. Song Jeong-woo shook his head, dazed.
“Ugh, regretting this already. Did we do something dumb? What's with kids these days and their energy? Can't keep up.”
“PD-nim! You too! Belt one out!”
Im Seo-rin thrust the mic at him, buzzing.
She'd nudge for one song, then seamlessly queue the next—no searching, just punch the number and go.
Four bangers in a row, all her upbeat hits, firing up the room.
Her manager's zen face screamed this is routine.
“Feels like I'm buzzed already, and the drinks haven't even hit.”
Spot-on: four songs down, waiters swept in with booze, snacks, ice—pattern perfected from repeats.
“Cheers to our esteemed PD-nim and writer-nim! I'll pour you full ones!”
Im Seo-rin topped off the PD and writer, then Jeong Seo-hoon last.
Gripping the bottle two-handed, pouring with exaggerated flair—like a fresh adult niece toasting her uncles.
“Sorry, oppa managers—cola for you. Cool?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Honor!”
Ha Tae-soo swiftly offered an empty glass two-handed.
“Great meeting everyone!”
Im Seo-rin owned the vibe completely.
Song Jeong-woo could drink and party, but a dolphin in her element? No contest.
Glasses clinked, shots downed. Song Jeong-woo chuckled heartily.
“Im Seo-rin-ssi, mic in hand and you're a whole new person. Night and day from the reading room.”
She still clutched the mic left-handed.
“Yup! Mic's my power-up. I could sing all day.”
“Explains those 3-4 hour encore stages.”
“Wanna do more, but fans gotta head home. Kills me every time. Real talk, infinite relay concert for days? Dream.”
“Dancing and singing's built that stamina. No endurance worries on principal shoots—relieved.”
Im Seo-rin chatted mostly with the PD and writer. Skipped Jeong Seo-hoon outright.
But eyes don't lie.
Periodic glances his way, leaking desperate yearning.
Talk to me. Say something. Please.
Kim Sang-hee smirked inwardly, savoring the quiet tension.
Today's booze tasted extra sweet. Prime people-watching.
Jeong Seo-hoon had to sense it, yet played passive: toasting, listening, smiling. Lips sealed.
If he's doing this on purpose, guy's a master. But zero dating history? Wild...
In this industry, hot, talented guys with fame? Cocky as hell.
Actors laser-focused like him? Naive, gaslit by women, or scooped early.
He was neither.
That uniqueness? Probably what torched leading ladies' hearts.
Im Seo-rin cracked first, about to speak—when Jeong Seo-hoon extended a hand.
“Mind the mic?”
“Oh, sure. What'll it be?”
“Whatever you're craving right now.”
“Ooh, which? This one? How'd you know?”
She beamed, remote in hand, punching the button.
That Place: Haegeuk OST
Gentle intro melody flowed, warping the landscape into tangled emotion clusters.
Biggest, hottest, reddest blaze? Right there—Im Seo-rin's spot, roaring.
Brighter, fiercer than any before. Even Baek Hyeo-seon, pouring her soul, hadn't hit this peak.
Soft opening passed; her cluster pumped wildly. Itching to charge him, frantic impatience.
Song built to climax.
Jeong Seo-hoon wagged the mic her way, eyes signaling.
Duet?
She caught it, shot up, sidled beside him.
His steady baritone climb meshed seamlessly with her crisp soprano—like born harmonies.
PD, writer, busy managers' clusters thrashed too.
Couldn't see faces mid-song, but raw waves painted their expressions vivid in his mind.
Jeong Seo-hoon, mulling final fun conflicts, spiked their linked lines with electric thrill before the last chorus faded.
Backing track ended. Silence hung.
Panting clusters faded slow; landscape reset.
Song Jeong-woo's eyes rimmed red. Kim Sang-hee dabbed tears with tissue. Im Seo-rin, overwhelmed, eyes brimming full.
She couldn't hold back—lunged into Jeong Seo-hoon's chest.
He stayed cool, patting her slim shoulders softly.
Over her heaving breaths from his ribs, flustered managers whispered.
“Th-this is bad.”
“Delete it. I'll delete too.”
“Gone. Double-check?”
“No autobackup?”
“Nah.”
“Damn, so close. No hug, and it'd be SNS gold...”
Im Seo-rin snapped back, yanking away. Face beet-red to her ears—high-energy diva swapped for reading-room shy chick.
“S-sorry! Really sorry. The duet was so magical, first time feeling this... lost control...”
“It's fine. Great stage for me too.”
“Great stage...”
She murmured it to herself, savoring.
Stage hitting euphoric heights.
“Um, first meeting today, and you're such a senior actor-wise... hate to ask, but...”
“Speak freely. Technically, you're the senior—years as top solo ahead of my year-plus debut.”
“Got a concert coming. Feature on a track?”
Off-the-cuff, yet weightier than any deliberation.
Her pleading eyes stabbed.
Please say yes. Please.
No hyper senses needed; sincerity rang clear.
“Cover gas and meals.”
“Thank you! So grateful!”
She bounced ecstatic, dove back in—bailed in under three seconds with an “Oops!”
“Sorry! Sorry! Got too hyped...”
“It's fine.”
Song Jeong-woo, eyes still red from wave hangover, chimed in.
“Yeah, call it early rehearsal. Damn, hug scene ideas flooding my brain—going nuts.”
Kim Sang-hee, tear-streaked, cackled agreement.
“What now? Disaster. Can't pair other leads now—dialogue blanking. Saw the cutest couple ever. Feel bad for Yoo Jeong-ah...”
The night partied on till dawn.
Jeong Seo-hoon held back wave powers—no forced audience jolts.
But four—or five—hearts wide open? No stronger spark needed.
He and Im Seo-rin mixed their hits with trends, classics—keeping fire high.
Even Kim Sang-hee, Song Jeong-woo, managers' amateur-but-charming turns didn't cool it.
Swapping numbers, Im Seo-rin shyly added,
“I'll text about the feature...”
Her eyes screamed more she craved hearing. Jeong Seo-hoon obliged.
“Drama co-stars—hit me anytime, casually. I will too.”
“For real? Super casual?”
“Anytime.”
Song Jeong-woo set the mic down, scanning.
“Where's the writer?”
“Bathroom break—50 minutes ago.”
“Eh, leave her. Hiding scribbling somewhere.”