Payback- Repay

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: 페이백 - 삼크 | Payback - Samk
Relationship: Lee Yoohan/Yoon Jay
Characters: Yoon Jay, Lee Yoohan, Lee Hansoo, Choi (Payback)
Additional Tags: Light Angst, Love, Power Bottom, Acting
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-04-09 Updated: 2024-10-11 Words: 35,662 Chapters:
26/?
 Payback- Repay
by rwallacefoong

Summary

"Lee Yoohan, this is your last chance. When I say it's the last time, I mean it.”

“.....”

I gazed at him indifferently,resisting the urge to recant the words I impulsively blurted out.
But, the pain in my heart only deepened when I made the choice to inflict pain on him.
Should I not have faith in him?

Notes

The [Payback 페이백 ] series is a work of fiction based on the show [ 페이백 by 삼크]. I do
not claim ownership of the show [ 페이백 ]. While most dialogue is of my own creation,
some dialogue is taken directly from the show as a matter of course, due to the type of work I
am creating. Characters found in the [ 페이백 ] series not found within [ 페이백 ] are of my
own creation.
 1

"Cut! Good take."

As soon as Director Choi wrapped up the scene, pleased with my performance, the sound of
loud applause echoed throughout the studio. A member of the production crew hurried over
and presented me with a bouquet. This moment signified the conclusion of my final shot for
this drama. Reflecting on the experience, I realized I had been involved in filming for
approximately five months, marking the longest duration I've ever spent shooting in my
acting career.

Despite not landing a leading role, I secured a supporting role in this drama. It's almost
surreal that I'm still able to pursue acting after my scandal was exposed to the public a few
months ago. Indeed, time has a way of bringing about change.

Lost in my thoughts, I was suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of a familiar voice
mentioning my stage name.

"Thank you so much for looking after our Taemin during filming. He still has so much to
learn as an actor."

I turned to see my former manager, Manager Choi, now back in his role once more, making
his way toward me. A few months ago, I was still under Alice's management, but now, thanks
to 'him,' Manager Choi was once again my manager. He graciously nodded to everyone he
passed before reaching me, holding out my cellphone.

Observing my manager running frantically, I could already anticipate who was calling me.I
reached out eagerly to retrieve it from him.

“Taemin-ah, I think this....is Director...ah...Yoon’s call. But I don’t dare..dare to pick up... the
call for you,” he panted, passing me my cell phone.

As expected, the caller's name flashed on the screen: "Madman." Missing his calls was never
an option, regardless of how busy I was. Dealing with his anger after missing a call was
always a challenge, especially considering the repercussions the next day, such as my lower
back feeling as if it were about to give out. Therefore, promptly answering his calls was a
rule I strictly adhered to, unless I was sleeping or filming. Just as I had given him the
nickname; Madman, he indeed embodied the traits of a madman. What else could one expect
from someone with such a moniker, especially when they were displeased about something?

I answered the call.

"...."

["I won't be able to make it tonight. I'm still swamped with a pile of documents that need to
be rushed before tomorrow's meeting.]
"We still have time. It doesn't have to take all night. Are you sure you can't make it?"

[...]

From the tone on the other end, it seemed he genuinely couldn't join our plans for the
evening. It felt like we were back at square one. Not only had I returned to acting and signed
a five-year contract with Dream Entertainment, but the madman himself had also reclaimed
his position as the executive director of Dream Entertainment after the Han Ri Yeon incident.
Instead of feeling like a fresh start, it felt more like reverting to how things were as if nothing
had happened.

Aware of his desire to take me stargazing, I felt the need to reassure him that we could
postpone our plans to another day, mindful not to disrupt his work. However, before I could
convey my thoughts, a voice from the other end of the line interrupted:

[It sounds surreal. It's like you miss having me around.]

His words caused a sudden flutter in my heart. However, I had to remain composed in my
dealings with him, knowing that if I answered affirmatively, he would immediately rush over,
once again neglecting his work because of me, something I no longer wished to happen.

"Cease your nonsense. We can reschedule for another time. Focus on your work..."

[But I've missed you.]

What's up with this madman? He must be very tired by now, spouting nonsense as he pleases.

"Enough."

[You have no regard for me. But it's fine. As I said, I adore your rebellious streak. Or should I
say, your shyness?]

I heard a chuckle from the other end immediately after his teasing. "I'm done, I've had
enough of this," I muttered, moving the cell phone away from my ear, ready to end the call.
But then his voice came through again:

[Is admitting your shyness as difficult as admitting that you like me ?]

[I’m letting you for this, but try saying something that can boost my energy, I’m physically
drained from lack of sleep and mentally tortured just looking at a bunch of annoying papers
when I could be fucking you hard right now while stargazing. It's what I want to do instead of
talking nonsense with you here."]

Right after hearing this, I found myself questioning who exactly was physically drained and
mentally tortured. But to swiftly end this conversation, I knew I had to gather my courage
and say something I rarely uttered to him. He was a madman with no boundaries, especially
when it came to releasing his sexual tension, particularly since we hadn't seen each other for
the past two weeks. If I didn't say something to please him now, I might end up with him
pouncing on me in front of everyone.
"Then, concentrate on your work..."

[Not quite right, put more effort into it.]

"Work harder, give it your all."

[That lacks sincerity. Try again. Put more effort into it. No guessing, or else I'll make you
cum until you're dry.]

Forget it!

“Damn you, just focus on your work and get it done quickly instead of wasting time chatting
nonsense on the phone if you're so eager to fuck me!”

Without realizing it, I let my anger out on him. Suddenly, I heard laughter from the other end
and his voice saying:

[Now that certainly boosts not only my energy but also my determination to finish work so
that I can slide my hardened dick into your hole.]

With that, he hung up, leaving me staring blankly at the screen displaying 'Call ended'.

As rage consumed me, I was abruptly jolted by the sound of my name being called out in a
trembling voice. I turned to see Manager Choi, and my glare communicated that I was in no
mood to be disturbed if he wished to avoid any repercussions. Despite my inner turmoil, I
reluctantly responded to him, " Yes?"

"Erm... It's time... to go for the wrapping-up party. You see, umm... everyone is on their way
there. If... you're ready, let's go," he answered nervously.

As we walked toward the van, the manager asked, "Taemin-ah, are you quarreling with
Director Yoon? “

Noticing my silence, he pressed on, "Are you in need of dating advice?"

“Dating advice, my foot!" I thought to myself.

He suddenly stopped in front of me, proudly patting his chest a few times. "You see, I'm a
married man. I have enough experience to guide you on this. Trust me, Taemin."

I looked at him indifferently and walked past him as if I didn't want to acknowledge him. Just
when I thought I was drained by the Madman, here comes another lunatic.
 2

I got back home around 3 a.m. after the wrapping party ended. I should have been back much
earlier, but thanks to my manager, who wasn't even part of the production team, being forced
to drink by the crew, I ended up having to send him off and take a taxi home.

It felt odd to refer the madman's house as home. When did I become so shameless,
considering everything that belonged to him as mine? This includes the madman himself.
Can I make such a claim?

Before the Madman even reclaimed his title, he had already purchased a penthouse in the
hills of Gangnam. Consequently, the journey back home took longer than usual compared to
the penthouse that the company rented for him previously.

As soon as I arrived home and changed into my slippers, I wandered around the three-story
penthouse, hoping to find the Madman, but he was nowhere to be found in the vast, space.
Seeing his slippers lying at the entrance confirmed he was still at his office, attending to
work. I was merely indulging in wishful thinking, entertaining the idea that he might be
waiting for me or hiding somewhere in the house.

After thoroughly exploring the house and finding no sign of the Madman, I settled onto the
soft couch, gazing up at the ceiling. My mind drifted back to the phone call I had with the
Madman earlier, where he asked if I missed him. His sharp words always managed to bruise
my pride, but I couldn't deny that I missed him—his voice, his presence, his absurdity, his
kisses, and his touch. I missed everything about him. Before I knew it, drowsiness overcame
me, and I drifted off to sleep, hoping to see his face when I opened my eyes the next day.

I could feel someone gently lifting my chin, urging me to tilt my head upward. Opening my
eyes, I saw the man I longed for standing over me, looking down with a gentle smile before
leaning in to give me a tender kiss.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked softly.

As I brushed my bangs back, he settled onto the sofa beside me.

“What time is it?” I asked while he busied himself removing his tie.

“Probably 7:30,” he replied casually.

After that, I remained silent, simply gazing at him. It never occurred to me that I could yearn
for someone so intensely that the absence of their presence would ache, even though we
shared the same living space. Had I truly taken our cohabitation for granted, assuming it was
enough without the constant need for interaction? Why did I now feel this emptiness, despite
him being right beside me?

"Miss me?" his voice brought me back in time. Leaning over, he whispered into my ear, his
breath sending a tingling sensation through me.
"Don’t look at me with those eyes," he continued, "I can barely contain myself even though
it's early in the morning."

Hearing him say that, I pushed him away. He chuckled at my shyness and remarked, “Now,
you’re back to your usual self.”

Not wanting to concede to him, I retorted, “Stop being full of yourself.”

“How am I full of myself when it was you who gave me the go-ahead-and-fuck-me once I’m
done with my work? Don’t act as if you forgot. You said it out loud yesterday over the call.”

Fuck. This madman was truly unpredictable. How could someone rile up the other person so
early in the morning, turning the start of their day into hell?

With a smile, he gazed at me, his dimples becoming visible as he reached his arm over the
sofa behind my head. He lightly brushed the nape of my neck with his fingers and inquired,
"Did you miss me?"

I locked eyes with him, growing more irritated with each repetition of the question, "Do I
miss him?" This inquiry persisted even after I had admitted my feelings for him. Did it truly
matter whether I missed him, or was it simply another means of teasing he derived pleasure
from?

"Are you serious? How can you not tire of asking the same question every time we meet
again after being apart for a while?"

He smirked and withdrew his hand that had been gently resting on my nape moments ago.

"Hearing you say you like me or love me is tougher than admitting that you miss me. To ease
my heart and truly acknowledge your belonging to me, at the very least confessing that you
miss me is akin to admitting that you like me. Lee Yoohan, don’t you think so?"

His words steeled my heart, yet their truth lingered. Reflecting on it, I realized that my
confession had occurred only once, during a moment of coercion when he had grabbed my
groin. Despite the circumstances, every word had been sincere. Did he believe my confession
was merely a ploy to escape his threat at that moment?

Before I could affirm the sincerity of my confession, he abruptly woke up, stating, "I'll go get
changed. I still have a meeting to attend later in the morning. But before that, I'll whip up a
simple breakfast for you. As much as I enjoy your scent, you reek of alcohol and cigarettes.
Go take a shower while I prepare the food."

As I watched him walk away, his retreating figure stirring an ache in my heart, I couldn't help
but feel the weight of his ability to evoke guilt over every minor dissatisfaction. Yet, despite
my frustration, I found myself inexplicably caring deeply. Without uncovering the reason
behind this emotional entanglement, I acted on impulse, grabbing his wrist and pulling him
back to the sofa.

Startled, he let out a surprised sound, "Ugh?"

With swiftness akin to lightning, I shifted and settled onto his lap. Cradling his face with both
hands, I pressed my lips to his. Our mouths melded in a tender, exploratory kiss, hinting at
the intimacy to come. A soft sigh escaped me as I parted my lips ever so slightly, inviting him
deeper into the embrace.

His tongue brushed against mine, a delicate caress that sent shivers down my spine. Slowly,
almost tentatively, our tongues began to intertwine, moving in sync with the rhythm of our
breath.

As the kiss deepened, our tongues entwined with an insatiable hunger, craving to explore
every inch of each other, to commit the contours and curves of our mouths to memory. With
each tender caress, I unearthed new realms of pleasure, tracing the curves and contours of his
mouth with an intimacy that left us both breathless.

Our bodies pressed together as my hands wrapped around his shoulders, we shared a
wordless embrace, our bodies entwined in a dance of desire.

As we finally parted, gasping for breath and trembling with need, a delicate thread of saliva
lingered between our lips as they parted. He gently wiped away the excess saliva from my
mouth with his thumb, and the sight of his action, followed by his sensual gesture of licking
his finger, sent a shiver of arousal down my spine. I could sense that he had tasted something
far sweeter than any kiss I had initiated before. Despite his surprise, I could see a genuine
smile forming on his lips.

"Yoohan-ah, is this your way of expressing your love?"

I questioned him, "Are you genuinely sad? Or are you just pretending to elicit guilt from me
for not expressing enough ?"

As I questioned him, uncertainty laced my words, wondering if his actions were merely a
facade to evoke guilt from me. But as his gaze met mine, his touch tenderly brushing my hair
aside, a soft kiss on my lips silenced my doubts.

"Either way," he murmured, his voice filled with a contentedness that eased my concerns,
"I'm satisfied with whatever form your love takes. Shall we continue?"

Before I could even muster a response to his invitation, he lifted me up, carrying me
effortlessly to the bathroom. Settling me onto the vanity top, he skillfully removed my top,
his touch sending a shiver down my spine as he playfully nipped at my nipple.

"Should I take things up a notch this time, Lee Yoohan?" he murmured, his voice tinged with
desire and anticipation.

At that moment, I seized control, gripping his hair and pulling his face closer to mine to
ensure our eyes locked, a playful smirk gracing my lips. "Show me your way." I challenged
him, extending a daring invitation for him to express his devotion to me in his way.

His smile widened, revealing his dimples, and he responded, "My pleasure," his voice
dripping with sexual desire.
 3
Chapter Notes

The next chapter will be released in a few days as I'm currently out of energy to plot the
story.

His intense sucking on my neck ignited a trail of heat, leaving behind another mark of his
passion. Each pinch of my nipple sent sharp gasps escaping my lips, as arousal surged
through my chest. An erotic sensation enveloped my body, making me tremble with desire.

My trembling body caught the Madman's attention. With each tantalizing flick of my nipple,
he skillfully sought its twin, licking and sucking hard before delivering a biting sensation that
sent electric pulses of pleasure coursing through me. Tugging at his hair, I pulled him closer,
my voice husky with desire as I whispered, "Do you... find pleasure in my nipples...?" But
before I could finish, his hand boldly groped at my groin.

"I adore every part of you," he declared, punctuating his words with a hot kiss on my lips,
forcefully intertwining his tongue with mine.

Sucking and kissing at the same time send waves of intense pleasure coursing through me,
making it almost impossible to keep my mind clear and focused.

"Ahh... ple..please..."

“Argh...ahh...haa”

My moans escaped involuntarily, my grip tightening on his shoulder as he pressed against my

penis through my jeans, igniting a searing sensation that threatened to overwhelm me.

Observing my efforts to suppress my moans, he lifted his head, capturing my nipple between
his teeth and giving it a tantalizing pull before locking eyes with me.

"Let your voice out," he encouraged, his voice husky with desire. With a swift move, he
unzipped my jeans, his gaze remaining fixed on mine. "Raise your hips," he instructed, his
tone commanding yet filled with eager anticipation.

I obediently placed both hands behind me to support my body, lifting my hips as instructed.
With ease, he removed my jeans and boxers, discarding them on the floor with an undeniable
hunger. With his hands positioned under my armpits, he lifted and pushed me inwardly to
prevent me from falling off the vanity top. Then, he grabbed my left leg, positioning it on the
vanity top.
"Put some weight on your leg to steady yourself," he instructed. I followed his guidance,
positioning myself with one leg on the vanity top and the other hanging in the air.

"You must be... kidding me?" I gasped out, my voice laced with a seductive whisper, strained
by the tension between us.

He nodded approvingly, his fingers caressing my face tenderly as he praised, "You're doing
so well," a smirk playing on his lips and his dimples teasingly visible. Stepping back to
admire my posture, he continued his evaluation.

He remarked, "You look scandalously lewd, Yoohan-ah."

Hearing his words, a wave of heat surged through my chest and flushed my cheeks. Desiring
more of his touch, I extended both hands, urging him to continue his earlier actions.
However, he gently intercepted my hands, guiding them to rest on his shoulders. With a
sudden but gentle grasp, he took hold of my penis. His touch was tender, his fingers
delicately caressing the head before applying pressure and starting to stroke it back and forth.
A loud moan escaped my lips as I pressed my face into his shoulder.

"Ahh... haaa... ahhh... Ple..please...," I moaned repeatedly, but his response caught me off
guard.

"You can cum if you want," he whispered, his strokes quickening as the sensation of
impending release washed over me. My body trembled, muscles twitching uncontrollably as I
attempted to push him away, desperate to break free. But he held me firmly, his grip on my
waist unyielding as he continued to stroke harder.

"Don't... ahhh... please... I'm cumming... arghhhh!" I begged, unable to hold back any longer.
With a final, powerful twitch, a stream of white fluid surged from my penis before I collapsed
onto his shoulder, spent and breathless.

He responded with tenderness, gently placing a soft kiss on my forehead, a silent reassurance
of his care.

As I struggled to catch my breath, he whispered into my ear, sending hot shivers down my
spine, "I'll be off to the States tomorrow at noon. I won't be seeing you for the next week."

I fought to meet his gaze. Between kisses and confronting, I questioned him desperately,
"Why so sudden? Didn't... you, ahhh... promise me... ugh... that you would spend time... with
me... after my drama wrapped up?"

"I wish I had the time too," he responded, sealing his words with another hot kiss on my lips.

Breaking through his control, I shamelessly commanded him, "Take...take me... fuck me."

"As you wish," he answered, raising his fingers to my mouth. With a provocative command,
he urged, "Suck it, Yoohan."

The madman sensually brought his finger to my lips, parting them slightly before slowly
engulfing it with my mouth. With a languid motion, I sucked on it, my tongue swirling
around the tip in a teasing manner. As I looked up at him with sultry eyes, a faint moan
escaped my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.

Withdrawing his fingers from my mouth, he effortlessly spotted my hole, circling my

entrance with his moist fingers before slowly penetrating. Each delicate thrust elicited a
profound surrender to the pleasure that lay ahead. Gradually, he added more fingers, thrusting
deeper and flickering the wall within with purpose, seeking out my most sensitive areas. With
every skillful movement, a fiery sensation coursed through my body, leaving me trembling
with anticipation.

"Ah.. ah... arghhh!"

"No... not... there... haaahhh!" I cried out, a little stream of thick white fluid escaping from
my dick.

Ahhhh..." I moaned, breathless and trembling, my body pulsing with the aftershocks of yet
another intense climax brought on by his skilled fingering. With a surge of energy, I pushed
him away before grabbing my dick, stroking it hard as if I was about to experience a squirt.
Another surge of white fluid erupted from my penis, coating my chest in a glistening sheen of
release.

With a seductive motion, he gathered the white fluid and trailed it over my lips, murmuring,
"Taste it." His smirk intensified as I eagerly licked it off, succumbing to the eroticism of his
command.

He then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his well-defined abs that I admired. Just by looking at
him, I could feel my body reacting, my arousal evident as my hole began to twitch. Ever
since we started having sex, simply cumming was no longer satisfying my sexual desires. I
craved for the man in front of me to pound me hard and deep.

As soon as he released his hardened penis from his boxer, he positioned it at my entrance,
slowly entering me while urging me to relax. Despite his gentle encouragement, the sensation
was intense, and I couldn't help but gasp. His voice, filled with desire, added to the erotic
tension between us. He attempted to push every inch of his manhood inside me while
simultaneously nipping at one nipple and pinching the other. The intense combination of
sensations aroused a hot, sexual feeling throughout my entire body.

Damn, this bastard! Cursing at him inwardly, a blend of frustration and desire surged through
me.

After his entire manhood was inside me, he paused, giving me a moment to acclimate to his
substantial size.

I gasped heavily, uttering, "Ughh!"

He tenderly kissed my forehead and then my lips before withdrawing his manhood, only to
thrust back in with all his might. I cried out, "Ahh...ughh...haa!"

He increased his thrusts without regard for my discomfort.

Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!

"Ah... argghh... ahh... Wait... slowly... slow down... hh," I cried out, pleading with him to
ease the rhythm.

"Ba..Arghh! Bastard!" I moaned, my voice a mixture of pleasure and pain. With each forceful
thrust, our bodies moved in sync, driving us both to new heights of ecstasy.

Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!

"Inside you feel fucking incredible," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire.

I responded with a gasp, my body arching to meet his with each powerful push. In the heat of
the moment, time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in the raw intensity of our union.

"Ah... you... ani..animal...ughhh," I moaned breathlessly, my voice barely audible against his
skin.

"Fuck... relax, Yoohan. You're... so tight! Ahh!" he groaned, his voice strained with desire.

He gritted his teeth, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he intensified the thrusting,
driving deeper and faster with each powerful movement.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, his breath coming in ragged
gasps.

"I'm... close... ahhh..." he groaned, desire dripping from his voice as he neared his limit. I
could feel him pulsating within me, his climax approaching rapidly. And then, with a low,
guttural groan, he released himself, his warm essence flooding into me, filling me with his
desire.

We collapsed together, spent and satisfied, our bodies entwined in the aftermath of our
passion. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of us, lost in the
ecstasy of our shared pleasure.

"Arrrghh, Yoohan-ah. You’re... incredible," he groaned, desire dripping from his voice as he
smirked at me. It felt intoxicating, his lips sensually brushing against my face.

With ease, the Madman lifted me and eased me into the bathtub. As he settled at the edge, he
adjusted the water temperature with a simple flick of his hand, a mischievous glint sparkled
in his eyes, and he proposed something daring. "How about we spice things up and see how
you handle me fucking you with the hot water inside your tight little hole?"

I playfully swatted at his face, but he swiftly captured my hand, pressing soft kisses along my
palm as he savored the playful interaction.

"Pervert!" I spat out, frustration and desire mingling in my voice as I glared at him.

"Engaging in various sexual experiences can certainly spice up our relationship, don't you
agree?" he suggested, his voice laced with anticipation and a touch of playful mischief.
Despite my reservations, I couldn't resist his charm. Surrendering to his lustful desires, I
wrapped my arms around his shoulders, eager to indulge in his tantalizing kisses. Once again,
I found myself succumbing to his irresistible allure.
 4

Roused by hunger, I blinked open my eyes to discover evening had already settled in. I found
myself lying in bed, fully dressed. As usual, the madman must have tended to me after our
morning intimacy. Although he was nowhere in sight, the lingering warmth on the mattress
betrayed his recent presence. Or perhaps it was just my imagination playing tricks on me?

Struggling to get up from the bed, I found my movements severely restricted by the sharp
pain in my back. The relentless assaults from that unpredictable monster-like stamina
madman had left me feeling as though every movement might be my last. Cursing inwardly, I
vented my frustration by pounding the mattress.

"Damn that madman!"

As I attempted to shift my weight onto the floor and lift myself off the bed, my legs betrayed
me, sending me crashing to the ground. In mere seconds, I found myself sprawled on the cold
floor. The relentless ache in my back, courtesy of that insatiable madman driven by his
perpetual lust, only added to my agony.

With resolute determination, I exerted all my strength to haul my burdened and sore body
towards the bedside table, leaning on it for support. Struggling to rise, I stumbled once more.
I narrowly avoided colliding with the corner of the table, but this time I landed on the floor
with a thud, bearing the brunt of the impact. The pain inflicted by the Madman still lingered
inside me, and now, with another thud, it felt like a double blow.

I surrendered to the inevitable. Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, I realized
the Madman must have returned to the office. There was no point in rushing things now.
Remaining seated on the floor, I pondered to myself, is this truly what it feels like to miss
someone?

Abruptly, a round of applause erupted from behind me, catching me off guard.

"That’s Lee Yoohan, always stubborn about asking for help," he remarked, his tone tinged
with a mix of admiration and exasperation.

His familiar voice echoed behind me. Swiftly turning, I confirmed it was indeed the madman
speaking. Relief flooded over me as I realized he remained by my side. The flutter in my
heart soothed the pain I had just experienced, reassured by his continued presence beside me.

With his arms crossed, he leaned against the wall, watching me as if he took pleasure in my
embarrassment. Then, in an irritating tone, he remarked, "Oh dear, how could I forget? You're
too proud to ask for help."

His nonsensical assertion ignited a surge of boiling frustration, swiftly overshadowing the
fleeting warmth I had experienced moments before. His words offered no comfort
whatsoever, instead dealing a harsh blow to my pride.
I found myself incredulous.

How could this madman possess such boundless energy? Despite working tirelessly, he still
had the stamina to fuck for hours and spout nonsense at will. Doubt gnawed at my heart as I
muttered inwardly, "Not only are you a madman and a pervert but also a freaking robot?"

His gaze shifted to one filled with doubt, followed by a heavy sigh as he walked towards me.

Would he carry me again? No, it didn't seem likely. Observing his movements, he simply
approached me, paused, and then sat on the bedside. Just like that. What on earth?

Wait, why was I disappointed?

As I continued to wrestle with my thoughts, his voice pulled me back to the present. "Is the
floor more comforting than the bed?" he asked, his gaze meeting mine.

"Or perhaps more comfortable than the 'sofa'?" he added, his words catching me off guard.

"Sofa? Why mention the sofa now?" I thought to myself, puzzled by his sudden reference.

"No?" he questioned, breaking the silence.

Furrowing my brow, I grappled with the incomprehensible ramblings, offering no response in

return.

"Why don't you ever seek assistance?" he questioned, his tone carrying a mixture of curiosity
and concern. As he crossed his legs and leaned his face closer to mine, a daring smirk
emerged on his elegant features.

As he made a sudden movement towards me, a rush of shyness surged through me,
prompting me to instinctively avert my gaze. But before I could fully turn away, he
intercepted me, gripping my chin and redirecting my gaze toward his.

His intense gaze conveyed the unspoken message, ‘For you, I'd do anything.’

I grabbed his wrist, pushing it away from my chin, and turned my body sideways, as if I were
deliberately avoiding his gaze. Yet, he broke the silence, asking, "Why are you angry now?"

"I'm not angry, you stupid madman," I muttered under my breath, frustration boiling inside
me.

How could I possibly tell him that I had been thinking about him since I woke up? How could
I express the urgency I felt to search for him when I realized the side of the bed where he
should have been was empty? How could I convey that I was now dragging my sore body
around the house, desperately hoping to find him?

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, a presence emerged from behind me, causing a shiver to
run down my spine. Slowly, a face appeared next to mine, and our eyes met in an unexpected
moment of connection. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, he whispered
in my ear, his breath sending tingles down my neck, "Did you just say something?"
He repeated his question in a barely audible whisper, "Did you just say something?"

"Ughh, annoying as hell," I grumbled, my irritation evident in my tone. "I need to use the
bathroom! Can you help me now? Are you satisfied?!"

He erupted into laughter at my words, doubling over and clutching his stomach as if in pain.

Frustration coursed through me—what was so amusing about my simple need to relieve
myself? I wasn't fabricating my desire to use the bathroom while trying to allocate him; it
was simply that my legs refused to cooperate, thanks to the relentless activity with this
madman that had left my back feeling numb.

"Hahaha... sure... sure," he chuckled in amusement. "Ha, I'll help you." With ease, he scooped
me up from behind, supporting me effortlessly.

As I cradled in his embrace, I couldn't help but notice the change in his attire. "Is he planning
to leave soon?" I wondered silently. Seeking reassurance, I wrapped my arm around his neck
and nestled closer to his chest, seeking solace in his comforting presence.

Recalling our earlier conversation, I questioned, "Didn't you mention having a meeting to
attend?"

In a nonchalant tone, he replied, "It's been postponed to 20:00."

I was taken aback, yet not entirely surprised. Considering he'd set aside his work just to spend
time with me, postponing a meeting seemed like a minor adjustment.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he led me to the bathroom, gently seating
me on the toilet bowl before planting a soft kiss on the top of my head. "Call me when you're
done. I'll be right outside," he said with a gentle smile.

In a spontaneous moment, my hand reached out to grasp his wrist, surprising us both.
Quickly retracting my grip, I blurted out, "What?"

Remaining composed, he remarked, "With your personality, I'm sure you wouldn't want me
to stand here and witness you using the bathroom, right?"

"Of course not!" I replied, feeling embarrassed. Searching for an excuse, I stammered, "I
was... um... about to remind you to... yes, to close the door, no peeking!" struggling to find an
explanation, I blushed furiously.

He chuckled softly.

"You're not cute, YooHan-ah," he teased as he walked away, leaving me with a warm feeling
in my heart.

I cursed at myself, berating my actions.

 5

After using the bathroom, my sole goal was to exit the entire room without needing the
madman's assistance. He'd carried me three times today alone, and while it didn't bruise my
pride, I loathed relying on anyone, especially him.

A few years ago, my life was a struggle, consumed by an insatiable need for atonement. The
aftermath of that period left me unable to trust or depend on others. The deaths of my mother
and brother led me to punish myself, denying any joy until the madman unexpectedly
sparked a desire to live within me. Despite my newfound will to survive, accepting acts of
kindness remained difficult for me.

Perhaps I was still punishing myself, convinced I didn't deserve to live, trapped in an endless
cycle of atonement for sins I couldn't shake off.

Struggling to move my heavily sore body, I attempted to exit the bathroom. The glass design
of the bathroom allowed me to see a sticky note placed on the opposite side of the door,
obscuring its contents from my view. I couldn't recall seeing the note when the madman
carried me in, indicating it must have been placed there when I was using the bathroom.
Hastening my movements, I reached for the door handle, pushed it open, and stepped out of
the bathroom.

Removing the sticky note, I read: I'll be in the living room. Take your time. If it's too much,
call me. Your cell phone's on the dresser.

The dresser, the only one in the room, was by the bathroom entrance. His thoughtfulness
brought a smile to my face, making my struggles a little easier. But that didn't mean I would
make the call. I could reach the living room on my own.

Leaving my cell phone behind, I dragged my feet towards the door. After just a few shuffling
steps, I heard a sigh from the opposite direction. Following the sound, I was startled to find
the madman seated on the bed with his legs crossed. His gaze pierced through mine, its
intensity almost unbearable.

Just as surprise gripped me, I heard him mutter clearly, “As expected."

His unexpected statement puzzled me, and though I furrowed my brow, I kept moving
forward. Dragging my feet, I questioned, "Didn't you say you'd be in the living room? Why
are you still here?"

After I asked my question, I stopped and looked at him again. Lost in thought, he rested his
chin on his hand, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. He answered, “Just a bet.”

I shook my head lightly, silently brushing off his response as another one of his whimsical
banter.

His subsequent words caught my attention.

"I noticed you're hesitant to ask for my help, so I left the note there in case you were
wondering where I'd be. I can't risk you having another fall because of me. You might not
realize it, but you look rather pitiful lying on the floor."

Instant regret flooded me for even asking why he stayed. It seemed to be another opportunity
for him to mock me. I lost my temper, snapping at him, "Damn it. Quit being so arrogant.
You're insufferable, you gorilla!"

Both of us were taken aback by my choice of words, but instead of anger, his response was
laughter. Laughter echoed through the entire room. At this moment, if I had my usual
mobility, I would have shoved him onto the bed and wrestled him into submission.

He then approached me expressionlessly, "I thought maybe you'd call out for help. That's
why I stayed after leaving the note. I felt content at the mere thought of you reaching out, but
you'd rather endure the pain alone. You still insist on doing things alone without accepting
help."

Meeting his gaze, I discerned not only disappointment but also a lingering trace of sadness
hidden within his eyes. Lowering himself, he gently lifted me into his arms, eliciting a soft
gasp of surprise from me. I rested my hands on his shoulders, feeling the weight of his words.

In a hushed tone, I caught his words. He uttered, “At times, I wonder if I'm drawn to my
suffering. How did I find myself entangled with someone I struggled to hold onto? Your mere
presence steals my breath away, yet I grasp onto you. I am aware you'll eventually slip from
my grasp, leaving me with nothing but emptiness.”

Each word he spoke felt like a dagger twisting in my heart. I wondered why I couldn't bear
my soul to him like any other couple.

Will this man eventually leave me if I remain unchanged? If that were to happen, could I
endure it with the same resilience I showed in refusing his assistance? And in the quiet
moments that followed, the fear of losing him loomed heavy on my heart, casting a shadow
over our fragile connection.

As we left the room, the only sound that filled the air was the heavy rhythm of his footsteps,
echoing the solemnity we left behind.
 6

Our room is on the second floor. A shorter distance to the living room compared to his
working space on the third floor. As we made our way down the stairs, my eyes were drawn
to his travel luggage neatly arranged by the entrance. However, it was the sight of two
suitcases that gave me pause. Typically, he only packed one for a week-long trip abroad. The
unexpected addition sparked doubts within me, stirring a growing sense of suspicion.

Glancing at him, his expression still inscrutable, a sudden soft chuckle escaped my lips.
Sensing my amusement, he asked softly, "What?"

Shaking my head lightly, I leaned closer and whispered into his ear, "Am I not too heavy for
you?"

"Not at all," he replied without hesitation.

As if, silently acknowledging my thoughts, I observed that he had indeed returned to his usual
self. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and inquired, "Have you packed all your
belongings?"

He nodded in agreement.

"Have you packed some spare clothes?" I inquired, mentally running through the checklist of
essentials to ensure nothing was overlooked. Once again, he nodded.

We were just moments away from reaching the bottom of the staircase. "Brought all the
important documents?" I pressed, urgency coloring my tone.

Once again, he nodded

"And what about any emergency medications?" I asked, a tinge of worry evident in my voice.

At that moment, he chose not to respond, maintaining his composure as his gaze met mine
with a subtle tilt of his head. The silent plea in my gaze spoke volumes, silently hoped he
hadn't forgotten the essential medications.

With his understanding evident, I continued, “I don't mean to pry, but even though the States
feels like a second home to you, it's important not to overlook these items. Especially the
documents – they're vital for your work.”

A playful smirk danced across his lips as he continued towards the living room. However, his
direction puzzled me; he wasn't heading towards the living room but towards the entrance.
"Yo? Where are you—" I began, but before I could finish, he placed me atop the luggage.

Surprised, I stuttered, "What are you doing?"

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he simply replied, "You."

Confusion etched across my face as I tried to comprehend his actions. "Huh?" I managed to
utter, my expression mirroring my bewilderment.

“I said, ‘you’,” he clarified, leaning closer until our faces were inches apart. “I forgot to pack
you.” he repeated playfully, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Feeling his warm
breath against my skin, I couldn't help but turn away, attempting to diffuse the tension.
However, he didn't let go, pulling me into a straddle hug, carrying me to the living room
again before setting me down on the couch and disappearing into the kitchen.

As I watched him gradually fade into the kitchen, I sank back onto the sofa, my mind drifting
back to yesterday, when I had been in this exact spot, waiting for him to rouse me from sleep.
Now, it was my turn to witness his departure from our home later in the day. A pang of
sadness washed over me, realizing that beyond our intimate moments earlier, we had barely
spent any time together. Moments like these made me ache for more connection, and more
intimacy.

Suddenly, a sharp "ttak" sound broke the tranquil atmosphere, stirring me from my reverie.
Slowly, I opened my eyes to find the madman had returned, delicately placing a familiar food
tray on the table. Kimchi fried rice again. Was this his culinary specialty? It seemed to be his
go-to dish, earning it the title of the Madman's signature meal.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed his presence as he seated himself beside me, offering
me a spoon with a gentle gesture. Thankful for the offering, I took it, drawn in by the inviting
aroma emanating from the dish.

"Weren't you supposed to be at a meeting by 20:00? It's almost time," I reminded him.

"In awhile," came his terse reply.

Deciding not to push the matter, I chose to savor the moment instead. However, as I hesitated
to dig in, he cast me a curious glance. "Not hungry?" he inquired, his tone gentle yet probing.

"In a bit," I replied, echoing his earlier brevity.

His laughter filled the air, lightening the mood. With a playful touch over my nape, he
nudged me, "Fair enough." And in that simple exchange, we shared a moment of
understanding and connection that spoke volumes.

However, one question still nagged at me, demanding an answer. "Why so many suitcases?"

I met his gaze, searching for clarity.

As usual, he responded with brevity, "Chief Park called earlier. The US office is undergoing
sudden personnel relocation. I've been summoned to oversee the changes."

While I understood the nature of his job, my concern lay elsewhere. "For how long?" I
pressed, my voice tinged with apprehension. He looked at me, momentarily puzzled before
understanding dawned.

"Almost a month," he replied without hesitation.

The sight of multiple suitcases awaiting him at the entrance suddenly made sense, but his
next words took me by surprise.

"I won't be there to advise you on the casting process for drama XX," he continued, his tone
serious. "However, I've arranged resources for you to secure the role. This Metflix self-
production drama may not offer the lead role, but it's crucial for your career. It's a pathway to
your future in the action genre."

I fell into a contemplative silence, sensing there was more he wished to convey.

"The company has arranged stunt training for you later this week," he informed me, his tone
firm.

"Your manager will brief you on this. Remember, don't get injured before the casting. While
my words may seem harsh, you must understand that although you're gaining recognition as
actor Lee Taemin, you're not yet a rising star. If you injure yourself during the training, you'll
be dropped from the casting. Understand?"

I nodded solemnly, feeling the gravity of his warning sink in.

In a sudden moment of vulnerability, I murmured, "What if I don't get the role?" His hand
cupped my face gently, catching me off guard, yet his reassuring eyes seemed to say, don't
worry about the outcome, just concentrate on giving it your all.

At that moment, I felt it was appropriate to express my gratitude. Without hesitation, I

brushed aside his hands and leaned in to place a tender kiss on his lips. He responded with a
smile, whispering, "Yoohan-ah, don't do anything that worsens your back."

He then stood up from his seat and brought the dish closer to me. "Eat up. It's specially
cooked for you.". Bending close, he whispered into my ear, his warm breath sending tingles
down my spine.

“This dish,” he said with a playful tone, “is called 'Baekwon Fried Rice’.” His genuine smile
warmed my heart as I eagerly accepted the dish.

As he moved towards the entrance, I felt a pang of sadness knowing his departure was
imminent. Wanting to see him off, I made a move, but he gently stopped me with his words.
"Just enjoy your meal,” he said softly.

“No need to see me off. I can't bear to see you tearful and pleading for me to stay. That's not
the Lee Yoohan I know. It's unsettling to see you cry when there's no sex involved."

"Damn, this madman," I muttered under my breath, feeling a mixture of annoyance and
amusement. He had a knack for diffusing tense situations with his ridiculous remarks. I
wanted to curse him out before he left, but before I could utter a word, he dropped a cryptic
message.

"I'd rather not witness Lee Yoohan shedding tears over something so trivial," he remarked,
his words carrying a hidden meaning. "He can save those tears for when I thoroughly ravage
him," he added, his tone suggestive enough to make my cheeks burn.

As the door clicked shut, a smile tugged at my lips. That madman truly embodied his
reputation. Despite my annoyance with his unconventional method of solace, I couldn't deny
the underlying message: even if you didn't get the role, it wasn't worth shedding tears over.

That maddening, infuriating bastard!

 7
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The buzzing vibration of my phone jolted me awake, my heart racing with anticipation as I
reached for it eagerly. Disappointment washed over me like a cold wave when I realized it
was just a message from my manager, not the one I had been hoping for from the 'Madman.'

With a sigh, I tapped on the message notification and skimmed through its contents. "Taemin-
ah, please come to the office before 2 pm. There's a production meeting scheduled at 2 pm in
meeting room 3. Let's go together. I'll meet you at the lobby first."

I replied with a simple "okay" and tossed my phone aside, the twinge of disappointment
lingering like an unwelcome shadow.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting its gentle glow, I reached for my cell
phone, drawn once more to the conversation with the Madman. Four days had passed since
our last exchange: [Meeting]. With each second, the weight of my hesitation grew heavier,
but I refused to let my ego win. With a deep breath, mustering the courage to type a simple
'Hey' and hit send, each tap of the keys a small triumph over my hesitations.

As thirty minutes ticked by, the absence of a reply weighed heavily on my mind. Doubt
seeped in, filling the silence with questions and insecurities. Had I been too hasty? The
uncertainty nagged at me, but instead of dwelling on it, I resolved to focus on getting ready
for work. Other things were demanding my attention besides the Madman.

With each decision, I felt the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders, the demands
of the day ahead looming large in my mind. There was a sense of quiet determination guiding
my steps to be a better me and, I refused to let myself be held captive by the Madman.

***

Amidst the chaos of the morning commute, I finally reached the Dream's building.

"Taemin-ah," my manager's voice beckoned as soon as I stepped into the company. Making
my way toward him, I noticed Hansoo standing beside him.

"Hyung! It's been too long." Hansoo's words carried a hint of yearning as he approached me.
Despite our infrequent meetings, his determination to succeed remained steadfast. While he
hadn't yet landed any lead roles, he had managed to secure several supporting parts in recent
dramas. It was a relief to see him overcome his camera phobia at last. With his innate acting
talent, I hoped that more people would come to recognize the existence of actors like him.

As he dashed toward me, arms outstretched, I intercepted his path, my hand veiling his face.
Hansoo struggled against my grip, unwilling to relent. Ignoring his protests, I tuned in closely
to Manager Choi's words. He disclosed that stunt training was set to commence the next day
and that we would be journeying to Gyeonggi-do for it.

Seoul Stunt Academy, located in the artist village of Heyri in Paju-si, Gyeonggi-do, and with
origins rooted in the art of stunts, has evolved into a reputable institution. As preparations
were made for Metflix self-produced drama set in the Joseon Era, characterized by intense
fight scenes, a week-long training session was scheduled before casting.

As the casting process unfolded, attention was directed towards crucial skills such as
swordsmanship, archery, and horseback riding. Given my role as a royal guard, my focus
during casting lay on demonstrating proficiency in swordplay. Manager Choi suggested that I
might have significant involvement in scenes where the King was involved despite the King
being the second leading male role in the drama, but the uncertainty lingered: would I secure
the role?

Following the briefing, we found ourselves standing outside meeting room 3. Meanwhile,
Hansoo decided to wait for us in the cafeteria. I turned to Manager Choi with a notebook in
hand, curiosity piqued. "Why exactly are we here?"

Manager Choi, engrossed in rummaging through his bag for his pen, began to explain,
“….There is another...where’s the pen?..." He continued his search, then triumphantly raised
his hand, pen in tow. Our eyes met briefly, and I silently conveyed a warning not to waste any
time.

Ignoring my disapproving stare, Manager Choi pressed on, "It's about a new role. Two roles
are being offered for you to audition."

Two roles? I couldn't help but wonder how that was even possible. Before I could dwell on it
further, the meeting room door swung open, and my manager ushered me inside. As I
entered, I saw the typical oval-shaped meeting table with about five people seated across
from us. Taking our seats opposite them, the discussion was about to begin.

As I surveyed the faces gathered around the oval meeting table, familiarity struck with only
one among them: Chief Park, a stalwart under the Madman's command As for the others, a
blur of suits and stern expressions, likely hailed from the management team.

With a sense of camaraderie tinged with curiosity, I prepared myself for what lay ahead in
this unexpected convergence of talents and authority.

Chief Park, breaking the silence, inquired if I had been informed about the upcoming casting
audition. I met Chief Park's gaze, silently conveying my ignorance of the matter.
Understanding the unspoken message in my eyes, he rested his face in his hand before
speaking up.

"Two roles are awaiting your audition," he began, his voice steady. "One from a drama, the
other from a movie. Since you were unaware, we'll provide a brief overview of each role.
However, please understand that this meeting is not intended for you to express your
preference for a role. Put simply, you are not here to choose."
His words struck me like a sudden blow. My acting, my sweat, my effort, but not my call. To
alleviate the injustice of it all, I couldn't help but voice my frustration, “Then why
bother having this meeting?” I leaned back in my seat, a touch of frustration in my posture as
I adjusted my bomber jacket.

Chief Park's confident response sliced through the tension like a blade. "In the command of
Director Yoon," he asserted.

The realization that it was at the madman's directive caused a surge of suspicion to course
through me. Narrowing my eyes, I fixed Chief Park with a scrutinizing gaze, silently
questioning his allegiance.

Sensing the tension in the air, my manager intervened to steer the conversation back to the
character briefing. With an opportunity to proceed, Chief Park began introducing the role
available in the drama.

The character I've been asked to portray begins as a man who lacks genuine affection for the
female lead but agrees to enter a relationship with her out of sympathy. Throughout the time
together as a couple, the said role I was asked to act will engage in several instances of
infidelity.

Chief Park clarified that my selection as one of the audition candidates for this role stemmed
from the drama production team's belief in my ability to portray the complexities of an
unfaithful partner. They noted a perceived lack of emotional depth in my eyes, which they
saw as indicative of a character struggling to grasp the concept of love.

Chief Park proceeded, "Given your character's portrayal as somewhat of a playboy, intimate
scenes will be a recurring element throughout the filming process." Glancing at the others, I
sensed a shared discomfort with Chief Park's blunt description.

"Upon careful consideration, the higher-ups reached a consensus that this role will not
receive top priority," Chief Park asserted, his words dripping with authority. His words struck
me like a chill wind, but beneath my facade, a twisted amusement flickered. Upper
management? More like the puppet strings of that madman. I didn't need to confront him
about relinquishing the role for me; I already knew it was because of that intimate scene.

A sudden thirst seized me, and I lunged for the water bottle on the table, eager to quench both
my physical and emotional thirst. But as the cap twisted open, an unexpected revelation
pierced through me that had nothing to do with the madman's whimsical banter.

"The majority of the higher-ups have unanimously agreed that you're the perfect fit for the
role offered in the movie," Chief Park announced, his voice weighted with significance.

"What role?" I questioned, lowering the bottle back onto the table. Sensing the reluctance of
my colleagues to continue, I persisted, "What is it?"

Chief Park sighed heavily, feeling the weight of my inquiry before reluctantly muttering,
"....school bully."
 The term 'bully' reverberated in my mind, unleashing a deluge of guilt that threatened to
consume me whole. I had once reveled as the tormentor. The burden of my past
transgressions pressed down on me like an unyielding weight, suffocating me in a shroud of
remorse. I had once taken pleasure in inflicting pain, reveling in the power I held over the
vulnerable. Their designation of me as the ideal candidate for this role was a cruel mirror
reflecting my darkest deeds.

Among the shadowy figures of the higher-ups, there loomed the madman, a sinister
orchestrator manipulating my guilt like a puppeteer pulling strings. It was him, of all people,
inflicting this unbearable agony upon me. I must have naively lowered my defenses in his
presence, unwittingly granting him access to my innermost vulnerabilities. He plunged a
metaphorical knife into the wounds of my past, reopening them with calculated cruelty.

The more I dwelled on it, the deeper I sank into a sea of regret.

A sharp sound escaped my lips involuntarily, a guttural mix of disgust and disbelief. "Argh!"

In a heartbeat, I struggled to draw breath, the weight of my past sins pressing down on me
like a vise. The air was thick with the ghosts of my past cruelty. Clutching at my chest where
my heart throbbed beneath layers of fabric, I winced in pain. The ache was physical, a
tangible manifestation of the turmoil within me.

Rising abruptly from my seat, I fled the suffocating confines of the meeting room. Each step
felt like dragging chains, the burden of my guilt dragging me down into the depths of despair.
No matter how desperately I yearned for redemption, I realized that the specter of my past
would forever haunt me.

As I slammed the door shut behind me, the distant call of my manager's voice reached my
ears, a faint reminder of the reality I was desperate to escape.

Chapter End Notes

So, is this chapter feeling pretty intense? No worries, though. Yoonjay is about to swoop
in and ease the tension soon enough.

Honestly, it's hard to express Yoohan's guilt. *cry*

Leave your comment.
 8
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Each step felt like a battle against invisible chains, my limbs weighted down by exhaustion
and the weight of the world. The hallway stretched endlessly before me, a corridor of
shadows and echoes that mirrored the weariness in my soul.

I found myself unable to shake off the events of the meeting room, the words echoing
hauntingly in my mind. Their echoes served as a stark reminder of the person I used to be and
the sins that seemed to cling to me relentlessly.

With a surge of pent-up frustration coursing through me, I clenched my fist against my chest,
the intensity of my emotions threatening to suffocate me. In a desperate bid to release some
of the pressure, I slammed my other hand against the unforgiving wall, the searing pain
barely registering amidst the turmoil raging within me.

No matter how much time had passed, the truth stood immutable. I was the sole cause of the
tragedy that befell my family seven years ago. The guilt, the remorse—it was a burden I
carried with me every single day, a constant reminder of the irreversible damage I had
wrought.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed, the word bursting from my lips like a primal scream of anguish and
frustration. Fumbling through my pocket, my fingers found the familiar shape of my cell
phone. I pressed the call button with a sense of urgency. His flight is scheduled for noon
today. Glancing at the time displayed—14:24—I clung to a glimmer of hope that he hadn't
boarded his flight yet.

With each ring, my impatience grew. I demanded an answer to his actions, feeling the weight
of metaphorical knives pressing against my neck. "You’re indeed a psychopath, Yoon Jay!" I
seethed inwardly the bitterness evident in my tone.

The sound of his voice crackling through the line stirred a tempest of emotions within me, a
whirlwind of familiarity and distance that intensified the ache in my heart.

“Yes?”

“Why?”, I demanded the moment his voice reached my ears, unable to contain the torrent of
questions and accusations swirling in my mind.

The silence that followed was deafening, stretching taut between us like a fragile thread on
the verge of snapping. Yearning for an answer that might never come. A hollow void that
seemed to mock my anguish, intensifying the flames of frustration that consumed me from
within.
My frustration boiled over as I snapped, "Your silence screams betrayal louder than any
words could. You, of all people, weaponize my past against me. I wasn't wrong about you.
Once you're through with me, you handle me just like you did to Cha JungWoo!”

Silence remained lingering from the other end of the line, fueling the fire of my anger. I
pressed on. “Isn't it just a twisted joke?” I sneered, “How adeptly you masked your true
intentions with a veneer of care. Your dagger was always ready, hidden in the shadows,
waiting to strike. You used my vulnerabilities against me, to toy with my emotions like a
puppeteer pulling the strings of....."

“Yoohan-ah,” his voice cut through the tension, deceptively calm yet carrying a steely edge.
“As much as I miss hearing your voice, I fear I've endured your diatribe for long enough.”

He continued, his words piercing through the air with precision, “All in all, I can only
conclude that you believe I influenced the majority to prioritize the role offered in the movie
simply to cause misery to you.”

A heavy sigh echoed through the line. “Indeed, given that you took your atonement seriously,
I owe you an explanation,” he admitted.

I waited, tension coiling in my chest, as he gathered his thoughts.

“But accusing me of using your past against you....” He scoffed, a hint of sarcasm lacing his
words, “It’s the most absurd thing I've ever heard in my entire life.” He retorted, “So this is
how you see me.”

His words didn't soothe my heart; instead, they only deepened the hurt.

A smirking, mocking tone crept into his voice. “Do you truly believe I'd put on an act for
you?” he asked, disappointment evident. His chuckle was tinged with melancholy. “If I were
to show you the cold, indifferent side of me that the world sees, I would've cut you off long
ago.”

"You've been quick to accuse me of wielding guilt as a weapon against you," he continued,
his tone growing more somber. "But have you stopped to consider that you've done the same
to me? This time, the blade you've thrust is sharper, cutting deeper."

He paused, letting a suffocating silence fill the space between us, thick with words left
unspoken. “The moment you bluntly run your mouth, instead of cutting you off as I
should've, I, once again degrade myself compromising my values to fit in with your
nonsense.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, a blend of anger and vulnerability. The intensity
of his emotions was palpable, leaving me reeling and uncertain of what would come next.

“Lee Yoohan, I've made it clear that there's only one reason I'd betray you is when you try to
run away from me”, he said, his voice laced with conviction. “With every ounce of my being,
my sole purpose is to liberate you from the annoying chains of your past and to have you
 accept my love willingly, as if it's the most natural thing in the world” he continued “I never
think of hurting you, not for a moment.”

His words resonated deeply, underscoring the intensity of his commitment and the sacrifices
he was prepared to make to preserve our ties. The lengths he was willing to go to protect and
hold onto it from being severed.

"...Then why? You knew, didn't you?.... You revived my will to live, only to drop me harder
into despair,” I choked out, my voice trembling with emotion.

The weight of guilt pressed heavily on me as I continued, “Everything that started seven
years ago was because of me... being a..." The word 'bully' felt like a bitter pill, sticking in
my throat, making it hard to say. Still, I pressed on desperately, "...if only I hadn't... then
maybe..."

The weight of regret and remorse threatened to crush me. The silence that followed was
deafening, the words hung in the air, heavy with regret and what-ifs, casting a shadow over
our conversation. The memories of the past weighed on me, each one a painful reminder of
mistakes made and opportunities missed.

The tension between us was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to fill the space, making it
hard to breathe. The ghosts of my past actions loomed large, creating an emotional barrier
that we both struggled to break through.

His sigh was palpable, echoing with a weight I couldn't ignore.

"Yoohan-ah... there's no room for 'maybe'," he urged.

His voice, though steady, held a soft undercurrent of sorrow, “Have you truly let go of your
guilt?”, piercing through my defenses.

The question cut deep, challenging me to confront the lingering guilt and remorse that
continued to haunt me. It was a reminder of the past I couldn't escape from, and the impact it
had on both of us.

Chapter End Notes

Damn, conveying YoonJay's disappointment is proving tougher than I imagined.

The next chapter will reveal why YoonJay chose to focus on the bully role.

I'm currently writing YooHan's stunt training scene, and it's turning out to be more
challenging than I anticipated.

By the way, what do you think of this chapter? Do you feel I captured YoonJay's
disappointment truly?
Leave your comments!
 9
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

As the silence stretched on, tension filled the hallway. The madman's question still echoed in
my mind, it felt as though he was peering into my soul, searching for answers to questions I
wasn't sure I was ready to face. His question had left an unsettling impression, stirring up
memories and doubts that I had tried to bury deep within.

Taking a deep breath, I broke the silence. "I've been trying to let go, ...... it's harder than I
thought," I confessed, my voice shaky with emotion, each word feeling like a weight lifted
off my chest.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, filled with the weight of his
understanding. "I know it's a struggle," he said gently. "But holding onto this guilt isn't just
harming you. It's keeping both of us marching in place."

As I listened intently on the phone, the voice on the other end was calm yet firm and asserted,
"Lee Yoohan, you can't keep running from these feelings. Hiding won't make them go away.
From the company's standpoint, you're a product, and they want to maximize your value. But
to me, there's more to it than just landing the role."

I took a moment to absorb his words.

"Consider this," the voice began in a soothing tone, “Taking on this bully role might seem
daunting, even uncomfortable given your past. But sometimes, the roles that challenge us the
most are the ones that offer the greatest rewards.”

"By portraying a bully on screen, you have the platform to raise awareness about bullying
and its impact," he pointed out. "Your performance could spark important conversations and
encourage others to speak out against bullying, showing the consequences of such actions
and inspiring others to choose kindness and compassion instead."

The voice persisted, sharing more insights.

“It may serve as a journey of self-discovery, helping you confront and reconcile with your
past...” he then paused, “No if I must say, this is the time to reclaim it.”

His words struck a chord, emphasizing the transformative power of art.

"You should realize that your past actions hurt not just the victims but also their families," he
pointed out. "By highlighting the repercussions of bullying, you could potentially spare many
families from such pain. Wouldn't you agree this could be a form of healing or redemption
you might have been searching for?"
“Diving into this character might help you process the guilt and remorse you've been
carrying. It's about confronting your past and reclaiming it," he added.

"I never intended to cause you pain," he whispered, "But it was my selfish belief that I could
save us."

His words struck a chord deep within me, making me realize the heavy toll my guilt was
taking on him. The realization cut deep, understanding that my actions and guilt weren't only
hurting me but also the person I cared about most. I couldn't help but wonder how much he
had endured because of my inability to let go of the past, and how much longer he would
stand by me.

His voice shifted suddenly, taking on a firm, persuasive edge. "Listen," he began, his tone
filled with conviction and urgency, "if my words aren't enough to convince you, try to see it
from a different angle."

He paused briefly, letting the weight of his next words settle, "You're an aspiring actor, still
finding your footing. What will you do when the next similar role comes along? Dodge it
again?"His voice remained steady, determined to get his point across, "If you continue to let
this guilt hold you back, then you need to ask yourself if this career is truly right for you."

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "It's a tough reality to face, but this guilt of yours? You'll
have to confront it sooner or later."

He added, with a hint of optimism, "This opportunity might've come knocking earlier than
you'd like, but isn't it a chance to finally break free from your past?"

As his words echoed in my mind, something clicked. The weight of his message, the sincerity
in his voice—it all started to make sense. I had been so focused on my guilt, so consumed by
the fear of facing my past, that I had failed to see the bigger picture.

Taking a deep breath, I finally spoke, "Maybe, you're right," my voice steadier than before,
"I've been letting my guilt dictate my choices, holding me back from opportunities that could
help me grow. It's time to confront this head-on."

A sense of clarity washed over me, realizing that this was not just about a role or a career, but
about facing my fears and moving forward. "I understand now," I continued, "this isn't just an
opportunity for my career but a chance for personal growth, aim to break free from my past."

There was a brief pause, the weight of our conversation settling between us, before he
responded softly, "I think you have the strength and talent to tackle this role and make it your
own."

A feeling of validation washed over me. His words conveyed a simple message: I believe in
you.

The weight of his belief in me settled in slowly. It was as though he had seen past my doubts
and reservations, recognizing something in me that I had been struggling to see myself. His
words pierced through the layers of my insecurities, offering a glimmer of hope and
encouragement.

A feeling of gratitude welled up inside me, mixed with a newfound sense of determination.
The words echoed in my mind, pushing me to reconsider my self-imposed limitations. Could
I take on this challenging role? Could I confront my past through this character and find a
way to heal?

A subtle smile formed on my lips, reflecting the mix of emotions I was experiencing. It was a
moment of clarity where I felt truly seen and believed in. Madman's faith in me was a
catalyst, reigniting my self-belief and inspiring me to embrace the role as a step toward
personal growth and redemption.

His voice suddenly broke through the phone, pulling me back to the present. "With your
doubts cleared, the role is yours to pursue. How you approach it is your decision. I won't
interfere, as promised. And you won't be participating in the audition for the role the drama
offered," he stated.

The role had slipped my mind momentarily. "Why?" I asked even though I already knew the
reason.

His next response caught me off guard, “ Didn’t you hear from the meeting aside from you
not best fit for the cast, the audition date for this role clashed with the role offered in the
movie.”

Recollection hit me. I had stormed out of the meeting earlier, leaving my manager to deal
with the fallout. I could picture him, trying to smooth things over and apologizing for my
behavior. But I didn't want to give the madman the satisfaction of knowing I had been so
impulsive. I was sure Chief Park would fill him in on the details of what transpired in that
meeting. So, I maintained my composure and responded firmly.

"Isn't it because of the potential intimate scenes?" I asked, aiming to gauge his reaction and
perhaps stir a hint of jealousy.

His voice carried a hint of reluctance, "I supposed..., just from scanning the first three
episodes of the script, there are more kissing scenes written than the ones you've initiated
with me. It's frustrating to even consider continuing with the rest of the script. But this's
something I'll need to come to terms with."

The pause and hesitation in his response didn't go unnoticed, leaving me to wonder if my
attempt to stir his jealousy had worked.

Despite understanding the professional stakes involved, his voice wavered with a mix of
determination and vulnerability. "There will be times when you'll be offered roles that require
intimacy. I can't be rejecting the roles solely because of my personal feelings. Turning down
roles could risk your career, especially as a rookie."

He paused, letting out a sigh before continuing, "But imagining you in intimate scenes where
you've barely shown such affection towards me... it's a difficult pill to swallow." The weight
of his words lingered between us, underscoring the complex emotions and professional
challenges we were navigating.

My attempt to stir his jealousy was indeed effective. A smile tugged at my lips. His jealousy,
though at times overbearing, was endearing.

With a teasing lilt that traveled through the phone line, he added, "Perhaps the responsibility
lies with you to ease my concerns. Your earlier accusations did bruise my pride." Hearing the
playful challenge in his tone, I couldn't help but chuckle. It was clear I needed to find a way
to coax him and alleviate his concerns.

But before I could speak up, he reverted to his usual calm tone. "I cherish hearing you laugh.
Now that you're calm, I can get back to my work. Put aside what I said earlier. Focus on your
training." he instructed.

His words sent a flutter through me, like a gentle breeze lifting a delicate feather. Despite my
sharp words and impulsive actions, his concern for me remained unwavering. His
unpredictability was part of his charm, and it was why my heart raced whenever he was near.

"I'll be setting off soon," he informed me. "Take a moment to rest and check the luggage near
your wardrobe."

I furrowed my brow, recalling the suitcase I had noticed earlier in the dressing room but
hadn't paid much attention to.

"I packed your belongings when I was sorting out mine yesterday. Give it a once-over to
make sure nothing's missing," he said with a light tone.

His thoughtfulness shone through in the simple act of packing my things. It was a small
gesture, but it spoke volumes about his care and consideration for me. My earlier rudeness
weighed on me, and I felt the need to apologize.

Gathering my thoughts, I began, "About earlier, I shouldn't have—"

His laughter cut me off, "I wasn't expecting an apology, but hearing those words did sting. I
accept your apology. "But I'd rather you come up with a plan to make it up to me."

As expected, you're a madman. "I haven't decided yet, but... I'll think of something you'll
like." Blushing, I replied.

His chuckle was warm, tinged with playfulness. "Something I'll like? Well, there's not much
I'm fond of other than Lee Yoohan, but he's not a 'something,' is he? So, are you suggesting
something along the lines of me thrusting deep into your tight little hole?"

His cheeky remark caught me off guard. His ability to tease and flirt, even in a conversation
like this, always left me wondering if he was a dog in heat all the time.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Can we keep this conversation serious for once? Anyway, isn’t
it about time for your flight...I’m hanging up..."
 I hesitated, my voice barely a whisper, "...Safe flight...I'll miss you."

Feeling a rush of embarrassment, I ended the call abruptly without waiting for a response.
My cheeks were burning, and my heart pounded in my chest like a drumbeat of nerves. The
weight of my confession lingered in the air, filling the silence as I stared at the screen, lost in
my thoughts.

A few moments later, his message appeared on the screen.

A faint smile crept across my face as I read his message, [Yoohan-ah, I’m waiting forward to
hear the same when I return]. My heart fluttered with a mix of happiness and relief, a warm
glow spreading through me.

It was a simple message, yet it spoke volumes of longing.

Chapter End Notes

Finally, Jay to the rescue.

As a new arc unfolds, the spotlight shifts to Yoohan's journey through training and
audition casting. It's a pivotal moment in his acting career, filled with challenges,
opportunities, and growth potential.

Sorry, Yoohan. I might make you suffer harder this time.

[The update will not be daily anymore. Probably within every few days.]
 10

I looked at the screen, the call ended. My heart still longed for his voice, echoing in my mind
like a haunting melody. I sighed, feeling the weight of the empty room pressing in on me.
The silence felt colder, harsher after hearing his voice for those few moments.

I won’t get to see him for awhile. The thought gnawed at me, a persistent ache that refused to
be ignored. Suddenly, I heard my name being called by someone I was very familiar with.
The voice belonged to my manager. I turned towards the sound and saw his exhausted figure
come to a halt in front of me.

“Taemin-ssi, are you okay?” His voice was thick with concern, his brow furrowed in worry.

I blinked, the remnants of the earlier phone call still clouding my thoughts. "Yes, I'm fine," I
replied, though the words felt hollow, lacking conviction.

My manager, Mr. Choi, let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I
swear to God, I didn’t know that you were offered to cast these roles. It must be hard for you.
Don’t worry, I told them that we are not giving it a try.”

His words hung in the air, a mixture of concern and relief. I looked at him, feeling a surge of
gratitude for his understanding. The roles he was referring to were something I need to
overcome it. The emotional strain of being separated from that person, compounded with the
pressure of this opportunity, seemed insurmountable.

But as I stood there, an unexpected resolve began to form within me. I straightened my
shoulders and met Mr. Choi's worried gaze with a newfound determination.

"No," I said, my voice firm. "I've changed my mind. I want to accept the role."

Mr. Kim's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find
words. "Are you sure, Taemin-ssi? This will be a lot for you to handle, especially right now."

I nodded, feeling more certain with each passing second. "I'm sure. This is important for my
retribution. And... maybe it's exactly what I need right now. An ending."

He stared at me for a moment longer, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern.
Finally, he sighed and nodded. "Alright. If that's what you want, I'll inform the upper
management that we will proceed with the cast audition."

A weight seemed to lift from my shoulders as I heard his words. This decision, though
daunting, felt right. It was a step forward, a way to channel my emotions into something
productive.

"Thank you, " I said, "I know it's not going to be easy, but I think I need this."
Manager Choi responded with a smile, though his eyes still held a hint of worry. "We'll get
through this together, Taemin-ssi. I'll handle the logistics and make sure you have everything
you need."

As he walked away to make the necessary arrangements, I felt a sense of calm wash over me.
The month ahead still loomed large and daunting, but now it was filled with purpose. I had a
challenge to meet this sin of mine.

I glanced at the window. The city outside the window buzzed with life, its lights twinkling
like distant stars. I picked up my phone, scrolling through my messages until I found his
name. Without hesitation, I typed out a message: "I’ll attend the audition."

........

As the doors slid open, my footsteps echoing softly until I reached the front door of his
penthouse. The silence that greeted me was almost suffocating, an oppressive stillness that
magnified Jay’s absence.

Making my way to the wardrobe room, I felt a dull ache in my chest. I needed to see the
luggage for myself. I spotted the suitcase in the corner, neatly placed as promised. Opening it,
I found that Madman had thought of everything—his favorite coffee drink, seriously? ,the
drama script I was currently reading, and even the walnut cookies that I had once teased him
about. It struck me then, the attention to detail, the effort he had put into anticipating my
needs. Was it possible he had gone all the way back to the countryside just to get me these
cookies?

Running my hand over the familiar packaging, I couldn't help but touched by his silliness. It
was the same brand he had bought for me the very first time, a small but meaningful
reminder of his affection. He must really thought I like walnut cookies. His meticulous care
was evident in every detail, a stark contrast to my own haphazard packing.

The weight of his thoughtfulness hit me hard. His absence was overwhelming. I never
imagined that this madman who’s someone as powerful and arrogant would fall in love with
someone like me. In this moment, I felt its full, aching weight.

I reached for my cellphone, the screen casting a dim light on my tear-streaked face. My
fingers hovered over [Madman], but I knew it was futile. He still on the plane, unreachable.
The physical distance only magnified the emotional chasm I felt. My heart ached with the
need to hear his voice, to tell him how happy I saw the walnut cookies, just to stir his
jealousy and..... how deeply I appreciated everything he did. But the words seemed stuck in
my throat, the call button an insurmountable obstacle.

Regret flooded my mind. I wished I had expressed myself more openly to him, told him more
often how much I want him. But for now, all I could do was wait for Jay to land, clinging to
the hope that soon, I would hear his voice again and feel a little less alone.
 11

After a few minutes of letting my emotions wash over me, I took a deep breath and composed
myself. Sitting on the floor, thinking about madman, wasn't going to help anything. The
upcoming stunt training for my new role is my current goal. If I was going to excel in this
role, I needed to get a head start on some basic stunt techniques.

I decided to head upstairs to the third floor where his workroom was located. It housed all the
tech we could ever need, and I knew there was a laptop up there I could use to look up some
tutorials and training videos.

Entering Madman's workroom, I was immediately reminded of him. The room was neat and
organized, just like he preferred. The laptop was sitting on his desk, just as I remembered. I
walked over and reached for it, noticing a small sticky note attached to the top. Unfolding it, I
read the familiar handwriting:

[I knew you'd need this. It's a brand-new, but there's a secret password. Hint: food]

I couldn't help but smile at his foresight. I sat down at the desk, the chair creaking softly
beneath me. I thought back to our recent meals together, trying to pinpoint the one he might
have in mind. He knew my eating habits well, so it had to be something significant or
something I had been particularly enthusiastic about.

I typed in "ramen," one of my go-to comfort foods. The screen remained locked. I frowned,
thinking harder. Last month, madman had taken me to a new Italian restaurant, and I couldn't
stop raving about the tiramisu we had for dessert. I typed "tiramisu" into the password field
and, with a soft click, the laptop remained unlocked.

I frowned, thinking harder. Okay, not tiramisu. What else?

Suddenly, I remembered the fried rice madman had cooked yesterday. It was his signature
dish, and I had gone on about it. I typed "friedrice" into the password field. Still locked. My
frustration grew, but I tried again, this time typing "baekwonfriedrice" in full. The screen
remained locked.

My patience was wearing thin. "Seriously, you fucker?" I muttered under my breath, feeling a
surge of annoyance. I cursed madman's love for puzzles and his tendency to make everything
a challenge. "Why does everything have to be a riddle with you?"

Taking a deep breath, I leaned back in the chair, staring at the locked screen. With
determination, I decided to go through our recent meals systematically. There had to be
something I was missing, something simple and obvious.

As I continued to guess, I resolved not to let this puzzle get the better of me. Madman's little
games were part of what made him endearing, even if they were maddening at times. I stared
at the laptop, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. The password hint—food—was
supposed to be helpful, but so far, it had only added to my frustration.
Then, a memory surfaced. The walnut cookies. Jay had been ecstatic when I first mentioned
them, and since then, every time he saw walnut cookies—regardless of the brand—he would
buy at least three packs and present them to me with a gleeful smile, insisting me to try them
in front of him. I couldn’t help but did as he told.

Whenever I chewed the cookies, Jay would tilt my chin up and, with an annoyingly charming
grin, suck on my cheek. He would then proceed to kiss my lips, his tongue exploring my
mouth to scoop out any remaining cookie crumbs to transfer to his own mouth. I used to be
annoyed by his insistence on tasting the cookies this way, thinking he could just eat them
normally. But Madman had always claimed it was more rewarding this way. It was an
intimate ritual that always led to more.

One evening stood out vividly. madman had just brought home another pack of walnut
cookies, grinning from ear to ear. As I took a bite, he leaned in, his eyes sparkling with
mischief.

"Let me taste," he whispered, his lips brushing against mine. His tongue slipped into my
mouth, seeking out the remnants of the cookie. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine, a
mix of irritation and undeniable arousal. His hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer.

Before I knew it, we were on the couch, clothes discarded in a heated rush. Madman’s kisses
trailed down my neck, each touch igniting a fire within me. His hands explored my body with
a familiarity that made me tremble, finding every sensitive spot and teasing it mercilessly.

"..Hey..," I moaned, my body arching into his touch. He smirked, loving the way he could
drive me crazy. His fingers danced over my skin, tracing patterns that sent waves of pleasure
coursing through me.

His lips found their way to my nipples, and he paused, looking up at me with a playful grin.
"I think these taste sweet now because of the cookies," he joked before taking one nipple into
his mouth, sucking gently. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure through me, making me gasp.
His tongue flicked and circled, his teeth grazing lightly, sending sparks of ecstasy straight to
my core.

"Ah, ...ah.., more," I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders.

His other hand traveled south, exploring my body with deliberate slowness. He grasped my
erection, stroking it with a firm, steady rhythm that had me moaning in no time. But he didn’t
stop there. His fingers traced lower, teasing my entrance, making me squirm with
anticipation.

When he slipped a finger inside, I arched my back, a sharp gasp escaping my lips. He moved
it slowly, finding the perfect rhythm before adding a second finger. The sensation was
overwhelming, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me.

"...ahh..mnn, ple..ase," I begged, my voice trembling with need. He chuckled softly, clearly
enjoying the control he had over me.
He leaned down, his breath hot against my skin as he kissed his way lower. When his tongue
replaced his fingers, I nearly came undone. Jay's rimjob was an exquisite torment, each lick
and suck driving me wild. His tongue moved with expert precision, teasing and tasting,
sending me to the brink of ecstasy.

"Ahh,...don...don’t, I'm—I'm gonna," I moaned, unable to hold back any longer. The pleasure
built to an unbearable peak, and before I could stop myself, I climaxed, my body shuddering
with the intensity.

Madman pulled back, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief. "You're so delightfully easy
to please—just my tongue and you're undone," he teased, his voice a low purr. He reached for
his tie, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Jay, what are you—" I began, but he was already tying the silk fabric around my still-
sensitive penis, the tightness stopping any possibility of a second release.

"Just making sure you don’t get too carried away," he said, leaning in to kiss me deeply, his
tongue invading my mouth with a possessive intensity. "We’re not done yet."

He moved back up, positioning himself at my entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he
entered me, filling me completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and
pain that made me gasp.

"Fuck, Yoohan, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice dripping with desire. "Even though I
fuck you every day, it feels like the first time."

He began to move, each thrust deeper than the last. "...Please..pl., stop," I begged, the
intensity almost too much to bear. But my pleas only seemed to spur him on. He thrust
deeper, harder, each movement driving me closer to the edge once more.

"You're positively sinful tonight." he whispered, his voice rough with desire. His pace
quickened, the intensity building with each thrust. The pleasure was overwhelming, every
nerve in my body on fire.

"....aargghhh...ah..no...ughh..pl..please..," I begged again, but he just smiled, his eyes locked

onto mine. Each thrust sent shockwaves through me, the pleasure building to an unbearable
peak.

Suddenly, madman lifted me up, positioning me so he could thrust even deeper. I could feel
the bulge of his erection pressing against my stomach with every powerful thrust. The new
angle made me cry out, the sensations intensifying beyond anything I had ever felt.

With the tie still snug around me, the pressure built unbearably. "...Pl..ease, hey....., I need
to...arghh...—please....un..ahhh....uhm...un..untie it....," he begged, voice breaking, his hands
clenching over madman's shoulders.

Madman's response was a steady, "Hold it just a bit longer," his tone teasing yet firm while
trusting deep. But as I continued to squirm and plead, my voice barely a whisper now,
desperation lacing every word, Jay could no longer ignore the genuine discomfort mixed with
his pleas.

Feeling a twinge of concern beneath his lust-fueled dominance, Madman finally relented.
Gently, he loosened the tie, freeing me. "Alright, let go whenever you need to," madman
whispered, his tone soft yet freeing as he untied the restraint, offering the relief I desperately
sought and pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. And continue thrusting inside me like a dog
in heat.

He began to move, each thrust deeper than the last. "ughh...ah....ahh...aaaahh," I moaned, the
intensity almost too much to bear. He thrust deeper, harder, each movement driving me closer
to the edge once more.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. His pace quickened, the intensity
building with each thrust. The pleasure was overwhelming, every nerve in my body on fire.

"...Stop....arg..pleas..," I begged again, but he just smiled, his eyes locked onto mine. Each
thrust sent shockwaves through me, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak.

Suddenly, he stopped for seconds and resumed to thrust even deeper. I could feel the bulge of
his erection pressing against my stomach with every powerful thrust.

"Do ...you feel that, Yoohan-ah...?" he growled into my ear. "Do you feel how deep.... I am
inside you?" while kissing and sucking my chin.

"...uhmm...arghhh...,..y..yes," I moaned, my hands clutching at him desperately.

"....Please..ahh, I can't ...take it...ah...mnn."

"You're taking it, and you're....loving it," he whispered back, his thrusts becoming even more
forceful. Each movement drove me closer to the edge, the pleasure so intense it was almost
painful.

As the madman’s thrusts grew harder and more relentless, I could feel the tension building
within me, each movement pushing me closer to the edge. Then, with a final, deep
shuddering thrust, Madman reached his climax, filling me completely. The sensation of him
releasing inside me sent me spiraling over the edge once more, my body convulsing with the
force of my climax. The sheer intensity of the moment left me trembling in ecstasy,
completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure of our union.

He collapsed beside me after removing himself from my hole, his arms wrapping around me
as we both caught our breath. As we lay there, the aftermath of our passion still lingering, I
felt the warm trickle of his semen as it began to escape along my back. Without missing a
beat, Jay scooped it with his finger and brought it to my lips. "Taste this. Tell me, which taste
better—this or those damn walnut cookies?"

I stared at him but didn't respond with words, just cursed him silently for his maddening
games. But as he hovered over me, I reached up, capturing his lips in a kiss, transferring the
taste back to him. Pulling back slightly, I teased, "What do you think?"
Madman’s eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and desire as he pondered my challenge. "I
can't quite decide, but if I want to compare it to your flavor or those cursed cookies, I might
need another taste," he murmured with a smirk, his voice laced with a playful taunt. Then,
repositioning me, pull me up to straddle him, he leaned forward, his breath hot against my
ear, "Shall we begun?" His tone was teasing.

But to me, I brought to my own grave.

 12
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

As the clock struck 8 PM, the room was enveloped in darkness, save for the soft glow
emanating from the laptop screen before me. Seated comfortably in his favorite chair, the
only sound that filled the room was the rhythmic tapping of my fingers against the keyboard.

With a mixture of hope and trepidation, I entered "walnutcookies" into the password field,
yearning for access. Yet, my hopes were dashed as the screen flashed a rejection. Frustration
threatened to consume me, but I refused to succumb.

Then, like a bolt from the blue, it struck me—the Madman’s endearing habit of appending
"baekwon" to everything he cherished. It was a charming quirk that never failed to bring a
smile to my lips.

Determined anew, I keyed in "baekwonwalnutcookies" and held my breath. The screen

flickered, then sprang to life, unveiling the desktop wallpaper—a cherished snapshot frozen
in time.

It was a photograph taken on my birthday, a moment etched in my memory. In the dim light
of our bedroom, I had been roused from slumber by the Madman's gentle touch, a chocolate
cupcake and flickering candle in hand. His voice had been a whisper in the quiet, "Happy
birthday, uri baekwon.-ya."

I remembered the warmth of his embrace as he enveloped me, his excitement palpable. After
extinguishing the candle, he held me close, his breath warm against my ear as he made a wish
of his own—a wish to one day make me his wife.

His audacity had elicited laughter from me, and I playfully dismissed his notion. "Me? Your
wife? That's absurd. We're both men."

But he remained undeterred, his grin widening as he persisted, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"Why not?... you fit the role so perfectly."

"…hmm, in what sense ?" I challenged, a playful smirk playing on my lips as I met his gaze.

Leaning in, his grin broadened as he replied, "You’re always on my case about saving energy,
conserving money, and getting enough sleep. You're the CEO of my wellbeing, the manager
of my daily grind, and the director of my sleep schedule.”

He drew me closer, his embrace warm and reassuring.

“ Admit it, you’re practically running my life already."

His playful exaggeration drew a chuckle from me, and I shook my head in mock
exasperation. "Well, if I'm running your life, then I demand a raise and a corner office."
The Madman's eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned back, considering my demand.
"Hmm, I'll have to check the budget for that."

I raised an eyebrow, mischief dancing in my eyes. "Is that so?” I smirked and continued, “....
if I'm going to be your wife, I'll need a whole lot more than just a corner office. How about a
private jet and a butler ?

He responded easily , “...Ah, the demands of the modern-day spouse. Very well, what else ?
It’s rare to hear your request.”

I couldn’t stand his mockery and decided to stir his jealousy cause this will always be his
weakness, “ Making Kevin my butler, perhaps ? Does this name ring a bell in your head?..”

Mock horror flashed across his face before giving way to a grin. "Ah, Kevin ....”

But amidst the playful banter and tender moments, a nagging thought lingered in the back of
my mind—Kevin. The mention of his name had stirred something within the Madman, a hint
of jealousy that he struggled to conceal.

“You can very much make this happen, right?” , I continued.

He paused and smirked , “...Very well, but Kevin will only answer to me."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Fair enough. But you'll have to put up with that Kevin of
mine and my inability to cook anything more complex than instant noodles."

He chuckled, reaching out to take my hand. "I think I can live with that, and it is just Kevin.
You are only allowed to say 'Yoon Jay of mine’. "

His words filled me with affection, and I squeezed his hand in return. "Deal," I said softly,
feeling a surge of warmth between us. "But, at the moment, I’m not interested with your
proposal. So try harder.”

His smile softened, and he leaned in to press a tender kiss to my lips. "My pleasure."

Before he could kiss me again, I asked, "Why do you hate Kevin so much?" , my voice laced
with curiosity as I reached up to touch his chin, drawing his gaze to mine. The Madman's
expression darkened momentarily before he sighed, his fingers running through his hair. "I
hate him so much, to be exact cause he’s a nuisance."

I frowned, puzzled by his response. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated for a moment before meeting my gaze, his eyes searching mine. "You know he
likes you. And it's hard for me to see another man vying for your attention."

My heart swelled with affection as my finger moved from chin to his lips, "So what? I don’t
have a desire to be fucked by just anyone."

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he squeezed my hand in response. "I’m glad
I’m not just anyone.” He leaned forward and shamelessly claimed, “I’m your rich husband."
 Despite the absurdity of his response, I couldn't help but find his playful confidence
endearing.

With a gentle chuckle, I leaned in to press a tender kiss to his cheek. "Ridiculous," I
murmured, a hint of affection coloring my words.

With a mischievous glint in my eye, I pushed him down onto the bed, the warmth of his skin
beneath my fingertips sending a shiver down my spine. "I'm only doing this with you, you
know?”I whispered, my breath hot against his ear. "Satisfied?"

But before I could revel in his response, he effortlessly flipped me over, pinning me beneath
him with a playful smirk. His voice was husky with desire as he murmured, "And tonight, I'll
show you just how much your husband can satisfy you."

With a playful grin, I surrendered to the moment.

But now that I recall it, why the hell did he make a wish when it was my birthday? Indeed, a
madman. With a wry smile, I pushed the memory aside and focused on the present.

Chapter End Notes

From the next chapter onward, the focus will shift to Yoohan's training sessions and
auditions. It's time for Yoohan to face some challenging experiences.
 13

I stayed up late into the night, watching basic stunt videos on YouTube. I reassured myself
that some of these stunts wouldn’t be too hard. After all, I had been a delinquent in middle
school, fighting regularly. The muscle memory was still there, the reflexes still sharp. The
only person I could never beat was the Madman.

As I recalled the Madman effortlessly taking down a group of thugs, I acknowledged his top-
notch skills. His fighting was on a different level, and if I could channel even a fraction of his
ability, I'd be more than prepared for the stunt training.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed me, and I fell asleep in the chair. When I woke, sunlight
streamed through the window, and the clock read 8 AM. I groaned, rubbing the sleep from
my eyes as I scrambled to get ready.

By the time I had showered, dressed, and gulped down a quick breakfast, my phone buzzed
with a message from Manager Choi. He was already outside, waiting to drive me to the stunt
academy. I hurried out the door, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Manager Choi greeted me with a nod. "Ready for your big
day?"

I nodded, giving him a slight smile.

As we drove through the city streets, Manager Choi filled me in on what to expect. "The stunt
academy you're heading to is quite prestigious. There will be other actors there too, some
auditioning for the same role as you. They've already started their training a few days ago."

I shrugged, staring out the window, indifferent to the competition.

Manager Choi glanced at me. "Listen, Taemin-ah. It's important that you focus on your
training and not get distracted by the others. You're there to improve your skills, not to
compare yourself to anyone else."

I gave a brief nod, acknowledging his advice without much thought.

"Exactly," Manager Choi continued. "You'll be staying at the academy for a week. This is a
great opportunity to immerse yourself in the training without any distractions. When you
return to Seoul, you'll be better prepared for the casting."

I remained silent, removing my sight away from the window. Trying to search for my phone.
As Manager Choi focused back on the road, I pulled out my phone and resumed watching the
basic stunt videos.

Manager Choi's voice broke through the silence. "Taemin-ah, you doing okay?"

I nodded, giving him a n indifferent tone as usual. "Yeah, just preparing myself."
He glanced at my phone and chuckled. "You're really dedicated. That's good to see. Just
remember, it's not just about physical skill. Stay focused and keep your mind sharp."

I nodded again. The rest of the drive passed in a blur of conversation and anticipation. As we
pulled up to the academy's gates, I felt a renewed sense of determination.

As I stepped out of the car, Manager Choi gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "Good luck,
Taemin-ah. I'll be checking in on you, but remember, you're here to learn and grow. Make the
most of it."

I nodded once more, with a final nod, I turned and walked through the gates, ready to face
whatever challenges lay ahead. This was just the beginning, and I was determined to make
every moment count.
 14

As I walked through the gates of the stunt academy, the reality of the next week hit me. I was
about to immerse myself in a world of intense physical training, all for a role that could
define my career. Manager Choi had dropped me off with a few encouraging words, but now
I was on my own.

Inside, I was greeted by the head of the stunt team, a grizzled veteran named Mr. Kim. He
gave me a once-over and nodded approvingly.

“Taemin, right? Welcome. We’ve got a packed schedule for you,” he said, handing me a
clipboard. “You’ll be training in fist fighting, military knife combat, firearms, and wiring
work.”

I scanned the schedule. Most of my training was focused on fist fighting, gun handling, and
wiring. Mr. Kim noticed my expression and explained, “Your role requires a lot of close
combat and firearms work. We’ll be focusing heavily on those areas.”

I nodded, absorbing the information. Mr. Kim led me to the training area where I would
spend the next few hours.

“Let’s start with fist fighting,” he announced, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention.
“This is Taemin, he’s here to prepare for a role. Treat him like any other trainee.”

The first hour was a blur of punches, jabs, and blocks. My body moved instinctively, muscles
remembering the countless fights I had been in since middle school. The aggression and
focus came naturally. Mr Kim watched closely, occasionally shouting instructions or
corrections. After years of being a delinquent and countless street fights, I was no stranger to
throwing and taking punches.

“Good, Taemin. You’ve got a solid foundation. Now, let’s move on to some choreography.”

The stunt choreographer, Chief Park, stepped forward, demonstrating a sequence of punches,
blocks, and kicks. I watched intently, analyzing each move. The choreography was complex,
but I could see the flow. It was like a dance, each movement leading seamlessly into the next.
He then handed me a script with basic moves laid out in sequence.

"Memorize this sequence. It’s a simple fight scene, but it needs to look fluid and convincing."

I nodded, taking the script and quickly scanning the moves. My mind worked swiftly,
breaking down each move. I started practicing the choreography alone, each punch and kick
flowing seamlessly. The choreography wasn’t complicated, but the timing and precision had
to be perfect.

I started slow, mimicking the moves in slow motion. Muscle memory kicked in, and within
two hours, I had the sequence down. Mr. Kim watched as I performed the routine flawlessly.
“Impressive,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Most people take much longer to get
this right.”

As I continued practicing, I realized that action drama wasn’t just about brute strength. It
required precision, memorization, and an ability to project strength through controlled
movements. Each punch had to convey power, each block had to look convincing.

I paused for a moment, my mind racing.

Two hours later, I had mastered the sequence. I felt a rush of satisfaction, the moves
ingrained in my muscle memory. But it wasn’t just about the moves. It was about the
emotion, the intensity, and making every punch and kick feel real. I stood back, watching
Coach Park nod in approval.

“You’ve got it,” he said, clapping me on the back. “But remember, action drama isn’t just
about performing the moves. It’s about bringing out the right vibe, the right emotion. You
need to feel the scene, not just act it.”

Mr. Kim noticed my deep concentration and nodded approvingly. “That’s it, Taemin. Think
about the flow. Make it look real.”

As I processed his words, it was just as simple as adding the flesh, the soul, making it look
real, making it believable. It’s about the intensity, the focus, and the raw emotion. It’s not just
about fighting; it’s about telling a story with every action.

I nodded. With that thought, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The day was far from over,
but I was ready to take on whatever came next.
 15

The following day, I found myself in the gun training section of the academy. Unlike the
previous day, where my experience with fist fighting gave me a head start, handling a gun
was foreign territory.

Chief Park stood beside me, demonstrating the proper way to hold and fire a weapon. "Your
character is an officer in the Witness Protection Unit. You need to look and move like a
professional. This isn’t just about holding a gun; it’s about embodying the role."

I watched closely, mimicking his stance and grip. But as I practiced, it became clear that this
was going to be more challenging than I had anticipated. My movements were awkward, my
grip stiff. I struggled to make it look natural.

"Taemin, what are you doing?!" Chief Park’s voice boomed across the training room,
startling me. "Your stance is all wrong! You look like a beginner! Fix your posture, now!"

I then straightened it, trying to replicate his earlier demonstration. My fingers were tense
around the gun, my shoulders stiff.

"Relax your grip! You're not strangling the gun!" Chief Park barked. "And for God's sake,
lower your shoulders. You need to look natural, not like a robot!"

Frustration built up inside me, but I pushed it down, focusing on Chief Park’s instructions. As
I repeated the drills, I could feel eyes on me. Glancing around, I noticed a few familiar faces
—actors who were also auditioning for the same role. Their presence didn’t bother me. I
didn’t care about them. All I cared about was mastering this role.

I kept practicing, adjusting my grip and stance until it started to feel less foreign. My mind
raced with thoughts about the character I was portraying. An officer tasked with protecting
Hailey Baek, a cellist and the daughter of a wealthy businessman who had witnessed an
assassination attempt on her uncle. This role demanded precision and authenticity.

As I struggled with the gun, memories of the Madman’s effortless fighting skills came to
mind. He had always been a step ahead, his movements fluid and natural. If he could master
his skills, so could I. I just needed to push myself harder.

Ignoring the glances and whispers of the other actors, I focused solely on my training. Each
mistake was a lesson, each correction a step closer to mastering the role. My determination
was unwavering.

Hours passed as I practiced holding the gun, adjusting my stance, and learning to move like
an officer. Chief Park’s feedback was invaluable. He demonstrated again and again, showing
me how to handle the weapon with confidence and ease.

Eventually, I began to feel a shift. The gun no longer felt foreign in my hands. My
movements became more fluid, my stance more natural. I was starting to look and move like
an officer.

Chief Park observed my progress with a critical eye. "Better, Taemin. But you need to
remember, it's not just about holding the gun. You need to embody the role. Move with
purpose. Think like an officer."

I nodded, absorbing his words. As I continued practicing, my movements became more

confident. I envisioned myself as the character, protecting Hailey Baek from danger. Each
action had to convey authority and competence.

By the end of the session, I was exhausted but satisfied. Progress was being made. Walking
back to my dorm, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. But I shrugged it off.

Let them watch.

I had a role to perfect, and nothing else mattered. This was just the beginning, and I was
ready for whatever came next.
 16

"Good. Remember, the knife is an extension of your arm. It moves as you move. Fluidly,
seamlessly," Chief Park instructed, his voice steady and encouraging.

I started with the basic slashes and thrusts, moving through the motions with ease. Chief Park
watched, occasionally stepping in to correct my form or offer tips. The training felt more like
a dance—a series of choreographed movements that required grace and power.

"Nice work, Taemin," Chief Park commented as I completed a series of moves. "Now, let’s
add some complexity. We’ll work on a knife choreography sequence."

He demonstrated a series of attacks and defenses, each movement flowing into the next. It
was more intricate than the basic moves, requiring quick reflexes and precise timing. I
repeated the sequence, focusing on getting each move right.

As I practiced, my mind analyzed the choreography. Each step had to be committed to

memory, each transition seamless. This wasn’t just about looking tough; it was about
performing a convincing and engaging scene.

Chief Park watched my progress, nodding approvingly. "You’ve got a natural talent for this,
Taemin. But remember, in the scene, it’s not just about the moves. It’s about the intensity, the
emotion behind each strike."

I took his words to heart, infusing my practice with more intensity. My movements became
sharper, more aggressive, as I envisioned the character I was portraying. An officer of the
Witness Protection Unit, defending his charge with every ounce of his skill.

During a break, Chief Park approached me. "How are you feeling about the training so far?"

I shrugged, a small smirk playing on my lips. "It's not bad. I’ve handled knives before."

Chief Park chuckled. "I figured as much. Your background shows. Just remember, this is
about more than just skill. It’s about bringing the character to life."

I nodded, understanding the challenge ahead. As we resumed training, my confidence grew.

The knife felt like an extension of my body, moving with precision and power. By the end of
the session, I had mastered the choreography, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

Chief Park clapped me on the shoulder. "Good work today, Taemin. You’re making solid
progress. Keep it up, and you’ll nail that role."

I gave a curt nod, hiding the satisfaction I felt. Training wasn’t over yet, but I was one step
closer to perfecting my role. As I walked back to my dorm, the knife training replayed in my
mind. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, I felt ready to face them head-on.
 17

The morning sun cast a harsh light into the training room as I faced the daunting challenge of
mastering the intricate art of wiring. The wires, thin and elusive, seemed to mock my every
attempt, slipping through my fingers like water. Chief Park's stern voice cut through the air,
demanding perfection, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to get it right.

Frustration etched lines into my brow as I stumbled and fell, the wires tangling around me
like vengeful serpents. With each failed attempt, the bruises bloomed on my skin, painting a
painful picture of my struggle.

The laughter and whispers of the other actors echoed around me, their mocking tones like
distant thunder in a storm. "Look at him," one of them sneered, his words sharp and cutting.
"He's a joke. How does he expect to land the role when he can't even handle a simple wiring
stunt?"

I could feel their eyes boring into me, their doubts weighing heavily on my shoulders like a
leaden cloak. With a nonchalant shrug, I brushed off their insults like dust from my
shoulders.

Their taunts were nothing more than noise, empty words devoid of meaning. I had faced far
greater challenges in my life, and this was just another bump in the road. With a defiant
smirk, I turned my attention back to the wires before me. I kept my gaze fixed on the wires
before me. I could feel the weight of their scrutiny, their doubts pressing down on me like a
heavy burden.

Chief Park's voice rang out, sharp and demanding. "You call this progress? You're barely
treading water!"

Chief Park's voice echoed off the walls, a constant reminder of my shortcomings.

“....ahh...aaarg”, panting heavily, I struggled to find my footing on the wires, each breath a
laborious effort as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me. The injuries mounted with each
fall, the pain a constant reminder of my shortcomings. But still, I pushed on, my body aching
and bruised, I give no damn to them.

In a rare moment of respite, I stumbled into the dimly lit restroom.I gingerly lifted my shirt,
revealing the tapestry of bruises that adorned my skin like a twisted work of art. Each touch
sent waves of pain coursing through my body, a cruel reminder of the toll my training had
taken on me.

As my fingers grazed a particularly deep bruise on my chest, a sharp hiss escaped my lips,
the sound a raw manifestation of the agony that pulsed beneath my skin. I clenched my teeth,
enduring the discomfort, but the ache seemed to only intensify with each passing moment.

"Ugh!"
The involuntary sound escaped me, a guttural cry of pain that echoed off the tiled walls of the
restroom. I cursed under my breath, frustration mingling with the burning sensation that
seemed to consume me from within.

With trembling hands, I traced the edges of another bruise on my stomach, the pressure
sending shockwaves of agony rippling through my body. "Damn it," I muttered through
gritted teeth, my voice strained with the effort of masking my pain.

The bruises throbbed with a relentless persistence, each touch a cruel reminder of the
physical toll my training had exacted upon me. With a determined exhale, I lowered my shirt,
the fabric brushing against my bruised skin like sandpaper against raw flesh.

The pain was a constant companion, a reminder of the sacrifices I had made in pursuit of my
dreams. But I was no stranger to adversity, and with every bruise, every ache, I grew
stronger, more resilient. For I knew that greatness was not achieved without pain, and I was
willing to endure whatever hardships stood in my way.

Returning to the training room, I faced the wires once more, my movements slow and
deliberate. The clock struck 3 am, but still, I persisted. For I knew that greatness was not
achieved through ease, but through the relentless pursuit of mastery, no matter the cost.

And as I stood there, battered and bruised, I knew that I would emerge from this trial stronger
than ever before.
 18
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

I collapsed onto my bed, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. The training had
pushed me to my limits and beyond, leaving me bruised and battered. My mind, however,
was sharper than ever. I replayed the day's events, analyzing every mistake, every misstep.

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my phone buzzed. The familiar tone brought a rare smile
to my lips. It was Madman. I answered the call, his voice immediately filling the room like a
balm to my weary soul.

“Yoohan,” Madman greeted, his voice steady and reassuring. “How’s it hanging?”

“Surviving,” I replied, trying to keep my voice even. “You?”

“Busy. You know, the usual grind.”

A silence fell between us, but it was comfortable. Then he broke it. “You sound off.
Everything okay?”

“Training’s rough,” I admitted, my voice betraying the exhaustion I felt. “But manageable.
How’s the States?”

“Same as always. Loud. Crowded.”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Sounds like home.”

“Mmm,” he agreed, a pause stretching between us. “You sound beat.”

“Wiring stunts are a pain,” I said, not wanting to dive into details. “What about you?
Anything fun?”

“Work, work, and more work,” Madman said simply. “Nothing special.” His tone was casual,
but I could sense the underlying fatigue.

Another pause. Comfortable, but loaded. “You holding up?” he asked finally, concern
creeping into his voice.

“Always,” I replied, firmly.

“I’m here if you need to talk,” he assured me, his voice softening.

We lapsed into silence again. It was familiar, almost comforting. Then, Madman broke it with
a quiz he often used to lift my spirits. “Alright, let’s see if the wiring stunts have fried your
brain. Ready?”
I chuckled, the first real laugh I had let out all day. “Shoot.”

“What’s the capital of Mongolia?”

“Ulaanbaatar,” I answered, a hint of pride in my voice.

“That’s impressive. Next one: Which element has the atomic number 8?”

I hesitated, wracking my brain. “Um...hydrogen?”

Madman snorted. “Nope, try again. It's pretty essential for breathing.”

I furrowed my brow, thinking hard. “Uh...carbon?”

Madman burst into laughter. “Seriously? It’s oxygen, you dolt.”

I felt a bit insulted but before I could voice it out, he cut me off. “I shall tolerate the small
brain of yours. So, who’s the best stuntman in training right now?”

I grinned, knowing where he was going with this. “I’m not as shameless as you, but since it’s
a quiz, I’ll say...me?”

“Damn right,” Madman said, his voice carrying a warmth that transcended the miles between
us. I could almost see his smirk through the phone.

Though the quiz itself was simple, the effect it had on me was profound. Knowing that
Madman was thinking of me, gave me a renewed sense of determination. It didn’t matter that
he was halfway across the world; his company was just what I needed.

“How’s the food over there?” I asked, shifting the conversation.

“Edible,” he answered. “Yours?”

“Barely,” I admitted, a slight smile touching my lips. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t eaten
anything all day, too caught up in the grueling training.

“You eating enough?” he asked, his tone almost brusque, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Yeah,” I lied, my stomach growling softly in protest.

The next thing I heard from him was comforting. “Try the cookies. I drove back to the rest
area for the sake of those damn walnut cookies of yours.”

I laughed as I sat up from the bed, feeling the strain in my muscles. “Talking about the walnut
cookies, who would use that as a password?”

“Bingo, indeed my smart Yoohan. You cracked the password.” His laugh was infectious, and
for a moment, the pain and exhaustion faded away.

The exchange was light, but it lifted my spirits. As we continued to chat, I felt the weight of
the day's struggles ease off my shoulders, replaced by the warmth of our conversation.
 Madman’s voice was a lifeline, a connection to something steady and familiar amidst the
chaos of training.

The bruises and pain seemed a little more bearable, the struggles a little less daunting. With
Madman's words echoing in my mind, I knew everything is going to get better . I would
master the wiring stunts, and I would prove everyone wrong. Because I wasn’t just surviving
—I was thriving.

After half an hour, the call ended, and I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I knew that no
matter how hard the training got, I would push through. I would master all the stunts.
Because I wasn’t just surviving—I was thriving.

With a sigh, I got up and headed to my luggage, remembering the walnut cookies Madman
had packed for me. I rummaged through until I found them, their familiar aroma bringing a
sense of comfort and nostalgia. I sat back on the bed, savoring each bite. The cookies were
slightly crumbly but delicious, a reminder of Madman’s thoughtfulness.

As I finished the last cookie, I felt a sense of warmth spreading through me. It wasn’t just the
food; it was the reminder that someone cared. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me
going.

I set the empty packet aside and returned to bed, my body sinking into the mattress.
Tomorrow would bring more challenges, more pain, and more bruises. For now, I allowed
myself to drift into a fitful sleep, my dreams filled with the promise of better days ahead.

Chapter End Notes

Okay. I'm done. Dead tired!

 19
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The dawn of the fifth day arrived, and despite it being a scheduled rest day, I found myself
awake before the sun. My body ached, and bruises painted my skin. The training hall was
empty, silent, and cold.

Each fall, each collision with the wall had taught me something new. Today, I moved with
purpose. My mind replayed Chief Park's words—fluid, like water. I bent my knees slightly,
allowing my body to move more freely.

Hour after hour of practice, I started to find a rhythm. My movements became more
controlled, less forced. Each swing felt more natural, each landing more precise. I could
navigate the wiring stunts with newfound confidence. I wasn't perfect, but I was miles from
where I had started.

Breathing heavily, I finally unstrapped the harness and sat on the floor, sweat dripping from
my face. I closed my eyes, savoring the small victory. It wasn't easy, but I had made it.

My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. It was a message from Madman. I frowned
and clicked on it.

Madman: Are you in your room? Go now if you’re not.

I hesitated.

Even though it was not unusual for Madman to direct me. But his message was clear. I stood
and made my way to my room.

Entering, I was hit by the familiar scent of my belongings. Suddenly, my phone buzzed again,
and Madman was video calling me. Hesitant but curious, I answered. Seeing his face through
the screen was strange, a mix of familiarity and distance. He looked as handsome as he is.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Madman’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. “You look like hell,” he said bluntly.

“And,” I replied dryly. “You didn’t drag me back here to tell me that, did you?”

"Yoohan-ah," Madman's voice came through, calm but with a hint of tension. "I need to see
you."

I frowned, confused. “What? I’m right here.”

Madman sighed, rubbing his temples. “No, I need to see all of you. Take off your shirt.”
“What?” I snapped, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

“I need to know you’re okay,” he replied firmly. “Do it.”

Angrily, I bashed on him, “I’m fine.”

Then he said something that made me freeze. “I demand my repayment now.”

“.....”

“Don’t act stupid. You said you’d compensate me. Now, strip.”

I hesitated, staring at him through the screen. His eyes were unyielding, full of a mix of
concern and frustration. Reluctantly, I pulled my shirt over my head, revealing the bruises
and cuts that covered my torso.

Madman’s face softened, but his eyes remained hard. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated, though my voice was weaker.

“You’re not,” he said, his tone softening and continued, “...but that’s not my intention.”

I frowned at his words. I have bad feeling about this.

"Show me," Madman said after a moment. "I need to see you touch yourself."

Yoohan hesitated, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "You want me to...?"

"Yes," he replied firmly. "Now."

Taking a deep breath, I set up his phone on the desk opposite the bed, ensuring the camera
had a clear view of me. I positioned the pillow beneath me, feeling its comforting softness.

The thought of Madman watching me made my heart race.

As I settled back against the pillows, I reached up, gently pinching my nipples between my
thumb and forefinger.

I slowly ran my hands over my chest, feeling my heartbeat quicken. My fingers trailed down
my stomach, lingering over my waistband. With a hesitant glance at the phone, I unbuttoned
my pants, slipping them down my legs. I shifted, spreading my legs slightly, giving Madman
a teasing view.

"..Ah," I gasped softly at the sensation, the tender peaks responding to my touch with an
arousing ache. My chest rose and fell with each deliberate pinch, a flicker of pleasure racing
through me.

Feeling emboldened by Madman's unwavering gaze on the screen, I let my other hand trail
down my torso, fingertips tracing the curve of my abdomen. I teased the sensitive skin just
above my waistband, feeling the heat radiating from my body. With a slow, teasing motion,
I slid my hand beneath the waistband of my underwear, fingertips grazing over the soft skin
of my lower abdomen.

My breath hitched as I explored further, tracing a path down towards my growing penis.

"Ughh...ahh," I moaned softly, my voice thick with desire.

I encountered the firmness and heat of my penis, already throbbing with need. I stroked
myself slowly, my touch deliberate yet tender, imagining Madman's reaction to every
movement.

My other hand returned to my chest, abandoning my nipples momentarily to trail down over
my stomach, feeling the muscles tense under his touch. I spread my legs wider, allowing
myself easier access, the air in the room thick with anticipation and desire.

With a whispered moan, I closed my eyes briefly, losing myself in the sensation.

Unable to resist, I slipped a finger into my hole, gasping at the sensation of my own
touch. Trusting in and out multiple time as i increased my speed. Unsatisfied, I added
another two finger, my movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. Pleasure surged
through me, a rising tide threatening to overwhelm my senses.

I imagined Mad’s voice, husky with desire, urging me on. "Touch yourself,"
Madman whispered in my fantasy, and I obeyed eagerly, my third finger joining the dance. I
stretched myself slowly, deliciously, the pressure building as I edged closer to the brink.

"....uughhh," I moaned, my voice a breathless plea. The image of Madman's hungry gaze
spurred me on, driving me towards that precipice. My body tensed, every nerve ablaze with
desire.

"Ahh,"

Then, abruptly, a voice cut through the haze.

“Enough.”

Startled, I snapped out of my reverie and fixed my gaze on the screen to confirm what I
heard.

Madman’s expression was unreadable, his eyes piercing through the distance between us.

"Rest," he urged quietly, his tone carrying a mix of concern and command. "We'll talk more
tomorrow."

The call ended, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the weight of our intense interaction.
Mixed emotions churned within me—confusion, desire, and a newfound connection with
Madman that felt both exhilarating and unsettling.

Driven by a tumultuous mix of emotions, I hesitated before gathering my resolve. I picked up

my phone and dialed Madman again, my heart racing with uncertainty and need. The call
rang several times before he answered, his voice tight with restrained impatience.

“I said rest,” he greeted tersely, though I sensed an underlying tension in his tone.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “I know, but you also said it’s up to me to compensate
you. So, just watch. This is your only chance.”

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief as he processed my request. For a moment, uncertainty

flickered across his features, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. Then, as if making a decision, a
knowing smirk curved Madman’s lips, revealing a mixture of amusement and agreement
amidst the intensity between us.

With a steady hand, I adjusted the phone on the desk again. The softness of the pillow
beneath me offered some comfort amidst the tension that crackled in the air. Madman’s
unwavering gaze through the screen once again spurred me on, igniting a fire within me as I
positioned myself.

As I struggled to place myself for a better view, Madman suggested something absurd, "Fuck
with that pillow." I turned to face the screen, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. The
flickering light from the monitor cast shadows across his face as he grinned mischievously,
his eyes glinting with anticipation.

"I want to see how you're being fucked by me. Ride it as if you're riding me," he goaded, his
voice laced with challenge as he groped his crotch.

"You must be out of your mind," I retorted incredulously, frustration simmering beneath the
surface.

Undeterred, he continued, "Can’t do it? Then how is this compensating? Seems more like
easing your guilt than feeling sorry for me."

His words landed like a blow, striking deeper than expected. They stirred a tumultuous mix of
defiance and shame within me, each emotion vying for dominance as I struggled to process
his request. The weight of his expectations and my own conflicted feelings left me clenching
my fists in uncertainty, unsure of what to do next.

Silence stretched between us.

"You’re wasting my time." I sensed his growing impatience, recognizing his tactic to
manipulate me.

"Fine..." I answered reluctantly. There was no immediate response from the other end, just a
wide grin visible on his face.

Reluctantly, I adjusted myself on top of the pillow, feeling a surge of both connection and
discomfort as I tried to mimic the sensation of being with Madman. I moved in slow,
deliberate circles, my hips rocking gently against the pillow. Soft sounds escaped my lips,
blending with the quiet hum of the room.

"...Mmmmn...ahh"
Madman's eyes were fixed on the screen, his voice a low murmur. "That's it. Imagine me
thrusting from below. Rock faster."

I cursed under my breath, "...lunatic bastard."

"Focus." he commanded.

I closed my eyes, envisioning Madman’s body beneath me, our movements fluid and
synchronized in a passionate dance. My breath quickened as I felt the pillow's pressure
against my growing penis. I pictured myself riding Madman, feeling his large penis inside of
me.

"...ah...ah..." I whispered, my voice hushed and filled with longing. My body shifted with
subtle movements, my hips grinding harder against the pillow. Each motion brought a rush of
memories—our bodies intertwined, hearts beating as one.

My fingers found their way to my nipples, pinching them lightly while bouncing hard on the
pillow. The sharp sensation made me gasp, heightening my urgency.

"...ah...ah..."

"Lewd," Madman encouraged, his voice filled with desire. "Move your hips faster."

My hips moved with increased urgency, the pressure and friction against the pillow sending
waves of pleasure through me. My breathing grew faster, shallow and quick. "Ah...ah..." I
moaned softly, my voice filled with desire. I could almost sense Madman’s pleasure, feel the
strength of his hands on my hips, guiding me onward.

My penis intensified with each thrust, the friction creating a pleasurable pressure that drove
me harder. My body quivered with delight, the sensations nearly overwhelming. Each pinch
and twist of my nipples sent electric shocks through me, heightening my penis.

"...ah...ah..." I panted, my voice filled with desperate longing. I moved with increased
intensity, my hips rocking harder against the pillow as I approached the edge of release.

“......mmnnh...arghhh..”

I abandoned the pillow and reached down, my fingers taking over where the pillow had left
off. I stroked myself in the front, the intensity building as I chased the elusive climax. Unable
to reach it, I used my other hand, immediately inserting three fingers into my hole, thrusting
deeply. Each thrust hit deeper, but nothing compared to Madman’s large, hardened penis.
Thinking of his penis, my hole twitched uncontrollably.

As I continued to thrust harshly, my hips jerked involuntarily, the need overwhelming as I hit
my sensitive point. I thrust even harder, feeling the pressure mounting with each movement.

My breath came in ragged gasps, each one sharper than the last. The sensations were nearly
overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over me with each stroke and thrust. My
body responded eagerly, hips bucking against my hands, desperate for release.
 "...ah...ah..." I panted, my voice filled with desperate longing. Every stroke in the front and
every thrust of my fingers sent electric shocks through me, heightening my arousal.

"...haaa...uhggg...I’m so...c.....close..mmnn."

Madman's voice remained a steady presence, guiding and encouraging me.

"Shoot it."

My body shuddered with the force of it, my hips jerking uncontrollably as I released a long,
loud groan.

"...Ughh...Aaargh!!."

Cum spurted from me in powerful waves, coating my hand and stomach, the intensity of the
climax sending shivers through my entire body. Each pulse brought a surge of overwhelming
pleasure, leaving me breathless and trembling. The warmth and stickiness of it added to the
sensory overload, making every part of me feel hypersensitive.

After what felt like an eternity of shared passion and connection, I finally experienced the
release I had been craving.

"...haa...ah."

I lay there, breathless and spent, my body still tingling with the remnants of my imaginary
encounter. The room was silent, but my heart was full, warmed by the intense connection we
had shared through the screen.

Madman's voice broke the silence, a soft murmur that reached me through the screen.
"Beautiful," he praised, his eyes still glinting with satisfaction and approval.

Before I closed my eyes, I heard him say softly, "You’ve surprised me more than I could have
imagined. Now, rest."

Our first video call ended without any further exchange of words, leaving a lingering sense of
intimacy and exhaustion in the quiet room.

Chapter End Notes

Yoohan-ah, you're so lewd.

How do you find this chapter ? Spicy enough

 20
Chapter Notes

There was a technical issue with my laptop that caused the late update, but rest assured,
I’ll complete the story.

By the way, a new character has been introduced—hope you enjoy!

After confirming that the person on the other end had truly hung up, I let myself collapse
onto the bed. The heat of the aftermath still clung to my skin, and as I moved my hand to my
abdomen, I felt the sticky warmth there. I brought my fingers closer to my face, noticing the
thickness of my own cum. A fleeting, almost detached thought crossed my mind: *It’s thick.*

I let my hand fall limply onto the bed, not bothering to clean up right away. My eyes drifted
toward the window, where daylight still filtered through. Despite my attempts to calm down,
the lingering ache in my fingers sparked a fresh wave of anxiety about the upcoming
audition.

With a resigned sigh, I pushed myself up from the comforting embrace of the mattress.
Reaching for the tissue box on the table, I grabbed a few pieces, quickly wiping away the
mess on my skin before tossing the crumpled tissues into the nearby trash bin. I didn’t even
bother to grab my phone. It wasn’t that I was in a rush—I just didn’t want to be bothered by
the same person who was always eager to share his horny frustrations. I had more important
things to focus on right now than spreading my legs or humping a damn pillow. The thought
of it made me want to curse his pretty face.

*Fuck.*

As I walked down the hallway where the other rooms were lined up on the first floor, the
noise was unavoidable. Though today was supposed to be our day off, some people were
wandering in and out of each other’s rooms, chatting or absorbed in their own activities. It
was always noisy around here.

I was almost at the staircase when someone collided with me from the side, hard. My vision
spun, and before I could process what was happening, I found myself falling, landing with a
thud on my butt.

But instead of my head slamming back onto the floor, a warm, strong hand caught my neck,
stopping my fall. My vision dimmed for a moment, blocked by the figure looming over me.
He was holding me up by the neck, effortlessly supporting my weight as if I were nothing.
Our eyes met, locking together in an instant. His gaze was intense, and the way he pulled me
closer with just that one hand made my breath hitch.
The force he used to pull me up felt almost overwhelming, as if he intended to draw me into
his embrace. My instincts kicked in before he could succeed—I planted my hand firmly
against his chest and shoved him away, determined not to end up in his arms.

The unexpected push sent him sprawling, and he landed flat on his butt with a loud thud. Just
as he settled on the floor, I heard him mutter in a slightly irritated tone, “Ouch, that hurt. I
was trying to help you.” He looked up at me, his expression a mix of annoyance and
amusement.

In that moment, I finally got a clear look at him. His blonde hair caught the light, and a pair
of striking blue eyes stared up at me with an intensity that was hard to ignore. He looked like
he was in his early twenties, exuding a certain effortless confidence. He was shirtless, and his
well-defined six-pack abs were on full display. The muscles seemed even more pronounced
as he sat there, slightly hunched forward, the ridges of his abdomen forming a sharp contrast
against his smooth skin.

“It was you who came out without looking and bumped into me,” I replied, brushing the dirt
off my butt where I’d hit the ground earlier.

“That’s very rude of you,” he said with a chuckle, a small laugh that seemed almost teasing.

I looked at him and sighed, thinking to myself, *Another madman.* But then I shook my
head slightly as the memory of the *real* madman crossed my mind—the moment he groped
his crotch, ordering me to touch myself in front of him. Just recalling it was embarrassing
enough to make my face flush and my heartbeat quicken. I shook my head even harder, eager
to push the memory aside, and decided to head straight to the hall to distract myself.

Without sparing another glance at the guy in front of me, I moved to walk past him, having
no intention of offering a hand to help him up. But just as I was about to step away, he
suddenly grabbed my right hand. Before I could yank it free, he used the grip to pull himself
up, the force nearly causing me to stumble. I managed to steady myself just in time, and only
then did he release his hold.

I turned to glare at him, annoyed, but he simply smiled and said, “Thank you.”

“......”
Up close, I realized he was at least 10 centimeters taller than me, almost the same height as
Madman. He took a few steps closer, leaning in toward my left ear, his breath warm and
irritatingly intimate against my skin. “But why are you blushing? Does my body turn you on
so much that you’re running away? You were staring pretty hard earlier. I don’t usually sleep
with men, but you could be an exception.”

I turned and smirked, though the amusement didn’t reach my eyes. “I don’t mind either—” I
paused, stepping back slightly, forcing myself to scan him up and down as if he were worth
the effort. “You’re not entirely bad... but you’re not my type...”

I locked eyes with him, watching as my words hit their mark. Good. But before I could savor
it, he suddenly closed the gap between us, wrapping his arm around my waist and yanking
me close, the unwanted heat of his body pressing against mine.
“I’m not entirely bad but it’s just because I’m not your type? Does that mean we have a
chance?” His grip tightened, and he leaned in like he was about to kiss me, the smugness
practically oozing from him.

That was it.

I grabbed his jaw, stopping him cold, and glared straight into his eyes. My voice was sharp,
dripping with disdain. “Do you think you could beat my legendary madman?...” as I paused
and slightly lift the left corner of my lips, “... Tell me, what’s the capital of Lithuania?”

He froze, clearly caught off guard, staring at me in disbelief. I smirked, savoring his
confusion. “See? You’re no way near to be called a madman,. And I have zero interest in
being yours.”

As I threw the puzzle at him, a brief memory flashed through my mind—*my* madman,
smirking as he mocked others for not knowing the simplest things.

With that, I shoved him away with all the force I could muster. Whether he stumbled or fell
didn’t concern me. I quickly brushed off my clothes, more annoyed than ever, and headed
straight for the staircase. As I reached the steps, his obnoxious laugh echoed behind me.
“You’re amusing. We’ll meet again.”

I didn’t bother to look back. I had better things to do than entertain a flirt I couldn’t care less
about.
 21

After a grueling day of training, I decided to call it quits. Tomorrow would be my last day at
the camp, and I was looking forward to a break. I headed to the tap area near the hall to wash
my face and freshen up, hoping to shake off the exhaustion.

As I splashed water on my face, I became acutely aware of a familiar presence nearby. Sure
enough, it was that blond guy from earlier. My annoyance flared. The last thing I needed
right now was his pestering.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice cutting through the quiet.

I ignored him, trying to focus on the cool water and the quiet of the evening. I could feel his
eyes boring into me, but I kept my head down, hoping he’d take the hint.

“Hey!” He persisted, louder this time. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. What’s your
name?”

I sighed inwardly, my patience wearing thin. I wasn’t interested in engaging with him, but his
persistence was becoming hard to ignore.

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” I muttered, barely glancing in his direction.

But he didn’t relent. “Come on, it’s just a name. What’s your name?”

I turned to face him, clearly annoyed. “Why do you care?”

He seemed unfazed, a smirk on his face. “If you won’t tell me your name, how about your
phone number?”

That made me stop in my tracks. My phone was still in my room, forgotten and silent all day.
My heart skipped a beat as I remembered the missed calls I might have received, especially
from the madman. The possibility that I could have missed something important—or worse, a
call from the one person I mustn't to avoid—made my irritation spike.

Without a word, I turned sharply and headed back toward the building, making a beeline for
my room. The pestering ghost trailed behind me, his voice persistent.

“Hey, where are you going? Don’t be so cold! We’re just getting to know each other.

I quickened my pace, not wanting to engage any further. When I finally reached my room, I
burst inside and immediately spotted my phone on the table. I snatched it up, hoping against
hope that there would be no missed calls.

The screen lit up, and my heart sank as I saw there were no missed calls or messages. The
silence was both a relief and a disappointment. I dropped onto the bed, feeling a wave of
frustration and weariness wash over me.
As I lay there, it hit me that I was hungry. I had planned to grab a bite at the café. Just as I
was about to head out, I heard a voice outside my door.

“Is this your room?” The blonde guy’s voice was unmistakable, filled with an annoying
cheerfulness.

I opened the door to find him standing there, a grin on his face. He glanced at the name tag
on my door and read it aloud with exaggerated amusement. “Lee Taemin from Dream
Entertainment.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of exasperation and resignation. “Yes, that’s me. Now, if you’ll
excuse me.”

I slammed the door behind me and stormed out, my irritation palpable. The last thing I
wanted was to deal with that persistent blond guy, but as I headed toward the café, I could
already hear his voice trailing behind me.

The café was quite a distance from the training hall, and with each step I took, the path
seemed to stretch endlessly before me. The evening air was cool, but my frustration kept me
warm. Despite my best efforts to ignore him, he kept up with me, his chatter incessant.

“Hey, why aren’t you curious about me at all?” he called out, his tone playful yet persistent.
“You’ve been dodging me all day. Don’t you want to know who I am?”

I focused on the road ahead, trying to ignore him. “I don’t have time for this,” I muttered,
quickening my pace.

He matched my speed effortlessly. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to get to
know you. It’s not every day I meet someone from Dream Entertainment.”

I shot him a sideways glance, my irritation bubbling over. “Look, I’m just trying to get to the
café. Can’t you let me have a bit of peace?”

He seemed to sense my growing disinterest and decided to shift his approach. “Fine, I get it.
You’re not interested. But at least let me introduce myself properly. I’m Kang Il Soo.”

He extended his hand with a smirk as if that would somehow make a difference.

I sighed, my patience wearing thin. “Great, now I know your name. Can I go?”

Kang Il Soo’s smirk didn’t falter. “Hold on a second. How about you let me accompany you
for dinner? We can get to know each other better.”

I didn’t bother to respond, too exhausted and irritated to entertain his offer. I simply turned on
my heel and continued walking toward the café. Kang Il Soo’s voice trailed after me, but I
ignored it, focusing on the prospect of a quiet meal.

When I reached the café, I was relieved to find it still open. I grabbed a tray and approached
the server to collect my meal. Since the meal was included in the training program, it was
free, which added a small silver lining to the day.
As I extended my tray for the server to put the food on it, I noticed another food tray being
pushed forward. Without needing to confirm, I knew immediately that it was Kang Il Soo’s
doing.

I turned to look at him, sending a clear signal that I had had enough of his persistence. My
glare should have been enough to make him reconsider, but he simply grinned wider.

Kang Il Soo placed a hand on my back and gently but firmly turned me around. “Come on,
let me join you. You might as well get used to my company.”

With a push that was more insistent than encouraging, he nudged me forward. I tried to resist,
but his hand on my back was a constant, annoying presence.

I gave in and moved forward, my irritation bubbling under the surface. The last thing I
wanted was more of his company, but it seemed like there was no escaping the blond pest.
 22

As we made our way to a table, I focused on my meal. The guy opposite me kept mumbling,
clearly agitated, but I tuned him out. I had no patience left for his nonsense.

But then I noticed something off. His attention kept drifting over my shoulder, like he was
more interested in something—or someone—behind me. It wasn’t hard to tell he was uneasy,
and that only piqued my curiosity.

Annoyance flared as I caught him glancing past me again. What was so important back there?
I didn’t have time for games, and I certainly wasn’t the type to let someone else’s nerves
dictate my actions.

Just as I was about to turn around, he spoke up, his voice sharper than before.

“Don’t turn,” he warned, but I was already halfway through the motion.

I froze for a split second, not out of fear, but because his sudden intensity was unexpected.
My eyes met his, and I saw something serious there—something that might’ve made
someone else hesitate.

But I wasn’t someone else.

“Do you think I care?” I shot back, my voice low but firm, more of a statement than a
question.

He leaned in, his smirk completely gone. “I’m telling you, it’s someone you don’t want to
mess with. And if they see you noticing them... things could get complicated.”

His words were meant to dissuade me, but all they did was solidify my decision. I wasn’t
about to let someone else dictate my actions, especially not with vague warnings about
complications.

I gave him a flat look, then turned in my seat to see exactly who or what was behind me.

As I looked around, I caught sight of a figure that immediately stood out. The way they
carried themselves, the intensity of their gaze—everything about them screamed danger. But
instead of feeling the anxiety that Kang Il Soo seemed to expect, I felt a rush of adrenaline. If
this person was as dangerous as he implied, then I was more than ready to see what they were
about.

I held their gaze for a moment, a silent challenge hanging in the air between us, before
turning back to my meal. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by someone’s presence, no matter
how imposing they seemed.

Kang Il Soo stared at me, his expression a mix of disbelief and something close to
admiration. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.
As I picked up my fork and continued eating, my curiosity satisfied but my patience wearing
thin, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Kang Il Soo’s behavior was too
suspicious, too deliberate. The way he had tried to stop me from turning around, the tension
in his voice—it all pointed to something more than just concern.

Enough of the games.

I placed my fork down deliberately, the metal clinking softly against the plate. My eyes
locked onto Kang Il Soo’s, cold and calculating. “You know,” I began, my voice low and
measured, “from the way you’ve been acting, it’s clear you’re not just some annoying guy
trying to get under my skin.”

Kang Il Soo blinked but didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable. I leaned in
slightly, my tone taking on a dangerous edge. “I’ve seen your type before. The kind that likes
to play both sides, pretending to be harmless while watching for weaknesses. Just like that
person behind me.”

He tensed, the flicker of surprise in his eyes telling me I’d hit a nerve. “So why don’t you
stop wasting my time and come clean? What’s your angle? What do you really want?”

Kang Il Soo’s smirk returned, but this time it was different—more guarded, more aware that I
wasn’t someone to be easily fooled. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he met
my gaze.

“You’re sharp,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “But you’ve got it wrong. I’m not here to
mess with you.”

Not buying his sudden shift in tone. “You expect me to believe you’re just here for the food
and some casual conversation?”

He exhaled, his confidence wavering for the first time. “Alright, I’ll be straight with you,” he
said, dropping the pretense. “The person behind you... they’re someone who’s been keeping
tabs on you for a while. Let’s just say, they’re not thrilled about your presence here.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to read between the lines. “And you? Where do you fit into this?
Are you working with them?”

Kang Il Soo shook his head, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across his face. His gaze
remained steady, but there was something unsettling in the way he looked at me—a knowing
glint that suggested there was more to him than just a petty annoyance.

“So what’s your role in this?” I pressed, my suspicion deepening. “What’s in it for you?”

Kang Il Soo’s expression shifted, the mask of caution slipping away to reveal a smug, almost
predatory grin. His eyes narrowed, glinting with a mixture of arrogance and amusement. “My
role? I’m not on anyone’s side—not the people behind you, not yours. I’m in this for myself.”

He continued, “Well, aren’t you a piece of work?”, his tone dripping with a mix of admiration
and something darker. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so... unshakable. Most
people would have caved by now.”

He leaned forward, his voice dripping with confidence. “The truth is, I don’t care about your
well-being. I’m just here to stir the pot, to see how far I can push things. One of the people
behind you? Let’s just say I have my history with them—a grudge I’ve been holding onto for
a while. Watching you squirm at the thought of them? That’s just a bonus.”

He paused, clearly expecting some reaction—fear, unease, anything to indicate that he had
successfully rattled me. But as his words hung in the air, I couldn’t help but let out a low,
humorless chuckle.

“And?” I asked, my tone laced with disdain. “That I’m going to squirm because of some
vague threat? Because of a grudge you’re holding?”

Kang Il Soo’s grin faltered, the confidence in his eyes dimming slightly as he realized his
tactic had failed to land. “You should be more careful. These people... they’re not like the
others.”

“Neither am I,” I shot back, leaning in with a cold smile of my own. “And if you think I’m
going to be intimidated by some shadows lurking behind me, then you clearly don’t know
who you’re dealing with.”

Kang Il Soo’s eyes narrowed, but I could see the hint of doubt creeping in. He wasn’t used to
people standing up to him—especially not with the level of arrogance and certainty I exuded.

“You want to watch me squirm?” I continued, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone.
“You’re wasting your time. I don’t fear anyone—not those pests behind me, and certainly not
you. So if this is your idea of fun, I suggest you find a new hobby.”

The room seemed to grow quieter as the tension between us thickened. “So if you’re done
with your little performance, let’s get one thing straight—you’re nothing more than a
nuisance. And if you keep pushing, you’ll regret it.”

Kang Il Soo leaned back in his chair, the arrogance in his posture now tinged with something
else—frustration, perhaps. He had underestimated me, and he knew it. “You’re bold, I’ll give
you that,” he muttered, almost as if to himself.

“Bold?” I echoed with a smirk. “No, Kang Il Soo. I’m just not intimidated by the likes of
you. So, fuck off.”

Kang Il Soo’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m starting to find you
more interesting,” he said, his tone light but edged with something sharper. “You’ve got this
arrogance about you that’s quite... entertaining. But here’s a little something for you—a
‘welcome gift,’ if you will.”

I stood up and grabbed my tray, but didn’t leave the table, simply signaling him to continue.
Kang Il Soo’s laughter bubbled up, clearly pleased by my unspoken challenge.
Leaning in, he placed his elbow on the armrest and tilted his head slightly, locking eyes with
me. His expression turned serious, the playfulness replaced by a cold edge. “Let me tell you
something you might not know—or perhaps something you’ve been deliberately ignoring.
You’ll never get the role you’re chasing.”

His words hit me with the weight of an unexpected revelation. I held his gaze, unfazed on the
outside but feeling a sharp twist of intrigue inside. Kang Il Soo’s confidence was unsettling,
and his cryptic message left me with more questions than answers.

He remained poised, seemingly enjoying the effect of his statement. “Think about that while
you’re trying to play in this game. Sometimes, knowing what you’re up against is more
important than you think.”

With that, he gave me one last, knowing smile before turning to leave. I watched him go, the
cryptic nature of his message lingering in my mind.
 23

I looked down at the untouched food on my tray, feeling the weight of the day pressing down
on me. But I wasn’t in the mood to eat. It wasn’t hunger that gnawed at me—it was the
growing sense of inevitability that had been shadowing me since the moment I heard about
the audition. I knew better than to indulge in false hope.

I began walking toward the designated area to return the tray. My mind drifted back to the
moment Manager Choi had burst into the waiting room, eyes wide with excitement, telling
me about the audition. He was genuinely thrilled, thinking this was my big break, the
opportunity that would put me back on the map as an actor after my hiatus. He believed it
was a golden chance, a sign that the industry hadn’t forgotten me.

But I wasn’t naive. I knew what it was. It wasn’t a shot at redemption. It was a formality, a
way for the industry to say they’d considered me before moving on to the next flavor of the
month. They weren’t offering me a role; they were offering me a chance to prove why I
didn’t deserve it. I saw through it immediately, but I didn’t have the time to shatter Manager
Choi’s illusions. He was so convinced that this was it. Maybe he was too close to see the
truth, or maybe he just didn’t want to.

As I walked, the tray in my hands felt heavier with each step. Kang Il Soo’s smug little
speech from earlier echoed in my mind. He was trying to shake me with his cryptic warnings
and arrogance. But what he didn’t understand was that I had already come to terms with the
reality of my situation long before he opened his mouth. I didn’t need his so-called “insight.”
I knew it already. I just didn’t care.

I reached the tray return area and set it down with a deliberate motion. The clatter of dishes
echoed in the quiet space, a small, almost defiant sound. I didn’t need to eat to fuel myself;
my resolve was enough. The odds were against me, and I knew it. But I wasn’t about to bow
out just because the game was rigged.

Manager Choi’s optimism might have been misplaced, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to
please the industry, to beg for their approval. I was here to remind myself of who I was—a
force to be reckoned with, someone who didn’t need their validation to know his worth. They
could play their games, but I was playing a different one, one where I set the rules.

Kang Il Soo and the rest of them could watch all they wanted. I wasn’t afraid of being
underestimated. In fact, I preferred it. It made it that much sweeter. They might think they
had me figured out, but they didn’t know a thing about what I was capable of.

With that thought in mind, I turned away from the tray return area and set my sights on the
group of people lounging nearby, doing nothing but casting sideways glances in my direction.
They were the ones Kang Il Soo had been hinting at, and it was time to see just what they
were about.

As I walked toward them, my steps were steady, and deliberate. The air seemed to shift as I
closed the distance, an almost tangible change in the atmosphere. I could feel their eyes on
me, the murmur of their conversation dying down as I approached. The tension was palpable,
crackling like electricity in the air. The one who noticed me first—the one who had been
glancing over his shoulder nervously—leaned in to whisper something to his mates.
Whatever he said had an immediate effect; all of them turned to look at me, even those who
had been facing the other way.

But there was one who didn’t. A guy sitting in the center of the group, casually leaning back
in his chair, didn’t bother to acknowledge me as I approached. His lack of reaction only
confirmed my suspicion—he was the lead, the one who thought he had nothing to fear. He
was wrong.

I didn’t stop until I was standing right in front of their table, my presence looming over them.
My gaze zeroed in on the guy who hadn’t turned, my eyes narrowing into a death-sharp stare.
The others were watching me with a mix of curiosity and caution, but I didn’t care about
them. My focus was on him, the one who hadn’t even bothered to look up. That arrogance—
it was almost laughable.

“You,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

My voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. The weight behind it was enough to get their
attention. I could see the slight shift in their expressions, the uncertainty creeping in.

The guy I’d addressed didn’t move at first, then, finally, he turned his head meeting my gaze.
Our eyes locked, this was exactly where I wanted to be, face-to-face with the one who
thought he was in control. His expression didn’t change—no fear, no surprise, just an
unsettling calm. It was almost as if he was bored.

He didn’t flinch, instead, a slow smirk spread across his face. Without breaking eye contact,
he stood up from his seat, his movements deliberate, and started walking toward me. I
quickly realized that he was taller than I had expected, nearly matching Madman’s height,
and with an imposing presence that seemed to fill the space between us.

He, who stood before me perfectly embodied the industry’s beauty standards. His bleach-grey
hair was styled with an impeccable precision that gave him a striking, almost otherworldly
appearance. It framed his sharply defined features, including a prominent, sculpted nose that
enhanced his sophisticated look. His dark brown eyes, deep and expressive, added a layer of
intensity to his overall presence.

He exuded a youthful energy yet somewhat cold that, combined with his striking height,
made him a compelling figure. His flawless complexion and well-structured face were
quintessentially aligned with the industry's ideals of beauty, making him a standout even in a
crowded room.

Despite his undeniable appeal and adherence to industry standards, I still found myself
thinking of Madman. While this tall man’s appearance was remarkable, it was Madman’s
unique charisma and depth that left a more lasting impression on me.

He stopped just inches away from me, bending down so that we were face-to-face. The smirk
never left his lips as he spoke, his voice low and almost mocking.
"Is your index finger in good shape?" he asked, his tone laced with a condescending
amusement.

I stared at him, but he didn’t give me time to respond. He leaned in closer, so close that I
could feel his breath against my skin.

"Do you need help?" he continued, his words dripping with a threat that was impossible to
miss.

Before I could react, he leaned even further, bringing his mouth close to my left ear, his voice
dropping to a menacing whisper.

"Should I break it?"

I felt annoas I processed the threat. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto mine,
waiting for my reaction. He was testing me, pushing to see if he could break through my
bravado. But if he thought he could intimidate me, he was mistaken., I met his gaze with a
defiant glare.

I tilted my head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips as I held his stare. "And?" I
asked, my voice calm, laced with an arrogance that matched his own, I continued "...I’ve
dealt with worse than you."

His smirk widened, clearly amused by my response. He was the kind of person who thrived
on intimidation, who got off on seeing people squirm under his gaze. But I wasn’t about to
give him that satisfaction.

He straightened up, looking down at me with an expression that was almost... impressed? It
was as if he hadn’t expected me to push back, and that only seemed to amuse him further. His
eyes narrowed, assessing me, like he was trying to figure out what made me tick.

"You’ve got guts," he admitted, a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Most people would’ve
backed down by now."

"I’m not most people," I replied sharply, my tone leaving no room for doubt.

He chuckled, a low, almost mocking sound that resonated in the air between us. "No, I guess
you’re not. But guts alone won’t get you anywhere, especially not with the likes of Yoon
Jay."

I didn’t flinch at the mention of the director’s name, even though I could feel the weight of
his words. It was a name that carried power, one that everyone in the industry knew. But I
wasn’t about to let that phase me either.

"So?," I asked with my stance unyielding.

His expression shifted, a flicker of something darker crossing his face before he quickly
masked it with his usual smirk. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur
meant only for me.
"You know you’re not going to get that role, right?" he said, his tone dripping with
condescension. "Everyone knows it. Even you. Yet here you are, busting your ass, going
through training, trying to prove something... to who? To yourself?"

I didn’t waver, my eyes locked on his as I responded with a quiet intensity.

He chuckled again, hearing no response to his mocking, shaking his head like he couldn’t
believe it. "Oh, I get it now," he said, his voice turning cruel. "You loves spreading your legs
for your precious director, Yoon Jay. Moaning hard so to land a role, hoping he’d throw you a
bone? Pathetic man whore, desperate to get back in the game."

His words were like venom, meant to cut deep.

“Everyone in the industry knows you’re nothing but Yoon Jay’s bitch. You’re just dirt in this
business, the joke that everyone laughs about behind closed doors. From being a gangster to a
pathetic wannabe, everyone knows how low you’ve sunk.”

Letting my anger twist into a sharp retort. “Jealous much? Seems like you’re pretty worked
up over Yoon Jay’s interest in me. Maybe it’s eating you up inside that someone as powerful
as him fell for my charm.”

His eyes widened slightly, the surprise clear for a moment before he could hide it.

“Yes, I did spread my legs wide for that psychopath. I made sure he knew exactly what he
was getting. And if you’re so envious of that, maybe you should give it a shot yourself.
Spread your hole for him and see if he finds you as interesting.”

The tall guy’s face remained inscrutable, showing no sign of the shock or anger I had
anticipated. Instead, his face reappeared, colder and more detached than before. “You know,”
he said, his voice smooth and unruffled, “it’s not about me spreading my hole. It’s about
Yoon Jay, the one who has the power here. If anyone should be doing the spreading, it’s
him.”

His words only fueled my amusement. I burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the
room. “You want to fuck that psychopath?” I managed between fits of laughter, the sheer
absurdity of the suggestion hitting me.

I continued to laugh, finding the whole scenario ridiculously entertaining.

“You think you can just waltz in and talk like you’re on the same level as him? The reality is,
you can’t even get close to him, let alone see him in person.”

The tall guy’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in
his eyes. I could tell he wasn’t bothered by my mockery—if anything, my reaction seemed to
amuse him.

With a final glance, I turned away, leaving him to his group of similarly indifferent
companions. My laughter faded as I walked back to my table, feeling a sense of triumph. His
attempts to provoke me had fallen flat, and I was more than ready to move on from this
encounter. If he thought he could get under my skin with his empty threats and veiled
insinuations, he was sorely mistaken.
 24
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

I lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the day's weight pressing down on me. What were
the chances of dealing with two madmen in one day? At least I hadn't walked away with a
black eye or an absurd debt over a cigarette half-smoked. A faint smirk curled at the memory
of our first meeting. I'd pegged him for a cheap comedian, one of those guys who talk
nonsense to get a reaction. Strange how vivid that memory still felt.

The more I tried to shake him from my thoughts, the more he settled there. Uninvited, but
persistent. My hand instinctively reached for my phone, fingers tapping to his contact. For a
second, I hovered over the call button, my mind pondering what might happen if I pressed it.
In a flash, I canceled. It still felt too surreal to reach out, even though some part of me wanted
to.

I stretched out, my arms falling limp onto the mattress. I stared at the ceiling again, familiar
but distant, and rolled onto my side. My head sank into the pillow, and soon, sleep began to
creep in.

*Beep~Beep~Beep.*

The alarm blared, yanking me from the edge of sleep. 5 a.m., as usual. I wasn’t always like
this, waking up at the crack of dawn, but a few years back, it became a routine I couldn’t
shake. No matter how late I stayed up or how drained I was, I’d still rise with the same
mechanical rhythm. Old habits die hard, but compared to others, waking early didn’t seem so
bad.

I sat up, no groaning or dragging myself through the motions, just an automatic response. But
when I glanced in the bathroom mirror, I froze. Same clothes as yesterday, same dirt clinging
to my skin. I hadn’t even bothered to clean up. Gross. I stepped into the shower, letting the
hot water wash away the weight of yesterday. Today was the last training day, or more
accurately, a half-day. Manager Choi was picking me up at 3 p.m., right after the final round
of training ended around 1 p.m..
I headed to the practice hall without delay. When I stepped inside, it was already buzzing
with life. Trainees swung from the wires, bodies moving gracefully in mid-air. Their
effortless control made them seem like they were born to fly. The precision, the balance—it
was mesmerizing. Even to someone like me, I could appreciate the sheer skill they were
showing off.

Watching them, I felt my determination rising. I had to nail it today. I had to master the wires,
and make it look as effortless as they did. My eyes followed every movement, studying how
they balanced, how they maneuvered. Lost in thought, I barely noticed the voice calling my
name.

“Teamin-ssi.”

I recognized it instantly, bowing slightly in response.

“How are you feeling? It’s your last training day,” Chief Park said.

I turned to face him. He was in his usual tracksuit, with a black singlet showing off his solid,
muscular frame. He looked good for his age, probably in his mid-40s, though if you saw him
next to Manager Choi, you’d think Choi was the older one.

“I don’t know…” I trailed off, turning my eyes back to the others. “I thought I had it all
figured out, but now… I’m not so sure.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, trailing off in the quiet air between us. I
thought I had given everything—every ounce of effort since I arrived here. Each time I
practiced alone, I convinced myself that no one was watching, that I was just a shadow in a
space. But now, it was clear—I had been wrong.

The hall was filled with people just like me, each fighting for their chance, giving it
everything they had. Everyone was reaching for the same goal, and I was right there with
them. But today, more than ever, I felt just how far I still had to go.
A bitter realization settled in my chest, and I swallowed it, forcing the weight of the thought
down before it could escape. I didn’t dare let it show, not in front of the man beside me.

He extended his arm, his finger cutting through the air as he pointed ahead, commanding my
attention. My gaze followed his, just in time to catch a blur of movement. Another guy,
moving with breathtaking precision, executed a perfect flip in midair. His body twisted with
seamless control before he hit the ground, rolling smoothly without losing momentum. In one
fluid motion, he reached out, grasping at something invisible, but it was clear what it was
meant to be—a gun.

As he rose from the roll, the imaginary gun was now in his grip, and he struck a pose as if
poised to fire. His expression was electric—fierce and focused, brows drawn in
concentration. His eyes, blazing with urgency, locked onto an unseen target ahead, and in that
moment, you could almost feel the tension in the air. He wasn’t just acting. It felt like he was
living the moment, ready to shoot with lethal precision. The intensity radiating from him was
palpable as if the stakes were real.

A sharp voice jolted me back to the present.

"What do you think about that guy's movement?"

He didn’t wait for me to respond, continuing with an air of detachment. "Impressive, isn’t it?"

I stayed quiet. No words I could muster would change the uncomfortable truth that hung in
the air. That guy’s skill level was miles ahead of mine, and we both knew it. The stunt he had
just pulled off—perfectly executed—was the same one taught on the second day of training.
But even now, I was struggling to grasp even a small portion of it. It stung to admit how far I
still had to go. Mastering 10% of his ability felt like a stretch.

“He’s another candidate for the role you’re auditioning next week. Showed up just a day
before you did, and his results? Already professional stuntman level.” He paused, as if
savoring the tension before dropping the final blow. “But…”
His words trailed off, the silence heavy between us. I turned toward him, finishing the
sentence he left unsaid.

"…That guy… He’s not getting the role either, right?"

I asked though the answer was already written in the silence between us. We both knew it.
Neither of us was the ones they'd pick.

His reaction was immediate, eyes widening in shock. He echoed my words, “…‘either?’” His
disbelief quickly shifted into a smirk. "So, you already know."

At that moment, I realized I’d said too much. I knew, long before this conversation, that I
wasn’t getting the role. Even though I was allowed to audition, the outcome was never really
in question. But now the truth was out there, and there was no taking it back.

"…Just a guess," I muttered, trying to downplay the slip.

He looked at me, eyes lighting up with an excitement I didn’t trust. "How?"

I didn’t answer, merely squinting as I debated whether to let him in on the truth. But no, he
didn’t need to know. His curiosity wasn’t genuine; it was laced with an ulterior motive. What
he wanted was to know just how deep my connection went with the Madman—the infamous
Director Yoon Jay, the puppet master behind so many careers in the entertainment world.

Everyone in the industry whispered about it. They all knew—or thought they knew—about
my relationship with him. The rumors were always the same: I was nothing but a plaything, a
manwhore to the Madman. Yesterday, that bleached gray-haired guy had thrown it in my
face, laughing at what people believed was an open secret. Behind closed doors, they all
fantasized about me, about how spreading my legs for the great Director Yoon Jay would
surely earn me something in return.
But here I was, attending an audition for a role that had already been decided. The company
knew this but still insisted I show up. It was their way of signaling to the industry that the
rumors about me weren’t just whispers. Director Yoon Jay didn’t even pretend to care. If I
held the power people thought I did, this role would’ve been mine the moment I walked
through the door. But here I was, standing with the rest, just another pawn.

My value, in their eyes, was nonexistent. And in moments like this, I couldn’t help but feel
sorry for them because they were wrong.

Madman and I were fully aware of the rumors surrounding us from the very beginning. One
night, he even brought it up, treating it like a joke, not worth a second thought.

That night, he came home late, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes after entertaining investors
which was part of his job as a Director of Dream Entertainment. Without warning, he
climbed on top of me, rudely waking me from my sleep. Irritated, I glared at him, but it
didn’t phase him. His hand already reached for my shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift
motion, leaving me bare. My shirt hit the floor as I tried to push him off, placing both hands
on his shoulders. But resisting him was useless.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk?” I snapped, hoping to get some sense into
him.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.” He looked at me affectionately, he then
dragged his index finger lazily across my face, teasing me. His other hand moved lower,
fingers brushing against my chest until he found my nipples, flicking one with deliberate
intent. A breathy moan slipped from my lips despite my frustration, "Ahh…"

“That bitch earlier,” he began, voice low and casual, “she tried to get me hard.”

I squinted at him, anger rising as his thumb brushed my lips. I bit down lightly in response,
trying to show him how pissed I was. Of course, he only found it amusing, chuckling as his
fingers pinched and pulled at my nipple.

"Nnngh… stop teasing," I groaned, my body betraying me as another moan escaped when he
flicked my nipple again.
“She whispered in my ear that she could do better than ‘Lee Taemin’ and started rubbing
herself on me,” he continued, voice full of smug amusement, “desperate, trying to get my
dick hard. But nothing.”

My grip on the bedsheet tightened, a mix of confusion and anger filling me. But the way his
hands moved over my body was messing with my thoughts. His fingers danced down my
chest, brushing my skin with just enough pressure to make me shiver.

“And?” I asked, breathless, as he leaned in, kissing my neck, his lips warm and insistent.

He laughed softly, his lips brushing mine before answering, “I gave her a harsh push. She fell
flat on her ass. I can see tears flowing from her eyes. And I found it very satisfying when
pests like them are disgustingly annoying, trying to compare itself with you. Don’t you think
so, Yoohan-ah?” His fingers continued their slow, agonizing torture, tracing lines along my
stomach and teasing lower.

"Ngh… you bastard," I groaned, struggling to suppress the moans that wanted to escape as
his hand reached dangerously close to where I was already getting hard.

He kissed the corner of my lips, clearly enjoying my reaction. "And she was humiliated,
obviously. Sent by those investors, thinking she could do what Lee Taemin do." His fingers
slid lower, grazing over me, and I gasped, my hips instinctively lifting toward his touch.

"Ahh… fuck…" I groaned, the words slipping out involuntarily as my body reacted to him.

His eyes darkened with that familiar intensity, and he smirked, leaning down again. "Do you
wish I had fucked her?" he whispered against my ear, his voice low and taunting.

I stared straight into his eyes, "No."

His teasing stopped for a moment, his grip tightening as he pressed against me, his voice
rough with desire. "Good," he muttered, "because you’re the only one who can make me hard
like this."

My breath hitched as his hand finally found me, stroking slowly. I let out a shaky moan,
"Ahh… mmm…"

He kissed me deeply, his movements growing more deliberate as his fingers flicked my
nipple again, making me gasp between moans. "You’re mine," he whispered against my lips,
and I could only nod, completely lost to the sensation of him touching me everywhere at
once.

"Mmm… y-you… bastard…" I managed to say between gasps, but the pleasure was too
much, and I couldn’t hold back the moans anymore.

As Madman’s teasing came to an abrupt halt, his hands, previously exploring my body with
playful intent, suddenly grew still. He let his fingers trace lightly over my erection, sending a
shiver through me, but then he pulled away, his touch becoming purposefully distant.

With a decisive movement, he flipped me over, guiding me onto my back and then
positioning me so that I was now lying on top of him. My body was pressed flush against his,
the firmness of his chest creating a contrasting sensation against the softness of the sheets
earlier. His body was warm, radiating a comforting heat that made me feel unreasonable
comforting.

He wrapped his arms around me, his embrace both commanding and gentle. His hands
roamed my back in soothing strokes, the earlier intensity replaced by a calm and steady
touch. His fingers lightly caressed my sides, brushing against my skin with an almost
reverent tenderness.

“Enough for now,” he said softly, his voice carrying a tone of finality. “It’s time to rest.”

His hands continued their gentle exploration, moving over my body with a tenderness that
was a stark contrast to the earlier roughness. His touch was reassuring, providing a sense of
calm amidst the whirlwind of the evening.

I laid my head against his chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing beneath
me. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his touch lingering for a moment before he
murmured, “Sleep now.”

As I settled into his embrace, a lingering odor began to intrude upon my senses. The smell of
alcohol and cigarettes was unmistakable, and it grew stronger as I pressed my face against his
chest. The contrast between his comforting presence and the overwhelming stench became
increasingly difficult to ignore.

I pushed myself up slightly, turning my head to look at him. “You need to shower,” I said,
trying to mask the frustration in my voice.

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk spreading across his lips. “Oh? And who’s going to
help me with that?” he teased his tone light and mocking. “Or would you rather endure my
delightful aroma all night?”

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. I sighed, realizing that he was setting me up for
another one of his games. I couldn’t stand the thought of spending the night curled up against
his reeking clothes, but I was equally reluctant to get up and face the task ahead.

“Fine,” I grumbled, “I’ll help you. But this better be quick.”

He grinned, clearly pleased with my begrudging agreement. “That’s the spirit.”

Before I could even react, he lifted me effortlessly from his body, cradling me in his arms.
Despite my initial irritation, I couldn’t help but be taken aback by his strength. He carried me
to the bathroom with a casual ease that made me chuckle despite myself. The lingering smell
of alcohol and cigarettes on him was almost overpowering, but his playful demeanor and the
sight of him, even in this state, were oddly endearing.
He set me down gently on my feet as he stepped into the shower, starting to peel off his
clothes that still reeked of the night’s indulgences. I adjusted the water temperature and
pressed few pumps of shower gel on the sponge, taking a deep breath and preparing myself
for the task despite my annoyance. He leaned casually against the wall, watching me with a
smirk.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” I said, looking up with hidden fatigue. “I just want to get
this done and go to sleep. Dealing with you has been exhausting.”

I pulled him from the wall and started scrubbing his body.

He chuckled. “You know, I’ve been wondering about something.”

“What?” I asked annoyingly.

He looked at me seriously but with a hint of a smile. “How did you manage to look both
annoyed and cute while scrubbing someone’s chest?”

I glanced at him. “Is that what you’re thinking about while I’m washing you?”

He nodded with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s a special talent. Most people just look bored or
grumpy while doing chores. But you—”

“—Look like you’re in a hostage situation and a beauty pageant at the same time?” I
interrupted, rolling my eyes.

He laughed. “Exactly! And how you look like you’re plotting something while still being
cute is impressive.”

I nudged him annoyingly. “You know, it’s not every day you meet someone who’s
charmingly annoying.”
He grinned. “Charming and annoying, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s part of my
unique charm.”

I sighed, smiling despite myself. “You’re really pushing it with that ‘charm’ of yours. It’s
annoying.”

He leaned closer with a mischievous look. “Admit it. You secretly enjoy these.’ It’s like our
own brand of fun.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress my fist landing over his ‘charmingly’ face. “Yeah, if ‘fun’
means getting soaked in soapy water while you tease me, then sure.”

He laughed, his voice echoing off the bathroom walls. “Don’t forget, you agreed to help me
first.”

I shook my head, continuing to wash him as rough as I could as a form of revenge. “Don’t
make this a regular thing, or I might start charging you for my services.”

He chuckled, leaning closer to me. “But you should know, I’m already thinking of the next
time I’ll need your help.”

As we washed, our playful banter turned into more intimate touches. The soapy water
combined with the heat of the moment created a charged atmosphere. His hands roamed over
my body with a mix of teasing and desire, and I responded in kind, the boundaries between
us blurring in the warm, steamy space.

After our bath, the playful energy remained as we stepped out of the shower. He wrapped me
in a warm towel, his touch lingering with a hint of the intimacy we had shared. We headed
back to bed, the earlier discomfort now a distant memory, replaced by a cozy and satisfying
sense of closeness.
 “Now, sleep,” he said softly as we settled back into bed.

I nestled against him, feeling the warmth and security of his body, no longer bothered by the
previous discomfort. He pulled me close, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. The steady
rise and fall of his breathing beneath me lulled me into a contented rest.

As I recalled those moments, I realized how much I missed his presence. Before I could fully
process my complex feelings, Chief Park’s voice jolted me back to reality. “Taemin-ssi?
Taemin-ssi?”

I brushed past him but left an answer he and the crowd had been seeking. “It’s not about
getting the role; it’s about my pride.”

Chapter End Notes

I wanted to remind you not to forget to leave your comments on the story’s progress—
they motivate me to plot more scenes!

The new characters will bring significant challenges for Yoohan, though their
appearance won’t be immediate. It might take some time, but I can assure you that the
wait will be worth it. I have many ideas for the direction of the story, but I'm cautious
about how to handle Jay to avoid making him a red flag. Despite several plot
adjustments, the story will stay true to my original vision.

Thanks for your support!

 25
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

I cut through the crowd, leaving Chief Park behind. Like everyone else's, his words echoed in
my mind, but I’d had enough. Since yesterday, they’d all been reminding me of my worth,
like it was something I’d forgotten. I didn’t need constant validation. I was well aware of the
outcome from the start.

Before Madman left that day, he hinted in his usual careless way: I'd rather not witness Lee
Yoohan shedding tears over something so trivial. He must have known, even then. He never
wasted time on fruitless endeavors, but somehow, here I was—his well-prepared solution,
standing in the middle of a stunt academy.

This place was a well-known stunt academy in the country. Dream Entertainment had its own
stunt training center, which was nowhere near as fancy as this, but Manager Choi assured me
it was sufficient. There was no need to travel from Seoul just to end up here. So why bother
coming here? There must be something about this arrangement. Am I being used again?

I scanned the training hall, looking for an empty corner. I wasn’t in the mood to engage with
anyone, and the thought of stretching on my own sounded like a much-needed break. But as I
moved further into the space, I couldn’t help but notice how my presence drew my eyes.
Subtle at first—just glances, then more. Whispers followed me. It wasn’t hard to guess what
they were thinking.

I found a space away from the crowd, a quieter corner. I dropped my bag, took a deep breath,
and started stretching. I began with a few deep lunges, feeling the tightness in my thighs ease
as I sank lower into the stretch. My arms reached high above my head, fingers intertwined as
I arched my back, feeling the satisfying pull down my spine.

Next, I bent forward, letting my hands brush the floor as I stretched my hamstrings, rolling
my shoulders to loosen any stiffness. I shifted into a seated stretch, legs spread wide,
reaching for each foot, one by one, feeling the strain in my muscles turn into a comfortable
warmth. With each movement, I felt my body relax, the tension from the crowd's stares
slowly melting away.

As I continued stretching, easing into the familiar motions to loosen my muscles, something
caught my eye. It was the blond guy from yesterday—the one who had acted all innocent,
pestering me with that overly friendly approach. Now, standing in the middle of the hall,
gripping a prop sword, he was a completely different person.

He wasn’t the carefree, chatty guy trying to get on my good side anymore. His face was
focused, and intense, as if he had switched into a different mode entirely. The sword in his
hand moved with purpose, slicing through the air with precise, powerful swings. His body
flowed smoothly with each strike, twisting and bending with an almost mesmerizing grace.
Every motion weighted it, calculated and fierce, and it was clear that this wasn’t just practice
—it was a display of mastery.

For a moment, I couldn’t look away. His focus was laser-sharp, his movements so crisp and
controlled that it felt like he was born to wield that blade. The way he handled it, with such
ease and confidence, made it hard to believe this was the same guy from before. This wasn’t
just some random trainee fumbling around, hoping to impress. He was someone who took his
craft seriously.

As I stared closely at his movements, quietly analyzing his footwork, there was a sudden
change in direction—a shift in his body language, like he was about to strike forward
aggressively. Just in that little moment, my eyes flickered around to see what had caused the
shift, and sure enough, there he was—the irritating bastard from yesterday, the bleached-
gray-haired guy.

I stood up from my stretch, my attention completely pulled to their encounter. Blondie, who
had been so focused on his sword drills, suddenly swung his blade and charged at the
bleached-gray-haired guy, who was casually walking by, seemingly finished with his own
training.

Blondie’s strike was fierce, but the silver-haired guy didn’t even blink. His body swayed just
enough to dodge the attack, his face showing not even a hint of surprise. He barely
acknowledged the sword that had just missed his side by inches. It was like watching
someone casually avoid a gust of wind, completely unfazed by Blondie’s aggression.

It was as though Blondie’s strikes meant nothing to him. He moved with an arrogant ease, his
body shifting just enough to evade each blow, making it clear who had control of the
situation.

The shift in energy was instant, and I could feel the crowd's attention turning to the two of
them, drawn in by the unexpected clash.

The hall quickly grew tense as more eyes turned to the two of them. Blondie’s sword
whistled through the air with each missed strike, his frustration mounting with every failed
attempt to land a hit. But the gray-haired guy remained composed, sidestepping with the kind
of precision that only came from experience. There was no wasted energy, no fear in his
expression—just cool detachment.

As Blondie’s attacks grew more desperate, the bleached-haired guy didn’t even flinch, his
cold, unreadable gaze locked on Blondie. The gap between their skill levels was clear, and
Blondie, despite his speed and strength, was struggling to make a dent.
Blondie swung harder, aiming for his opponent’s head, but the bleached-gray-haired man
ducked, stepping in close enough to almost mock him with how easily he avoided the strike.
It was a game to him—a display of dominance as he moved with effortless grace. His silence
was louder than any taunt, and it only seemed to fuel Blondie’s frustration.

Just as the tension in the air seemed to hit its peak, Chief Park stormed in, cutting through the
crowd with authority. His voice boomed over the murmurs. “What the hell is going on here?
Break it up!”

The onlookers hesitated, but they began to disperse at his command. As the crowd thinned, I
noticed Chief Park standing firmly between the two bastards, his hands raised, trying to calm
the situation. From my distance, it seemed like he was speaking, but neither the blondie nor
the bleached-gray-haired guy was paying him any attention. The air was still thick with
tension, their focus locked only on each other.

From where I stood, too far to catch their words, I could only rely on their expressions to
piece together the conversation. Blondie’s lips twisted into a smirk, his grip tightening around
the hilt of his sword as if daring the bleached-gray-haired guy to react. There was something
in the way he squared his shoulders—a taunting challenge that didn’t need words to be
understood.

The bleached-gray-haired guy face barely shifted. His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of
cold intensity crossing his features, but he didn’t even bother with a reply. His posture
remained relaxed but everything about him screamed of restrained aggression, like he could
lash out at any moment but chose not to.

Chief Park he planted himself between the two. He said something, his voice probably stern
and commanding, though it was drowned out by the distance. Whatever he said, it didn’t
seem to reach either of them. Blondie rolled his eyes, letting out a small, mocking laugh, his
gaze still locked on his opponent. Even though I couldn’t hear him, I could imagine the
arrogant quip that left his lips—probably something meant to provoke, to remind the
bleached-haired guy of some shared history.

But the bleached-gray-haired guy? He didn’t respond. No words, no retort. Just a sharp,
dismissive turn as he walked away, his silence far more unsettling than anything he could
have said. That quiet, cold confidence lingered even as he disappeared from view, leaving a
palpable tension behind.
Chief Park sighed, waving off the last few curious spectators. The tension in the room hadn’t
faded; if anything, it thickened like a storm about to break. As the crowd trickled away, I
could still feel the unspoken history clinging to the air between Blondie and the bleached-
gray-haired guy. Blondie’s words from yesterday looped in my mind: A grudge I’ve been
holding onto for a while. And now, watching them, it was obvious—the grudge had a face,
and it belonged to the bleached bastard.

I was about to refocus, maybe get back to stretching or some stunts of my own, when a voice
came from beside me. I’d noticed him before, lingering nearby during the fight, but hadn’t
bothered to give him much attention. Now, though, he spoke.

“Isn’t Sung Min-ssi impressive? The way he moves, like it’s effortless.” The words were
indifferent, but I could sense the undercurrent. It wasn’t praise; it was something else.
Something bitter.

I didn’t bother answering. It wasn’t my problem. But one thing struck me—Sung Min. So
that was the bleached bastard’s name. Blondie had told me his name was Kang Il Soo, so the
other guy had to be Sung Min. That piece of information was worth storing away for later.

The guy next to me waited for a response that wasn’t coming. After a beat, he continued,
“Who would have thought an idol like him could act like any professional action actor,”
almost as if talking to himself.

That was enough to pique my interest, an idol. I turned to face him directly, scanning his
face. He had that typical Korean beauty standard look—tall, sharp features, and a well-built
body. Just like the other two bastards from earlier, this guy had the look of someone who
belonged in front of the camera.

“You aren’t bad,” I said flatly, watching as surprise flickered across his face.

He blinked, taken aback, and before he could ask anything, I added, “Your gun stunt earlier—
the flip. It was clean, flawless.”
His eyes widened, caught off guard by my words, but the shock quickly morphed into
something else—disappointment. I could see it in the way his face darkened, like a cloud had
passed over his confidence. It was the same look people wore when they realized they
weren’t enough. No matter how talented he was, it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t the chosen one.
And we both knew it. I wasn’t about to waste more breath on the obvious.

I moved to step past him, my mind already shifting back to practice, when his voice stopped
me. Quieter now, almost as if he was admitting something painful. “The truth is... even
though people say my stunts are great, I know. Sung Min-ssi—he’s the best choice.”

The best choice?

My mind sharpened at those words. So that silver-haired bastard was the one who got the
role. Interesting. And frustrating. If he’d already landed the part we were all vying for, why
was he still here, practicing with the rest of us? Was he here to rub it in our faces? It made no
sense. The pre-determined casting results were supposed to be confidential, kept under wraps
to avoid any public backlash or rumors before the audition began. If that silver-haired bastard
was already selected, then his presence here was more than unnecessary—it was suspicious.

Something about this whole thing didn’t sit right. If that silver-haired bastard had the role
secured, why provoke me? Even if I surpassed him in skill, I’d never be chosen—it was
already decided. So what was his game?

Unintentionally, my eyes drifted to where that silver-haired bastard had disappeared moments
ago. What was his deal? And why did it feel like there was something more going on behind
the scenes? Was Madman involved in this somehow, stirring up more trouble? The thought
simmered in the back of my mind.

But reality pulled me back as the guy next to me shifted awkwardly, his disappointment still
hanging in the air. His earlier bravado had withered into a forced acceptance, the bitterness in
his voice impossible to miss.

I paused, half-turning to glance over my shoulder. My voice came out cold, dismissive. “If
you know he’s the best, what are you whining about?” I asked, my tone sharp. “If you’re
second-best, then own it—or get better.” Though I knew it wouldn’t change anything.
 Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked off. There was no point wasting my time on
someone who had already accepted their defeat. He wasn’t worth it. My focus was elsewhere
now—on that silver-haired bastard and whatever game he was playing.

Chapter End Notes

My story seems to be getting longer and longer—I’m really sorry about that! If it's
starting to feel boring, please let me know. I’ll work harder to improve it. Your
comments are super important to me and will help shape the direction of the story.

Thanks for sticking with me!

 26
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

From his office, he gazed intently at the city lights twinkling below, savoring a slow sip of
vodka while casually swirling his glass. The metropolis he once felt intimately connected to,
having spent most of his life here, now seemed strangely aloof—almost like a distant
memory. This unsettling sense of detachment gnawed at him, a reminder that familiarity can
sometimes breed isolation.

Watching the bustling streets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this city bore little
resemblance to Seoul. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the time. Not
surprisingly, it was 2 AM. He couldn’t recall the last time he had actually fallen asleep. Since
arriving in the States, rest had become a luxury he could scarcely afford. He had immersed
himself in work, driven by the need to finish the task at hand so he could finally return to the
place he now considered a comforting refuge amidst the chaos.

Walking past the imposing marble table to his chair, he set his glass down and easily retrieved
the car remote. Slipping into his trench coat, he braced himself for departure. It was time to
leave the office for good and escape the unfamiliar city that had felt like a stranger after
nearly a week—though it seemed to stretch into an entire year.

As he settled into the driver’s seat, he turned toward the paper bag placed on passenger side,
a slight smile forming on his lips despite himself. It was the kind of smile that hinted at
memories of someone who had a talent for driving him wild. From their very first encounter,
he had been willingly ensnared by Jiwhaja's spell.

In those moments of increasing estrangement from the city around him, he found himself
consumed by thoughts of the man behind the mascot costume, a wild desperation clawing at
him like a frantic dog in heat. He knew that calling that contact now would be a grave
mistake, but the urge tugged at him nonetheless. Shoving the thought to the back of his mind,
he concentrated on getting out of the building.

Arriving at the hotel, he handed his car remote to the valet.

“Leave it to the reception. Someone from Dream will pick it up later.”

The valet acknowledged the request, scribbling down the instructions while his gaze followed
the man as he walked away, a small paper bag in hand. The enticing aroma of freshly baked
cookies lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a warm embrace.
Once he reached his room, he collapsed onto the couch. He loosened a button on his shirt,
exposing his well-defined muscles. The fatigue of the day weighed heavily on him as he sank
into the cushions, his arms falling limply to his sides. He let out a deep sigh, his thoughts
drifting to the intricately carved ceiling above.

That day’s events replayed in his mind, particularly the moment Chief Park handed him two
potential scripts featuring Lee Taemin. Both scripts were stacked neatly on his desk as Chief
Park retreated from his office, leaving him with a choice: to scan through them or let them
collect dust in the corner.

Typically, when the company artist was invited to audition, the scripts were sent to the
production team. As part of the standard procedure, the production and marketing teams
would discuss the possibility of casting the artist, and the artist's manager would be informed
of the role. But that wasn’t the case for Lee Taemin. The scripts sent to the production team
were forwarded directly to Director Yoon through Chief Park. The evaluation and final
decision rested solely with Director Yoon.

He was not in the right mood to engage with anyone about the scripts that demanded his
attention. All he wanted was to finish his current tasks. Glancing to the side, he noticed
someone preparing to leave the room, but before they could slip away, a familiar voice halted
them—a voice that always sent shivers down his spine, no matter how long he had worked
under its influence.

With the suddened inquity threw to him, he quickly made a turn to face the man behind him.
But the owner of that voice that could made his soul leave his body, was still sticking his eyes
on the documetns, with no means to look to his direction.

“When will the car arrived?”

The unexpected question made him turn abruptly. The owner of that voice, a man whose
presence could drain the air from the room, was still fixated on the files before him, not
bothering to meet his gaze.

“All set. The Land Rover will be delivered Friday. Is there anything else you need?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the man looked up, adjusting his tie with deliberate
precision. Their eyes met, and the intensity of his stare felt like ice, freezing him in place. All
he could do was offer a tentative smile in response.

"Make sure it arrive before Lee Taemin wrap up his drama." the man commanded, his tone
brooking no argument.

Nodding, he felt the weight of the directive settle on his shoulders. The man returned to his
work, a clear indication that their conversation was over. After years of service, he
understood this dance all too well and quietly stepped away, allowing the man to immerse
himself in the tasks at hand.
He was once again absorbed in his work when an uneasy feeling suddenly washed over him,
especially as the scripts were presented to him. He signed the necessary documents and
diverted his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. Flipping through the first script,
which contained the initial episodes, he quickly recognized that the role being offered was for
a drama.

Every role in a drama production came with an episode summary and a character
background, so with limited time, he decided to focus on the summary rather than the full
script. The first episode drew him in, set firmly in the romance genre. Lee Taemin was
offered the role of the second lead—the boyfriend to the female lead—whose relationship
would be tested by an affair that ultimately led to their breakup.

In the very first episode, there was a bed scene filled with intense kissing, followed by a
shower scene where Taemin’s character, having just had an affair with a colleague, would
join the female lead in the shower to wash away his sins and seek a moment of remorse.

Just by reading the episode summary, he could barely contain his frustration at the thought of
Lee Yoohan engaging in such intimate scenes with his co-star. Curiosity got the better of him,
and he grabbed episode three of the script, flipping through the pages until he reached the
shower scene. But before he could get there, he stumbled upon the affair scene.

It took place after a company dinner, where his character would have a rendezvous with a
colleague in a hotel. Anger bubbled up inside him, and he slammed the script shut, the sound
echoing in the quiet room. He then glanced at the accompanying drama details, which
outlined the filming dates, locations, and confirmed cast members.

As his eyes scanned the documents, the name of the female lead leapt out at him: Chae
Morin. It struck him like a cold wave, freezing him in place. He was all too familiar with her
—she was a brief fling, someone he’d shared a bed with a few times. Memories rushed back,
each one sharper than the last.

Whispers in the industry about Lee Taemin being Director Yoon's "man whore" had become
common knowledge. Most people steered clear of him, wary of the entanglements that came
with such a reputation. Yet here would be Chae, sharing intimate scenes with Taemin, and the
thought twisted in his gut.

Unease gnawed at him. He reached for office phone, dialing the production team's extension,
desperate to confirm the source of his discomfort.

Beep,beep, beep, beep.

“Hello. This is Manager Lee of the Dream Production Team.”

“Who decided to cast Lee Taemin in Rosy Drown?” His voice was clipped, urgency cutting
through the casual tone of the call.
 Manager Lee, startled by the abruptness, felt his heart race. But recognition settled in, and he
shot up from his seat, bowing slightly as if he were in the presence of the director himself.

“According to the drama production team, Ms. Chae Morin recommended Lee Taemin,” he
stammered, his composure faltering under the weight of the conversation.

Silence hung in the air, thick and charged. Manager Lee felt the tension coil tightly around
him as he braced for a response. “She gave a high review of him,” he ventured, trying to
inject some reassurance into the conversation.

But the line remained ominously still, and without a word, Director Yoon hung up. Manager
Lee stared at the receiver, a heavy weight settling in his chest.

The abrupt end to the call wasn’t solely due to his remarks; Yoon’s mind had undoubtedly
drifted to another script that accompanied Rosy Drown—Witness [Link] live-action
adaptation of the popular webtoon Witness Squad followed a group of misfit witnesses
banding together to expose a notorious bully. The webtoon had already generated significant
buzz, attracting a fervent fanbase eager for its release. With Producer Kim Sarang at the
helm, renowned for her string of accolades, expectations were sky-high.

Yet, that wasn’t the root of his discomfort. What gnawed at him was the fact that Kim Sarang
was also Chae Morin’s sponsor. Here was a highly anticipated drama set to dominate the
rating system , now extending an invitation to a newcomer like Lee Taemin. While Taemin
was a rising star, he felt woefully mismatched for a role of such magnitude.

The overlapping timing of the scripts set his nerves on edge. What were they plotting? The
unsettling notion that Chae and Kim Sarang were orchestrating something behind the scenes,
involving Lee Taemin, filled him with unease. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was
missing a crucial piece of a much larger puzzle—one that could have serious implications for
everyone involved.

And to complete that puzzle, Lee Taemin had to be involved in one of the scripts. It became
clear to him that the fast track to this was Witness Insecurity.

Chapter End Notes

I'm back at last. Please don't give up on me—I’ll do my best to update regularly. I have
plenty of ideas, but I'm struggling to organize them properly so they don't disrupt the
story's logical flow.

Leave your comment to scold or motivate! See you in next chapter

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