My hands trembled more than during script readings, more than when placing meat on the grill.
Yun Jooho smirked wickedly as he watched my hands shake while pouring drinks.
“Don’t spill it on my clothes this time.”
Wow… Yun Jooho really holds a grudge.
When I glanced up at him, his face was lit up with amusement.
When expressionless, he looked like a bloodless vampire or a frozen corpse— but with that grin, he resembled nothing more than an insufferably rebellious middle-schooler.
“Baek Kang and Yi San, sharing their first drink.”
At Shin Hyojin’s voice, I turned to see her smiling at her phone screen.
The rear camera lens was pointed at Song Hyunsoo and Yun Jooho.
Click.
“Look at this. They’re totally Baek Kang and Yi San. Perfect casting.”
On the screen, Yun Jooho and Song Hyunsoo stood side by side, facing forward.
Even in a candid shot, Yun Jooho showed no trace of awkwardness.
“This is exactly how Yun Jooho looks in real life.”
His unreal beauty matched every fan cam and leaked photo I’d ever seen.
“Baek Kang is Yi San’s brother, his friend, his hero— honestly, practically his first love. But in this photo, no matter how you look at it, Yi San seems intimidated.”
As Hyunsoo grumbled, Jooho suddenly slung an arm over his shoulder.
“……”
When he’d touched my hand earlier, my heart had shriveled up— but now, that same heart swelled violently, ready to burst.
Like in a cartoon, I half-expected a heart-shaped organ to leap out of my chest.
I was terrified everyone could see it.
Everyone, including Jooho.
My heart, racing because of him.
Right beside my ear, Jooho spoke lazily.
“Yi San probably was scared when he found out Kang killed his father.”
His words didn’t register.
Every nerve was focused on the weight of his arm around my shoulder.
“Senior-nim, stop teasing Hyunsoo. Treat him like Kang does. If he’s too intimidated by you, filming will be tough,” Hyojin said.
This time, Jooho tilted his head, studying me.
His chin lifted slightly, his lowered eyelids holding me in a long stare.
With his arm around me, the distance was unbearably close.
I couldn’t tell if his gaze carried intention— or if it was just his dramatic features making it seem that way.
It was the kind of look that had surely led countless people to misunderstandings.
If I were a woman, I’d 100% delude myself into thinking Yun Jooho was interested in me.
Locking eyes with me, his damp, lingering stare practically begging for misinterpretation, Jooho finally shook his head with a crooked smile.
“Doesn’t seem like he’s scared of me at all.”
“That’s not true. You are scary, sunbaenim. You saw how my hands were shaking earlier.”
The sheer acting prowess it took to say this casually— Yun Jooho, a top star for life, would never understand.
“The really scary sunbaenim is right here. You can’t even admit you’re scared. That’s my influence.”
Jooho withdrew his arm and poured himself another drink.
“Hyojin-ssi, you’re not posting that photo anywhere, right? Like on SNS or something.”
“Huh? Why not? I thought I’d upload it when your and Hyunsoo’s casting news drops next week.”
Jooho brought the glass to his lips.
“My face isn’t great in it.”
“Not great?? Where?!”
The words burst out before I could stop them.
Only when everyone’s eyes snapped to me did regret flood in.
Jooho, mid-sip, paused and gave me a puzzled look.
Then, the next second, he snorted.
Tipping his head back, he downed the drink in one go.
The line from his forehead to his nose, lips, and down his throat was like a painting.
Realizing I’d been staring too intently, I quickly looked away.
I’d confessed to being Jooho’s fan— but I didn’t want everyone to know.
Being treated like some middle-schooler with a crush on his teacher? Hard pass.
■
The inside of the restaurant grew increasingly boisterous.
It was understandable, given that a group of about thirty people had started a drinking party.
Before anyone knew it, a mini fan meeting for Yoon Jooho had begun in one corner.
The restaurant was practically reserved by the ‘Dissolve’ team, but even among the crew, many wanted to take photos with him.
Shin Hyojin, true to her status as a trending actress, also had no room to sit.
Even to movie industry professionals who were used to seeing actors all the time, those two were stars worth capturing in a commemorative shot.
Han Jooyoung, who had recently been making appearances here and there, was also gaining decent popularity.
His bold, straightforward personality even led him to suggest taking photos first.
But few people asked to take pictures with an unknown actor who had no notable works to his name.
Keeping his seat alone at the table, Song Hyunsoo pushed the cooked meat to the edge of the grill.
As he placed fresh meat on the empty spot, he glanced at the opposite side of the table.
One of the production company employees had just taken her turn standing next to Yoon Jooho.
“Can I link arms with you?”
At her childishly excited question, Yoon Jooho curved his arm slightly to make space.
Standing side by side with him, linking arms, she looked like someone at the peak of happiness.
Only then did Song Hyunsoo recognize her.
‘You can go to the second-floor meeting room.’
She was the employee who had responded like a soulless shell when he asked for directions to the script reading location upon arriving at the production company’s office earlier.
The vibrant woman before him now seemed like a completely different person.
Thanks to Yoon Jooho, she had regained her lost soul.
What must it feel like to make someone that happy without doing anything special— just by taking a photo with them?
It was a question Song Hyunsoo couldn’t answer in his current state.
“The meat’s burning, I think.”
“……”
Startled by Yoon Jooho’s sudden return to the seat next to him, Song Hyun-soo nearly dropped the tongs.
He quickly turned down the heat and flipped the meat.
“Let’s stop grilling. Everyone seems to be just drinking now anyway.”
“O-oh, you think so?”
While he had been spacing out, the fan meeting must have ended.
“It’s burnt. Can’t eat this.”
Yoon Jooho, who had been flipping the meat with chopsticks instead of tongs, set aside a piece charred black like coal.
His face— the kind that looked like it never needed the bathroom, sleep, or sweat— was fascinating to watch as he drank soju and chewed pork belly.
“It must be exhausting for you too, sunbaenim.”
“What is?”
“Having mini fan meetings like this everywhere you go.”
Yoon Jooho, pouring himself another shot of soju, shrugged as if it were nothing.
“This has been my life since I was really young. If no one wanted to take photos with me now, I think I’d hate that even more.”
“That’s unexpected.”
“What is?”
“I thought you’d find it annoying— taking photos and all that.”
“I don’t always oblige like this. I have work, and it’s not like I have endless free time.”
“But you were really sincere about it just now.”
“Keeping the crew and staff motivated is important.”
“……”
“A lot of actors think a project succeeds just by them acting well in front of the camera.”
Yoon Joo-ho took another shot of soju and picked up a piece of pork belly Song Hyunsoo had grilled.
He probably didn’t notice, but Song Hyunsoo had been subtly pushing the better-cooked pieces toward him.
Watching Yoon Joo-ho chew the meat he had grilled, Song Hyun-soo felt an unconscious smile slip out.
Realizing this, he immediately frowned.
Why am I happy that the meat I grilled is going into Yoon Jooho’s stomach?
What kind of nonsense is this?
“Director! Give me feedback on today’s reading!”
Han Jooyoung, who had been noisily mingling at the next table, returned to his seat and called out to Director Jung Joon-hee.
His sharp face was flushed red— he must have had quite a bit to drink by then.
Director Jung smiled and asked,
“Why the sudden request for feedback?”
“I heard something just now.”
“Haha, what did you hear?”
“They said if the director tells you you’re good, that you’re doing well, you shouldn’t believe it. That you’ll suffer on set. So please, give me feedback.”
Han Jooyoung pressed his hands together as if in prayer and bowed deeply.
His Korean pronunciation was even more garbled than usual from the alcohol.