Late Afternoon in the Officetel Lobby
Late afternoon. The lobby on the first floor of an officetel in Seoul.
The door swings open. A few office workers from a small company, sneaking out for a smoke break in the elevator, glance toward the staccato click of high-heeled shoes echoing from the distance. Clack, clack, clack. It was obvious at a glance. A young entrepreneur who had come to Seoul with big ambitions. They'd seen plenty of his type—guys renting tiny offices in officetels, eating and sleeping there while scraping together their startups.
'Good luck.'
'Must be new around here.'
'Check out those eyes.'
Impressed by that intense gaze, they turned their heads just as the man stepped into their elevator.
'?'
'?'
'?'
They flinched in surprise. Whoosh— The man had just changed. Or more precisely, his expression had. Could you even call it a simple change? It was like flipping a switch ON/OFF. The elevator doors closed on the man whose fierce expression shift had rippled through the lobby air like a wave.
—Floor 7.
Inside the closing elevator.
"Hoo."
Finally back to his usual blank expression, Tae-gyu ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh.
······Tired.
It was Do Yoon-seop's dokkaebi fire at fault. He felt it every time he used it, but the fire he'd extracted from that man drained far more energy in manipulating the emotion than in its raw outburst. Like an F1 racer—making split-second decisions every 0.1 seconds, or that scorching engine in his chest would demand he speak now, counter now, move now, or else.
GOAL ACHIEVED
This desire-laced emotion, pushing him to seize what he vaguely wanted faster than even he expected, had definitely worked... but
······It was dangerous.
Tae-gyu recalled his negotiation table talk with director Gu Jeong-hwan moments ago. Looking back, every bit had been razor-thin. His tone, actions, glances—countless moments teetering on the edge.
'That's why it works, though.'
He had to be careful. That state where words unimaginable in his normal mindset spilled out effortlessly... A single lapse could lead to unintended results. As he resolved to stay vigilant—
—The doors open.
A text arrived as Tae-gyu headed to his unit.
'Perfect.'
The reason Tae-gyu had insisted on wrapping Hoshi-jeol within two weeks wasn't anything else. Countless auditions. Starting two weeks from now, the schedules for DK Entertainment's proposed projects—ones where he could portray emotions he craved to experience—would kick off.
In the end, it was greed for yet another emotion.
Thump! A faint thrill at the chain of stimulating emotions to come.
The Monster City set. Passion built with each passing day, the crew and actors meshing like perfectly geared cogs.
—Alright, 30-minute break!
During the rest, Han Joo-hyuk entered the temporary smoking area outside and picked up a sudden call.
"What? I'm busy, hang up... Lee Tae-gyu?"
His weary face lit up bright.
"What is it, Seol A-yoon? Why's his name coming out of your mouth?"
Lee Tae-gyu. Han Joo-hyuk's eyes widened at the name from his peer, superstar Seol A-yoon.
"Jeong Jong? He got that role?"
The moment he heard Tae-gyu had taken the Jeong Jong role Seol A-yoon had pitched to him in Hoshi-jeol, a huge grin spread across his face.
"Heh, experience it yourself. I'll just say this."
Imagining Seol A-yoon undergoing the massive mindset shift he'd experienced brought a strange delight—
"That kid's acting is the real deal."
"Yeah, he's definitely gonna blow up. I'm reserving him for my next project."
Han Joo-hyuk's eyes met those of cinematographer Choi Seong-cheol, who was opening the smoking room door mid-call.
"Anyway, call later—I'm busy."
"Director, I'll call back."
They hung up and eyed each other. Choi Seong-cheol, catching snippets of the call as he entered, spoke first.
"······Mind if I ask who?"
"A-yoon."
"Seol A-yoon?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Director Gu Jeong-hwan."
"Ah."
"Knew it."
A brief silence, then they grinned at each other. They could guess why the other had been on the phone with Seol A-yoon and Gu Jeong-hwan respectively.
"······Lee Tae-gyu, right?"
"······You too, huh?"
Lee Tae-gyu. How long had it been since he set the Monster City set ablaze? Already word had reached their contacts that he'd jumped into the film Hoshi-jeol.
Or more precisely, it wasn't just word—they'd been asked directly.
"Gu said he'd seen the kid act."
"Exactly."
"What'd you say?"
"Told her to see for herself. You?"
"Same."
Their contacts, curiosity piqued about Tae-gyu, had grilled Monster City's cinematographer and lead actor on his true nature.
"Hoshi-jeol's shooting again."
"Yeah, it actually resumed. Thought it'd be halted through summer."
"With Tae-gyu, no need to look further."
"Fair point."
Choi Seong-cheol and Han Joo-hyuk chuckled, lighting their smokes. They exhaled long drags and, without prompting, shared their impressions of Tae-gyu.
"More shocking is he jumped straight into the next gig without rest."
"Guy's acting-obsessed."
"Rare 9+ face these days."
"Mine?"
"Whoa."
"Kidding, haha."
Han Joo-hyuk, proud as he was, had to admit it about that kid. He still couldn't forget those unforgettable moments—pushing limits through dozens of retakes over three scenes, reaching sublime heights together.
Something had changed. Having experienced Tae-gyu's fierce passion up close, Han Joo-hyuk sensed his own acting had elevated, even if just a bit.
And it wasn't just him.
"······PD Ji won't retire, right?"
"······Does that look like a retiree's vibe?"
Beyond the smoking room, PD Ji Cheol-geun gesticulated wildly in heated debate with writer Kwak In-ho. It looked like a fight, but no ill will—just passion for a great show. The rumor of their savage retirement bet was now dismissed as old drama among the crew.
"This project."
Han Joo-hyuk had a hunch.
"Feels good."
"Me too."
Hottest set in ages. Their fueling passions accelerated shooting pace, potentially wrapping a month ahead of schedule. Maybe, just maybe, done before the March premiere.
"Honestly, even with Italian Romance··· ····Huh?"
Then it hit—an SNS alert on Han Joo-hyuk's phone screen.
"Out already."
"What?"
A post from the "national younger brother" actor, hashtag overload.
A photo announcing Hoshi-jeol's resumption, plain as day.
"Hoshi-jeol resumed shooting."
Sageuk filming location. At the edge of this massive set—drawing stares with mounted warriors, red-and-blue armor, and sun-glinting weapons.
Click. Click. Click.
One actor lost in photo trance. Or more precisely, in getting photographed perfectly.
"Not there! It'll look like I'm camera-aware!"
"Lower angle maybe?"
"How many times do I gotta say it? My head center-frame! And don't snap right away—wait till I'm talking and glance this way!"
He'd arrived early, demanding managers snap "candid" SNS shots. Cheon Yoo-seong, that was him.
The national younger brother, ever polite to fans. But an hour in, still bossing managers for the perfect post. Slick and deferential to director Gu Jeong-hwan and star Seol A-yoon, yet classic opportunist sneering at lesser actors.
"This time, somewhere secluded. Need more manly vibes lately."
For that authentic shot, he slipped behind the set's palace annex, into the wooded rear yard—and yelped.
"Ack, you scared me!"
A man stood there, hands behind back.
Turning slowly at the noise, the man prompted Cheon Yoo-seong:
"Who're you?"
"Sorry if I startled you."
What? Game NPC dialogue?
But as the man continued, Cheon Yoo-seong's eyes widened.
"Was prepping a bit."
"·········Prepping? Oh, for Hoshi-jeol?"
"Yes."
"·········Staff?"
"No, here to act."
"Ah, thought so."
Cheon Yoo-seong's gaze shifted instantly. Unknown rookie vs. his fame.
He smirked, slipping into condescending senior mode.
"Actor, huh. But you don't know me?"
"No, I do."
"Pfft, joking? That deadpan on purpose? 'Unafraid newbie before the great'? What?"
Already dropping formalities to assert dominance.
"Your acting's super awkward right now, y'know? Need a lesson? What's the concept?"
"Concept?"
"Ah, taking it serious—"
Now snickering lazily.
Unfortunately.
"·········I've been cast as Jeong Jong."
"What?!"
He'd skipped the camera test that day—stomachache excuse.
"·········Opposing me?"