[After taking on the role of Kim Wooho in Dead after Hope, we sat down with actor Seo Hoyun, who has been running on a road of success ever since. He joined the interview with a relaxed and skilled demeanor that was anything but rookie-like...—.]
“Wow.”
The noisy filming site of Shining Star.
Once again, using the food truck as an excuse to wander around here, Min Jiheon sat down on a folding chair placed in a corner, then picked up a magazine cover the moment he spotted it on the table. Bold letters announced that it contained an interview with Seo Hoyun.
Since the end of Dead after Hope, Min Jiheon had been refusing all the interview requests flooding his way.
Flip, the page passed the middle, and Seo Hoyun’s face appeared.
Wearing an oversized black shirt that contrasted sharply with his skin so pale it looked almost sickly, Seo Hoyun was smiling brightly.
‘That’s strange....’
To his eyes, Seo Hoyun dressed as an actor looked oddly out of place.
As if there existed some other outfit that fit him far better.
Tilting his head, Min Jiheon turned the page.
[We were really impressed watching your acting transform over the past few months. There’s talk that you practically lived on set, focusing entirely on acting. What do you think is the secret behind your sudden growth?
Seo Hoyun: The help I received from my senior actors was huge. In particular, I owe a lot to Senior Min Jiheon, who was practically always with me on set. I’m nothing but grateful.]
He said he owed him a lot?
[We’ve heard that Min Jiheon often visits your new drama filming as well.
Seo Hoyun: That’s true. Sometimes it’s almost annoying. (laughs) I’m joking—he’s always been such a kind senior who looks out for me warmly, and I’m always thankful.]
Goosebumps rose on Min Jiheon’s arms.
Back when they were filming Dead after Hope—or even now—just making eye contact with Seo Hoyun gave him chills.
It was like facing a dangerous predator right before his eyes.
“...Is this really an interview with Seo Hoyun?”
Lifting the magazine cover again, Min Jiheon checked Seo Hoyun’s name once more.
His gut was screaming at him. Seo Hoyun was no ordinary man. Even if the Lee Kangseok abuse scandal had been a coincidence, the idol group’s drug bust and the ghost company that swindled people with double contracts—those were surely connected.
‘He really did look refreshed back then.’
At that time, Seo Hoyun’s expression had been one of utter relief.
And Jiheon couldn’t help but raise his guard, thinking that if he let his guard down even slightly, he’d be swept away by a lightning strike.
Skipping past all the sickeningly fake modest parts, Min Jiheon flipped to the last page of the interview.
[So what’s your next goal?
Hoyun: It’s clear.
To finish it properly with no regrets.]
“......”
Min Jiheon’s eyes narrowed.
[What do you think you’ll be doing half a year from now?
Hoyun: Dancing, probably.
Dancing? Idol dancing is your hobby? (laughs)
Hoyun: It’s my main job. I plan to dance until my body breaks. (laughs)
Throughout the interview, Seo Hoyun never lost his friendly smile. His warm and humble demeanor makes us look forward to his next steps.]
Min Jiheon quickly closed the magazine.
He had no idea how Hoyun had sweet-talked the reporter, but the article was filled with praise until the very end.
‘It’s certain that Seo Hoyun is absolutely insane.’
Once again, he was left with that unpleasant feeling, as if something had slipped right through his fingers.
He hadn’t even known why he had come here to see Seo Hoyun in the first place—just that his gut told him he had to.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Min Jiheon turned his head.
Seo Hoyun was standing before the camera, expressionless.
“Seo Hoyun, since this is the final shoot, let’s do well.”
“I’ll do my best.”
After answering briefly, he took the microphone, and the staff’s eyes of expectation all turned to him.
Soon, the music began.
【There's a moment that you feel】
Not only Ha Seoyeon, who had been reading her script, but also Shin Heechan chatting with the staff, the main director giving instructions, and even Min Jiheon himself.
From the moment Seo Hoyun opened his mouth, none of them could look away.
【Glory comes up as light
Dawn comes down as end】
A low midrange voice that seemed to scrape against his throat.
Without any technique, it shot out straight and clear.
【I won't say that I will miss you
That's too selfish, I know...】
He really was good.
Even someone like Jiheon, who had no interest in music at all, couldn’t help but think so.
‘He really looks like a true idol.’
Normally he gave off an intimidating impression, but with just a slight lift of his lips, the atmosphere completely changed.
And it seemed like he knew that and used it to his advantage.
‘That’s why even people who build walls against him end up softening quickly.’
Jiheon let out a small sigh.
Now he understood why his own sister, who rarely even picked up the phone in her busy life, never stopped going on and on about Seo Hoyun.
【You won't say that I will miss you
That's way too ideal, I know...】
Just what on earth was he?
While Jiheon was lost in thought, a cheer rang out.
Seo Hoyun had finished in one take and was walking down to monitor the scene.
As the director gave the OK sign, cheers broke out again from the staff.
And as always, the bouquet reserved for the actor’s last shoot was handed to Seo Hoyun.
Rising to his feet, Jiheon watched him persistently.
With every step Seo Hoyun took, staff members called out to him.
“Seo Hoyun, thank you so much! Thanks to you, the set was always joyful and happy! Thank you!”
“It’s going to feel so empty without Kang Jiseong now~. I can’t believe this is the last time, it’s really a shame.”
“Thank you so much for saying that.”
Seo Hoyun, returning their greetings, looked more cheerful than usual.
“Let’s definitely work together again sometime!”
“...Haha.”
But then, at the next words that followed, his body stiffened, and he laughed a beat late.
‘...Why?’
“...I’ll think about it.”
“Ahaha, still playing the top star Kang Jiseong card, huh~?!”
Seo Hoyun was heading toward the entrance of the set. Jiheon glanced at his manager, who was still deep in conversation with the director.
“Seo Hoyun, hey...”
It seemed like there was a bit of time to talk, so Jiheon walked closer—
“Wak!”
“Hey.”
Seo Hoyun pressed the back of Jiheon’s neck and whispered quietly.
“Did you bring your car?”
“Uh, y-yeah??”
Even in the ridiculous situation, Jiheon instinctively nodded.
“Jiheon, lend me your car.”
“...What?”
“Your car.”
“Why? Are you going somewhere without your manager?”
Without giving a clear reason, Seo Hoyun curved his lips smoothly.
“Please, just this once.”
In that instant, Jiheon realized.
The reason he’d stubbornly felt the need to come here, even though he had no particular questions left about Hoyun, was exactly for this moment.
Reluctantly, Jiheon slowly handed over the car keys.
Snatching them quickly, Seo Hoyun grinned like a well-fed cat.
“Thanks. Where’s the car?”
“...Follow me.”
Jiheon walked ahead, hearing Hoyun’s footsteps following behind him.
They slipped quietly out of the set and headed for the underground parking lot.
“Damn.”
Spotting Jiheon’s neatly parked red sports car in the corner, Seo Hoyun whistled.
“Looks like you’ve been making good money. Nice ride.”
“Please take care of it....”
He wanted to take the keys back, but his gut kept warning him against it. Gritting his teeth, he shut his eyes and opened them again—by then, Hoyun was already opening the driver’s seat.
“By the way, did your agency push you to do media play?”
“Media play?”
“Even though you know I won’t talk, the busy Min Jiheon still keeps showing up on set day and night.”
Jiheon clicked his tongue and shut his mouth.
“...Media play, that’s harsh. I just came on my own.”
Especially today.
‘Why does it feel like I’ll never see him again?’
A vague uneasiness crept up his back.
Leaning down to meet eyes with Hoyun in the driver’s seat, Jiheon spoke.
“Seo Hoyun.”
“What.”
“I don’t really like you.”
Hoyun sitting in his car looked strangely familiar.
As if Jiheon had seen this before.
Or maybe it was because he had instinctively felt this would happen someday.
“Wherever you go, you’ll do fine.”
Startled, Hoyun’s eyes widened before he let out a faint laugh.
“Why does everything you say sound so unsettling?”
He set the bouquet down on the passenger seat, then pulled out his Shining Star script and a pen from his bag.
Holding the cap between his teeth, he slurred Jiheon’s name.
“Min Jiheon.”
A bit part, only a few lines.
And yet the script was worn and ragged.
It showed just how seriously Hoyun had taken this role.
As someone who truly loved acting, Jiheon couldn’t deny that he found this side of him admirable.
“I don’t like you either. But—”
Hoyun signed the cover of the script.
“—this version of you is at least straightforward enough to watch.”
This version?
Handing it over, Hoyun’s eyes curved into a crescent smile.
“You’ll have to come find your car yourself. It’ll be at a parking lot near the express bus terminal.”
“What the—?”
“If you ask my manager to drop you off, he’s kind enough that he’ll probably do it.”
You’re leaving my prized car who-knows-where?
“Bye~.”
Before Jiheon could even protest, Hoyun gave only a farewell and sped out of the garage with startling skill.
Vroom.
Braaam.
“...Is this for real?”
Left alone, Jiheon muttered blankly.
Looking down at the script in his hands, he noticed a short message written inside.
See you again soon, Noeul.
I miss you.
-Hoyun
Along with a rabbit signature.
“...Rabbit, because you ran off?”
And Noeul—what was that supposed to mean?
Dropping his head into his palm, Jiheon let out a hollow laugh.
.
.
.
“Min Jiheon, your instincts are seriously sharp.”
I murmured under my breath as I stopped at a red light.
I hadn’t given off the slightest hint, yet he had looked at me as though I were someone about to leave.
The morning after returning from Japan, the system window had appeared, declaring that the error was completely fixed.
Since I might as well wrap up what I’d started, I continued the few shoots I had left.
‘Still, it wasn’t as long as I expected, thankfully.’
I looked down at the hands gripping the steering wheel.
Not a trace of trembling.
If there was one big gain from my time here, it was that I’d had plenty of time to organize my thoughts calmly. Thanks to that, even sitting in the car, my heart wasn’t racing.
So I’d taken this as a test drive of sorts—and luckily, it was fine.
Back when I was a PD, I drove just fine. Habits once ingrained don’t just disappear.
‘One by one, this is how I fix myself again.’
Arriving at a paid parking lot near my destination, all strength drained out of me.
Leaning back against the seat, I finally realized my palms were damp.
“...Phew.”
Catching my breath, slightly quickened from nerves, I pulled out my phone to send Jiheon the location of his precious car.
That was being pretty generous, all things considered.
Just as I turned off the ignition and prepared to get out, the system alert chimed.
Ding!
[Good job driving.]
What, was this navigation now?
[But why did you come here? ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) You could’ve gone straight back.]
“Hm.”
I scanned my surroundings.
This was the express bus terminal, bustling with people going about.
“Because there’s something I want to check before going back.”
It was a billboard I’d brushed past absentmindedly before, but one that had stuck in the back of my mind ever since.
