이 포스팅은 쿠팡 파트너스 활동의 일환으로, 이에 따른 일정액의 수수료를 제공받습니다.
# Chapter 83: The Truth Beyond the Set
Three minutes had passed since Junho’s text, and Minjun was still sitting in the break room chair. The phone screen was dark, but warmth lingered in his palm—though he couldn’t say whose warmth it was. The coffee’s, his own hand’s, or that brief touch Park Mira had left behind. All of it combined.
The wall clock read 4:37 PM. Precise timing. As if someone were deliberately asking him to remember this moment. Minjun’s eyes followed the second hand. Tick, tick, tick. Time kept flowing, and he remained sitting here.
His mind was working. When Junho said he “needed to tell him something,” Minjun tried to predict what it could be. Something negative? Positive? Neutral? But if Junho couldn’t say it on set, it had to fall into the third category. Something no one else should hear. Park Mira? Lee Junhyuk? Or someone else?
His phone rang. This time it was a call. Junho. Minjun didn’t answer this time either. The call continued for five, ten, fifteen seconds. Then it stopped.
A text came through. The tone was different from before—more urgent.
“It’s an emergency. Come out now. Outside the building. Five minutes.”
Minjun stood up. Not slowly this time—fast. The chair scraped backward, and the coffee on the table rippled. It almost spilled but stopped itself. The coffee was completely cold now, as if it had never been warm to begin with.
The external exit of the set was behind the soundstage. Minjun practically ran toward it. Up the stairs, down the corridor, through the safety door. His body moved on its own. His legs were already in motion before his brain could command them.
The outside air was April air. Not fully warm yet, but no longer cold either. In-between air. The kind of season Minjun disliked most, because it signaled change. A signal that something was ending. Or something was beginning.
Junho stood near the parking lot entrance. His car wasn’t visible. He was just standing there, sleeves rolled up, as if he were ready for something. Or ready to cast something off.
“Hyung.”
That was all Minjun said. But it was enough.
Junho looked at him. His eyes seemed tired. But not physical tiredness. Mental exhaustion. The kind that comes from enduring something for a long time.
“Do you know Lee Junhyuk? The actor?”
It was more of a confirmation than a question.
“I’ve seen him in dramas. Why?”
“He did something to you. During today’s shoot.”
Minjun’s heart began racing. During today’s shoot? But Lee Junhyuk was just an actor. They’d only filmed a scene together. His hand touching Minjun’s face? But that was acting. Park Mira saw it too. Or… was there something else?
“What are you talking about?”
Minjun’s voice was low. Almost a whisper.
Junho took a deep breath. Long and heavy, like surfacing from underwater and breathing air for the first time.
“That actor… he’s had issues with rookie actors before. The company knows, but they stay quiet because of his popularity. And today during filming… Park Mira saw it. She said there was inappropriate contact between you and that actor.”
Minjun said nothing. He just kept breathing. In and out. In and out.
“What do you mean? His hand touched mine? That’s common during shoots, isn’t it?”
Minjun’s voice lacked conviction.
“What did Park Mira say to you?”
“…She said the scene was good. That it was really good.”
“That’s all?”
“…She asked if I felt the warmth of his hand. And… if it was acting.”
Junho’s face contorted. Not with anger, but with something more complex. As if he were feeling multiple emotions simultaneously.
“Park Mira realized something. That he did something. And you thought it was part of the act. But it might not have been.”
“What do you mean?”
Minjun asked, though he already knew. Junho was saying the things he’d been refusing to acknowledge.
“Your emotions broke through during filming. Park Mira saw it. And that actor saw your vulnerability. He saw an opening. And…”
Junho paused.
“And what?”
“And he might have used it. Pretending to comfort you, touching your hand. It could have developed into something, or it could have ended there. But either way, it wasn’t appropriate.”
Minjun’s chest sank. The feeling of having made a mistake. No—the feeling of having been used. His emotions, his tears, his vulnerability had all become material for something else.
“Then… why tell me this now?”
“Park Mira told me after filming. And she probably did something to that actor too. Warned him, or… something else.”
Junho glanced toward the parking lot as if looking for someone.
“And I thought I needed to tell you. Because you’re vulnerable to these things. You can’t protect yourself. So I have to.”
There was protection in those words, but something else too. Anger. Anger at himself. Anger that he hadn’t protected Minjun in time.
“You don’t need to apologize, hyung. I…”
“Are you okay?”
Junho asked.
Minjun didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he was okay. He didn’t fully understand what had happened during filming. The touch of that hand, wiping his tears—he couldn’t tell if it was malicious or kind, or if that even mattered.
“From tomorrow on, I’ll be next to that actor every time you film. Understand?”
Junho’s voice was firm.
“But you’re not an actor. You can’t be on set.”
“I don’t care. I’ll figure something out.”
His tone suggested the decision was already made.
On the way back to the set, Minjun kept replaying Junho’s words. Lee Junhyuk did something? He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. There was only a vague sense that something about that hand felt wrong. As if it weren’t just physical contact but carried some other intention. Yet at the same time, it could have been his own overinterpretation. His anxiety creating his own victimhood.
When he entered the locker room, Lee Junhyuk wasn’t there. Only his clothes and belongings remained in the locker. And his scent. The smell of expensive cologne. Minjun caught that fragrance and remembered the hand that had touched his face.
His phone rang. Park Mira.
“Minjun, tomorrow’s shoot time has changed. From 10 AM to 2 PM. Got it?”
“Yes, PD.”
“And… you did really well today. I mean it.”
Park Mira’s voice was warm. But Minjun couldn’t tell if it was genuine warmth or something with a different intention behind it.
“Thank you.”
He said.
“But if anything ever makes you uncomfortable, tell me anytime. Okay? You’re an actor, and this is a set. You have the right to work in a safe and comfortable environment.”
Park Mira’s words were clear. It wasn’t just encouragement—it was a promise.
“Thank you, PD.”
The call ended.
Minjun sat in the locker room chair and looked at his hands again. They were still trembling. But now it was slightly clearer why. Fear. Fear that he might be a victim of something. Or fear that he might be misunderstanding everything. A complex mixture of both.
Outside, filming continued. The sound of lights, the voices of staff, actors’ lines. Everything moving normally. As if nothing had happened. Or as if everything was predetermined.
Minjun grabbed his bag and left the locker room. Not toward the set, but somewhere else. Somewhere he didn’t know. Anywhere but here.
11:47 PM. Minjun entered a convenience store near Gangnam Station. Fluorescent lights illuminated him as if he were being interrogated. He walked along the shelves. Rolled eggs, kimbap, tteokbokki. All food he couldn’t eat. His stomach was already full. Full of Junho’s words. Full of Park Mira’s gaze. Full of the temperature of Lee Junhyuk’s hand.
He left without buying anything. Into the alley outside the convenience store. Few people were around. Seoul at night was a different city than Seoul during the day. Same streets, different world. Same people, different faces.
His phone rang. Junho. This time it was a call.
“Minjun, where are you?”
“Near Gangnam Station.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah.”
“Go home now. It’s late. Don’t wander around alone.”
“You go home too, hyung.”
“I need to stay at the office a bit longer. You go.”
The call ended.
Minjun just walked. Without direction. He just walked. Through Seoul at night. And then, someone appeared in front of him.
It was Lee Junhyuk.
“Minjun.”
He spoke in a low, calm voice. As if he’d been waiting for this.
“What are you doing here?”
Minjun asked.
“I was looking for you. What did Junho hyung say?”
“…Nothing much?”
“That’s a lie. You’re bad at lying. That’s the problem. In this industry, you need to be good at lying.”
Lee Junhyuk stepped closer.
“And during today’s shoot… you’re saying I did something to you?”
“Yeah.”
“What exactly?”
Minjun swallowed.
“…Inappropriate contact.”
“Inappropriate? What’s that supposed to mean? My hand touched yours? That’s acting. And you liked it. I saw it. You wanted that moment. You wanted someone’s hand to touch you. Someone to see you. That’s why you cried like that.”
Lee Junhyuk’s words were sharp as a black blade.
“I didn’t do anything to you. You were just weak. And I saw that. That’s all.”
“Then… why are you telling me this?”
“Because… you need to be more careful now. If you expose yourself like that to someone, they can use you. Not just me. So I’m telling you. Out of kindness.”
Lee Junhyuk stepped even closer. Now there was almost no distance between them.
“And… there’s another shoot tomorrow. Let’s do it again.”
“…Do what?”
“Comfort you. Touch your hand. You like that.”
Minjun stepped back. One step, then another. His back hit something. A wall. The alley wall.
“Or…”
Lee Junhyuk spoke.
“You’ll stay alone forever. And no one will look at you. Is that better? Or is it better if I look at you?”
At that moment, someone came running. It was Junho. He appeared from the darkness of the alley and stood beside Lee Junhyuk. In a low voice, he said:
“Back off.”
Lee Junhyuk’s face contorted. But he stepped back. Slowly. As if confident he would win.
“See you on set tomorrow.”
He said and disappeared into the darkness.
Junho looked at Minjun.
“You okay?”
“Hyung… how did you…”
“I followed you. And it’s good I did. What did that actor say to you?”
“…Nothing.”
“Good. Now let’s go home. I’ll take you.”
Junho grabbed Minjun’s arm. It was a different hand from Lee Junhyuk’s. Warm, but protective. Not a hand that dominates—a hand that protects.
Minjun followed Junho out of Gangnam at night. He looked back several times. It felt like Lee Junhyuk might still be there. But the alley behind them was empty. Only the darkness of night remained.
12:03 AM. A text came to Minjun’s phone. It was from Lee Junhyuk.
“Can’t wait for tomorrow. Let’s make a great scene. You’re the perfect actor for me.”
Minjun read the message and turned off the screen. Then he leaned against Junho’s shoulder.
“Hyung… I…”
“It’s okay. I’m here now. Got it?”
Junho said.
And for the first time, Minjun felt like he could completely surrender his vulnerability to someone. He still didn’t know if that was dangerous or safe. But for this moment, it didn’t matter.