“You promised. Not going to start talking first.”
“Yeah.”
“And you can’t just jump straight into action either.”
“Yeah.”
“…You aren’t listening to me, are you?”
“Yeah.”
Driving him insane. Park Moondae went to rub his face before remembering his broadcast makeup and dropped his hands. Heat washed over him. Thanks to Cheongryeo setting up a ridiculous concept about getting stranded on a snowy mountain, they wore heavy winter parkas in the middle of summer. Hajun wore one too, but he did not mind one bit.
“…Aren’t you hot?”
“Huh? Did you say something?”
“No… Never mind.”
Moondae kept breaking into a light sweat, while Hajun looked fresh as ever. Was it winter right now? Moondae knew it wasn’t, yet looking at that shameless face threw him off. Then again, the guy saw ghosts, so… Controlling sweat glands wouldn’t even shock him at this point.
Hajun paid no mind to Moondae’s inner rambling. His heart beat fast at the thought of facing Cheongryeo head-on. Moondae had warned him to stay quiet in front of the cameras. Which meant anything went once the cameras stopped rolling, right?
Hajun, who had stayed quiet enough to make Moondae nervous, blurted out, “Moony, my heart is racing.”
“…”
What was he supposed to do about that? Wearing a blank Tibetan fox expression, Moondae dragged the calm Hajun forward. Their shooting location—a wooden cabin—came into view. Cheongryeo waited inside. Thinking about Cheongryeo sitting in cranked-up air conditioning made Moondae’s blood boil.
Noticing the subtle rise in Moondae’s body temperature, Hajun glanced over. “Hot?”
“…Yeah. It’s summer.”
“Want me to cool you down? Let’s see…”
Hajun looked around the area, and Moondae realized what was happening. This guy was looking for spirits. Words rushed out of Moondae.
“I’m fine. Let’s move fast.”
“Why? It takes one second—”
“I just got better.”
His blood ran cold, so it wasn’t a lie. Cutting Hajun off, Moondae took a deep breath and stood before the cabin door. The actual shooting started now. Giving Hajun’s arm a firm squeeze to remind him to behave, Moondae knocked on the wooden door.
Thump, thump, thump.
“Is anyone inside?”
Following the script, Cheongryeo opened the door a crack. Spotting Moondae and Won Hajun behind him, he pulled the door wide open.
“Come inside fast. It must be freezing out there.”
“It’s colder in here than—ouch.”
“Thank you.”
Moondae jabbed Hajun in the ribs to stop him from destroying the setting before dragging him to a corner to set down their bags.
Get it together. What. Why.
Moondae warned him with a sharp glance, feeling a tight grip of frustration as Hajun pouted. Things were going off track right from the start. No, think positive. Be glad he didn’t charge at Cheongryeo right away… Was he settling for such a low bar?
Whether he noticed Moondae’s inner crisis or not, Cheongryeo greeted them with a smooth smile. “Are both of you alright? Hiking in a blizzard like this is rare.”
“…Yes.”
You wrote this script, you bastard, the words rose to Moondae’s throat before he swallowed them down. Watching Cheongryeo’s soft broadcast smile, Hajun pouted. He had nagged Hajun to behave, yet look at that fake smile on his own face.
Of course, Moondae knew how to manage his expressions on camera, so that wasn’t an issue. Hajun was a master at reading what lay beneath.
Hajun snatched the steaming Americano from Moondae, whose eyes had grown even dead than before. Cheongryeo, who was about to hand a cup to Hajun, paused and chuckled. “Oh, I was just about to hand that to you.”
“Coffee tastes good.”
“Is that so? Glad it suits your taste.”
Receiving the second cup from Cheongryeo, Moondae tensed up. Knowing the truth made watching these two talk five times more nerve-wracking. His main hope rested on the cameras surrounding them, and the belief that Hajun wouldn’t tackle Cheongryeo while filming.
“Hmm, these beans are pretty high quality. No way a mountain cabin has stuff like this. You brought them yourself, right?”
“Haha.”
Hajun’s attempt at grounded logic to shift away from the fake skit got brushed off by Cheongryeo’s light laugh. Well, whatever. They had plenty of time.
Hajun enjoyed his coffee while watching Moondae struggle beside him. After pushing so hard for a promise to stay quiet on camera, Moondae was the one stumbling.
Moondae delivered his line with a stiff voice. “Thanks for the coffee. If it’s fine with you, we’ll cover dinner. We brought a lot of instant meals.”
You suck at acting. That was Hajun’s sole thought watching Moondae stumble through his words. Moondae grabbed Hajun, who sat staring with a blank face, and led him back to their bags.
Staring at the back of Moondae’s golden head, Hajun spoke up. “You suck at acting.”
“Keep it down.”
“Good thing you can sing.”
“…Just take this.”
Hajun took the instant meal packs Moondae pulled from the bag—PPL products provided by the crew. Seeing Moondae pull out a boneless chicken feet rice bowl, pause, and shove it back inside, Hajun asked, “Didn’t you say you like chicken feet?”
“I never said that out loud… Never mind, let’s go.”
“Do we have to eat this? I don’t want to.”
Since it was PPL, they had to pretend to eat. Hajun followed Moondae, whispering that the fried rice he picked contained carrots and bell peppers. Are you a child? Moondae gave a flat answer to the picky eater.
“Then just pretend to eat.”
“Like how you faked drinking coffee earlier?”
“…”
Moondae stared at him with a face that said When did you even catch that? Hajun walked past him and dropped the instant meals in front of Cheongryeo. Without waiting, he picked up the fried rice loaded with veggies and shrimp, handing it over to Cheongryeo.
“Here.”
“? Thanks.”
Passing off food he hated like it was nothing… Moondae kept a neutral face and sat next to Hajun. The three continued their light skit over food.
“Are you two friends?”
“Yeah, well.”
“What? You think of me as a friend? Since when?”
“Hmm. This one says otherwise.”
“…Hold on. Excuse us for a second while we talk—”
It went along those lines, hovering right on the edge of cooperation and chaos. Hajun’s attitude kept picking at Moondae’s nerves. If Moondae ever ended up buying stomach medicine in bulk alongside Ryu Cheongwoo, he could bet everything it was Won Hajun’s fault.
Letting Moondae’s nagging go in one ear and out the other, Hajun got tired of pretending to eat and passed his food over. Moondae glanced at his casual face before eating the bulgogi rice bowl. He figured he might need digestive pills before stomach medicine.
Finishing a meal where no one knew if the food went down the right pipe, Cheongryeo spoke with a smile. “Thanks for the meal. I’ll clean up.”
“Oh? Then—”
“No way! We should do it together.”
A junior leaving chores to a senior? Want to get canceled? Moondae cut Hajun off, pinching his side at an angle hidden from the camera. Having been jabbed thirty times today, Hajun just scowled.
It felt like a puppy biting him. Except the constant biting made Hajun wonder if he had stolen the dog’s chew toy or something.
“Hurry and clean up together. Don’t just stand there.”
“Do you like dog chews?”
“…What kind of crazy talk—Just help out.”
Hearing nonsense out of nowhere, Moondae almost blurted out curse words on camera. Cleaning up alongside them, Cheongryeo caught their quiet whispering and let out a light laugh.
“You two get along well.”
CRASH!
A loud boom echoed right on cue. Hajun placed a hand on Moondae’s startled shoulder to calm him, tilting his head as if measuring the sound. It sounded realistic, but it was a sound effect played by the production crew, not nature.
Proving his point, Cheongryeo walked over to the door and tried to open it, but failed.
“…Looks like that sound earlier was a landslide. Snow piled up outside, locking the door—”
“Move aside.”
CRACK.
…Crack?
“It opens.”
“…”
Hajun held the door open with his hands, pointing outside. The waiting production crew froze in panic.
“Uh, wait.”
“Cut! Cut!!”
“Huh?”
“…”
Feeling ten years older, Moondae wiped his face with one hand. Ruining his makeup didn’t even matter anymore. They were going to retake the scene anyway…
A clear NG, plus destruction of property. Their very first public TV variety show was off to a wild start. Taking five Cha Eugenes along would feel easier than this. (In fact, maybe not.)
While the crew fixed the broken door and delayed shooting, Moondae walked around bowing and apologizing to everyone. Alongside Won Hajun.
He felt like a parent dealing with a troublemaking kid, but that wasn’t what mattered right now.
“We’re so sorry!”
Press.
“Sorry.”
Hajun didn’t resist as Moondae pressed his head down, bowing along. Inside, Hajun thought they should have built a sturdier door in the first place, but he apologized anyway. Receiving the half-hearted apology, Cheongryeo smiled.
Thanks to this delay, Cheongryeo had lost about fifteen minutes of sleep today.
“Haha, it happens. Since it’s his first time on a variety show, junior Won Hajun must have been nervous.”
“Not really—ouch.”
“We are so sorry.”
Moondae pushed Hajun’s head down without mercy. Feeling the personal grudge in his touch, Hajun pouted, though he knew he shared the blame.
Forget the base setting they had been given: Three people trapped in a cabin due to a landslide. Hajun was the one who had thrown that rule out the window. Then again, no matter how much brain capacity Hajun had, he wasn’t free enough to remember every useless detail.
Plus, excitement about meeting Cheongryeo had made him tune out the shooting instructions.
“Moondae, you can stop apologizing~ It’s fine. They’ll fix it fast.”
“Right, Hajun’s neck might break at this rate.”
The crew passed off the incident as a cute rookie mistake. Hajun’s tame attitude helped too. Seeing him bow quietly while led by a member ten centimeters shorter left a good impression.
The broken door was repaired faster than expected, and shooting resumed. Moondae prayed the rest of the filming would pass without trouble, but it was a vain hope.
Though this time, it wasn’t Hajun’s fault.
“Do you happen to know any idol ghost stories?”
“…Ghost stories?”
Ttp, ttp, ttp, ttp…
“Ghost stories, huh? That’s my specialty.”
“Haha. Do you know this one?”
“Who knows?”
“…What’s it about?”
Ttp.
“There was an idol. One day, he woke up and found himself back in the past.”
“…”
“Ah.”
Hajun couldn’t hold back the curve of his lips. Seeing Cheongryeo’s gaze shift toward him, Hajun smiled as he spoke.
“Sure. I know that story.”
“…”
Know it? He knew it inside out. Hajun met Cheongryeo’s cold, blank stare head-on, smiling smooth and easy. Cheongryeo’s eyes lingered on Hajun as if measuring him, then flicked over to check on Moondae.
“…I’ll use the restroom for a moment,” Moondae excused himself first.
A popup had flashed on his Status Window, urging him to check the delayed truth, forcing his hand amid the sudden turn of events. Or maybe he just wanted to escape the suffocating air.
“That guy is a scaredy-cat, that’s why.”
If Moondae knew Hajun was twisting his departure like this, he might have made a different choice. Gazing at Hajun, who had turned Moondae into a timid puppy in a single second, Cheongryeo spoke.
“Is that so? Did I bring up a pointless topic?”
“No, I’d like to hear that story in detail. Let’s see if what we know matches.”
“…Sure, then.”
Plenty of shooting time remained. Hajun clasped both hands and let out a smooth, polished smile.
It was the public face Alex had spent time perfecting for him—the very expression Alex almost had a seizure over whenever he saw it.
