The First to Shatter (4)
His drowsiness vanished in an instant, and the scattered nerves sharpened into perfect alignment.
What did I just say?
Was he still lost in the haze of the dream?
Jeong Seo-hoon snapped to attention, clearing his mind.
Like slamming a magazine into his rifle in a trench under a predawn barrage, he swiftly gathered his words.
-Jeong Seo-hoon? You don't mean...
"Ah, sorry about that. I got mixed up because of my dream too. I had a similar one."
-A similar dream?
"Yes. In the dream, we were rehearsing the Haegeuk scene together."
-Which scene exactly?
"Scene number 32... no, the one where you run into the Left State Councillor while hunting in the mountains with your subordinates. The scene from two days ago where you called cut."
A faint swallow echoed across the line, audible even through the static.
-In that scene, the Grand Prince doesn't attack me, right?
"Correct."
-But you slashed me?
"It was a dream. They're all disjointed, with plots that accelerate wildly and endings that come out of nowhere, aren't they?"
-In my dream, I called you 'Grand Prince Suyang' too. And then you cut me down.
"That was the me in your dream, sir."
-But didn't you just say something similar? Why call me Suyang, why that cut—
"......"
Lee Min-soo's voice carried a note of desperation.
Did he desperately want to believe they'd shared the exact same dream? Hoped for it, even?
"I'm sorry. In your dream, you called cut, and since I wasn't fully awake, I misspoke earlier."
-No need to apologize. But...
"If in your dream, after the cut, I said the same thing, that would be truly chilling. Two actors dreaming the exact same scene, at the exact same time, with the exact same cut?"
Jeong Seo-hoon channeled the natural excitement of stumbling upon something extraordinary.
"The PD would lose his mind if he knew—some kind of omen. Sir, what did I say in your dream?"
A dazed groan flowed silently before a parched reply came back.
-I remember you crouching by my head, chuckling. You muttered something, but I couldn't make it out clearly.
"That's a shame."
-The pain in my chest from the slash felt so real. When does an ordinary person ever feel agony like that?
"True. Not usually."
But Jeong Seo-hoon had endured far worse pains, countless times.
-Earlier, you casually asked why I called you Suyang and gave that cut.
"Sorry again. It was a slip in my half-asleep state."
-No. It just made me think... maybe after you slashed me in my dream, while chuckling, you said something like that...
"The PD really would have flipped out."
-It's just a dream, right? We rehearsed that scene so many times that day, we must've had similar ones...
"Sir."
To straighten out Lee Min-soo's confused mind, a touch of calm reassurance was just right.
"It was just a dream."
-Just a dream...
"Don't overthink it. Why not get some more rest? It's too late. We have to shoot again in a few hours."
-Sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you at dawn.
"I'm just worried it'll affect your shooting today, sir. I'm young and full of energy, so I'm fine."
-Got it. Sleep well.
"Yes, good night."
Jeong Seo-hoon set the phone down and lay back in bed.
Sleep, having fled, lingered outside the door, hesitant to return.
"Gotta be more careful. Even half-asleep."
No problem would arise.
They'd simply had dreams with similar content.
He'd explained it well enough to keep Lee Min-soo from growing suspicious.
Still, a sliver of curiosity—and certainty—remained.
Did the Lens power drag Lee Min-soo into my dream too?
The hypothesis, rising like Venus, glowed brighter in his mind.
The odds of coincidence approached zero.
Perhaps the Lens had built a dream set for rehearsal and forcibly invited the scene partner, Lee Min-soo?
Hey, making him feel the pain was overkill. He's a civilian.
Jeong Seo-hoon hoped that mutter reached the power.
***
"......"
Lee Min-soo, staring holes through his phone, lay back down.
"Ugh..."
No sooner had he settled than a sharp pain shot diagonally from his shoulder across his chest.
His disheveled nightgown revealed flawless skin, no wound in sight.
Yet the pain was so vivid—could it all have been a dream?
Did a studio ghost possess us? Am I haunted?
He even entertained absurd fantasies: a vengeful spirit pulling them both into its dream.
He couldn't keep spinning wild theories in front of Jeong Seo-hoon, who dismissed it as coincidence, so he'd ended the call appropriately.
He didn't buy into superstitions, but the idea of a studio ghost inviting them to the same dream felt almost plausible.
Why call him Suyang and give that cut?
That giggling voice still echoed in his ears.
Jeong Seo-hoon called it a sleepy slip—fresh from the dream, it made sense.
But how to explain the nagging unease coiled in his heart?
The phantom pain from the dream slash kept Lee Min-soo awake for quite some time.
***
That morning at Paju Studio, Lee Min-soo looked drained.
Jeong Seo-hoon confirmed it from the way he occasionally clutched or rubbed his chest.
That spot I slashed in the dream hurts.
He regretted moving so freely, thinking it was just an acting dream.
But voicing concern or comfort risked stirring suspicion.
Jeong Seo-hoon kept his worry measured.
"Sir, you've looked off since earlier. I'm worried you're not feeling well."
"Ah, I must've slept funny. My chest feels stiff."
"Pardon? Your chest is stiff?"
Jang Seung-won, overhearing like a ghost, rushed over and examined Lee Min-soo from every angle.
"Where exactly? How stiff? When did it start? From here to here?"
After poking around, Jang Seung-won urgently called the assistant director.
"Take him to the ER for a cardiology check. Right now."
"ER? Cardiology?"
"What if it's a heart attack? A relative had similar symptoms and died from acute myocardial infarction. I've got trauma from it. Escort him now."
"It'll take an hour to the university hospital ER. Wouldn't the medical center doctor be better?"
"Ask the doctor, then get a full checkup at the hospital if needed."
"No, PD Jang, it's not that bad."
"Sir, chest pain is no joke, no matter what. I've lost two close people to heart disease. Please listen."
"I'll go with him. Assistant director, you stay and manage the set."
As Jeong Seo-hoon stepped up, Jang Seung-won blinked in disbelief.
"No, Seo-hoon, you're the lead—you need to stay and shoot."
"Today's morning scenes are joint ones; can't shoot without him anyway."
"Huh?"
Jang Seung-won flipped through the schedule, staring like he'd seen a ghost.
"You have it all memorized? What the..."
"So I can go? We'll be back on time."
"Still, sending the lead actor on an errand like this doesn't make sense..."
"I'm doing this out of pure worry for him, so please allow it."
And so Jeong Seo-hoon escorted Lee Min-soo out.
The studio medical center doctor said it didn't seem like a heart attack precursor but recommended caution; they rode the facility ambulance to the ER.
The university hospital ER buzzed at their arrival.
"Strict confidentiality, please."
"Of course. Don't worry."
At mention of severe chest pain, they rushed precise imaging tests. In the assigned private room, they awaited results.
Managers stepped out, leaving just Jeong Seo-hoon and Lee Min-soo.
"That was the most vivid dream of my life."
The mumble escaped like a soliloquy; Jeong Seo-hoon turned quietly.
Lee Min-soo, gaze lost in space, continued alone.
"You see those stories in dramas or movies sometimes? Suddenly sucked into another world or the past. At first, I thought that's what happened."
"I've seen plenty like that."
"No matter how I called out, no one came. I got scared. Then I noticed my clothes—familiar. The props from Haegeuk shoot."
"......"
"Then I saw you. Dressed as the Grand Prince, subordinates in tow, approaching. That's when I knew it was a dream."
Nowhere but a dream or set would he encounter Jeong Seo-hoon as the Grand Prince.
"No idea why the slash wound hurts so much."
"I'm sorry."
"Why should you be? It was my dream."
"Still feels like I should apologize."
"First time in my life for a dream that real..."
Lee Min-soo chewed over the wistful smile slowly, repeatedly.
He never once looked at Jeong Seo-hoon while speaking.
Not avoiding him, but chasing the hallucinatory dream scene.
Medical staff arrived.
"Results are in. Nothing wrong. Looks like temporary muscle strain."
"Knew it. PD Jang made a fuss, but now I'm embarrassed."
"How's the pain now?"
"Painkillers worked wonders. No pain at all."
Lee Min-soo rose refreshed; he waved off his manager's support.
"Could've come with just my manager. Embarrassing dragging you along, Seo-hoon."
"Parading closeness with you will help in this cutthroat industry. Calculated move on my part."
"Fair enough. Won't hold it against you."
Lee Min-soo muttered jokingly, lightly rubbing his now-painless chest.
"Speaking of, year's end soon. Baekryong Awards invites should be coming."
"Heard from organizers. Invites incoming soon."
"Before invites even go out? You're locked for Best Supporting Actor at minimum."
"Really?"
Ha Tae-soo, the manager, lit up with keen interest.
"They tip off sure winners subtly beforehand."
"Aigoo, if our Seo-hoon grabs Best Supporting like you say, I'd be thrilled. Already excited."
"Korea Cable TV Arts Awards will push you hard too. Good news all awards season."
"Thanks for the well-wishes."
They returned in Jeong Seo-hoon's van; Lee Min-soo's manager had followed in it too.
Back at Paju Studio, Jang Seung-won greeted them joyfully; afternoon shooting commenced.
Costumed and made up, Lee Min-soo approached Jeong Seo-hoon, lightly nudging his elbow.
"Grand Prince suit looks perfect on you."
"Suits you too, sir."
"Anyway, go easy from now on. In dreams or on set."
"You control your dreams, sir."
"Felt like I had to tell you directly."
The unease from last night's dream lingered, not fully washed away.
Perhaps this banter aimed to dispel any lingering bad luck.
"Hope I don't invite you into my dreams tonight—or anymore. Sorry you hurt because of me."
"Anything but sword slashes is fine. Fun and novel till the pain hit. But saying it like that makes it feel like you really pulled me in."
Invitations, of course, were mutual jests.
They brushed off light laughs and took position before the camera.
"Standby..."
As the PD signaled, Lee Min-soo felt the air thicken, time slowing.
His vision rippled; ambient noise faded distantly.
Space warped, forcing his gaze to the Grand Prince—no room to glance around.
-Cue...
The signal ended; sensation snapped back.
The Left State Councillor stood not in the studio, but the capital's heart.
Yet beyond the Grand Prince, the scenery shimmered like heat haze—clear yet not.
Only the Grand Prince sharp; the rest distorted like reflections on churning water.
"...!"
What was happening?
Hallucinating?
Fatigue piling up, messing with his head?
No courage to look at the PD; he just glared at the Grand Prince's courteous sneer.
"Left Prime Minister. Close your eyes and aid this one. Repayment will echo through generations."
Through the hazy, wavering capital, the Grand Prince approached, vivid as sunlight.
In the disorientation like falling into the past, the Left State Councillor desperately recalled his line.
"Grand Prince... If you cling to those ill omens, this lowly one can no longer stand idle!"
A refreshing relief filled his chest.
Decades of acting, yet no line ever brought such perfect unity.
Intoxicated by the ecstasy of truly being the Left State Councillor, he startled as the haze vanished.
Studio interior now.
"Great expression work, sir."
"...Ah."
As Jang Seung-won beamed over, Lee Min-soo exhaled in quiet deflation.
He looked at Jang, scanned around, down at his hands, finally to Jeong Seo-hoon.
"Sir, what's wrong? Not again...?"
Jang Seung-won whispered, hushed in alarm; Lee Min-soo, dazedly letting light dance on his retinas, cracked a small smile.
The last trace of unease from yesterday, utterly shed—a clean, bright expression.
Lee Min-soo said brightly.
"This studio must have one hell of a ghost."
"Aigoo, sir, please hold that ghost tight and keep it."