It wasn’t the tone of a fully committed, serious acting performance.
But it wasn’t just mindlessly reciting lines either.
Was it because of the relaxed, effortless delivery?
Or was it the unexpected situation of having actor Yoon Jooho’s performance all to myself?
Yoon Jooho’s acting was calm, yet Song Hyunsoo found himself instantly immersed in the emotional flow.
Because he already knew the narrative of the two protagonists.
Leaning against the half-open door with his back, Song Hyunsoo muttered the next line under his breath.
“You always pretend to understand everything, playing the good guy.”
“Isol, you’re crossing a line now.”
“I’m the heartless woman who betrayed your pure devotion— the kind that drove you to become a murderer for my sake. Isn’t that right?”
“……”
Yoon Jooho’s next line didn’t come.
Song Hyunsoo peeked through the crack in the door.
Twisting his upper body, Yoon Jooho had draped his arm over the back of the chair and was looking straight at him.
“What is it?”
“Ah… well…”
It had been barely more than a whisper.
And yet, he’d heard it.
Apparently, Yoon Jooho wasn’t just good-looking— his hearing was sharp too.
Song Hyunsoo wanted to shut the door and run.
That cold face, with wavy hair tucked behind the ears, didn’t seem like the type to warmly welcome some unknown junior.
But he couldn’t actually flee.
Instead, he walked up to Yoon Jooho and bowed slightly at the waist.
“Hello, sunbaenim.”
Yoon Jooho’s gaze, which had been following Song Hyunsoo’s movement, now tilted upward.
Even looking up from below, his stare felt overwhelmingly high-handed, as if he were looking down from above.
His sharp features only made him seem even colder.
“I’m Song Hyunsoo, playing the role of Lee San. It’s my second time meeting you.”
“Second time?”
“I work at a bar. You’ve been there before.”
“……”
Yoon Jooho’s expression didn’t change.
Did he not remember?
It was only two weeks ago.
So his hearing was sharp, but his memory wasn’t?
“It’s called ‘Jessica,’ in Daehak-ro.”
“……”
Still no recognition.
“Your friend, Jin hyung, came with you at that time.”
Finally, Yoon Jooho studied Song Hyunsoo’s face carefully again.
Then he nodded.
“Ah… the impressionist.”
“Yes, that was me.”
Did he really have to remember me as that impressionist?
It was bittersweet, but at least he remembered at all.
Song Hyunsoo gained a bit of confidence.
With a practiced smile, he brought up the one topic they had in common— Jung Jin’s name.
“Jin hyung has told me a lot about you, sunbaenim. It’s such an honor to be working on the same project together.”
“What did he say?”
“…Pardon?”
“You said Jung Jin told you a lot about me. I’m curious what he said.”
Well… that was just polite small talk.
Let’s grab a meal sometime.
You’ve lost weight since I last saw you.
With an image like yours, I’ll definitely reach out for another project.
Those were the kinds of things you weren’t supposed to take literally.
But Yoon Jooho seemed intent on doing exactly that.
Go on, tell me, his posture said, as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
Song Hyunsoo scratched his cheek with his index finger, scrambling to recall.
“Well… things like how you enjoy drinking at indoor pocha or samgyeopsal restaurants, despite how you look—”
“Despite how I look?”
Yoon Jooho’s eyebrow twitched.
“Haha, I just meant you have a very luxurious image.”
“And then?”
“And then… well…”
“Is that all? I heard you talked a lot?”
“People say he’s more serious about acting than you’d think. Stuff like that…”
Saying Jung Jin had told him “a lot” about Yoon Jooho was an exaggeration.
Jin wasn’t the type to gossip about others, whether good or bad.
“Are you close? With Jung Jin?”
“He was in the same company as me. We lived together in the dorm for a few years.”
“Was he also under UB Entertainment?”
“Yeah.”
Yoon Jooho fell silent for a moment.
He lowered his gaze as if thinking, then slowly lifted his eyelids to look at Song Hyunsoo again.
His long lashes were so striking it felt like you could hear a whoosh sound effect.
“That company doesn’t exist anymore, right?”
“Ah, yeah… well, now I’m just working independently.”
Song Hyunsoo, who had been distracted by how long Yoon Jooho’s lashes were, rubbed the back of his neck and answered vaguely.
Talking about his old company wasn’t exactly a pleasant topic.
“This is my first proper role, so I know I have a lot to learn. I’ll do my best, and I hope you can guide me well, sunbaenim.”
“……”
He thought he came off as a friendly and earnest junior— his usual warm smile usually worked— but Yoon Jooho just stared at him with an unreadable expression.
Hyunsoo even touched his own face self-consciously.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
After giving him that meaningful look, Yoon Jooho brushed it off.
“This is my first film too.”
Picking up the script and straightening his posture, he seemed ready to end the conversation.
“Don’t expect much guidance from me. I’ll be too busy just keeping up with my own part.”
Ah, yeah, I figured.
You don’t seem like the type to warmly mentor juniors anyway.
Not that I’m surprised.
Song Hyunsoo glanced at Yoon Jooho’s neatly combed hair as he subtly frowned and headed to his seat.
He wanted to review the script at least once more before the reading started.
Now, where’s my spot…
The long table was arranged so that actors faced each other, with simple name plates marking each seat.
Hyunsoo’s place was diagonally across from Yoon Jooho, to the right of the female lead.
Lee San (Song Hyunsoo)
A grin escaped him when he spotted his nameplate.
He pulled out his phone.
Click.
At the camera shutter sound, Yoon Jooho glanced his way, and Hyunsoo bowed slightly in apology.
Man, he’s picky, and this isn’t even a library.
He tried to focus on the script, but it wasn’t easy.
The nerves from his first script reading were amplified by being alone with Yoon Jooho.
Even though it was just a reading, Yoon Jooho looked as polished as if he were filming an interview.
No makeup, but his outfit was immaculate— like a model from GQ’s December issue— and his hairstyle clearly had a professional touch.
But why is he here so early?
He’s the lead actor and a top star— no one would have cared if he was late.
Did he have a schedule nearby?
Doesn’t seem like it. He hasn’t been taking many jobs lately.
Yoon Jooho never looked up from the script.
He wasn’t reciting lines aloud, but his lips moved faintly as he mouthed the words.
He also sipped water frequently.
As Hyunsoo peeked at him over the script, he suddenly remembered Jeongho’s exaggerated claim that Yoon Jooho only drank water costing over 400,000 won per bottle.
But the bottle in Yoon Jooho’s slender fingers was just ordinary water.
Not even imported mineral water from a convenience store.
See? Those YouTube gossipers are full of crap.
Hyunsoo stifled a laugh— only to freeze when Yoon Jooho’s eyes met his.
It felt like getting caught giggling in class by the teacher.
He wiped the smile off his face, coughed awkwardly, and buried his nose in the script.
■
Just then, someone energetically swung open the meeting room door and stepped in.
“Wait, why are the actors here so early?”
She was a woman of average height and build, with a lively air about her and a short bob.
Though he didn’t know who she was, Song Hyunsoo awkwardly rose from his seat and bowed.
It couldn’t hurt to greet her first.
She and Yoon Jooho seemed to be acquainted, as they exchanged brief nods in acknowledgment before she quickly approached Song Hyunsoo.
“You’re the actor playing Yi-san, right? I’m Kim Yookyung, the chief producer of Dissolve.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, PD-nim. I’m Song Hyunsoo.”
Song Hyunsoo clasped her outstretched hand with both of his.
She vigorously shook their joined hands up and down while scrutinizing his face.
“I could tell from your profile photo, but you really do have great eyes.”
“Really? Thank you.”
“They look innocent yet determined— perfect for San.”
“Hearing that from you, PD-nim, puts me a little more at ease.”
“You beat out two thousand to one odds to get this role. Have some confidence.”
“T-two thousand to one??”