Party
Ha Moo-young sipped his iced coffee as he headed down to the parking lot. He glanced around, but his familiar car was nowhere in sight. Just as he was about to call Go Kyung-min, a massive van parked nearby blared its horn.
Beeeep!
"Hey! You there, Mr. Stylish! Hop in!"
"Whoa, hyung. What's this?"
Wasn't this the kind of van only celebrities rode in? Moo-young wondered if he was still half-asleep and hurried over, circling the vehicle.
"The boss splurged and got it for us. It's used, but it's in mint condition. Come on aboard, actor-nim."
"No way! Thank you!"
As usual, Moo-young climbed into the back seat instead of the front. The spacious chair stretched out like a recliner.
Holy crap.
"This is gonna be sweet for naps."
"Buckle up, then."
"Got it!"
On the early morning drive to the set, Go Kyung-min hummed a tune, focused on the road. Moo-young, lounging like he was in bed, scrolled through YouTube and spotted his face in a skyrocketing video.
"Clips are already up?"
"Clips? What clips?"
"Otherworldly Smile. It's number one on the rising charts. Right here."
"Oh, right. Must've aired last night."
Moo-young leaned forward, holding out his phone with a grin. The thumbnail was his own face—cheerfully grinning and startling a ghost.
"Looks like the reactions are great."
"No kidding. Even I haven't seen anything like that. How the hell did you know?"
"Just felt the presence, y'know."
"Bullshit."
Moo-young brushed it off vaguely. But that was as far as it went. Go Kyung-min just tsked and chuckled in disbelief, not pressing further. Even if Moo-young had confessed a ghost tipped him off, the reaction would've been the same.
"Views range from 300K on the low end to... whoa, even 50 million on some. Insane."
"It's blowing up overseas too. What's the count on this one?"
"Right now... 980K."
"...?"
Go Kyung-min glanced in the rearview mirror, wondering if he'd misheard. It aired just last night, right? And already 980K views in under a day?
"You sure you read that right?"
"Huh? Yeah, totally."
Moo-young giggled as he read the comments, oblivious to the weight of that number. Fans and viewers alike were dying to know what kind of guts this Ha Moo-young guy had.
"Moo-young-ah, text the boss. Ask him to check reactions on Otherworldly Smile."
"On it."
Standing in for the driving manager, Moo-young fired off the message to Na Geum-dong. Real-time trends were a given by now. He lounged back, opening Weverse.
"Morning, everyone! Hope you're all having a great start. Heading to set myself. Ta-da! New ride!"
The manager drove extra smoothly for his stream. Moo-young chatted amiably with fans, enjoying the connection.
"I was pretty scared myself. Haha, didn't show?"
Maybe because Moo-young got so much screen time—good or bad, Jen barely appeared. He'd endured with mics off too long for much footage.
"Behind-the-scenes? Bugs everywhere, so I slathered on repellent. Still got munched by mosquitoes. See?"
Moo-young leaned against the window, chattering like a video call with a buddy. After a good while on Weverse, he checked Na Geum-dong's reply: Call me.
"Alright, everyone. Have a fun, happy day! Thanks, bye~!"
Once he ended the stream properly, he dialed. The boss's excited voice boomed through.
"Whoa! Reactions are killer!"
"Aigoo, boss. My ears!"
"Go manager's driving, right? Perfect. Got something to ask. BG Line fashion show invite—going? Brand's Brulem."
BG Line—who knew. But Brulem? Top dog in Korea's luxury scene.
Moo-young nodded. "If the schedule lines up."
"Tell the boss to text you."
"He says he'll check if you text him."
"OK, got it!"
Moo-young slipped the phone into Go Kyung-min's pocket after the reply. BG Line was exactly a week out.
* * *
"Whoa, packed house."
Moo-young stepped out, brushing off his clothes. Used to his usual threads, the full luxury sponsorship from head to toe felt awkward.
"Hyung, I'll text."
"Yeah. Be safe. Call if anything."
Click! Click!
Unlike photo zones at typical events, fashion shows had paparazzi swarming the street pre-entry. Escorted by brand security, Moo-young entered the building.
Click-! Click!
Seated front row, he smiled awkwardly. Magazine editors, models, actors, idols—all crossed legs coolly under flashes.
Unisex line, huh.
He'd never cared for luxury. Thumping music, vibrant staging. Everyone stared stone-faced, but Moo-young silently clapped to the beat. Shoulders bouncing too—
Ooh, that outfit's fire!
His reactions stood out. Opposite side glanced more at him than the runway.
Then, a whisper from behind.
"Um, maybe tone it down a bit?"
"Oh? Jen-ssi."
"Lots of press. Be careful. Designers showcase a year's collection—focus should be on the clothes."
No bad headlines like "tone-deaf antics controversy."
First fashion show—Moo-young mistook it for a cheering stage.
"Ah, got it. Thanks."
He stiffened instantly, face serious like admiring art. Short show ended; designer finale. Everyone stood, applauding.
Moo-young popped up, spotting Jen behind.
"Jen-ssi, thanks a ton for the heads-up."
"Nah. Music was good anyway."
Enjoying the vibe wasn't the issue. Moo-young greeted warmly.
"How've you been? Hitting the private after-party?"
"Nah, not 'contract' level. You going?"
"Yeah, invited."
Moo-young casually packed his bag. Sky lounge top floor for after-party.
Jen went quiet.
"Something wrong?"
"Just surprised. Didn't peg you for it."
"...?"
Shocked face. No clue why. Jen continued at Moo-young's innocent look.
"Leave early if you can."
"Bomb shots or something?"
"Huh? No—"
Jen laughed, baffled. What was in this guy's head?
Glancing around, Jen whispered super low, like saying it aloud was risky.
"BG Line private party's... wild. Free-spirited crowd. Folks like you bail after an hour or two. Slip out with them then."
"Got it. Appreciate the tip."
Whatever it was, advice for him—had to listen.
"...Oh, yeah. Thanks for that time too. The help. Kept the secret."
Nothing major. Moo-young waved it off.
"Catch you later."
"Yeah."
Jen left the venue. Moo-young headed skyward. Flashed invite, entered.
Private club party vibe: neon chaos everywhere.
"Hi, Ha Moo-young-ssi."
"Oh my god, for real?"
"Nice to meet you."
Dim space. Spotlit smog narrowed vision; DJs blasted ears.
"Pardon? What—?!"
"Haha, cheers! Clink!"
They raised glasses, charmed by Moo-young blocking ears cutely. Whispering among themselves, but he tuned out.
One hour.
Checked watch, scanned idly. Not sponsorship gig—would've called Kyung-min post-Jen. Time's up, bolt.
Thump! Thump-thump! Thump!
Beats pounded his heart. Cocktail hit hard—buzz rising. Moo-young leaned in a corner, dazedly surveying.
"Huh?"
One smog caught his eye. Unlike club haze—inky black, almost formed...
"Wha...?"
Sobered instantly. Fire? Rubbed eyes, reached—black smog, his alone.
Why here?
Followed slowly. Past mad stage to quieter tables. Corridor end roiled fierce.
"What the...?"
Like beckoning. Beehive rooms mazelike.
There—one cracked door.
"Hngh...!"
Weird groan, smog surging. Someone hurt? Needs help?
Creeeak—Short hesitation; Moo-young nudged.
Revealed—
Joo Jeong-dan?
Joo sprawled half-dead on wide sofa. Woman limp beside.
What the—
Shit.
Table: white powder, acrid unfamiliar stink. Syringe.
Instinct screamed: drugs.
Black smog coiling Joo's arm—meaning clear.
Frozen in shock. Joo half-zonked, head turning doorward—
Slap!
"Babe, not here—next room."
Someone slammed door. Gestured shush, hand over mouth.
The model from Yoo Sa-ha's party—tripped then!
She hooked arms naturally, yanking Moo-young round corner as two guards approached.
"Everything okay?"
"Ah, sorry. Drunk, lost."
"Exit that way."
"Thanks!"
Spotted something? Timing unreal—Moo-young caught empty moment.
"You good?"
Outside, she turned.
No. Far from.
Lived long, never seen drugged fool.
"Wanted to say hi after spotting you, but you zoned out. Don't open random doors—ugly sights galore."
"Wait, why's Joo Jeong-dan here?"
"...BG Line party. Baekgoon, duh."
BG was Baekgoon! Holy shit.
Moo-young clapped hand over mouth at the revelation.