“Damn it!”
Reporter Kim (37, paparazzo) had only managed to escape from the dark, locked bathroom in a foreign country after three miserable hours.
His phone had died, making it pure hell, and the janitor who was supposed to come during the scheduled cleaning time never showed up—until the door suddenly burst open and someone started yelling in rapid, angry Spanish.
‘It’s not like I wanted to be stuck in there, damn it!’
Having lost both Kang Ichae and Seo Hoyun, he had gone to sleep grinding his teeth just last night.
‘Tomorrow, I’ll catch him for sure.’
He couldn’t afford to miss this one.
A few weeks ago, his department head had tossed him an assignment, saying, “This trip to the U.S. looks fishy—check it out,” and Kim had frowned.
“What’s suspicious? The schedule says it’s a shoot.”
“How can you be so clueless?”
“......”
“Seo Hoyun’s a hundred percent a nutcase. Guys like that always stir up something abroad.”
What kind of bullshit was that...
No talk of a woman, no club visits—just vague orders and a laughable expense allowance. Even so, he had followed the trail to the end, swearing under his breath at his boss, unwilling to return empty-handed after putting in so much time.
‘Well, there’s no one who doesn’t have at least a bit of dirt to dig up, right?’
And so today, he’d managed to infiltrate the movie studio through the ceiling vent.
Crawling among bugs and rats wasn’t exactly fun—but if he could score a scoop, it was worth it.
He carefully lifted the vent cover and peered down into the studio below.
“Ready—action!”
Filming was in full swing.
Among the crowd, Seo Hoyun stood out even with his cap pulled low. The moment he stepped before the camera, everyone fell silent, eyes fixed on him.
After calculating the blind spots of the hallway security cameras, he casually stepped back, timed the flow of people walking past, and slipped away with seamless, fluid motion.
‘He really does know how to use his body.’
Fast, precise, agile.
The paparazzo snapped out of it only when he heard “—Cut!”
He’d been staring, completely entranced until filming ended. Scolding himself, he raised the camera again—just as, through the viewfinder, their eyes—
“......”
—met.
“...H-huh?!”
Startled, he jerked the camera back from the vent opening. His heart pounded like mad. When he finally looked again, Seo Hoyun was calmly chatting with the staff as if nothing had happened.
H-he didn’t see me, right??
“Holy shit, his instincts are animal-level...”
Kim muttered as he clambered awkwardly down from the vent. But he couldn’t give up now, not after coming this far.
In the industry, people often speculated that Seo Hoyun, while always polite toward women, wasn’t exactly innocent.
Kim had scoffed at the idea back then.
‘With that face? Of course he’s got someone.’
But surprisingly, Seo Hoyun was clean.
His routine was nothing but home, company, home, company. He’d even looked into the possibility of something going on with composer Lim Hyunsu, but there’d been absolutely—nothing—there.
And now, he’d been tailing Seo Hoyun for a full week.
Brushing dust off his clothes, Kim was catching his breath in the fresh air when he suddenly spotted Seo Hoyun again.
“...Huh?”
The man pulled something white from his pocket.
Thinking it was a cigarette, Kim excitedly raised his camera—!
“Goddammit.”
A candy.
But disappointment lasted only a moment.
After glancing around to make sure no one was nearby, Seo Hoyun began walking faster, looking strangely uneasy.
Sensing something up, Kim switched on his recorder and followed quietly. Then, as Seo Hoyun turned the corner—
“—I miss you too, so don’t whine like that.”
The soft, teasing voice hit his ears.
Quickly hiding himself, Kim peeked out—there was the superstar, smiling shyly as he spoke on the phone.
“You work hard too, okay? Yeah.”
“......!”
“...I’ll come back soon.”
A thrill like electricity shot through Kim’s body.
—A relationship.
This was definitely a relationship!!!
‘Holy shit! I did it!!’
Acting all squeaky-clean like he’d stay an idol forever, huh?!
I knew it!
And from the sound of it, the other person was probably a celebrity too.
Overjoyed, Kim snapped several shots and hurriedly typed out a message.
[Me: Seo Hoyun just told someone “I miss you” on the phone]
[Me: Sounds like a woman]
Five minutes later, his boss replied.
[Boss: https://moonjin.kr/thedawn/live/711]
[Boss: Are you kidding me?]
......What?
Frowning, he clicked the link—and the live broadcast of The Dawn came up.
Jung Dajun, wearing an apron and a chef’s hat, was whipping eggs at full speed. Beside him, Kim Sunghyun flinched as yellow liquid splattered onto his face. While he silently wiped it off, his phone buzzed—
【...Hm? It’s Seo Hoyun.】
【Huh? Answer it!】
【Hold on. ......Yeah, what’s up?】
The moment he picked up—
【...Because I miss you?】
【Cough, cough, cough!】
【—Haha, I miss you too, so don’t whine like that. Work hard.】
【Cough!】
【...Yeah. I’ll come back soon.】
Without any context, Seo Hoyun just said what he wanted and hung up.
Kim Sunghyun froze, staring blankly for several seconds before groaning, rubbing his face, and excusing himself, saying he felt sick. Jung Dajun silently rolled up his egg omelet and swallowed it in one shot.
[So f***ing random
He called, said three sentences, hung up]
[New acting practice? Variety bit?
└Voting “did it just to mess with him”
└Same here]
[Title: Explaining why Seo Hoyun acts so well
He practices on Kim Sunghyun
└Ah-ha!!
└└Mystery solved]
Fans kept chatting casually under captions like “Seo Hoyun’s 2-in-1 kill as always :D,” leaving Kim absolutely dumbfounded.
‘What’s wrong with these fans...?’
Just then, loud noises echoed from the studio, making him flinch.
‘Crap, can’t get caught now!’
He hurried into a nearby storage room to hide.
“Damn it, this is bad.”
The storage was dead silent, not even an ant in sight.
He sighed, waiting for things to calm down so he could slip out—but no matter how hard he rattled the door, it wouldn’t open.
A horrible sense of déjà vu crept up his spine.
“......Damn it!!”
He pulled out his phone, but there was no signal—only an SOS symbol flashing.
Left with no choice, he started moving deeper inside, searching for another exit.
It was pitch dark, the motion sensors flickering the lights on and off, making him feel like he’d wandered into a horror game.
‘I hate this kind of crap...’
Trying to calm his nerves, he took a long drag from his e-cigarette—and then frowned.
“......?”
It felt like someone was watching him.
Probably just his imagination, but the creepy online horror stories he’d read began looping in his head, and his pace quickened.
Tap, tap, tap—he rushed along, searching for an exit, until suddenly he froze.
‘...Tap?’
—Footsteps. Out of sync with his own.
He hadn’t moved.
Heart lurching, he bolted in panic.
“Huff... haah...!”
Oh Buddha, oh Lord, oh Allah—he prayed to every god he could think of as he ran, until finally, he spotted someone in the distance.
“Huh...!”
A person!
But instead of relief, a chill ran down his spine, freezing him in place.
...A person?
The figure shrouded in darkness had no visible face, no expression.
Terrified, he gasped for breath and slowly raised his phone’s flashlight—
“Did you lose your way?”
An idol stood there, smiling without blinking.
“...Mr. Seo Hoyun?”
“Oh! You know me?”
“......”
Of course he did.
He nodded quickly, though the excitement that had surged up inside him sank just as fast.
‘Shit! Running into Seo Hoyun wasn’t part of the plan!’
Maybe it had been him following earlier—? No, impossible. The footsteps had definitely come from behind, and Seo Hoyun was standing right in front of him now.
Seo Hoyun gave a short hum of a laugh, slipped his phone into his pocket, and took a step closer.
“How did you end up in here? It’s not exactly a place you wander into by mistake.”
“Oh, I... got a bit turned around.”
“Is that so?”
Before Kim could even think about whether he’d imagined those footsteps, another thought hit him—what the hell was Seo Hoyun doing here?
But the man just smiled pleasantly and gestured.
“I’ll show you the way out.”
‘Is... is that right?’
Still, he decided to follow. This warehouse was too big, too silent, too damn creepy.
“...Mr. Seo Hoyun, I saw your acting earlier.”
Might as well pretend to be staff.
A top star filming overseas wasn’t likely to remember every crew member’s face anyway.
“How are you so good at acting?”
“Wow, really? Thank you.”
...He didn’t doubt him at all.
“All thanks to the staff—” Seo Hoyun smiled, and Kim seized the chance.
“Filming all the way in the U.S., and on an action movie no less. Isn’t that a bit of pressure?”
“I have to work hard. The staff’s putting in so much effort.”
“Is that so?”
There wasn’t a single flaw in his answers.
No matter how the recording might be edited, there was nothing scandalous there—only words fit for a heartwarming headline.
So Kim pushed harder.
“Well, you showed great acting in Vile Trial too. Especially that suicide scene.”
“......”
“It was so vivid it stuck with me. Half a year ago, when you went to that pension, I thought, wow, is this Vile Trial come to life?”
More and more provocative—because when people get angry, they slip up.
Seeing Seo Hoyun fall silent, Kim’s lips curled slightly.
“There were some spicy rumors then too. What exactly did you—”
Seo Hoyun stopped dead and lifted his gaze upward.
“...do there?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, a faint smile tugged at his mouth as he looked into the empty air—
as if something up there had just spoken to him.
“...Is there... someone there?”
“Oh, sorry.”
“......”
The bright tone didn’t match the way his eyes stayed fixed on nothing, that faint, serene smile still frozen in place. And suddenly Kim remembered his boss’s words.
“Seo Hoyun’s a hundred percent a nutcase.”
No—
this wasn’t mental illness.
It really looked like he was seeing something.
An instinctive chill crawled up Kim’s spine. The unease and wrongness that had been lingering since the moment they met now coursed through his whole body.
‘...Why was he even here in the first place?’
And then the questions connected.
—Why was the storage door locked?
—Why did he speak Korean to me right away, when we’re overseas?
—And most of all...
‘Why does it feel like he’s known me for a long time?’
He took another step back on instinct—
and the ceiling lights began to flicker wildly.
Blink, blink, blink, blink, blink—
In the strobing light, Seo Hoyun’s face turned white, then black, white, then black—
“Eek!”
“...Back then,” Seo Hoyun said softly, “I prayed desperately.”
Kim froze in terror as Seo Hoyun looked straight at him—then smiled, eyes crinkling sweetly.
“I prayed to be allowed to become an idol.”
And with that, Seo Hoyun strode lightly toward the opposite door and pushed it open.
Brilliant light split the darkness as he beamed.
“This is the way out!”
“......”
It looked exactly like the exit of a haunted house—except the ghost was holding the door.
His mind went blank. He didn’t want to look at that thing that felt wrong anymore.
Forcing his trembling legs to move, he lowered his head and started toward the door.
“But you know—”
“...!”
A cold hand brushed past him.
A shiver shot down his spine, and before he could recoil, a strong ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) grip clamped down on his arm.
“You’ll get in big trouble for taking pictures.”
When he lifted his head, two burly men stood by the door, staring down at him expressionlessly.
Bodyguards or whatever—they were human, and the sheer warmth of that fact nearly brought tears to his eyes.
He turned his head—
“..................”
There was no one in the warehouse.
***
“—Thank you for sparing me! Thank you!! Oh my God, thank you, Lord....”
Well, now.
That could’ve been in a foreign thriller.
The lunatic screaming at the top of his lungs was being dragged away by the guards, while I watched, cap pulled low, thoroughly entertained.
“Wow, that was fun.”
[......You’re insane.]
I glanced at the window that popped up.
[...Just how creative are you supposed to be?]
[...You used the disorienting setting complaint as an actual plot device??]
[That man’s throwing up as he leaves, by the way??]
Throwing up after seeing someone—rude.
But understandable. Back when I was still a PD, I’d crushed a few paparazzi myself. If he remembered that version of me, the instinctive revulsion made sense.
When settings and memories overlap, people feel something’s off—and that unease grows.
I had chosen a dark place to intensify it, but I hadn’t expected it to work this well.
“Refreshing.”
[...Sure...]
“This is what California’s all about, you see?”
[Right, this must be California indeed....]
Once the spoiler-sensitive staff dug into his background, they’d realize he was a paparazzo.
Then WH’s legal team could handle it cleanly.
Still, there was one small regret.
“I wanted to hear him scream a little longer....”
[...]
Well, whatever—the important thing was that he couldn’t bother Kang Ichae anymore.
Thinking that the kid could now focus entirely on his work filled me with a strange satisfaction.
‘Ah, Kang Ichae really ought to appreciate this.’
My stress melted away—and then I turned my head.
“......”
“......”
Our eyes met.
A man stood there, cigarette halfway to his lips, eyes wide.
The songwriter who’d clung to me back at Song Camp.
The one Kang Ichae had been particularly concerned about—
“...Baek Jijun?”
He looked between the retreating paparazzo and me, trying to smile awkwardly, the expression of someone who didn’t know the details but could guess the general vibe.
“...H-hello?”
So he saw.
“......You see, um.”
“......”
“Mr. Seo Hoyun’s... personality is....”
He saw.
Baek Jijun flinched, burned his fingers on the cigarette, hastily put it out, and blurted,
“...A-as long as your voice is good, that’s what matters!”
At that moment, I began to seriously wonder—
Would Kang Ichae be happy if I took care of him too?
