Makeup and wardrobe staff were rushing around frantically, with less than thirty minutes left before the broadcast recording.
But Joo Woosung was still dazed, replaying what had just happened in the emergency stairwell.
“Burn... what?”
He had been so stunned by his junior’s shocking declaration of arson that he barely even registered his own voice calling Hoyun’s name over and over.
When he’d been too flustered to speak, Seo Hoyun had just laughed heartily as if it were all a joke, pushing open the emergency door. Hastily collecting himself, Woosung had grabbed his arm.
“Wait! I’m not done talking!”
“What now.”
Hoyun’s tone was openly irritated. Woosung fired off words like a machine gun.
“You’ve been sneaking out to go fishing, huh? What are you planning? The comeback’s really happening, right?”
“From now on, it’s one billion won per question. Pay up if you want answers.”
“......”
He could’ve just said he didn’t want to talk instead.
“Mr. Joo, please hold still!”
Woosung, lips jutting in annoyance, had no choice but to sit still as the makeup artist scolded him. A cotton swab fixed the smudge he’d caused, and his hair was checked one last time.
“The key point today is a natural curl, so please be careful. I didn’t use much hairspray.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Brushing off the instructions, Woosung left the waiting room and headed to the Woosung Broadcast studio. In the middle of the brick-walled set, already filled with posters and lights, Seo Hoyun was there first—mic attached, chatting with the assistant director.
‘Unpredictable bastard.’
Cursing inwardly, Woosung walked toward them.
Spotting him, the AD waved and motioned for him to sit next to Hoyun.
“All right, let’s brief the filming order for Woosung Broadcast. We’ll start with introductions, then move on to the Q&A section, then a live performance, and finish with a movie promotion.”
“Promotion?”
“For the movie Vile Trial that Mr. Seo filmed recently. The premiere’s still a while away, but the management team requested some early buzz.”
Funny. That hadn’t come up at all in the pre-meeting.
“And during filming, please avoid mentioning The Dawn as much as possible.”
“What?”
Startled, Woosung frowned, and the AD gave a sheepish smile.
“Uh, the higher-ups said to refrain from talking about group activities. They said it’s not really appropriate on a channel hosted by Mr. Woosung....”
No talk about The Dawn?
That was absurd. In this industry, Seo Hoyun’s identity was rooted in being an idol. Avoiding that foundation in an interview made no sense.
Seeing Woosung’s deepening scowl, the AD coughed awkwardly.
“Ahem. Anyway! Please keep that in mind, everyone. And don’t forget the movie plug at the end!”
What a useless order, Woosung thought—but surprisingly, Hoyun simply nodded.
“Yes, understood.”
‘What the hell is he playing at?’
Relieved, the AD hurried off to prepare for the shoot.
Watching him leave, Woosung leaned closer to Hoyun and whispered,
“Hey, are you really okay with this?”
Hoyun glanced at him lazily.
“I also accept wire transfers.”
Woosung’s face twisted. Hoyun calmly brushed his shoulder aside and moved to his seat.
“All right, let’s start recording~.”
At the staff’s cue, Woosung rubbed the back of his neck and sat down on the single sofa beside him. The red recording light flicked on. He straightened his face instantly and waved to the camera.
“Hello, everyone! This is Joo Woosung from Woosung Broadcast.”
Finishing his opening line, Woosung smiled brightly at the guest.
“Today’s guest is someone known to be my close friend—please welcome Seo Hoyun!”
“Hello.”
The slight lift of Hoyun’s eyes, that subtle smile—it drew a small murmur of admiration from the staff.
Woosung, sitting close enough to see every flicker, knew what that expression meant. Hoyun never smiled like that unless he had a plan.
“I’m Seo Hoyun from The Dawn.”
Of course.
The instant the words left his mouth, Woosung had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
The deliberate, defiant introduction froze the studio air. Then, acting bashful, Hoyun waved a hand as if embarrassed.
“Ah, sorry about that. Mind if I redo that?”
The main PD standing behind the camera hesitated, then nodded stiffly. With the same unshakable, sunny smile, Hoyun spoke again.
“Hello, I’m Seo Hoyun, lead vocalist of the five-member boy group The Dawn.”
There was no mistaking it—he had no intention of changing his words.
That was the stance of someone determined to appear not as actor Seo Hoyun, but as idol Seo Hoyun.
The staff sensed immediately that the situation had gone off the rails, shoulders tense. Woosung, meanwhile, held back another laugh as he flipped through his cue cards.
“...Mr. Seo Hoyun from The Dawn, it’s been a while. You seem very busy lately?”
“Not as busy as you, Sunbae. Your comeback’s been keeping you everywhere.”
Hoyun’s easy tone ignored the stiff mood entirely.
“Did you know a lot of people are curious about how close we really are?”
“Oh, are they?”
“So, we’ve prepared this—Q&A time with Seo Hoyun.”
As soon as the first segment was announced, the scriptwriter crouched in front of them, holding up a sketchbook.
Please naturally show your close friendship with Seo Hoyun.
Scanning the note, Woosung read the line from his cue card aloud.
“Hmm... Are Seo Hoyun and Joo Woosung close friends...?”
He dragged out the words, lifted his face lazily, and nodded.
“Sure, let’s say that.”
There were plenty of other things he’d rather dig into.
Answering his own question, he felt Hoyun’s gaze stabbing into his cheek, curious.
“—First impression upon meeting him? I knew right away he’d be a pain in my ass.”
“Ahaha.”
“Moments I’ve been disappointed in him? Every day, every minute, every second.”
He went on rattling off answers like, “What’s good about being friends with him? Nothing,” and “If I were born again, would I be friends with him? Why would I waste imagination on that?”—wrapping up the segment all by himself.
As Hoyun rose to perform the planned cover of Black Call’s new song, Woosung suddenly called out,
“PD-nim, wouldn’t the cover look better as the ending performance?”
The PD, sweating bullets from the earlier chaos, conferred briefly with the AD, then agreed—if they extended the talk segment a bit.
Finally, a good opening. Woosung smiled brightly.
“Then let’s dig a little deeper, shall we? Please answer as comfortably as before, Mr. Seo.”
“Sure.”
Ignoring all the useless questions about hobbies or interests, Woosung flipped rapidly through the cards, slapped them onto his thigh, and asked the one he actually wanted to know.
“What have you been working on lately?”
“Ah, lately I’ve been busy filming Vile Trial.”
The staff’s expressions brightened a little—it was the topic they were waiting for. Woosung, however, paused. It wasn’t the answer he wanted.
“Hmm... do you enjoy acting?”
“Every role is new, so it’s challenging and exhausting, but thanks to the seniors who guide me well, I’m enjoying it a lot.”
The words came out smooth as if memorized. Woosung watched with a gentle smile—and then threw a curveball.
“Really? It’s strange to hear you say you’re struggling. You never show it, even when things are rough.”
“Ah... well, I’m human too. Of course I have hard times.”
Hoyun smiled faintly, looking a little shy.
“Looking back, there were as many hardships as happy moments.”
Clearly insincere—but Woosung was curious to see where he’d take it.
“To be honest, it’s a bit embarrassing to admit this in front of fans, but there were times I doubted myself—wondering if what I was doing was right, if I was going in the right direction. The future felt uncertain, and I couldn’t find my path. Even now, I’m still wandering a bit. But in those moments, thanks to so many wonderful people who reached out first—especially the dedicated company staff—I’ve been able to refocus and give it my all.”
The staff, who’d been stiff with nerves, now looked visibly moved.
“Of course, I can’t forget to thank the person sitting beside me—Woosung hyung.”
Woosung alone felt horror creeping up his spine. A shiver ran straight down to his tailbone.
“Thank you, hyung.”
That was one hundred percent calculated flattery for the camera.
As Woosung swallowed down the rising nausea, Hoyun continued smoothly,
“I can’t reveal everything here, but I’m working hard and preparing various new projects. I hope everyone looks forward to them.”
“Projects?”
“Haha, yes. Real results from pounding the pavement myself.”
Various projects.
Woosung’s brow twitched. Then, realizing something, he let out a dry laugh and moved on to wrap things up.
“Then, Mr. Seo Hoyun, any final words for our Woosung Broadcast viewers?”
Please, for the love of God, talk about the movie.
He could feel the staff’s desperate gazes burning into his back.
“Well... this might sound a bit obvious, but since I’m here to promote something, I’ll shamelessly go for it.”
Scratching his cheek as if embarrassed, Hoyun smiled softly.
“To all the loyal viewers of Woosung Broadcast—”
Then he lifted his hand, tracing a heart in the air.
“—please look forward to The Dawn’s upcoming comeback!”
.
.
.
While Seo Hoyun was smiling sweetly like a clueless fool on Woosung’s channel, the planning team’s Lee Jihyun was dragging her feet to work.
‘Damn this company.’
Lately, she’d been feeling the same crushing helplessness she’d felt back in her Daepaseong Entertainment days. Every project she proposed was mysteriously shot down, and The Dawn’s activities had been suspended indefinitely.
Unlike the chaos of last year, this year’s second quarter had been nothing but dead quiet.
She’d even thought about using her accumulated leave to go abroad—but some nagging feeling had pulled her back to the office early.
‘Shitty industry. Shittier bosses. Absolute political garbage.’
Still, compared to Daepaseong, WH Entertainment wasn’t the worst. At least here, she could try to do something instead of rotting away. With that thought, she swung open the planning team’s door.
“—Yes, yes!! I’m listening. Booking?”
“Ah, but The Dawn’s schedule is already full right now...”
“You’ve already been contacted by Seo Hoyun? Of course we’ll coordinate it!”
Blinking in confusion, Jihyun backed out of the office, thinking she’d entered the wrong room, then peeked back in—and realized it was the right one.
“So the schedule’s not confirmed yet... I’ll check and call you back.”
“What? A solo appearance?”
From supervisors to juniors, everyone in the department was on the phone, pacing frantically like traders on Wall Street.
“...What the hell?”
Was this WH Entertainment or a stock exchange?
Weren’t they just about to go under from lack of bookings?
Jihyun, jaw hanging open, didn’t even dare to ask. She quietly slipped to her desk, turned on her computer, and logged in with the password dkdhTlqkf.
Her inbox was overflowing—dozens of unread emails, most with one word in the subject line: Booking.
TBS Broadcasting – PD Kang Iltae. Thank you again for last time...
Hello, this is KTN Network. We’d like to request a preliminary meeting regarding a solo variety appearance for Seo Hoyun (including The Dawn)...
The same three characters appeared in every document: Seo Hoyun.
Staring blankly at the name, Jihyun slowly closed the browser.
“......”
Ignoring the ringing phones, she ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) leaned back in her chair, eyes on the ceiling.
“Seo, you lunatic...”
What the hell did you do this time?
