The turmoil in his heart faded for a brief moment, replaced by a quiet sigh of relief. First things first—he transferred a generous amount of money to his grandfather and sent him a message.
On dates, the gentleman’s supposed to treat.
Got it.
That one-word reply brought a smile to Kang Hyeon’s face. Elbowing Baek Ga-yeong, who had been waiting quietly beside him, he spoke up.
“Noona, dinner’s on me.”
“You’re trying to squeeze blood from a flea.”
Her sarcastic jab made him chuckle.
“I think… I might really be filming this drama.”
“That’s great.”
He’d expected her to be surprised, but her calm reaction only made his eyes widen further.
“…You knew?”
“Yup.”
“How?”
“Got a call from Doo-seok sunbae.”
She’d heard from the veteran actor cast as his secretary. Kang Hyeon let out a quiet laugh, then took a deep breath and looked at her with hopeful eyes.
“They’ve only set the script reading date.”
“As long as you don’t mess up, it’s a done deal.”
“I guess… that’s true.”
“Ugh~ listen to that lukewarm reaction. Totally kills the mood.”
Kang Hyeon laughed, rubbing the tip of his shoe on the ground. Baek Ga-yeong reached up and ruffled his hair, even though he was taller than her.
“Now the hard part begins. A lot of things are going to happen—stuff you won’t even expect.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah~ and I’m gonna ride that wave to promote my café like a pro.”
“Do your worst.”
When Kang Hyeon gave a playful fist-pump, she mimicked him with a mischievous grin.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I am shameless, remember?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Let’s go. In honor of our lead actor, pasta’s on me!”
“I said I’d pay.”
“Mine’s carbonara.”
“Then I’ll get tomato sauce.”
“Ahh~ sounds so good.”
They strolled the sidewalk, cheerfully deciding their orders before they even arrived. For the first time in a while, he felt genuinely happy. They sat by the window, enjoying their dinner and laughing freely. They shared their food, sipped some wine, and later, he promised the veteran actor he’d rehearse lines together. Baek Ga-yeong insisted they meet at her café—she’d supply unlimited coffee.
After a lovely evening, Kang Hyeon put her in a taxi and called CEO Goo Seong-do.
—Hey, Hyeon-ah.
“I saw the script reading schedule you sent, so I wanted to call.”
—Things are moving faster than expected. They pushed it up by two whole weeks. I think they want to get everyone acquainted early since most of the cast are unknowns.
CEO Goo’s upbeat tone made Kang Hyeon’s voice brighten as well—until he noticed some static in the background.
“Are you busy?”
—Yeah, looking into wardrobe sponsors. Hyun-sook can wear what the drama’s costume team provides since she’s a secretary, but you’re the lead. You’ll need to prepare some outfits.
“Ah…”
Being an unknown, it wasn’t like sponsors were lining up to dress him. His previous agency had provided a stylist, but here, he’d have to figure things out on his own. He’d planned to ask about hair and makeup too—he’d used studio salons for hanbok shoots before, but now, he didn’t know what the protocol was.
—Hyeon, start thinking about a few hairstyle options. Let’s hit the salon and try some out.
“Okay.”
—You got any decent clothes?
At that, he remembered the luxury clothes Yoon Do-yeong had given him.
“Ah… Do-yeong gifted me some winter outfits.”
—Perfect. Bring those to the office. I’ll get you a gym membership near the building too—start working out.
“I’ll just find one near my place.”
—It’s cheaper in my neighborhood! A buddy of mine runs the gym—former bodybuilder, total softie. And make sure Hyun-sook starts working out too. That girl never exercises. She’s always weak and barely eats. If she wants to keep filming back-to-back dramas, she’ll need stamina. Drag her along with you.
“Yes, sir.”
—And don’t waste time doing cardio separately. Just run over here—save on transport too.
“Got it.”
—Also, practice lines together.
“What if I practiced with Kim Doo-seok sunbae too? He plays my secretary, and he’s got some fun banter scenes with Hyun-sook sunbae.”
—Just do it here. Why are you asking?
“Thank you!”
The words burst out in a bright laugh. He pulled out his phone to check the walking distance to Mpia—it’d take about an hour and a half of running.
Every evening at 7:30, he’d jog to the rundown building, arriving at the old gym where he’d immediately start weight training. Senior actress Lee Hyun-sook, who hated exercising, would show up late and barely put in a presence.
It only took a few days to figure out why CEO Goo had recommended the place. The gym owner would collect ₩30,000 from members trying to bulk up and buy half a pig in one go. He’d butcher it himself, store it in a fridge on the rooftop, and regularly host BBQs. He even grew vegetables up there and stocked restaurant-sized containers of ssamjang and gochujang. Knowing Kang Hyeon needed to gain weight, he insisted the actor eat meat after every workout—no exceptions.
Every morning, Kang Hyeon woke up and read through the script over and over. Sometimes, he’d head to Baek Ga-yeong’s café to analyze the characters and rehearse with Lee Hyun-sook and the veteran actor. Caught up in the energy, Baek Ga-yeong would join in too, bringing drinks and snacks. Every third day, he returned to the gym, where the owner gave him special treatment.
After a full workout and a heavy meal, he’d take the subway home and crash from exhaustion.
Despite the hectic schedule, any time he saw Yoon Do-yeong on subway ads or TV commercials, he’d find himself zoning out. Telling himself it was fine to admire him as a fan made it a little easier to process.
Time flew, and the day of the script reading arrived. CEO Goo accompanied Kang Hyeon and Lee Hyun-sook to EnterK, the production company. An employee guided them down the fifth-floor hallway into a large conference room.
In the center, several tables had been pushed together to form a massive square, and dozens of chairs lined the walls. Each seat had a paper placard with the character’s name, a water bottle, product placement drinks and snacks, and basic stationery.
Inside, actors holding scripts were busy exchanging greetings. Most had no agencies. Nervous but polite, they followed the staff’s instructions and began taking their seats one by one. Kang Hyeon greeted a few people while scanning the room, trying to find the actor playing Kwon Ji-sang. He couldn’t tell who was who—and it seemed whoever it was hadn’t arrived yet.
Stepping further in, Kang Hyeon stood in front of the placard labeled “Kang I-chan,” which was placed near the head of the table. Everyone’s eyes shifted to him at once. Murmurs spread, disbelief plain on their faces. Just like them, he still couldn’t believe he’d landed the lead. All he could do was fiddle with the chair—he couldn’t bring himself to sit down.
Just then, the sound of admiration and soft applause echoed from the hallway. The entire room fell silent as heads turned toward the door. The people gathered near the entrance parted, and a tall man stepped inside.
For a moment, Kang Hyeon couldn’t breathe. The murmurs around him sounded like white noise.
Clad in a white shirt and pale blue slacks, the man looked noticeably thinner. Where his body had once clearly shown muscular bulk, it now had a lean, athletic build. The fat in his cheeks had vanished, revealing sharp jawlines, and with his hair dyed jet black, his skin looked so pale it bordered on ghostly. He had an uncharacteristically cold aura.
Gasps rippled through the room as people recognized Yoon Do-yeong. He bowed repeatedly as he walked past, greeting the other actors. Kang Hyeon couldn’t look at him. His hand trembled, gripping the script tightly.
He vaguely remembered hearing that sometimes roles got switched during script readings. But how could something like this actually happen?
It felt like someone had a noose around his throat. His fingertips went ice cold, the blood draining from his face. He looked up to mask his devastation—and his eyes met Do-yeong’s. Smiling gently, Do-yeong nodded, then calmly took a seat across from him.
The placard in front of him read: Kwon Ji-sang.
Kang Hyeon’s mind went blank, like someone had slammed him in the back of the head.
Everyone here had been cast through auditions. That meant Do-yeong had auditioned too—and won the role.
Kwon Ji-sang.
The role Kang Hyeon had set his sights on.
The role he knew he could pull off better than anyone.
The role he’d desperately wanted while preparing for the audition. More than the joy of being cast as the lead, he’d been more curious about who had landed that part. Come to think of it, after his audition, when he ran into Director Choi Jin-hyuk, Chief Choi had approached them.
Chief Choi—Do-yeong’s manager.
As the memory surfaced, a new tension flickered in Kang Hyeon’s eyes. And then he remembered—when they were kids, during the Little Science Explorers auditions, the day he’d landed the mischievous Chan role, Do-yeong had looked at him and smiled so brightly.
His pure voice still rang in his ears.
“I was okay with it. I just figured I didn’t suit the role and that’s why I didn’t get it. Of course the production team picks whoever fits best.”
Okay with it?
Of course?
Those words spun in his head, tearing through his thoughts. He remembered how he’d obsessed over playing the villain, how he’d poured everything into those second and third auditions. How desperate he’d been.
His face hardened, and his gaze darkened.
I didn’t suit the villain role?
You, with your angelic face—what, you played it better than me?
Something twisted deep in his chest. His previously downcast eyes lit up with a strange intensity.
Are you telling me… even in that, I wasn’t as good as you?
