Actual Combat
Seoyeondae University's freshman orientation was in full swing. The campus, quiet all winter, buzzed with energy. The freshmen’s excitement and anticipation couldn’t be dampened even by the cold. Having finally earned their spot after grueling entrance exams, smiles never left their faces.
“Excuse me.”
Booths for departments and clubs stretched out from the student union building. A sophomore guiding new students turned her head and froze.
“Where’s the dorm?”
“The dorm?”
Whoa! His tall, striking looks and pleasant low voice. Moo-young drew eyes effortlessly, without even trying. The sophomore stammered as she pointed down one path.
“Go past the chapel over there, and it’s right after.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you a freshman?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Oh……”
Jackpot. This year’s insane! The sophomore barely suppressed her inner fangirl and handed him a pamphlet for all the clubs.
“What department? Take a look at this.”
“Global Culture. Thanks.”
Moo-young bowed lightly and headed the way she’d indicated. A large backpack slung over his shoulder. The sophomore tilted her head, watching his retreating figure.
“Who was that?”
“Freshman. Hot, right?”
“No way. Super handsome. But why’s he going that way? The event’s about to start.”
“Looking for the dorm.”
“So, what department?”
“Secret.”
“Hey! No fair!”
The people at the booth chattered endlessly about Moo-young. As the saying goes, rumors spread like wildfire—even without legs—and word of him was already circulating around campus.
“Ugh—”
Moo-young was distracted by the heavy backpack. He’d used his living expenses to cover the deposit on his old place, leaving him homeless and floating in limbo. When he explained to the school dorm office, they’d said he could drop his stuff off early.
Knock knock.
“Hello. Global Culture freshman here.”
“Ah, yeah. The one dropping off luggage?”
“Yes. Which room?”
The dorm staff checked the chart and handed over a digital key.
“501. That’s all you’ve got? Just one bag?”
“Some summer clothes and a few books.”
“No need to worry then. Thought you’d have a ton since you said you had nowhere to live. Was wondering if we’d need to lend you storage for a four-person room.”
Moo-young had sold everything to a junk dealer when he moved out. Not a single bowl left behind. Anything that could remind him of those nightmares—gone.
“Appreciate it.”
“Oh, and you’re the only freshman in 501, so you get the bed closest to the door. Name tag’s on the desk—no mix-ups. The others come after classes start. Settle in.”
A good start. Moo-young felt upbeat from the staffer’s kindness as he headed to the fifth floor.
Creeeak.
“Whoa.”
Spacious—more than expected. Private prestige school with deep pockets? No joke. Bunk beds, neat desks. Even great natural light from the window!
Moo-young checked the name tags one by one.
‘Park Mun-seong, Choi Hwan, Kim Bong-gun? …Bong-gun? Interesting.’
Wonder what his roommates are like. Imagining faces to match the names, Moo-young smiled lightly. Whatever, they’d be family for the semester—hoped to get along.
“Ahhhh. This is nice—”
He climbed onto his bed and flopped down. A personal space, however small, felt amazing. Sure, he’d taken out a near-ten-million-won student loan for tuition and fees, but.
“Heh.”
Savor the happiness now. Still in his puffer jacket, Moo-young stayed sprawled on the bed. Faint cheers and songs drifted from the distant auditorium.
Skip OT? Just school intros, club shows, guest performances. Better spend the time productively—like acting practice. Or acting practice.
“Ngh.”
But since he was here, might as well check it out. Moo-young shoved his bag under the desk and left the dorm.
Booths still bustled in front of the student union.
“Tennis club rally! New students welcome!”
“True otaku? This way! Adta Comics Club!”
Students poured passion into recruiting freshmen. Moo-young strolled through the crowd, taking it in. Cold and chaotic, he didn’t notice everyone staring.
Whoa, he’s tall.
Freshman? What department?
If he joins a club, I will too.
Worth all that studying. Sniff.
Moo-young had rolled around in class daily, training his body. Leaner now, he exuded a more mature vibe.
“Hm?”
Weaving through, he spotted an intriguing banner.
Theater Club Dohran
‘Dohran’—stage makeup for actors. Moo-young approached slowly. Unlike the lively booths, a lone guy in oversized clothes sat there.
“Tch! Still losing. Team luck sucks.”
Glued to his mobile game. Moo-young skimmed the pamphlets. Past regular performances—all originals. Unique point: every one a creative play.
“Into acting?”
“Yeah. Sort of.”
The guy glanced over but kept his fingers flying.
“Application’s there if you want. Agh! Lost! Deadline’s second week of March.”
Moo-young nodded but didn’t take it. Theater club…… tempting, but academy offered more. Plus, classes and jobs would eat his time post-semester start. Couldn’t split himself.
Bzzz, bzzz.
Flipping through originals, Moo-young pulled out his phone. Jun-ho calling. He answered, nodding to the guy.
“Take care then. Yeah, Jun-ho.”
The guy, lost in game, didn’t hear. His friend returned from the bathroom and bolted over.
“What was that?”
Seol-a, Dohran president. Other schools had hot theater clubs, but she scraped to meet minimum freshmen quota.
“Dunno. Seemed interested.”
“You gaming zombie. Didn’t explain properly, huh?”
Smack! Seol-a whacked his head.
“Ow! That hurts!”
“Wave pickets like everyone else!”
“Why? Good ones come on their own. Cliques stay cliques—thinkers find us—”
“Stagnant pond’s why we’re stuck. Seniors graduate, then? Just you, me, kids…… damn. Five total. Five!”
“Perfect for writing scripts.”
“Kim Bong-gun!”
Seol-a glared lasers. Kim Bong-gun—Korean Lit junior, Moo-young’s future dormmate, writer of all Dohran originals.
“Enough. Let’s eat. Starving.”
“Can’t live with you.”
“Um……”
A freshman approached timidly. Seol-a flashed a warm smile.
“Theater club interest?”
“That guy who was just here. Member?”
“Who came and went?”
“The tall handsome one……”
Blushing and stammering. Bong-gun shot an I told you so look. Seol-a deftly changed tack, offering a pamphlet.
“Not a member, but seemed curious.”
“Ah, got it.”
“Anyway, check this out. All original plays. Won excellence at college theater fest last year, placed in youth playwright awards. This guy—er, senior—writes ’em. Super talented.”
Just one—hook ’em! Seol-a desperately recruited while Bong-gun picked his ear, gaming away. But Moo-young’s image lingered oddly. Mismatched: pristine looks, shabby clothes.
Strange vibe. Fit perfectly with his new script’s protagonist. Fleeting thought, dismissed.
***
“You kidding?”
Moo-young leaned into the white sedan’s window. Sudden call—here to pick him up! In a car?
“Get in quick.”
“Wait. Your license?”
“Hey now. What do you take me for? Got it.”
Jun-ho smugly flashed his license. Damn—issued a week ago.
“Cars behind us.”
“Sigh. Crazy.”
Prodded by Jun-ho, Moo-young buckled into shotgun, gripping the seatbelt like a lifeline. Muttered,
“No helmet?”
“Sheesh, drama queen. Just looped Seoul like a pro.”
“Where’d the car come from?”
“Dad’s old one. Handed it down.”
Landlord’s son perks. Moo-young clucked his tongue, eyes forward. Despite nerves, Jun-ho drove smoothly.
“Haven’t seen your face, so I came. To the academy?”
“Yeah. Living there lately.”
“Come to my place.”
“Can’t escape—too much to learn.”
Moo-young subtly eyed Jun-ho. Day he heard about Seoyeondae acceptance…… should’ve heard Jun-ho’s rejection too.
“What’s up?”
Jun-ho grinned, eyes on the road.
“Nothing. Just wondering what you’ve been up to.”
“Same old. Dad nags about building management. Boring.”
Ah. Right. No time for others’ worries. Moo-young eyed his frayed sleeve.
“Didn’t think much of college, but bombing it…… what now? Your manager?”
“Yeah, scram.”
Jun-ho laughed teasingly, nodding back. Black bags piled in the rear.
“What’s that?”
“Cousin’s in clothing. Coming from Dongdaemun. Teaming up awhile.”
Fashion suited Jun-ho’s style obsession. As Moo-young opened his mouth for encouragement—
Swoosh—something floated lightly in the car. Dust? No, flower pollen.
“……Work hard. It’ll go great.”
“Sudden fortune teller vibe.”
Too close—Jun-ho’s luck or his? Whatever. Friend’s win was his joy, his luck.
“Drop me up front.”
“OK.”
“Drive safe.”
“No worries. Need a ride? Holler.”
“Got it. Safe driving, please!”
Jun-ho just waved laughing out the window.
Dorm move must’ve drained him—half day, wiped out.
Screech.
“I’m here.”
Opening the academy door, O-seok and mid-level classmates sat in a circle. Class not for a bit?
“Moo-young. Over here.”
“What’s up?”
“Month till everyone’s at college. Real experience first.”
Audition notices piled on the table. Kids eyed them, debating.
“MBV best, right?”
“Terrestrials casting good dramas lately.”
“Im Song-hwan’s new one. Mine!”
“Pick SBC or MBV.”
Big ones mostly. Moo-young scanned slowly……
Seoul City Web Drama Actor Recruitment
“Web drama? Really?”
“Go big or go home.”
“Yeah. Experience. Experience.”
Moo-young stared, entranced. Classmates chuckled, shaking heads. Promo drama aside—no TV broadcast even……
“……I’ll do this one.”
Moo-young snatched it without hesitation. Overflowing—no, pouring flower pollen invisible to others.