At exactly 5:10 a.m., a loud alarm blared from his smartphone, and Kang Hyeon struggled to pry open his heavy eyelids. His body was sluggish from minor muscle aches, and even stretching to loosen up his stiff frame didn’t go smoothly. When he twisted his waist, pain shot through him, making his brow furrow.
He hurriedly washed his face and threw on a baseball cap to cover his bedhead before heading out. Shoveling down a convenience store triangle kimbap, he boarded a bus and got off at a suburban stop outside the city. Others were already waiting there, and they soon climbed into the shuttle bus that arrived.
After a 20-minute ride, Kang Hyeon arrived at a massive logistics center. He headed to his designated spot and began loading items onto a truck as they came off the conveyor belt. The triangle kimbap he’d eaten was digested in no time after the work began, and as the hours dragged on, waves of hunger and back pain crashed into him.
Whenever he had a moment to rest between hauls, he’d glance at his phone. There was still no word from Yoon Do-yeong—he must’ve been busy. After finishing the day’s work and heading home, Kang Hyeon stopped by a pharmacy to buy pain patches and some painkillers.
After washing up, he applied the patches to his aching arms and back and sat in a daze. He checked his bank account on his phone. After confirming his wages for the week had been deposited, he let out a shallow sigh and started boiling some ramen. He took out the last bits of kimchi from the nearly empty fridge and blankly slurped the noodles.
He’d only taken the job at the logistics center because he urgently needed living expenses, but it was clear he couldn’t keep doing this. As he tapped his lower back with his fist and browsed for short-term gigs on his phone, his finger paused over a contact in his call history—his grandfather.
“It’s me. Hyeon.”
—Oh, hey there. Have you eaten?
The familiar warmth in his grandfather’s voice lifted the heaviness from Kang Hyeon’s own tone.
“I just ate. Um… I got cast in another drama.”
—A drama? Not the serial killer role—something else?
The delight in his grandfather’s voice made him reply quickly. He’d planned to wait until shooting wrapped to say anything in case the role changed, but hearing his grandfather’s voice loosened his tongue.
“Yes. It’s based on a webtoon. I’m playing a student who commits suicide.”
—Ah… Why does the kid kill himself?
“Ah… Academic pressure. He’s overwhelmed by his grades.”
—Kids should be out running around, not studying until their brains melt! That kind of drive has to be something you’re born with. There are so many ways to make a living—pushing a child like that is just wrong.
Kang Hyeon nodded quietly, moved by his grandfather’s heartfelt scolding.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
—When’s the movie coming out?
“This summer.”
—Still a ways off then.
“It’s not that far. Just a few months left. When it’s out, let’s go see it together.”
—Sure thing.
His grandfather’s pleased voice made a smile creep onto Kang Hyeon’s lips.
“How’s your health?”
—Eh, same as always.
“How about the sweet potatoes and potatoes you planted?”
—Same there too. Alright then, see you in the summer.
Just as his grandfather’s voice began to stretch at the end, the call abruptly disconnected. Kang Hyeon wanted to hear more, but his grandfather was always the type to keep calls short and to the point. And honestly, if the call got too long, he’d end up spilling all his own trivial worries. If his grandfather felt that his grandson was doing fine, the calls would stay short. He was the kind of person who believed that “no news is good news.”
Kang Hyeon gazed around the room in silence. The space felt unusually cold today. After blankly staring into the still air, he picked up his chopsticks again. He finished the now-soggy ramen and watched a movie. After that, he opened his library app and downloaded a book about teen suicide. He read slowly, carefully absorbing each word, then went back to review the ones that stood out.
Failure. Deep loss. Disappointment. Self-loathing. Pain. The negative words pierced his chest like dull knives, pressing in harder and harder.
“Just like Grandpa said… grades aren’t everything in life…”
Muttering under his breath, he let out a long sigh. He watered the rose begonia on the table, then looked at the desk calendar next to it. Today was the premiere of Return of the Moon.
He quickly turned on the TV. He thought about going out to buy beer to watch the drama with, but remembering his bank balance, he settled for a cup of instant coffee. As several commercials passed by in a blur, Yoon Do-yeong appeared.
In an ad for an interior brand, sunlight poured through a massive window as he smiled brightly. He gazed out at the world with eyes so clear it was as if everything around him was beautiful. Then he turned around and flashed a brilliant smile that showed his teeth. His light brown eyes caught the light and sparkled almost mystically, his refreshing aura so pure it felt like he didn’t belong in this world.
As Kang Hyeon watched Do-yeong, he took a sip of his coffee and massaged his sore arms from the day’s hard labor. Soon, Return of the Moon began airing. When Kim Dong-il, whom he’d once greeted back at his old agency, appeared riding a horse as a royal guard, Kang Hyeon smiled. Looked like Dong-il had managed to keep the role after all.
He sipped his coffee slowly, focusing on the drama. As expected from a fusion sageuk, the lines had a distinctly modern flair, and the lavish royal costumes were a feast for the eyes. When the scene shifted, the crown prince, who had just been scolded by the king, turned to leave—and there was Lee Ji-gyeong’s furious face filling the screen. Blood vessels were visible in his eyes, and his clenched jaw jutted out with tension.
“Ah…”
A breath of awe slipped from Kang Hyeon’s lips. The crown prince’s entrance was undeniably striking. The rebellious energy radiating from his expression made Kang Hyeon instinctively nod in approval. His pronunciation was a bit muddled, just as he’d worried, but overall, the acting was solid. Before he knew it, the episode had ended, and a vitamin drink commercial starring Ji-gyeong came on. The serious crown prince now smiled brightly and cheerfully.
Kang Hyeon stared at the screen for a moment before sending a message.
[Watched the drama. You did great.]
When there was no reply, he debated calling to congratulate him, but figured Ji-gyeong was probably swamped with messages from others, so he let it go. He flipped through channels, wondering if there was anything else worth watching, and stopped at the news.
One story was about Yeongsan Semiconductor facing millions in tax penalties. Another revealed that a celebrity agency had locked up a rookie actor and forced him to serve drinks, pushing him to attempt suicide. The incident was already causing a public stir, and part of a recorded conversation had even aired.
However, the agency claimed it had just been a light drinking session between a rookie model and ad agency reps during a new contract meeting. The report then added that another rookie from the same agency—identified only as “Mr. Lee”—was now under suspicion for drug use.
At the mention of “Mr. Lee,” Kang Hyeon’s pupils twitched. Just then, his phone rang. It was a call from CEO Goo Seong-do, and he quickly answered.
“Yes, sir.”
—Hey, Hyeon. You busy Monday?
“No, not really.”
—Then come by the office in the afternoon. Chief Choi rented the office across from ours. They’re moving in some furniture, and we need someone there to receive it.
“Chief Choi… Oh! You mean Do-yeong’s manager?”
—Yeah. It’s a temporary setup, so just the essentials are going in. I’ve got to be at Lee Hyun-sook’s ad shoot, and the timing’s tight. I checked with Writer Oh, but she can only cover the morning.
“Got it. I’ll go.”
—Also, PD Jeong said he wants to show your profile to Director Im Ju-yeok. He asked for a different one, though—says the old one looks too blank-faced. We’ll need new photos.
“Ah, okay.”
—Let’s get them done after you stop by.
“Sure thing!”
With a brisk reply, Kang Hyeon dropped onto his bed. His muscles were screaming, so he popped a painkiller and opened his script. Filming for Intersection Murder would wrap up on Tuesday. Since the upcoming scene involved working with several other actors, he meticulously read through even their lines. But somewhere along the way, he lost steam and let out a heavy sigh. The end of filming filled him with dread. After finishing the webtoon-based drama Brilliant Choice, he had nothing lined up.
He opened his phone and browsed job sites. A night shift at a convenience store popped up, so he submitted an application. As sleep started creeping in, he reflexively searched Ji-gyeong’s name—and a sleazy tabloid headline caught his eye:
“Rookie Gay Actor’s Depraved Private Life”
His fingers moved on their own. The photo looked like it had been taken in a private room. A man with a toned build—his face pixelated—had his pants unzipped, and a thick male hand was shoved inside.
Sleep vanished in an instant. He examined the familiar physique more closely, then recalled something Ji-gyeong had said.
He searched Ji-gyeong’s name again. Nothing new on SNS or forums. Just a few short, agency-supplied puff pieces about the “rising star” Lee Ji-gyeong.
The suggestive photo article vanished the next morning. Still, while watching episode 2 of Return of the Moon, Kang Hyeon’s mind was in turmoil.
Was that photo from one of Ji-gyeong’s wild nights?
He kept checking for news updates about Ji-gyeong, but there was nothing new—just more glowing articles about the “meteoric rise of a rookie actor.” Feeling slightly relieved, he lay down to sleep.
But then the headlines began to flood in:
“Rookie Actor Mr. Lee Is Gay”
“Shocking: Gay Actor’s Promiscuous Private Life”
“Mr. Lee’s Gay Sex Life Exposed”
“Gay Actor’s Filthy, Depraved Room Party”
The deluge of stories made Kang Hyeon’s chest drop like a stone. He shot upright in bed.
“What the hell…”
The words slipped out as he clicked one of the articles. The faces were blurred, but a tall man was sprawled on a couch, being kissed by another man. Another photo showed someone straddling him.
