Chapter 30

“What exactly are you trying to do, Lee Jung?”

With that single line, Kwon Taehee appeared where Yo Han Sung had vanished.

Clutching the script so tightly it crumpled in his hands, Gyeol delivered his line.

“What do you mean what? It’s what you and I always do.”

Objectively speaking, Gyeol’s acting wasn’t bad.

He lacked experience, so calling it exceptional would be difficult, but his diction was precise and there was a fresh quality to his awkwardness.

Despite trembling so hard that the script binder shook in his grip, his voice never wavered.

Only then did Yo Han notice that the two-line scene in Gyeol’s script was covered in dense black notes highlighted in fluorescent marker.

There wasn’t a single empty space left.

So he’s the hardworking type.

Once again, Yo Han remembered his own rookie years.

Back when he used to analyze scripts until the paper practically fell apart.

Not as obsessively as before, but even now Yo Han’s scripts were covered in sticky flags, notes, and traces of endless deliberation.

“—Lee Jung kisses Kwon Taehee again. Though Kwon Taehee initially does not respond, he eventually begins kissing him back.”

The assistant director read the action direction aloud.

“Mr. Taehee.”

Gyeol delivered the final line.

“—Close-up on Lee Jung smiling in satisfaction, as though he has finally obtained Kwon Taehee. The screen transitions to the curtains. Morning arrives.”

That was the end of it.

That was all Gyeol appeared in.

The very next day, the Kwon Taehee played by Yo Han Sung would hear news of Lee Jung’s death.

He would also learn that Lee Jung died after falling victim to his own scheme while trying to kill Yang Heea, Taehee’s fiancée, in order to possess him.

Yang Heea would be severely injured in the process and hospitalized.

Kwon Taehee would visit her there.

Holding her unconscious hand, he would realize his love for her.

And though it had only been a single night of reckless passion, he would become deeply disgusted with himself for sleeping with Lee Jung.

In the following episode, Kwon Taehee—having resolved to devote everything to Yang Heea—would confess his desperate love to her after she woke up.

That was the love confession scene that had made both the actress and Gyeol cry earlier.

Gyeol’s role existed solely as a disposable tool used to confirm the leads’ love.

“Hm. It’s not bad.”

Tap. Tap.

Director Lee Sanghwi muttered to himself while drumming the rolled-up script binder against the table.

Something clearly dissatisfied him.

Soon, he abruptly turned his head toward Gyeol.

“What if we directed it more provocatively?”

“Yes. In what way...”

“Gyeol Go. Strip.”

“Huh?”

Gyeol, already stiff with tension, flinched hard.

“I said strip. Even if you’re an Omega, you’re still a man. As long as nothing below is shown, it’s fine.”

“Ah, um...”

“What? You can’t do it?”

Anger crept into the director’s voice.

At a loss, Gyeol turned toward his manager. Standing against the wall, his manager looked equally panicked, unable to do anything.

Yo Han recalled Jang Dohoon gossiping that Gyeol had apparently gotten the role through LM Entertainment connections despite not actually belonging to the agency.

“A small-time company piggybacking off LM connections,” the man had sneered.

“Excuse me, Director. I’m Actor Gyeol Go’s manager...”

Apparently not completely useless, Gyeol’s manager stepped forward quickly.

From behind them came the sound of someone clicking their tongue.

“What an idiot. That’s why they’re from some tiny company. They already got handed a role through connections and now they’re still running their mouths.”

It was Jang Dohoon.

Under the table, Yo Han clenched his fist tightly.

“What? What was that? You saying it can’t be done?”

“It’s just... this wasn’t discussed beforehand...”

Gyeol’s manager stammered desperately.

Perhaps because of Jang Dohoon’s words, every gaze directed at him had turned hostile.

The atmosphere soured instantly.

Though Gyeol’s manager repeatedly bowed his head apologetically, the director’s voice only grew louder and harsher.

Yo Han was just about to intervene—

“I-I’ll do it!”

Gyeol suddenly shouted over them.

Only then did the director stop speaking.

The sideways glance he shot Gyeol was already twisted with irritation.

“How are you gonna handle this? Your actor says he’ll do it.”

Director Lee poked Gyeol’s manager in the stomach with the edge of the script binder.

“Gyeol, even so...”

“No, it’s okay, hyung. I’m fine. I’ll do it.”

“Gyeol...”

“There. Now it’s been ‘discussed beforehand,’ right? Hm?”

The director mocked them openly.

The hall fell silent.

Nobody stepped forward.

Nobody even looked like they intended to.

Director Lee Sanghwi’s bizarre behavior was already infamous throughout the industry. Rather than criticizing the director, people found it more uncomfortable that a mere extra was worsening the mood on set by upsetting him.

At Gyeol’s insistence, his manager eventually returned to his °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° place.

Apparently furious that someone had dared challenge him, the director continued ranting aggressively.

“All right. Do exactly what I tell you.”

Gyeol hurriedly picked up his pen.

But there was no room left in the script binder for additional notes.

Panicked, the tip of his pen wandered uselessly across the page.

His hands were trembling violently.

Yo Han held out his sticky notes to him.

No—

he gently pressed them into Gyeol’s shaking hands.

With eyes that looked close to tears, Gyeol bowed his head deeply toward him in gratitude.

“Lee Jung climbs on top of Kwon Taehee and presses their bodies together. He grinds against his lower body while stripping off his top ‘seductively.’ Even then, when Kwon Taehee still doesn’t react, he releases pheromones while masturbating.”

At the word masturbating, Gyeol’s pen froze.

Even the veteran actors exchanged glances that seemed to say isn’t this going too far?

It was excessive.

This was a romance drama, not pornography.

Yet still, nobody seemed willing to step in.

“While masturbating, he climaxes by himself. Then he unbuckles Kwon Taehee’s belt, kneels between his legs, and services him with his mouth.”

It only got worse.

As though he had forgotten the actual flow of the drama entirely, the director kept spewing increasingly explicit ideas.

Yo Han found himself imagining something.

What if he had been an even bigger actor already?

What if he possessed enough seniority and influence to oppose the director’s disgusting behavior?

Though he was a rising star and already considered a leading actor, Yo Han Sung was still only in his third year.

In a room where even veteran actors couldn’t speak up, there was no way he possessed the authority to openly rebel.

“Kwon Taehee lies down. Lee Jung climbs on top and inserts it himself. He rides him.”

Gyeol’s lips pressed tightly shut as he wrote down the vulgar sentences.

The muscles in his jaw stood out sharply.

He was obviously trying not to cry.

“Then transition to morning. Make it obvious they slept together. Got it? Lee Jung is supposed to be trash. A complete whore bastard.”

“...Yes.”

Gyeol barely managed to answer.

After setting down the pen, his face had gone deathly pale.

“I’m being considerate enough not to film any important parts directly, after all.”

The director rambled as though generously offering some great favor despite saying the bare minimum.

“...Yes. Thank you.”

“Fuck, this ruined my mood. We’re taking another break. I need a cigarette.”

Ignoring Gyeol’s response entirely, the director cursed and dismissed everyone.

Director Lee Sanghwi stomped loudly out of the studio.

The hall instantly exploded into noise.

“Seriously, has he never heard the rumors about Director Lee Sanghwi? This is why idols are hopeless. He’s a rookie, yet he’s already acting like he’s somebody important and trying to protect his body.”

“Senior, that’s a little harsh... Gyeol Go, are you okay?”

The actress playing Yang Heea approached Gyeol and rubbed his shoulder gently.

Gyeol answered that he was fine while bowing repeatedly. She helped him to his feet.

“You should go get some fresh air outside with your manager.”

“Th-thank you. Thank you so much, Actress.”

Looking seconds away from bursting into tears, Gyeol left with the actress.

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t cast people who don’t understand the acting world. Right, actors?”

As though he had been waiting for the opportunity, Manager Jang Dohoon threw out the bait.

Immediately, people joined in and began tearing Gyeol apart.

Screeeech.

Yo Han shoved his chair back harshly as he stood.

The noise in the hall cut off instantly.

In the silence, everyone turned toward him.

“Sorry. The chair was loud.”

Smiling lightly, Yo Han left the hall.

“Did Actor Sung do that on purpose?”

“No way. There’s no way Yo Han would act that stupid.”

The remaining people resumed laughing among themselves and continued badmouthing Gyeol and his manager.

After leaving the hall, Yo Han headed up to the rooftop.

The moment he pushed open the rooftop door after climbing the stairs, he saw Director Lee Sanghwi’s back.

Bang.

Yo Han deliberately shut the rooftop door loudly behind him.

Director Lee, cigarette dangling between his fingers, turned around.

The moment he recognized Yo Han’s face, he brightened immediately.

“Oh, Actor Sung.”

The oppressive figure who had just crushed a powerless rookie actor moments earlier was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, he wore a warm, benevolent smile.

Fucking insect.

With that indifferent thought, Yo Han slowly approached him wearing a pleasant smile.

His pupils were blown wide open.

***

Even after thirty minutes passed, Director Lee Sanghwi still hadn’t returned.

“Shouldn’t someone go check on him?”

One of the older veteran actors voiced the concern again.

The assistant director looked increasingly strained, repeatedly insisting, “In cases like this, we’re supposed to wait until he returns,” but the actor finally seemed to lose patience.

By now, Yo Han, Gyeol, and Gyeol’s manager had all long since returned to their places.

Since the scene revisions were finished, Gyeol was once again standing quietly against the far wall like someone being punished.

“How long are we supposed to wait like this? We all have schedules.”

Another veteran actor chimed in.

Glancing nervously at the clock, the assistant director finally relented and hurried out of the hall.

Soon, he returned.

“Actors... I’m really sorry, but... Director Lee Sanghwi isn’t feeling well, so he said we’ll have to stop here for today.”

The assistant director delivered the news while stammering, his face pale blue-white.