[Showbiz Studies, Episode 7]
└ It’s like watching ‘Pretty Woman’... Bohyung, Bohyung, what are we supposed to do with you... T-T
└ Considering Bohyung’s wealth, this is basically the equivalent of buying gum at the supermarket...
└ Hana’s styling is incredible. Mom, I want Bohyung to buy me things too.
└ I’m a member of the Yoon Bohyung Male Lead Promotion Committee. This is urgent.
└ I work in TV monitoring. I got heartbroken on the job. Can I file for worker’s compensation?
Pretty Woman. The cliché of a wealthy man dressing a woman from head to toe was as classic as it got, but it never failed to work.
The fan club membership skyrocketed.
Every item Bohyung wore from episodes 1 through 7 was analyzed in detail.
And for the first time, the term ‘Yoon Bohyung Fever’ appeared in the media.
“I’ve already lost the freedom to walk around outside alone, haven’t I?”
“Haha, are you upset about it?”
“It’s unfortunate, but I’ll have to accept it. Being recognized for my acting is far more valuable to me than a little freedom.”
Yu-seok laughed softly at the unexpectedly mature response from the twenty-four-year-old.
“Here. I drew up a power of attorney for Mr. Ho-chul and told him to handle it on my behalf.”
It was a vehicle registration document.
The familiar license plate number was visible, with his name boldly printed at the top.
‘Huh? But the date...’
It was strange.
The registration date was from long before ‘Yoon Bohyung Fever’ had hit the media. In fact, it was closer to the day they made the bet.
“Director, why is the date...? Were you planning to give this to me regardless of the bet?”
The thought that he couldn’t simply accept such an expensive gift without proper justification made Yoomyeong’s voice turn firm.
“No. I just knew you would win.”
“How could you know that?”
Yoomyeong’s tone stiffened as he remembered how he had nearly been fooled by his boss’s smooth words before.
Yu-seok laughed and explained.
“I have something you could call a foresight ability.”
“...What?”
It was such an absurd statement... yet not entirely impossible, considering Yoomyeong had met a spirit and even experienced regression himself.
‘Could Director Moon also have some kind of foresight... or maybe he regressed too? But the original actor who played Bohyung was different...’
Yoomyeong’s mind spun with theories while Moon Yu-seok continued confidently.
“It’s true. I predict things this way. I analyze the situation, the competition, the producers, the writers, and the role. Then I input all those variables together with the talent of an actor named Shin Yoomyeong and hit ‘enter’—and the result is ‘Yoon Bohyung Fever.’”
‘So that’s what he meant...’
Yoomyeong’s tense body relaxed.
“It’s real. This is how I predict the world, and most of my predictions come true. That’s how I make money. And if I look a little further ahead at Shin Yoomyeong as an actor...”
“...”
It was impossible to tell how much of it was true, but his tone was overflowing with certainty.
It sounded like a bluff, yet it was strangely persuasive.
“The value of that Ferrari is nothing compared to what you’ll soon earn. So don’t worry and just accept it. I prepared it because I already knew you’d win the bet.”
Only then did Yoomyeong nod.
Episode 8 was the point where Do-jun finally realized his feelings for Hana and approached her, only to be rejected. Afterward, Hana ended up taking a minor role in the drama Do-jun was filming, . That episode recorded a 33.5% viewership rating.
drew attention because of Yoon Eun-jung’s exquisite acting, but it got off to a weak start due to its mismatched tone for the year-end season.
also struggled, barely maintaining ratings in the upper 10% range while being overshadowed by .
The clear winner of this three-way drama battle was KBK, and the key to that success was undoubtedly Yoomyeong.
After episode 8 aired, the year came to an end.
Winter break had left the streets around Woondae University deserted, slowly blanketed in sleet. A familiar figure walked down the street before heading underground into a building.
“Senior Ryu Shin~”
“Hey, Seo Ryu Shin.”
He looked slightly thinner than usual, his somewhat longer hair tied back tightly with a black band. Even the casual motion of shaking moisture from his padded jacket suited his handsome appearance.
“Come over here, senior.”
“Ryu Shin, over here!”
The noisy venue, rented out for Oedipus’ year-end party, buzzed with dozens of people. Ignoring the calls, he headed toward a corner table where Hye-Seon, Suho, and Yu-ri were seated.
They were his closest friends and colleagues from his last performance in <Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde>.
“Wow, it’s my first time seeing you since graduation, senior. How have you been?”
“Yeah. Where did you end up, Hye-Seon?”
“I joined Comet. I’ve been working hard, hehe.”
“What about you, Suho?”
“I’m studying more at a film academy. I got interested in directing.”
“Oh, that’s great. And Yu-ri?”
“I’m preparing for a drama that starts early next year.”
They exchanged updates briefly while Ryu Shin mostly listened in silence.
The hottest topic, naturally, was Shin Yoomyeong—the newest star produced by Oedipus and their former colleague.
“Yoomyeong’s acting is amazing, but isn’t Yoon Bohyung more of a case of the character carrying things? The writer built the character well, and the lines were perfect. Any actor would’ve been loved in that role, though obviously to different degrees.”
Suho, who had become interested in directing, gave his opinion.
“Well, it’s a good character, but it’s also difficult to play, isn’t it? The rapid switches between warmth and coldness could’ve turned disastrous with a less capable actor.”
Yu-ri, speaking as a fellow actor, praised Yoomyeong’s performance.
“What do you think, senior?”
Hye-Seon asked brightly, and Ryu Shin furrowed his brow as he thought.
“Have you seen ‘Ballerina High’?”
“I couldn’t get tickets.”
“Not yet.”
“I booked tickets for next week.”
All three answered at once.
“Watch it. Then you won’t even be talking about the drama anymore.”
“You saw it, senior?”
“I just came back from watching it.”
“Wow, how was it? Oh, no spoilers please!”
“It made me angry.”
They flinched.
There was deep frustration in Ryu Shin’s voice as he spoke.
Only then did they notice his pale complexion and the exhaustion in his tone.
“Why?”
“When I realized the gods had given one person every talent an actor could possibly need, then added hard work and perseverance on top of that, I momentarily lost sight of my path.”
“...What path?”
“The path of surpassing genius.”
The three fell silent.
They had witnessed Seo Ryu Shin’s talent, effort, and competitiveness countless times. They all knew that Ryu Shin was conscious of Yoomyeong.
But hearing words like these from him was unprecedented. He was someone whose pride towered high, someone who never showed weakness, someone willing to repeat something hundreds or thousands of times to overcome his shortcomings.
“Is it... really that serious?”
“Yoon Bohyung is different. It’s a difficult and attractive role, but it still falls within Shin Yoomyeong’s ‘range.’ Yoomyeong gave everything he had to become Bohyung, but he didn’t need to exceed his limits.
Phantom was different. He must have struggled desperately and crossed beyond his limits several times. It wasn’t just about portraying the unfamiliar world of ballet—it was Phantom’s complicated inner acting and Giselle’s subtle presence too...”
He paused, visibly struggling to steady his breathing.
“For an entire year, I barely managed to build enough confidence to challenge his Jekyll and Hyde and achieve acting that resonated with another person. I focused solely on that, taking only small roles. Just a few days ago, I convinced myself that I had caught up to him, if not surpassed him.”
Hye-Seon realized it was the first time Ryu Shin had spoken so openly about himself.
“But in the meantime, he crossed over to another cliff entirely.”
“...”
“And this gap... feels impossible to overcome.”
He swallowed a mouthful of beer as though his throat had gone dry.
Hye-Seon looked at him sympathetically, while Yu-ri avoided looking at her respected senior’s frustrated expression.
Unexpectedly, it was Suho who casually pushed back against him.
“Huh? But that’s exactly how we feel when we look at you, you know.”
“...What?”
“A guy with every talent in the world, who’s also ridiculously handsome. But on top of that, you’re the hardest-working person around. Having a boss-level monster like that nearby is frustrating, but you’re too cool to actually hate.”
Yu-ri startled at Suho’s blunt words and tugged on his arm.
Meanwhile, Hye-Seon’s eyes widened in agreement.
“Exactly.”
“...”
“That’s exactly how I feel whenever I look at you, senior. It feels like I could never beat you no matter what I did.”
“What are you even talking about...?”
Ryu Shin’s face visibly reddened.
Direct praise from people close to him had always made him uncomfortable.
“This is just payback for spending your whole life ‘slaughtering villagers,’ hyung.”
Suho chuckled.
“...I didn’t realize you all thought of me that way.”
“How else would we think? Even after joining Oedipus, there’s another test waiting for you: Not losing your self-esteem and quitting acting after seeing Seo Ryu Shin perform.”
“...”
Ryu Shin’s neck turned red. After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“That’s enough.”
“Just one more thing. Ryu Shin, you’re the coolest person in my eyes. Yoomyeong is kind and he’s a great actor, but he’s not as cool as you. Oh, maybe it’s because he feels more like a younger brother to me? Anyway...”
“...”
“There’s no such thing as a better or worse actor. Every actor has their own unique value—I don’t want to feed you some cliché consolation like that. Part of it is true, but you’re not that kind of person. You chase even the smallest possibility of becoming better, never settling until you’re satisfied, never getting swept away by other people’s praise. Weak words just don’t suit you, hyung.”
Suho’s casual tone carried genuine sincerity underneath.
That heavy expectation, coming from people who knew him so well, firmly grounded him once more.
Time.
Time filled with honest hard work had always been his ally on the path toward becoming a better actor.
‘Since when did I start thinking of myself as the ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) best?’
Perhaps he had simply grown too accustomed to hearing that he was the best for far too long.
He remembered the persistence of seven-year-old Seo Ryu Shin, who, despite standing before adult actors twice his size, had still arrogantly believed he could outperform them.
Quietly, he watched as the embers that had once been extinguished and buried beneath the sand slowly began to reignite.
From that day onward, he once again began moving forward together with time.
That winter,
‘Ballerina High’ achieved a rare milestone for a passion project.
It reached one million viewers.
“The atmosphere’s good these days, so let’s all grab a meal together,” Jung Junhee suggested.
Lee Kyu-seong, still visibly simmering with frustration over his reduced screen time but unable to openly complain about it, declined the invitation, saying he was busy. In the end, four of them, including Yoomyeong, gathered in a private room at a restaurant in Sinsa-dong.
The meal, accompanied by drinks, lasted longer than expected.
This was because one person kept the conversation going relentlessly without allowing any awkward silence to form.
“Have you decided on your next project, oppa?”
“No... not yet.”
“I’m torn between a drama and a movie. The drama is a romance, and the movie is a thriller. What would you choose based on your experience?”
“Hmm... with such limited information, I’d lean more toward the movie for career variety, especially since I just finished a romance drama,” Baek Seunghyo answered politely, maintaining a formal tone.
The distance in his replies was obvious, but Jung Junhee continued reacting enthusiastically anyway. She was clearly infatuated with him.
“Oppa, let’s go out for a smoke.”
“It’d be troublesome if we got photographed outside...”
“Ah, there’s a terrace here that the staff use for smoking. I come here often, and I’ve used it several times before. It’s safe.”
“Hmm... alright then.”
Apparently unable to resist the temptation of a cigarette, he followed Jung Junhee out, leaving Yoomyeong and Cha Harin alone together.
Fortunately, they were comfortable enough with each other that being left alone wasn’t awkward.
“Brother.”
“Hm?”
After drinking a little, Harin was no longer in her usual sloth-like mode. Still, she seemed strangely drained.
“Bohyung.”
“What is it, Hana?”
Once again, she called him by a character’s name. The way she said it sounded so lonely that Yoomyeong instinctively played along.
“I envy Hana.”
“What do you envy about her, Harin?”
Still using Bohyung’s voice, he called her by her real name this time.
In an instant, her eyes filled with tears.
“What am I supposed to do if no matter how hard I struggle, I still can’t see any hope, Bohyung?”
Her voice trembled as she finished speaking.
