“……”
Yoon Jooho stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, his gaze heavy with suspicion as he looked over.
Song Hyunsoo averted his eyes and muttered.
“It’s just… I don’t get it. You’re a top star, a national actor. Who would even dump Yoon Jooho? Why would anyone do that?”
A crooked smirk tugged at the corner of Yoon Jooho’s mouth.
“You’d probably last less than a month before you say it’s over.”
“……”
Hyunsoo didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked out the window at the Han River and brought the still-burning cigarette back to his lips.
The car finally exited Olympic-daero and was now cruising over Hannam Bridge.
He had been shaken by the scandal between Kang Miyeon and the rookie actor.
But that shock had already faded into the background, eclipsed by something bigger, something much closer.
The car passed the Hannam Station intersection and merged onto Seobinggo-ro.
Hyunsoo pointed to the right, toward an overpass.
“Over there. You can just drop me off at the alley entrance.”
There wasn’t a soul on the street. Didn’t matter.
This area was always quiet, and right now, Hyunsoo couldn’t have cared less.
As he opened the passenger door and started to get out, Yoon Jooho spoke from behind him.
“Tomorrow, even if I’m asleep, wake me up. I don’t mind.”
Hyunsoo paused, one hand on the door, and leaned down to look at Jooho behind the wheel.
“Alright. Thanks for the ride.”
“Take care.”
Just a short, unremarkable farewell.
Nothing special in the words at all.
Hyunsoo shut the door.
The low growl of the engine rose, and the 911 merged back into the flow of traffic.
With his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his padded jacket, Hyunsoo watched the car disappear, then let out a soft chuckle.
That sleek, beautiful machine hiding the wild DNA of a sports car beneath its elegant shell fit Jooho perfectly.
A wave of exhaustion washed over him.
Like he’d just come back from a grueling location shoot.
He’d been floating one moment, plummeting the next.
How many emotional whiplashes had he been through today?
The uphill slope that led home felt steeper than usual.
His steps dragged like his legs were made of lead.
In Yoon Jooho’s “trade secret” he only slept with top stars.
Only dated top stars.
The irony hit him square in the chest.
Hyunsoo hadn’t even confessed, but he already felt rejected.
As if the answer had been no all along.
You’re not it.
You’re not even in the running.
But it was also a story about Jooho himself.
That he had only ever slept with and loved top stars.
That was his past.
Hyunsoo’s feet stopped.
Then what about him?
The one Jooho had loved and been rejected by?
Was that person a top star too?
The one who let him feel what he did when he played Baekgang?
As if Jooho’s car might still be parked at the alley entrance, Hyunsoo spun around.
The Han River gleamed with the fading glow of twilight, flowing calmly and endlessly behind him.
He pulled his left hand from his pocket and touched his cheek.
The spot Jooho had touched still felt hot, as if the warmth of his hand had left an imprint.
Less than a month? Me?
He hunched his shoulders and tucked his chin into his coat, muttering as he started walking uphill again, his back to the river.
“Don’t be so sure about that, sunbaenim.”
■
Yoon Jooho’s Big-Screen Debut!
Director Jung Joonhee Casts Yoon Jooho as Male Lead in New Film <Dissolve>
Yoon Jooho’s First Serious Romance Film— Hope or Hype?
The theater hadn’t changed a bit.
The dim, dusty interior.
The rickety old stage.
The faded red fabric draped over worn-out seats.
Everything was just as he remembered.
Actors only showed up when they had a part or were needed to help with stage or prop work.
There was no need to clock in daily.
But once rehearsals began, they had to keep their schedules wide open meaning a proper 9-to-6 job was out of the question.
That’s why most theater troupes these days formed and disbanded around specific shows.
Back in the day, actors would commit themselves entirely to a single troupe.
Now, even the biggest ones rarely operate that way.
It wasn’t that the theater scene was shrinking audience numbers had actually gone up compared to the past.
What had changed was that fewer actors were willing to endure prolonged financial instability just to stay in the business.
Still, no matter how much the system evolved, one thing hadn’t changed: the closed-off, hierarchical culture where a handful of senior figures called all the shots.
Unless you were in the good graces of the management or the right senior actor, landing a major role was nearly impossible.
And for some reason, Song Hyunsoo had never been one of the favored juniors.
“Dissolve, you said?”
“Yes.”
He’d dropped by the troupe to give them a heads-up before filming started.
Technically, they only gathered when there was a show, but he’d worked with them enough that it felt like the right thing to do.
The troupe leader wasn’t around.
Onstage, the senior actor with the most clout was leading a rehearsal with some of the juniors.
Even after hearing that a junior had been cast in a major film, the senior’s face showed no trace of joy.
“Director Jung Joonhee?”
“Yes.”
“The one with that article today starring Yoon Jooho?”
“Yes.”
The way the senior spoke practically screamed, You?
You’re in that kind of film?
Was he just being paranoid?
Hyunsoo frowned for a moment, but it quickly became clear the problem wasn’t him.
“Funny, I didn’t see your name in any of the articles.”
“They said mine’s going out next week. Yoon Jooho’s came out first.”
The senior shook his head and let out a deep sigh.
“Guess Director Jung’s finally lost it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb you heard me.”
“I just want to be sure what you meant.”
“Sure?”
The word came out laced with disdain, the senior’s gaze turning sharp and mocking.
Hyunsoo responded with a calm, crooked smile.
“You said Director Jung lost his mind. I was asking what you meant by that. But really, you’re the one who’s heard everything. Why act like you didn’t?”
“Oh, I get it. You’re on your way out, so now you feel free to mouth off, huh?”
“Pretty sure you were the one who started with the trash talk.”
Hyunsoo had never thought much of this senior’s character, but he hadn’t expected him to show his worst side like this.
He’d put up with the guy’s nonsense for years, sucked it up, fake smiles, played peacemaker just to earn a few lines of dialogue on stage.
But despite all that, the senior had always had a problem with him.
Now that the gloves were off, the senior folded his arms and raised his chin, locking eyes with Hyunsoo like he was itching for a real fight.
“I used to respect Jung Joonhee for sticking to meaningful projects. But now? Seems he’s just chasing money like everyone else. What? You think I’m wrong?”
“I do. What makes you think he’s chasing money?”
“What else would you call casting Yoon Jooho? The guy’s only ever done TV. He’s all looks and zero substance. What does he know about real acting? They’re just slapping his name on the poster for marketing. Who cares if the film flops?”
Then, looking Hyunsoo up and down with open contempt, he added one final jab.
“Isn’t it bad enough you can’t even act properly, and now you’re in a supporting role? We already know how this play is going to turn out.”
“So hiring Yoon Jooho means you’re just chasing the money now? Fine, let’s say you are. Is that a crime? What, are you some kind of martyr because you do money-losing theater?”
Actors resting around the stage looked over, sensing trouble.
“At the very least, I have the pride of never compromising on artistry.”
Pfft.
Puhuhu.
A laugh slipped out from between Song Hyunsoo’s lips.
“Maybe other seniors could say that, but not you. You just like sitting juniors down and lecturing them about acting this and acting that. Everyone in this business knows you’re eaten up with jealousy over seniors who made it big in film.”
Tension sparked between the two, seated with one chair left empty between them.
“So all this time, you were grinning in front of me while thinking that crap behind my back? You’re a creepy little shit.”
“And what was I supposed to do? Would you ever give me a role if I didn’t grin like that? If you ask me, you’re the creep abusing your position over juniors like some tyrant.”
Staring his venomous glare right back, Song Hyunsoo smirked and stood up.
“I didn’t learn jack shit from you, but let’s just say thanks out of courtesy.”
“‘You’…? ‘Jack shit’?”
The senior shot up, livid, but Song Hyunsoo left him behind and strode briskly through the aisle between seats.
He should’ve felt relieved after saying everything he wanted to say.
But he didn’t.
He felt like shit.
Muttering curses, he ran his fingers roughly through his hair.
The senior, having abandoned any pretense of dignity, shouted after him, his voice clinging to Hyunsoo’s heels.
“Go ahead and debut! The moment you do, I’ll expose everything about your shitty personality!”
Hyunsoo, nearly at the end of the aisle and steps away from the stairs, licked his lips and turned back.
He smiled, tilting his head slightly.
“My shitty personality? All I remember is saying ‘Yes sir’ to your crap. Go ahead and spill whatever you want. I’ve got plenty to expose about you too.”
He took a few steps up the stairs, but then stopped and came back down.
The anger and resentment just wouldn’t let him leave without this last blow.
“And another thing. A person might have a crooked mouth, but they should still speak the truth. Go out and ask a hundred, a thousand random people who’s the better actor between Yoon Jooho and you?”
“……”
“Oh, right. There probably aren’t even a hundred, a thousand people who know who you are.”