March at the university, where the new semester kicked off. With one in every four students being freshmen, the air buzzed with excitement. The dorms were chaos, too, buzzing with new residents hustling about.
Click.
"Bong-gun. Hey."
"You're the first one here, as always. Choi Hwan."
Kim Bong-gun dragged in his black duffel bag. It was stuffed with sundries he'd stashed in the small theater's storage room. Living far out in the provinces, he bounced between the theater and friends' places during break.
Choi Hwan chuckled while sorting books.
"Nah. The maknae beat you to it."
"Maknae? Oh, right. Big bro graduated."
"Yeah. Freshman now."
"Whoa. So green."
Park Mun-seong, Choi Hwan, Kim Bong-gun. And the graduated mate. They'd shared the room for nearly two years. Once assigned at Seoyeondae University dorms, you stayed put unless you complained—and most didn't. Some griped that the dorm council slacked off, but overall, folks loved it. If personalities meshed, life was a blast.
"You're in your final semester too, right?"
Bong-gun asked, ripping open his bag haphazardly. Choi Hwan and Park Mun-seong were both on the cusp of graduation too. Everyone but the maknae would bail.
Well. Weirdos got the boot sooner.
"Yeah. Signed up for an internship at semester's end. Won't be around much."
Choi Hwan offered a snack bag. Snacks first thing in the morning? Hwan shrugged off the puzzled look and took some anyway.
"Maknae left 'em."
"He left? Where to?"
"Dunno. Bed had a letter and snacks when I got here."
Bong-gun reached for his top bunk. Rustle rustle. Something crinkled in his grip.
Hello. I'm the new student Ha Moo-young. Please take care of me going forward. But work means I can't move in this week—it clashes with curfew. So formal intros next week. See ya! ( ? )
"Cute, right?"
"Total freshman vibe."
Bong-gun smiled faintly, tearing into the snacks. Perfect timing—his blood sugar was tanking. He munched mechanically as Choi Hwan asked,
"Writing going well?"
"...Yeah. So well I'm dying of happiness."
"Coulda fooled me with that long-winded 'no.'"
Crunch crunch.
Bong-gun slumped in his chair, zoning out. With classes starting, the Korea University Literature Award—open only to undergrads—was looming. Last shot before graduation.
"This time, I'm pouring my soul into it."
"Greedy bastard. You've won plenty."
"It's the rookie award. Miss the window, it's gone forever."
Three strikes in playwriting already. Beyond the prize money, winners got staged at Samyoung Theater in Daehangno. Perfect escape from jobless hell.
Bong-gun leaned back, muttering,
"Characters just need more punch."
That was the snag. Revisions never satisfied.
Choi Hwan pondered comfort words, then zipped it. Outsider territory.
Instead...
"Maknae shows, let's grab drinks."
"Deal. Burning it all before graduation."
"But what's a freshman's 'work'? Doesn't sound like a part-time gig."
Just lightening the mood. Bong-gun shrugged.
"Eh. Jealous. Straight to work on enrollment."
* * *
[S#26. Alleyway Pojangmacha (Evening)]
Jeong-su sat with a stiff expression. Boiling tteokbokki and oden broth bubbled. He stared blankly. Outside darkened; streetlights flickered on.
Click.
Moo-young hovered behind the director, eyeing the monitor. Enbin—no, Jeong-su—looked drained. Just one food cart inherited from his late dad.
He'd handed it off for now, but zero customers in this scene.
"Okay. Cut."
The director paused, then called cut. Enbin finally sniffed the tteokbokki aroma.
"Enbin-ssi. One more from high angle."
"Sure."
"At the streetlight moment."
"Got it."
Camera swooped up as the director spoke. Moo-young gawked like a caveman at tech.
'Set's gorgeous.'
Door opened to another world. Cozy 60-pyeong alley, every detail fairy-tale cute: posters on walls, graffiti, teddy under lamppost, cart bulbs.
'No wonder team lead pushed PPL hard.'
Money talks. Orange lights made it warm, sensory bliss.
Moo-young locked eyes with Enbin, thumbs up.
"Enbin's naa-iling it!"
His clear shout drew soft staff laughs. His morning battle cry.
"Don't you ever tire?"
"What'd I do?"
"Standby since dawn."
"Exactly. Nothing, so fine."
That's the real grind, Enbin swallowed.
Moo-young's first scene was next. Coulda slept in, but dummy clocked in early.
"Hyung, help clean?"
"Nah? High angle shows teddy's crown only. Director says tilt from start."
"Whoa. Adorable."
Nosy or nice? Midway cheers for Enbin, staff chores—he pitched in.
"Moo-young-ah. Skip that, makeup time."
"Yesss—finally!"
"Waited ages. This way."
"Ooh, Moo-young! Lines now?"
"Haha! Candy breath?"
Vibes peaked. Not lead or even strong supporting, but earnest Moo-young shone.
"Noona, make me handsomer than Enbin."
"Joking? Noona, tone down his skin."
Banter with top idol Enbin? Instant staff bonds.
"Why're they so tight? Old pals?"
Non-Square Film staffer tilted head over script. Moo-young: debut, no agency raw rookie.
Manager scribbled notes.
"Age match? They click. Practice off-hours. Episode 2, scene 34—water hit? Extra undies?"
"Burst fine? Prep a couple anyway. Enbin free time?"
"He makes time for practice."
"Rookie posture. Keeps shoots long."
Manager just twitched brow. Moo-young's line, probably. No need airing stalker deal.
Square Film folks let it slide.
"Director, Moo-young frame-in at cart? Hold?"
"Yes. Till he sits."
"Impact scene?"
"Over Moo-young's shoulder to Enbin's face CU. Moo-young out-of-focus. Cut there, transition."
"Got it."
"ND filter!"
Director checked time, rushed. Viewfinder gold—eager for edit.
Next setup readyish.
"Set."
Moo-young appeared in uniform. Tousled hair, pure smile. Recent high schooler vibe intact.
Pre-checking path, slow walk to cart.
'Perfect.'
Director, AD, staff murmured unison. Some praised gait and beats; others his sparkling profile rivaling Enbin.
"Moo-young acts?"
"Acts?"
Outsider asked. Heard cheers, not practice.
Team lead from audition just grinned.
"Watch."
Short and sweet.
Moo-young final cam check, to set edge. Lights dim.
"Moo-young-ah. Ready?"
"Yes."
Soft smile reply. Faced front, locked in. Emotions boiled. Nameless 'student customer''s rough day stacked.
"Ready—!"
Moo-young swallowed, head up. Fresh kid gone; alley shadows soaked high schooler emerged.
Staff, even Enbin, sucked in.
"Action!"
[#27. Alley]
Student customer trudges weakly. Slow past pojangmacha. Doubles back, eyes it.
Frame-in! Held angle: Moo-young passed, returned.
[#28. Pojangmacha Front]
Student customer parts curtain, resolved.
"Hello. Open?"
Moo-young sat with line. Back-shot pulled to shoulder, nabbed Enbin's face. Moo-young blurred.
Effect sound here. Enbin's 'First customer.' voiceover flashback.
Staff gaped. Tone flip instant.
Square Film auditioners awed again.
"Okay. Cut. Straight to next."
Angle shifted side.
"What'll it be?"
"Best seller. This much. No tteokbokki or sundae. Adult stuff."
"Adult... what?"
"You adults know. Not me—boss does."
Enbin took five thousand won, rubbed forehead sheepish.
Moo-young sighed, rubbed eyes.
"Sorry. Tired today."
"No. Fine. Human."
Enbin's kind words. Moo-young bit lip, held tears. But eyes welled, tears trailed cheeks.
'God.'
Onlookers, Moo-young-focused, marveled hushed. His acting tugged noses universally.
Empathy mastery.
Moo-young wiped tears, smiled.
"Okay—! Cut!"
Clap!
Director smacked hands hard. Kid snapped from character.
Five straight multi-angle takes: flawless.
"He's legit."
"Right? But..."
"But?"
"Dunno. Great—insanely great—but weird?"
Staff puzzled.
Only monitor-glued director knew.
Moo-young's skill: endless awe.
'First like this. What is he?'
Not reading—onscreen with others. Moo-young's true caliber shone.
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