“Of course it’s wrong!”
The gentle-looking middle-aged man’s face twisted up, and a furious shout burst out of him. The actor playing the police officer, Jang Seongsik, beat his chest as if in frustration, then, noticing the setting, lowered his voice before speaking again.
“...Hey, at this rate, you’ll really end up in jail.”
Shin Heechan’s eyes didn’t leave the scene for even a second. It was # Nоvеlight # too good a chance to learn about acting.
Even though Jang Seongsik had lowered his voice to a whisper, the heat in his tone was still clearly visible, and Seo Hoyun smirked.
“You’d better study criminal law again. Did I take a bribe? Embezzle public funds? I didn’t commit a single crime—so what kind of prison are you talking about?”
“Don’t act so shameless. Kang Giyeong, you! Everything’s so obvious—don’t you feel embarrassed denying it just because there’s no proof?”
Jang Seongsik leaned forward over the desk, pressing his hands flat against it, glaring at Seo Hoyun who continued answering without even looking up. Hoyun gave a faint laugh and muttered,
“Proof...”
In the movie, the two characters had been close since Kang Giyeong’s childhood. This particular scene was about the senior barging into the younger’s office after hearing rumors that the kid he’d once cared for was now steeped in corruption.
Pretending not to listen, Seo Hoyun flipped through the papers, then lifted his eyes and glanced at Jang Seongsik.
“...Sir, didn’t you say you’ve been too busy lately to even have a proper meal? Stop wasting time here and go get back to work.”
“I am working—trying to deal with that very business! Tell me what happened between you and the second daughter of H Group.”
“I just had a very expensive meal. Satisfied?”
‘Nice one.’
Leaning back into the cushy chair, answering so casually, Seo Hoyun looked completely unfazed. Shin Heechan let out a quiet breath of admiration. His pronunciation was crisp and natural, but more than that, his timing—exactly when he spoke—was flawless.
Jang Seongsik clenched his jaw until his chin trembled, then suddenly grabbed Hoyun’s shoulders, scolding him and pleading at the same time.
“...Giyeong, don’t do this. I won’t be able to face your mother in heaven.”
On the monitor, Seo Hoyun’s face came into close-up. The moment his face appeared, the smirk that had been playing around his lips twitched slightly. For an instant, his gaze shook, his pupils expanding.
“If your mother saw you like this right now, she’d be crying.”
Hoyun blinked slowly, as if to hide his emotion, then looked straight at Jang Seongsik and answered flatly,
“My mom’s not the type to cry over something like this.”
“What?”
“She’d probably tell me to squeeze every drop I can while I have the chance. That’s how I was raised.”
“.......”
“Hmm, so if she saw me now...”
Then he tilted his eyes and curled his lips into a sly smile.
“She’d be proud. She’d say her son will never starve to death anywhere he goes.”
“Hey—!”
Unable to contain his frustration, Jang Seongsik ruffled and tugged his hair wildly, and right then, Director Kim Jehyeok’s voice called, “Cut!”
‘What was that just now?’
Had his acting really improved that much in a few days?
Tilting his head slightly, Shin Heechan kept replaying the scene in his mind so as not to forget it, while a few more takes were filmed from different angles.
“...Hahaha, that was great, really great!”
When the scene wrapped, Jang Seongsik slung an arm around Seo Hoyun’s shoulders and laughed heartily.
“—Not at all. It’s my first time in a movie, I’m still lacking so much. I’m just grateful you’re leading me through it.”
“Come on, what are you saying? You did everything yourself.”
“No, really, senior, you’re being too modest.”
When Hoyun’s expression suddenly stiffened and he spoke in that dead-serious tone, Jang Seongsik’s brow furrowed. The atmosphere shifted so abruptly that even Shin Heechan, watching from afar, flinched.
But Seo Hoyun only shook his head lightly.
“If a respected senior like you is modest too, what’s a rookie like me supposed to do?”
“...What? Ha, hahaha! You scared me for a second there!”
He was born to flatter people.
Even if it were scripted, pulling it off that naturally would be difficult, but Seo Hoyun made it sound spontaneous, effortless, genuine.
‘If any other junior did that, he’d have gotten chewed out...’
Just the other day, another supporting actor had made a silly joke and got scolded harshly, yet the famously strict Jang Seongsik just chuckled, saying, “Our Hoyun sure knows how to surprise his senior, hahaha.”
Rather than keep watching that scene, Shin Heechan quietly stood and went off to find somewhere to practice. He wandered aimlessly before finally settling beside a vending machine.
Voices drifted nearby—staff members taking a quick smoke break.
“Can’t see Seo Hoyun anywhere.”
“He got dragged off by Jang Seongsik again.”
“Ah, I needed to pass on the next schedule. When did those two get so close, anyway?”
“From pretty early on, wasn’t it?”
Having missed the chance to join in naturally, Shin Heechan awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.
‘Not from the start.’
Before the first script reading, there had been rumors that the role of “Kang Giyeong,” originally meant to be cast by audition, had been decided under pressure from WH Entertainment. Because of that, many proud senior actors had treated Seo Hoyun like he was invisible.
‘But now... how on earth did he win them over?’
Remembering recent days on set, Shin Heechan shivered slightly.
“Well, it’s because he’s kind to everyone.”
“Seriously. He’s not sensitive at all! Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone were like that?”
“He worked with Min Jiheon, didn’t he? Maybe he learned from him. Maybe he’ll even switch to acting full-time—idols don’t last long anyway.”
Heechan quickly backed behind the vending machine and told himself to pretend he hadn’t heard a thing. The company president’s warning about “watch what you say” suddenly made sense.
“But really, Seo Hoyun might go full actor soon.”
“Why?”
“You’ve heard, right? The rumors that WH Entertainment gave up on The Dawn. Maybe he’s tired and planning to leave too.”
Soft sighs followed, then the staff dispersed to prepare for the next shoot.
‘What’s going on...?’
Glancing around, Heechan took out his phone and searched “Seo Hoyun” with “WH Entertainment.” Ignoring irrelevant posts, he scrolled until one community thread caught his eye.
[Title: Seo Hoyun spotted pic
BusStop_SeoHoyun_Sighting.jpg
After filming, maybe?]
He clicked it. The picture showed Seo Hoyun standing at a bus stop late at night—or maybe dawn—too dark to tell.
Judging by his outfit, it was recent. Even though everyone had offered him a ride after the late shoot—director Kim Jehyeok included—he’d politely refused, saying his manager would pick him up.
Though expressionless, his sharp eyes gleamed with a strange intensity. Under the photo, comments filled the screen.
[└Is this really a candid pic? Why’s it so high-res
└└Probably a sasaeng
└Wtf lol the manager didn’t even give him a ride?
└Is he actually taking the bus????
└He must’ve taken a taxi, right... he’s famous
└Those billboards behind him are pissing me off...]
‘Billboards? Why?’
He scrolled back up—and saw the giant digital billboard behind Hoyun displaying Black Call’s comeback teaser, while the bus stop ad was plastered with posters for WH Entertainment’s brand-new rookie group.
‘What the hell...’
[└Just imagine Hoyun seeing all that... I could cry
└That damn company will pay for this one day
└Come on, new groups debut all the time;;
└This looks like a sasaeng pic. Stop spreading it.]
After reading every comment—even clicking “See more”—Heechan exhaled deeply.
‘So that’s what they meant earlier...’
That he’d fallen out of favor with his agency.
It was just gossip, of course—no one knew the truth. And pity felt pointless when the person in question was so far above his own level.
Still, the thought left a bitter weight in his chest.
Sighing, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and started toward the set—when a voice called out from behind.
“Shin Heechan.”
Startled, he turned. Seo Hoyun stood there, looking a bit tired but smiling softly.
“What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“A-ahaha... no, not at all...”
Flustered, Heechan backed away slightly, laughing awkwardly.
Even though Vile Trial had been filming for quite some time now, Seo Hoyun still intimidated him.
Sure, they were both newcomers to film, roughly the same age, and Hoyun was friendly to everyone—but every time Heechan stood before him, his nerves locked up.
“You’re just getting started, right?”
“Y-yes...”
He stammered, unable to respond properly. The idol in front of him lowered his gaze under long lashes and said gently,
“That’s a shame. If not for my schedule, I’d stay to watch your shoot. Seeing you act motivates me.”
So that’s how the seniors got wrapped around his finger. Just a few words, and Heechan’s heart was pounding wildly.
“Ah, um, I—I learn a lot watching you too, Seo Hoyun. And... I like The Dawn’s songs! The last title track was so dynamic—...”
‘What am I even saying?’
He wanted someone—anyone—to hit him and shut him up.
Outwardly he kept smiling, but inside he was screaming.
“...The song was really good. I’m looking forward to the next one too.”
He somehow reached the end of his rambling, though he was sure he’d ruined everything. What idol wanted to hear random praise from an untrained actor?
But Seo Hoyun just looked at him for a moment, then let out a soft breath that turned into a faint laugh.
“Is that so?”
The expression on his face—Heechan couldn’t quite describe it, but it wasn’t his usual one.
“Our member composed it. Maybe that’s why it’s good.”
“Oh... I see.”
Still dazed, Heechan nodded, and Hoyun leaned forward slightly, bringing their faces closer.
“Yeah. So make sure you look forward to the next one, too.”
“......”
“See you next week, then.”
“...Y-yeah, okay.”
Before Heechan could even reply properly, Seo Hoyun adjusted the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder and walked past him, calm and unhurried.
Hearing him greet a staff member nearby, Heechan finally came back to himself and blinked.
He remembered what the staff had said earlier—that maybe Hoyun had already given up after seeing the situation.
‘That?’
No. Definitely not.
Heechan wasn’t good with words, but his perception was sharp. Just recalling Hoyun’s eyes a moment ago sent a chill down his spine.
His lips had curved up brightly—but his gaze... was feral.
‘Does that look like the eyes of someone who’s given up?’
No.
They gleamed with the madness of a beast about to hunt.
