Red Mask Panic and the Golden Bell Challenge
I just needed to show up again as Kim Donghu. After the announcement spread through school about accepting applications for Challenge! Golden Bell, I thought it had nothing to do with me.
What the hell is this sudden Golden Bell thing?
The idea of gathering top middle school prodigies for a special episode sounded fine, but that was separate from actually applying to participate.
So why did I end up entering?
"D-Donghu, d-do you know about the R-Red Mask?"
"What?"
"Th-they say when the R-Red Mask appears, everyone dies... Its mouth is all t-torn open!"
"..."
It all started from something trivial—Na Gangshik's sheer terror.
"No way, that Red Mask trend died out ages ago..."
"It c-came back to life, that's what they said. From what I heard, there's a prison under the Great Wall of China, and it escaped from there!"
Despite Kim Minhyuk's point, Gangshik stubbornly pressed on.
"Someone stuck their arm in that prison and it got chopped off, and anyway, it's super scary."
As Minhyuk said, the whole Red Mask urban legend was a dead trend making a comeback. Just when I was thinking it was believable in a way,
Gangshik looked straight at me.
"B-but! They say the Red Mask is terrified of Golden Bell... 'Cause it's gold, right? Holding that golden bell...! That's its weakness."
What is this, some school ghost-sealing ritual?
No one could say it out loud. Even Shin Yerim, who looked like she couldn't stand it, stayed quiet.
Because,
"I-it's true...!"
Gangshik's face was dead serious.
"So you're saying the Red Mask busted out of that Great Wall prison, it's coming to kill people, and the only way to seal it is Golden Bell?"
"Y-yeah, exactly! Spot on, Minhyuk!"
"..."
Minhyuk glanced at me wordlessly. His eyes screamed for a solution.
A silent plea to calm Gangshik down fast. I shook my head.
They say even the smartest kids have one screw loose somewhere.
Was Gangshik like that too?
As that thought crossed my mind and I glanced around,
Ha.
Not just Minhyuk and Yerim—the whole class was staring at me oddly.
So they're setting this whole thing up just to get me on Golden Bell?
Maybe not, but the expectation in their eyes was crystal clear.
Cute, really.
Minhyuk and Yerim had just let Gangshik ramble on about the Red Mask without stopping him, after all. In a way, this felt like a perfectly scripted play.
"So, you gotta go, no question! For the Red Mask!"
"Is that right?"
Whatever. Rather than explaining there was no Red Mask, I took the quicker route.
"Fine, I'll apply. But it might not work out. Got it?"
It wasn't your standard Challenge! Golden Bell—this was a middle school prodigies special, so the odds were low. They usually got around 100 applicants.
I figured my chances of making the cut among all those school reps were slim.
But.
"Donghu, you applied for Golden Bell? They called—they said you're in. Sent a past problems workbook too. Said to memorize it."
The very next morning after applying, I got the news I'd made the 100.
Why? Right as the question hit me,
I realized just how obsessed the broadcasters were with hot topics.
I see.
Challenge! Golden Bell's popularity was fading. They had no choice but to leverage me to boost ratings again.
Luckily—or unluckily—Golden Bell didn't clash with any schedules. That was part of why I'd applied.
Honestly, I was curious too.
Pretending I had zero interest would've been a lie. I was top of the school, so I qualified. If luck was on my side, I could ring that bell, do some filial piety, and have fun.
High school arts academy's gonna be busier than this. Better grab these chances now.
Gangshik was the spark, but ultimately, I decided it was worth jumping on the opportunity.
With all that lining up, my Challenge! Golden Bell spot was locked in.
—Donghu, you sure you're okay? Don't you need rest?
The second I told Choi Seokho, he worried right away.
I had only one response.
"This is the only way to seal the Red Mask."
—Huh?
Escaped convicts go back in prison. Big picture, it made sense.
Tap, tap, tap.
The conference room was so quiet, the table knocks echoed loudly. One long finger broke the silence.
"Don't... stop... thinking."
As Geomgeom Baek Dongsu raced toward its finale, peak ratings hovered at 28%. One killer punch could do it, but awkwardly, no one had it.
SKS Drama Chief Choi Do-seon, hair slicked back neatly, shifted his gaze.
Even the writer can't think of a sharp hook?
Writer Gwon Jaeho sat frowning, stumped. Choi Do-seon's thoughts deepened.
There has to be a way...
Actors' schedules were shared; side-script reshoots were cleared. But the key script wasn't coming.
What could skyrocket ratings overnight?
The answer was obvious: use whatever guaranteed a boost.
Kim Donghu.
Bring back Kim Donghu. The question was how.
They knew the answer but needed the perfect execution.
As everyone pondered,
Bang!
Gwon Jaeho slammed the table and stood.
"Overlap! The Baek Dongsu-Jaun duel—cut to their childhood fight from before! Slip Kim Donghu in naturally!!!"
Disordered, incoherent words. But everyone in the room got it.
Like some alien species linked by antennae.
They shot Gwon Jaeho looks of trust.
"Genius! Yeah! Finale arc—perfect for that directing!"
"And when Jaun dies, flashback to his pure kid self for more acting!"
"That's it! Let's do it—now, Chief!"
The meeting wrapped fast. Choi Do-seon nodded, pleased.
"Yes, that'll work."
Crush it simply with Kim Donghu. Why agonize so long?
"Contact the actors now—check schedules again. If clear, push reshoots."
As for the script,
Choi Do-seon eyed Gwon Jaeho.
When's it done?
Gwon Jaeho replied with steely resolve.
"Full script by day after tomorrow."
The week after my Golden Bell spot was set, I set aside the past problems book and opened the Ilsik script.
Romance mode and all—I never finished it properly.
Might as well read to the end now.
I dove straight in.
The world through the Crown Prince's eyes. First sight: a man bowing to him.
A scholar recruited to teach, paying teacher respects yet lower-ranked, boldly in the Prince's chamber.
"They say love is cruel indeed—it blinds the eyes."
The teacher's firm tone creases his brow.
"I sought learning, not life lessons."
"I've heard palace ladies lately stir Your Highness's heart."
"..."
The teacher's grating words irked him. Pass the provincial exam, rise in status—know your place.
Teaching one prince and acting above it.
He wanted to boot the arrogant fool, but couldn't anymore.
That teacher's sister was the woman he loved.
"Not counsel—feels like lecturing."
This is what the path of a sage king means? Keeping such pests alive?
Protect one sister, neglect duty—does he not know it's him?
He wanted to snap back but held his tongue. Roosters crow or not, dawn comes.
Besides,
This isn't love just for me.
Fall's end, winter's chill approaching. Fallen leaves drift outside.
Deep winter. What's wrong with finding a mate early against the cold?
"Soon the marriage ban lifts, selections begin..."
He cut off. Pointless to argue. How could a mere subject block his love?
He left the room first.
Forbidden fruit tempts more; impossible fuels desire more. Taboo.
He recalled his father's stern gaze: erase her from memory.
Whatever the reason, futile talk.
And proof came.
"...So it's you, after all."
The selection chose his beloved.
He ached to rush to her, pour out his overflowing love.
Fill those star-embedded eyes with his passion, desire, emotions—unrivaled.
No, not yet.
But he endured, thinking time remained.
Mocking his patience,
His last sight:
"...What in the world happened."
The bride's corpse, slowly dying cold.
Whoosh!
The script ended there. I snapped back to reality.
Way heavier than I thought.
I'd skipped dramas in my past life, so I hadn't known. Far sadder than expected.
Amazed at the script's solidity,
Next year?
That's my break time.
A message tempting me to truly unleash Heavenly Martial Body.