The Bud of Corruption
Having a guy like that on your side is always reassuring.
Early November. Convenience stores were starting to stock a few Pepero sticks here and there. I was on my way to Gyeongnam for a shoot.
The closer I got to the location, the more the vibe of the scene reflected in the window.
"Man, traditional hanok houses really are something else."
"Yeah."
"I just can't figure out why you fit the young master role here so perfectly."
Seokho hyung scanned the surroundings, marveling and showering me with praise at the same time. By now, I was pretty used to his compliments, so I just gave a faint smile in response.
"But damn, the scale is huge. They must've hired a ton of extras."
Glancing at the site while hunting for parking, Seokho hyung commented.
"More than when we shot Endless Frontline, right?"
I nodded in agreement.
"Gotta be because they need to stage a grand yangban household."
Mention of a high-ranking official's house conjured images of hordes of slaves, so it made sense they'd rounded up plenty of extras for that.
"Even with all these people, everything's so orderly. The director must have tons of experience with big shoots like this."
As Seokho hyung admired the chaos-free set, the van screeched to a smooth park.
The door slid open with a rumble, and the traditional village spread out before us.
"Whoa, the air's different here."
"This place is straight out of the Joseon era."
Exclamations spilled out naturally. It felt like we'd time-traveled into an alien landscape.
Time to go greet everyone properly.
As the maknae, I was prepping to make the rounds methodically—when,
"You got here early, as expected."
"Oh? Sunbae-nim! Hello!"
Jin Yuseong sunbae popped up behind us out of nowhere. Dressed casually like it was no big deal, he waved lazily a couple times.
"You shooting with me today?"
"Nah, today's your solo day."
Then why are you here? My eyes said it all, but he just grinned, no intention of spilling.
Damn, he really is handsome.
Maybe it was his icon-of-handsomeness aura, but even walking looked like a photoshoot. Years as an actor had etched a deep, unforgettable presence into him—like everyone else was cartoonish, while he was hyper-realistic.
Anyway, mid-thought,
"Just got bored and came to hang."
That was his belated explanation for showing up.
But we're not close enough for you to drop by out of boredom.
We'd only met once at the script reading—basically strangers.
Awkward.
Whatever, no big deal.
"Got it! I'll go say hi to everyone then!"
"Yeah, greetings. Gotta do 'em. I'll tag along."
No real change to the schedule.
Jin Yuseong was what you'd call an "elite actor." Born handsome from the start, smashing through school and regional ties, kicking off as a formula milk model. He rocketed into entertainment faster than anyone, riding his natural looks and killer acting skills to the top.
The Wolf's Charm put him on the map as a full-fledged pretty boy. Rave reviews for acting that matched his face, bouncing between films and dramas. Sure, some got panned, but the verdict was always "Jin Yuseong's face saved it." No wonder his confidence soared.
Self-esteem through the roof.
Then,
What the hell are you?
Kim Donghu crashed in like an alien. For Jin Yuseong, at least.
His face defied logic. Sure, beauty varies, each with its charm—but Donghu's was absolute benchmark territory.
And on top of that, he acts well too?
Jin Yuseong had been floored at first sight. Who memorizes a script without looking from the initial reading? And the real shocker: the script was pristine.
—From what I hear, that... Kim Donghu kid? He's got two scripts.
—Two?
—Yeah, the practice one's too beat up, so he keeps a clean one for readings and stuff.
How dead serious about acting do you have to be?
That sparked Jin Yuseong's curiosity. How does he act? Got some routine? Different analysis method?
To stalk—er, observe—him up close, he'd cleared his schedule and come to Gyeongnam.
But he's so... normal.
Against expectations, Donghu embodied peak averageness. Or rather, that very normalcy was suspicious.
A guy who pulls 30% ratings minimum—bows his head that easily?
Maknaes are usually polite greeters. But that's for actual baby maknaes.
Donghu's only maknae by age.
Just 17, turning 18 soon—but still young.
Yet,
Don't early stars get celebrity syndrome?
Donghu's ego stayed flat. Polite maknae, through and through.
People usually climb ladders like that.
Fawn over the kind ones, tiptoe around the angry—human nature.
Why's everyone so cautious around Donghu?
Mid-pondering,
"Actor Kim Donghu! Ready to shoot now?"
"Yes, no problem."
Donghu's scene kicked off.
"Okay, ready! Action!"
Yoon Seongbin's familiar cue sign rang out.
"...How is the world infested with so many vermin?"
Donghu's opening line dropped, and Jin Yuseong's eyes flew wide. He got it now—why everyone treaded carefully around him.
Late autumn. Harvest done, dragonflies lazily drifting. Chill creeping in.
Lee Taeseong scowled at the bugs buzzing his house.
"Worthless to the end, as always."
Why the desperate thrashing when death loomed? Unfathomable.
The bugs shuddered at his silky threat—though they couldn't understand words, their instincts nailed it.
"Even livestock senses the eyes and gestures of slaughter."
You lot are no different.
His gaze slid past the flyers to the crawlers below. Fit to die anytime, yet screaming for life loudest.
"Please, just once... mercy, young master!"
"We're begging! The kids don't know any better! Punish this ignorant father!"
It started over something trivial. Maybe not worth lives. But cross a line, and mercy wouldn't cut it.
Like,
"A fly landing on funeral rice cakes."
Some might brush it off and eat. Others frown, toss it uneaten.
Key point: nobody forgives the fly. It darts away too quick to kill—that's all.
Who wouldn't squash it if they could?
"But I can kill that fly."
Not even a flyer—just a ground-crawler.
See?
"Writhing on the dirt."
Taeseong rose slowly from the porch.
Crunch.
His foot ground the prostrate slave's head.
Parents enduring humiliation to shield their child—pathetic.
"Why'd you covet my snacks?"
He knew why. Childish impulse. Yangban houses brimmed with delicacies—not royal sura, but close enough.
"So you ate."
Upside-down, the bound kid's mouth glistened amid swollen lips.
"But candy? Really?"
That sweet tooth.
Whoosh.
A casual flick, and the beating resumed on the bound arms.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Like pounding thick laundry.
The bound mother jolted. "Aigoo! Please, mercy—just once! He'll die!" She clutched his pant leg, pleading.
"Ahh."
A disgusted sigh, gaze dropping further.
Slice!
Sword flashed—drawn unseen—severing her forearm.
"My favorite pants... now ruined."
The father, weathered by years, knew his place.
Grind.
Taeseong pressed harder, rubbing blood into the father's face.
"Hngh... Perfect. I've been bored lately."
Today would be unpleasantly fun.
Camera zoomed on Taeseong—no, Kim Donghu's face. Untouched by blood, saintly young master.
Pan down: hell unfolded. Demon in human skin. The bud of corruption.
That's... acting?
Jin Yuseong gawked. And felt relieved.
Good thing he's on my side.
Having a guy like that on your side is always reassuring.