Chapter 12: The Starred Script

“Good morning, Senior!”

The booming greeting echoed through the set, drawing the crew’s gazes toward Seon Woo-jung. Startled, I momentarily forgot about my makeup session and turned to face him, his body bent in a deep bow.

“Seon Woo-jung?”

At my call, Seon Woo-jung peered up, a bright smile gracing his lips. I subtly hinted for him to straighten up, but he seemed oblivious. A sigh, which I had been holding back, finally escaped as he simply stared at me blankly.

“I told you to keep your greetings subdued.”

My voice, tinged with slight irritation, caused Seon Woo-jung’s expression to turn serious. He finally caught on, straightening his back, but with his hands politely clasped and shoulders slumped, he resembled a scolded, deflated puppy.

“But Senior, I lowered my voice by about two levels compared to last time, just like you said… Should I reduce it even more?”

I couldn’t tell what difference it made, but he claimed to have lowered the volume. Despite his efforts, his overly boisterous greetings were on the verge of sparking rumors among the crew that I was being overly strict with him.

From my days as a child actor until now, I had never once pulled rank on my juniors. Yet, thanks to Seon Woo-jung, my image was perilously close to becoming that of a young, old-fashioned stickler.

“Please, just greet me casually. There isn’t much of an age gap between us, after all.”

Indeed, Seon Woo-jung and I were only two years apart. While I might have been his senior in terms of both age and experience, I had no intention of demanding such rigid deference.

“In that case, Senior, why don’t you start speaking to me casually first?”

“Pardon?”

“Instead of ‘Seon Woo-jung-ssi,’ please call me ‘Jung-ah.'”

My eyes widened at Seon Woo-jung’s unexpected request. While it wouldn’t matter if I spoke to him casually, given my age, I honestly didn’t want to.

For me, speaking casually implied a significant closeness in our relationship. That was why, despite working as an actor for so long, the number of colleagues I spoke to informally could be counted on one hand.

In fact, it was almost accurate to say there were none at all.

“That’s a bit—”

“It’s too soon, isn’t it? We haven’t known each other for very long, Senior.”

As if anticipating my refusal, Seon Woo-jung quickly cut me off. Instead of continuing my halted sentence, I simply nodded, and he smiled, assuring me it was fine.

“By the way, is your name Jung?”

“Ah, yes. My surname is Seon Woo, and my given name is Jung. Everyone seems to think my surname is Seon and my given name is Woo-jung.”

“It’s not a common surname, after all.”

“Exactly. So I just let everyone call me whatever they’re comfortable with. Whether it’s Jung or Woo-jung, neither sounds bad.”

Assuming our conversation had concluded, I was about to return for the rest of my makeup when Seon Woo-jung suddenly continued speaking.

“Senior, even if it’s difficult now, could you speak to me casually later on?”

“…Well, if the opportunity arises.”

I answered him, yet in truth, I doubted I would ever speak informally to Seon Woo-jung. While I didn’t know how long the drama shoot would last, how many opportunities would there be to meet him afterward?

“Then I’ll try even harder!”

I had no idea what he intended to ‘try harder’ at, but Seon Woo-jung, having made a firm resolution on his own, returned to his spot. As I watched his inexplicably excited retreating figure, my stylist called me back to continue my makeup.

****

“Seon Woo-jung seems to really like you, Joon-hee oppa.”

My stylist, who had been listening to our conversation nearby, commented. If ‘liking’ referred to the general goodwill one person feels for another, then perhaps her assessment was correct.

While his enthusiasm was undeniably excessive, based on his consistent remarks since the script reading, it seemed he held a great deal of respect for me as a fellow actor.

“How about you, Joon-hee oppa?”

“About what?”

“Seon Woo-jung, of course!”

At the stylist’s question, I pondered Seon Woo-jung. To me, he was nothing short of a genius, possessing astonishing acting prowess.

What’s more, he possessed everything—looks, height, star quality—making him a ‘bad person’ who forced me to realize the world’s inherent unfairness.

However, there was no need to reveal the inferiority complex I harbored within. With a natural smile playing on my lips, I offered the most innocuous reply.

“He’s a decent junior, I suppose.”

Contrary to her expectations, my bland response quickly made the stylist lose interest, and she shifted to a different topic of conversation. Once the lengthy makeup session finally concluded, the crew dispersed to their respective tasks, leaving me alone in the waiting room.

Having been seated for a long time, I rose to stretch. As I extended my arms, something at the edge of my vision caught my eye: a script had fallen to the floor.

‘When did this drop?’

I picked it up, assuming it was mine, but then noticed another person’s name scrawled on the cover. Upon closer inspection of the hurried handwriting, I discerned ‘Seon Woo’.

‘Why would he just leave this lying around?’

I brushed the dust from the cover and was about to place the script somewhere appropriate when I paused. Pure curiosity gnawed at me: what would the script of an acting genius like Seon Woo-jung look like?

‘Still… shouldn’t I ask for permission before looking?’

Since it might contain personal notes, I knew I ought to get Seon Woo-jung’s permission if I wanted to look through it, but I didn’t particularly want to go through the trouble.

If I just quickly skimmed it and returned it, no one would ever know. Swiftly concluding my internal debate, I discreetly checked my surroundings before finally turning the cover.

‘What? There’s nothing special.’

Contrary to my expectations, Seon Woo-jung’s script was quite ordinary. There were a few highlighter marks and some simple notes on voice modulation. The only unusual detail was the large stars drawn on specific scenes.

‘Could they have some special meaning?’

I went through each scene marked with a star that Seon Woo-jung had personally drawn, and every single one depicted an encounter with a specific individual.

That individual was me, playing Yoo Seo-jin, the antagonist in .

“—!!”

Realizing this, I quickly closed Seon Woo-jung’s script. For some reason, it felt as though I had stumbled upon a secret I shouldn’t have seen.

Of course, it might mean nothing at all, but what if my hunch was correct?

‘I really wanted to keep working with you, Senior.’

The words Seon Woo-jung had spoken to me on our first meeting echoed in my mind. Thinking that what I had initially dismissed as a casual remark was actually sincere made me feel a subtle surge of pride.

Seon Woo-jung, of all people, had wanted to work with *me*.

‘This won’t do.’

Calming my rising excitement, I pressed the back of my hand against my flushed cheek. Feigning indifference, I carefully closed the script.

Just as I was about to put the script back, pretending nothing had happened, and return to my seat, the door burst open. Startled, I froze, my eyes meeting Seon Woo-jung’s as he panted, breathless.

His styled hair was disheveled, as if he had rushed over. I didn’t need to ask what had been so urgent; I already knew.

Though, of course, I pretended not to.

“Th-that is, I left something behind—”

Seon Woo-jung mumbled to himself, his eyes darting quickly around the room. His searching gaze finally settled on the script that had just left my hand.

Stepping forward, Seon Woo-jung gave an awkward smile and retrieved the script. I, feigning disinterest in the script he tucked away, returned to my seat without even glancing his way.

“Has everyone left?”

He asked, surveying the empty waiting room. Instead of answering, I merely nodded, sitting down and pretending to look at my phone.

“Senior, when’s your next shoot?”

Seon Woo-jung, whom I expected to leave shortly, approached. I turned off my phone, which was displaying nothing but the default background, and looked at Seon Woo-jung, who had pulled up a chair and settled in.

“In an hour?”

“Ah, that’s plenty of time.”

“What about you, Seon Woo-jung-ssi?”

“Hmm, I’ll be up soon.”

I thought he should probably leave quickly then, but I didn’t bother asking. The conversation died, and silence descended. I was about to avert my gaze, which still lingered on Seon Woo-jung, when he suddenly curved his lips into a smirk.

“Senior, you saw my script, didn’t you?”

“…No?”

Damn it, my reply was a beat too late. Flustered, I couldn’t even maintain the composed expression I had painstakingly put on. Seon Woo-jung, observing my face, closed the distance between us even further.

His face, so close that I could feel his breath, filled my vision. His flawless, perfect looks made me involuntarily gasp.

“Can’t you call me Jung-ah?”

“Th-that’s…”

“Just once. I really want to hear it.”

Even though I showed a reluctant expression, Seon Woo-jung didn’t back down. If I had nothing to hide, I would have kept quiet, but this time, I had no choice but to give him what he wanted.

“Jung-ah…”

At the timid utterance of his name, his pupils trembled noticeably. Had there been more distance, it might not have been clear, but with him so close, the tremor was strikingly vivid.

Unlike the noisy world beyond the door, the waiting room, with just the two of us, was utterly silent. Just as our eyes, locked in an unwavering gaze, were about to be obscured by eyelids, Seon Woo-jung abruptly stood up.

“I-I’ll get going now.”

Raising an arm to cover his face, Seon Woo-jung swiftly exited the waiting room after those words. Left alone, I finally managed to look at the mirror beside me.

I had thought I was fine, but my face was beet red, flushed as if it might burst at any moment.