“Maknae~.”
“Where’s the maknae?”
“Maknae!!! We’re busy, why didn’t you take care of this right away!!”
The youngest staff member of Dead after Hope’s art team was half out of their mind as they were being nagged and prodded nonstop.
Especially today, since it was an outdoor shoot, things were even more hectic.
“This is insane.”
There was so much to do that even three bodies wouldn’t have been enough. People always said if you worked in an art team on set you had to give up on work-life balance, but they hadn’t known it would be like this.
Barely managing to organize the props, the exhausted maknae slumped their shoulders and zoned out. Nearby, some senior staff sipping coffee said:
“Hey, this is nothing. Other sets don’t even give you time to rest or eat, and they’ll run you ragged.”
“Really??”
“Of course~. And on top of that, the mental stress piles up. You probably don’t know, but... our cast here? They’re all angels.”
As if someone might overhear, the senior lowered their voice.
“You know that chaebol rom-com drama that was trending last year? The lead actor back then... told a staff member, ‘What the hell is someone like you doing carrying such an expensive bag? Don’t you have any sense?’”
“Wow... crazy.”
“Right? Star abuse is everywhere. There are tons who treat their own managers like crap. ‘Are your ears clogged? You call this working? Do you even deserve to be paid? Why don’t you just quit, it’d be better for both of us.’ That kind of garbage is practically daily life.”
Hearing these examples, the maknae staff was horrified.
“And they still get away with that? Don’t celebrities live off their image?!”
“Hey, this is nothing. They all look fine on camera, but the moment the lens turns away, so many of them go wild.”
The maknae’s gaze fell.
They too had liked a celebrity since childhood. But ever since working in broadcasting, they’d heard so many horrifying rumors that it had crushed that pure affection more than once.
After that, it was impossible to like celebrities the same way as before.
“That’s why this set is heaven. Do you think people like Min Jiheon-ssi and Seo Hoyun-ssi are common in this industry? There’s a reason they call them ‘Min Dajeong’ and ‘Seo Kind.’”
“True, both of them are completely kind. Especially to staff.”
Even the drinks they were sipping now were from a coffee truck Seo Hoyun had personally paid for.
“At first I thought Seo Hoyun-ssi would be prickly, but the more I see, the more genuine he seems. He’s smooth-tongued, and always asks if there’s anything we need, if there’s anything he can help with.”
The maknae recalled Seo Hoyun helping a senior carry heavy equipment just a few days ago.
Now they understood why everyone praised him. If they had experienced the same, they would too.
Recently, the one receiving the most attention in Dead after Hope was not Min Jiheon, but Seo Hoyun.
After the entertainment news program with Min Jiheon aired, countless offers poured in, and interview requests never seemed to stop.
“I heard none of the smoking scenes were real. Was the white smoke all CG?”
“Haha, yes, I owe a lot to the production staff for helping me with that.”
People loved him for it, saying, “So Seo Hoyun doesn’t smoke either!”
“And there are so many jokes online saying they want to marry Seo Hoyun just so they can divorce him. For those hopefuls—or hopeful divorcees—can you tell us your ideal type?”
“I have no plans to marry.”
“Huh? Ah, but even just a little—”
“None.”
“Then if you hypothetically did—”
“None.”
The way he avoided anything related to romance, even an ideal type, made people laugh that he was totally idol-like.
An actor who acted well, danced well, and cared deeply for fans—the rising star.
That was the reputation of “actor Seo Hoyun” until just recently.
The maknae glanced around, then lowered their voice.
“...But lately, there’ve been rumors. About Seo Hoyun-ssi....”
“Rumors?”
“Yeah, it’s been all over since last week, you didn’t hear?”
“Oh, that.”
The seniors, who had been gazing fondly at their coffee as if it were Seo Hoyun himself, instantly turned sharp.
“That’s nonsense.”
In short, the rumor claimed a famous actor A and rookie actor B had a power struggle on set.
More specifically, that rookie B had stolen A’s role through connections, yet whenever they met on set, B would verbally attack A.
Once people heard, they started guessing who it was. Soon, someone dug up a magazine article saying Lee Kangseok had once auditioned for Kim Wooho’s role and almost got cast.
So most were convinced the rumor referred to Lee Kangseok and Seo Hoyun.
“But doesn’t that sound weird? Seo Hoyun-ssi’s never spoken rudely like that....”
“And doesn’t it sound way too favorable to Lee Kangseok? He was clearly the one in the wrong back then. The AD said it was staff-only, and he kept pushing. If it weren’t for Seo Hoyun-ssi, he would’ve gotten chewed out on the spot.”
“Exactly. Don’t you think those rumors are being spread by Lee Kangseok’s side? Especially about losing the role.”
Publicly, Lee Kangseok was handsome and mannerly, even called the top son-in-law candidate. But within the industry, there were endless stories about his behavior.
“Ahem.”
Just then, a cough sounded from behind.
They jumped in surprise, shoulders jerking, and turned. It was PD Jung and—
“Hello.”
Seo Hoyun.
“O-oh, hello!”
“Ahaha, ha, you’re here.”
Though it wasn’t slander, it was still a sensitive topic, so the maknae couldn’t bring themselves to meet Seo Hoyun’s eyes.
“...Seo Hoyun-ssi, thank you for the coffee!”
“Oh, no need. Wasn’t it enough?”
“Not at all. We could’ve drunk a whole barrel and still wanted more. Did you have some, Hoyun-ssi?”
“Ah, caffeine doesn’t sit well with me.”
With his easy smile and natural replies, the seniors’ faces eased. PD Jung sighed deeply watching him.
“Alright, everyone, mind your words. You know, right? You’re busy, so get back to work.”
“Yes~.”
But the seniors, seasoned as they were, lingered nearby at just the right distance, pretending to work while listening in. The maknae too pretended to tidy up while keeping within earshot.
“You’re going through a lot, Seo Hoyun-ssi. For something like this to blow up at the end of filming. You know you don’t need to care about that trash, right?”
Seo Hoyun curved his lips slightly, giving a subtle nod. PD Jung cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Ahem, so, you know, anyone who knows you will realize it’s just baseless rumor. Don’t bottle it up.”
“Haha.”
Then Seo Hoyun burst out laughing.
“Thank you, PD Jung.”
“....”
“Seems you’ve grown a little attached to me too? Even worrying for me.”
“...Good grief, that smooth tongue.”
Looking worn out, PD Jung shook his head. Seo Hoyun chuckled and smoothly shifted the topic back to work.
From a corner, three staffers exchanging glances quietly slipped away to gather.
“Wow, his mentality is made of vibranium....”
“Seriously! How can he act like that?”
As Seo Hoyun’s popularity soared, the tag of “rookie who got his role through nepotism and is rude to seniors” was dragging him down just as quickly.
Yet his face was bright—no, brighter than usual.
“Guess the director was right, he really is just thick-skinned.”
He even looked a little... excited.
“No way. That’s too much.”
“Filming start!”
“Yes!”
At the AD’s call, the three scattered back to their posts.
Soon the clap of the clapperboard echoed.
[The news Kim Wooho finally received about his brother was that Kim Woohyung might already be dead. Min Hanjun could offer no words of comfort. He couldn’t fathom the weight of that sorrow. The very man himself, Kim Wooho, said lightly they should just head to the Gangwon-do shelter, as if nothing had happened.]
Originally, Kim Wooho’s role was only up to Episode 5.
But after watching Episode 3, the head writer suddenly announced they would rewrite the script drastically, and the part was expanded.
[Min Hanjun thought Kim Wooho’s mind must be unstable, but it was not so.
That night, late at night.
When Min Hanjun woke up, he realized Kim Wooho wasn’t in his place. At that moment, a faint smell of cigarette smoke drifted from somewhere.
Following it, he found Kim Wooho staring up at the sky.]
“...Kim Wooho-ssi.”
Seo Hoyun removed the cigarette from his lips, exhaling a colorless smoke as if breathing it out.
“...Why do you look so composed?”
As if asking why he came out to pick a fight instead of sleeping, Seo Hoyun’s eyebrow arched. Min Jiheon pressed his lips shut once, then lowered his gaze, finally speaking the words that had been tacitly forbidden.
“Don’t you think your younger brother, Kim Woohyung, might already be dead? From what we heard today and all...”
Like a fragile leaf trembling before the wind, Min Jiheon’s eyelids shook violently.
“...No, sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
Just as he was about to turn his back and return to his spot to sleep—
“...Hanjun-ah.”
A low voice called him to a halt.
“Have you ever done archery?”
At the sudden question, Min Jiheon’s gaze slowly met Seo Hoyun’s. He was still drawing on his cigarette, still looking at the sky.
The sky where the world had stopped, where even above Seoul’s air, the stars could now be seen clearly as if glitter was sprinkled on black paint.
“In archery, do you know that even the slightest movement of your body isn’t allowed?”
“...What?”
“Whether the wind blows, or your fingertips tremble.”
Seo Hoyun looked down at his own hand.
“Even if it’s the tiniest movement at the starting point, the result can change drastically.”
“...I’ve seen archers checking their heartbeat. You looked really calm back when you were active.”
“Well, I guess.”
He clenched his fist, looked at Min Jiheon, then put the filter back between his lips with the other hand.
“Anyway, for archers, mental tranquility is critical. If it breaks, you collapse endlessly. That’s what happened to me.”
‘Kim Wooho’ had undergone rehabilitation after his car accident but still failed to return to the national team. It wasn’t physical.
Even the slightest psychological wavering made his hand shake.
“But on the flip side,”
After inhaling one last drag deep into his throat, he flicked the cigarette with his fingertips.
“It means it’s fine as long as I don’t let myself be anxious.”
“......”
“In that instant when I hold the bow, I decided to think I’m controlling everything.”
Seo Hoyun once again gripped tightly the bow he never let leave his side.
[In that moment, Kim Wooho’s fingertips did not tremble at all.]
“Anyway, people will just believe what they want to believe and chatter all sorts of crap about me... fuck them.”
Kim Wooho’s line seemed to pierce straight through Seo Hoyun’s current reality as well. The camera captured the sharp gleam in Seo Hoyun’s eyes.
“That kid’s my blood. He’ll be as tough and survive anywhere, just like me.”
“...You actually believe that?”
“I do.”
And he would somehow make it become the truth.
So that the arrow tip would never waver.
“Simple, right?”
Kim Wooho pulled up the corner of his lips.
.
.
.
After finishing today’s shoot, I greeted the staff, and everyone I passed handed me snacks or drinks.
“Huh, why is everyone like this today?”
“Come on, we’ve always been like this. Don’t you know how much we like Seo Hoyun-ssi?”
I gave a small laugh and thanked them.
The manager seemed busy, a bit away from me, on the phone. Probably being pestered here and there because of rumors spreading online at lightning speed.
“Yes, everything’s fine. The atmosphere on set is bright. Ah... someone came looking for Seo Hoyun-ssi? No, I don’t know who. Too many calls are coming from everywhere... Yes, I’ll handle it myself for now. Yes, yes.”
I tapped the manager’s shoulder and gestured that I’d head to the van first, then walked off.
“Seo Hoyun-ssi, leaving already?”
Just then, Min Jiheon approached, arms full of bread.
“Yes. Don’t come this way—just enjoy your bread over there.”
With a slight arch of his eyebrow, Min Jiheon ignored me and asked,
“Aren’t you upset?”
“About what?”
“Just... you seem way too calm for your personality.”
So, ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ he’d heard the talk too.
Come to think of it, back during Unknown Idol Tycoon, he knew about Lee Kangseok’s power-tripping even before it got exposed.
And yet, he let it slide, just because he wanted to see how I’d react.
Clicking my tongue softly, I replied,
“Why would I be upset?”
Whenever I recalled moments so bitter and fucking unfair, I always had only one solution.
“I’m right.”
“...Huh?”
“It’s simple enough if I just prove it.”
Min Jiheon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
It was an expression this world’s ‘Min Jiheon’ often made—one of clear wariness.
I curled one corner of my mouth.
“Jiheon-ah, I’m curious about something.”
“...Here we go again, what weird thing are you trying to say this time?”
“Oh, come on.”
I tapped his arm once, and Min Jiheon flinched, stepping back. I immediately stepped forward the same distance, brushing my bangs back.
“...So, what is it you’re curious about, oh ever-so-old and condescending sunbae?”
“Do I look like a rumor?”
“A rumor?”
“Do I look like the kind of junior who’d smash everything up and rebel against his senior?”
Min Jiheon’s body jolted, and the bread he was holding slipped and scattered to the ground. Letting out a deep, weary breath, he gave a dumbfounded answer.
“...You don’t see it? Hey, look, poor living witness right here.”
“As expected, huh?”
Not that it mattered.
But I wanted this image of insubordination to burn even brighter.
“Well, whatever. Don’t get distracted by weird stuff.”
I picked up one of the fallen breads and shoved it into Min Jiheon’s hand, then grinned.
By the time today’s footage made it on air—
“Just worry about the ratings.”
Because either way, people would go wild for me.
