“A, idols don’t smoke?”
Mumbling under his breath, Min Jiheon took a step forward. Maybe he had just come back from a photo shoot—his styled hair swayed lightly in the late autumn breeze.
“Why are you here, sunbaenim? Weren’t you supposed to be busy?”
“Me? A little while ago, a staff member texted me about the company dinner. I was on my way home anyway, so I stopped by to see Seo Hoyun.”
Once he switched back to formal speech, that pale smile of his lingered as he looked me up and down without a reply, and then he started playing tricks.
“Isn’t it boring here? Should we go out?”
“Don’t you think you should be tired of getting cursed at by me every time by now?”
“Hahaha.”
Even while chuckling, Min Jiheon’s eyes stayed fixed on me. I could roughly guess what that gaze meant, so I shoved my phone into my back pocket and crossed my arms.
“Seriously, why did you come?”
“......”
“Worried someone might find out you personally changed the script?”
Min Jiheon’s neat brows twisted all at once.
“...Who did you hear that from?”
“Who knows.”
Rubbing the back of his neck with his palm in frustration, he let out a long sigh.
“If it made things uncomfortable for you, I’m sorry.”
That out-of-character submissiveness was disgusting to watch.
I clicked my tongue inwardly, out of habit, and shifted the subject.
“Never mind. Why did you do it?”
“Do I really have to spell it out?”
He dodged, but it was obvious what kind of reason he had. Some sort of consideration, probably.
Considering this was a guy who hadn’t cared a bit during the last drama shoot, it was unexpected.
When I shrugged, Min Jiheon hesitated with his mouth half-open before finally speaking.
“...So, junior, do you really have to appear in this?”
“Of course. You think I’m going to back out now?”
What do you think those 10,000 points are, somebody’s pet’s name?
Besides, as of today WH Entertainment and the drama production company had already finalized the negotiations. Unless there was an extraordinary reason, backing out wasn’t going to be easy.
“What about you, sunbaenim? Are you sure you’re fine?”
Honestly, he was the one with the bigger problem right now, not me.
‘Before the Moon Wanes’ was a public-friendly project with enough comic elements, but that didn’t mean the character arcs were shallow. Even from the brief glance I gave at the script, the role of “Won Jaeuk” that Jiheon took on looked extremely challenging. He had to come across as a pure, innocent child at times, but also endlessly cruel and rational at others—a gray character wandering between good and evil.
On top of that, there were elaborate action scenes. He had to perform them flawlessly.
And then the theme itself—exorcism. Another actor, maybe. But Jiheon? He was someone who actually saw strange things.
“Are you worried about me?”
Jiheon tilted his head and asked.
I didn’t answer—just shot him a glare sharp enough to curse at him silently. Jiheon hunched his shoulders as if he had been struck, but then smiled faintly and went on.
“Haha, well... what else can I do? I have to do it. An actor can’t just pick and choose roles, right?”
If that’s how he thought.
I gestured with my chin, telling him to follow me back inside the restaurant, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled out his phone, humming casually like he had no intention of joining the dinner.
“...Well, if you really insist on making a cameo, what can I say~? Since you’re doing it, do it properly, Seo Hoyun~. Shed a tear or two, too~.”
“Ah, sure.”
“Feels like you won’t be able to, though...”
I smirked.
“That’s a piece of cake.”
Confidently, I spun my body around. With my experience in Nobody Actor Tycoon and the brief acting lessons WH Entertainment planned for me before filming, I was certain it would be no problem.
And then, the very next day, I was shattered by the cold words of the acting instructor.
“You’re completely hopeless.”
“......”
Fuck...
I couldn’t cry.
***
I struggled for over two hours locked in the training room, but my eyes were embarrassingly dry.
The chatty acting coach kept trying new methods, but nothing worked.
“...Hmm, why isn’t this working? It’s so simple... even beginner acting students manage this...”
“Wow, the future of our country’s entertainment industry must be bright. Such sensitive souls, these aspiring actors.”
“Even people as dry as twigs in winter manage to do it...”
The coach inhaled deeply, clenched his fist, and spoke with a determined face.
“Tsk, now! Let’s revive emotions from deep within. This is definitely not out of reach for you, Seo Hoyun. Start from the very earliest memories and carefully approach them~!”
What, hypnosis?
I held back the urge to mock him and did as told.
“Think about the last time you cried.”
“......”
“...You’re not seriously saying you can’t remember?”
When I kept my mouth shut, the coach practically flipped out.
“Seriously?! And you’ve been surviving in this brutal entertainment industry?! Stop joking and recall—recently! It must have happened at least once!”
“...When I yawned?”
“That doesn’t count as tears!”
Ruthless.
If crying could solve everything in this industry, I’d be bawling every damn day. In reality, the second you show tears glistening in your eyes, you’re instantly placed at the top of the “easy to dismiss” list.
Sighing in resignation, the coach scratched the back of his head.
“Whew, I had high expectations for you, Seo Hoyun... I really enjoyed watching Nobody Actor Tycoon.”
“Can’t I just use artificial tears?”
“Director Kang Jeonggun, right? No way. If he catches fake tears, he’ll cut the entire scene.”
The director of Before the Moon Wanes, Kang Jeonggun, was infamous for being a perfectionist.
Rumor said he had mellowed out since moving from the film industry—where he was revered—to longer format dramas, but a person’s true nature doesn’t just vanish.
His nickname was “Dashima,” short for “Again, go again!” since he forced actors to repeat takes endlessly until he was satisfied.
‘I’m fucked...’
I thought a cameo was just a matter of getting a YouTube clip for views, but the deeper I got, the more impossible the quest seemed.
I was already discarding the idea of winning through acting and instead thinking of ways to rack up views, when the coach sighed again.
“And most importantly, you’ll be filming with Min Jiheon. ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) You absolutely cannot drag him down! Every moment he’s in front of the camera must be perfect!”
“...Ah, yes.”
“Do you realize every actor dreams of breathing the same air as him just once? Didn’t you feel that when you shot Camera Please?!”
“Ah, right, right.”
I tried to nod along to brush it off, but the coach had no intention of shutting up.
“He just keeps getting better and better! Anyone who’s dipped a toe into acting knows how amazing he is. Do you know how he continues to improve every single time?!”
Pretending to listen, I quietly flipped open the script. While picturing my miserable situation—having to prepare for year-end stages while also enduring acting lessons—I tried squeezing juice from my eyes.
Of course, not a drop came out.
“...He was born on a completely different level! A true genius! Oh, and Seo Hoyun, do you know?!”
“Yes, I know.”
I only replied to tell him to shut up, but he didn’t seem fazed at all.
“Back then he wasn’t such a mystery. In his debut days, he gave interviews pretty often! They even printed the story of how he started acting. Don’t you want to know?!”
“I’m not interested.”
“Gasp! That’s basically a divine revelation!”
He looked shocked that I didn’t care, then started blabbering again.
I had already heard the reason from the person himself, so this was worthless information. I tuned him out—until a certain phrase hit me.
“—They said as a child, Min Jiheon used to talk to himself while staring into the air!”
“...What?”
For the first time, I reacted properly, and the coach, even more excited, slapped his knee.
“They didn’t explain in detail, but apparently his parents took him to hospitals for quite a long time! Later on, he confessed it was all acting! He got in big trouble for it, but he said that became the foundation of who he is today. Isn’t that genius?!”
...Doesn’t sound like it.
As the coach showered Jiheon with spit-soaked praise, a foul feeling crept over me.
I lowered the script, no longer wanting to practice. The coach, excited by his own voice, poked my side with a pout.
“So, how did you get close to him?”
“We’re not that close.”
“Lies. He’s famous for never meeting people outside work. But it looks like you see him often.”
And how the hell do you know that?
At this point, was he a coach or Jiheon’s fanboy?
“After Daepaseong got acquired by WH Entertainment, I was honored—completely, completely honored—to have briefly overseen his acting practice. Honestly, he ended up teaching me more, haha!”
“Right...”
“Anyway, I saw him shut himself in the practice room, completely immersed, and I thought, this guy will succeed at anything—!”
I pulled out my phone to check the time and started stuffing the script into my sports bag when a peculiar word stuck in my ear.
“Ah, no, wait. Around that time, I actually did see him meet someone other than his manager. Just once. It was a woman...”
Sometimes there are moments.
Moments when something insignificant claws at your nerves.
“Uh, it was a coincidence, really! I’m not a stalker! I just happened to see him at a café talking with someone!”
The coach flailed his hands in panic at my expression.
I let go of the zipper tab and straightened up.
“...When?”
“Um, let’s see. Around May, I think? It was during university festival season...”
A buried memory rose up, and my heart started beating faster.
“What did she look like?”
“Uh... her? Why?”
“I was wondering if I might know her.”
“Ahh...”
He had been rambling uselessly until now, but when I asked, he got hesitant and vague.
“Hmm, she looked kind of young... really pretty, like a WH trainee... oh, and I think she had a mole under her eye? Ah, and I remember Jiheon calling her name during a phone call. It was unusual... Jeong...”
The more he described, the colder my head became.
“Jeong... Cheong... what was it? Cheongjeong? Haha, like an air purifier! What a name, right?”
“......”
“W-why are you looking at me like that?”
‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’
Leaving the flustered coach behind, I let out a hollow laugh.
‘Min Jiheon, you son of a bitch.’
Jeong Cheongyeon.
The person he had met was the very same girl I ran into right before getting dragged into Nobody Actor Tycoon—the last trainee I met before ending up in this world.
The one who had cursed me.
It was definitely her.
