Chapter 31: The Viper’s Gaze

“I was worried our Director Jang might be hiding something from me again.”

The stand-in grinned brightly, shaking Park Chan-jong’s shoulder vigorously once more.

“No, no. Not at all…”

Park Chan-jong found himself stumbling into the next line. His original intention had been to sharply warn the stand-in, ‘Do you think this is a real rehearsal? Don’t overstep your bounds, you extra.’ Yet, as he regained his composure, he realized he was once again being manipulated by the stand-in.

‘Were his eyes always like that?’

The stand-in’s gaze, meeting his own so directly, brought to mind the eyes of a snake. Not just any snake, but a venomous viper whose poison didn’t merely spread through the body, but caused the flesh to rot in agonizing torment.

Park Chan-jong mumbled inwardly that if Seo Moon-gyu truly existed, he would surely possess such eyes, before abruptly speaking.

“You haven’t found Manager Bae yet, have you?”

The smile vanished from ‘Seo Moon-gyu’s’ face. The man’s heart rate accelerated. He had just thought ‘Seo Moon-gyu’ resembled a snake, but seeing those gleaming eyes now, he realized his previous thought hadn’t even come close.

“Isn’t he just a piece of trash? After all the Chairman did for him, how could he dare betray him?”

‘Jang Hee-jun’ condemned Bae Da-ro, eager to appease ‘Seo Moon-gyu’.

“Young Master, that ungrateful bastard, we must catch him and crush him… Yo-Young Master?”

The man, seized by the collar by ‘Seo Moon-gyu’, widened his eyes. Something hard pressed against his stomach. Although it wasn’t mentioned in the script, ‘Jang Hee-jun’ was certain it was a knife. ‘Jang Hee-jun’ knew that Seo Moon-gyu always carried a switchblade.

“Does it look like Da-ro is a traitor to you too, Director Jang?”

The voice that emanated from ‘Seo Moon-gyu’s’ lips was chilling. Jang Hee-jun was a quick-witted man. To survive as an undercover agent infiltrating the organization, his intuition and instincts had naturally sharpened.

“No! Ev-Everyone’s spreading rumors that Manager Bae betrayed the company, but I don’t believe any of that.”

Park Chan-jong desperately shook his head, just as the script described Jang Hee-jun doing.

“Director Jang, why do your words keep changing? Just a moment ago, you called Da-ro trash, an ungrateful bastard.”

“Th-That’s what others were saying. I know perfectly well how dedicated Manager Bae has been to the organization; how could I utter such arrogant words?”

The lines flowed from him with astonishing ease. Park Chan-jong felt as if he wasn’t merely acting out a script, but truly embodying Jang Hee-jun and speaking from his heart. It was a sensation he had never experienced when acting with any other actor, only with ‘Seo Moon-gyu’.

“What about you?”

“Y-Yes?”

“It goes without saying that Da-ro will always be on my side. But how loyal are *you* to our company?”

“Oh, immensely! I’m loyal enough to not regret giving my life.”

“Really?”

Park Chan-jong paused, hesitating to continue his lines. He recalled the stage direction in the script, which stated that Seo Moon-gyu was to grab Jang Hee-jun by the hair.

‘Why isn’t he grabbing my hair?’

Frustrated that ‘Seo Moon-gyu’ wasn’t following the script, the man took matters into his own hands.

“Argh!”

Park Chan-jong clutched his head as if an invisible hand had yanked his hair. The stand-in, seemingly flustered, blinked his large, cow-like eyes. The cunning, snake-like aura he’d had earlier had vanished without a trace. Even if Cinderella’s fairy godmother had paid a visit, a person’s demeanor wouldn’t change this drastically.

‘What are you doing? Grab it already. Didn’t you say you memorized the script?’

Worried that the immersion would break, Park Chan-jong gestured for the stand-in to quickly grab his hair. The stand-in tentatively reached out a hand, a hesitant expression on their face as if asking, ‘Can I really grab it?’ It was absurd; earlier he’d grabbed him by the collar without permission, but now, even with permission, he seemed reluctant to grab his hair.

“Argh, Young Master! What are you doing?!”

Park Chan-jong ad-libbed a line not in the script, grabbing the stand-in’s wrist and pressing it to his own head. The stand-in, finally seeming to get into character, gently grasped Park Chan-jong’s hair and growled like a beast.

“Don’t even think about lying to me. Why did you do it?”

“Ugh. Why did I do what? Wh-What are you talking about, I don’t quite…”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about? It seems you don’t understand when I speak.”

Park Chan-jong’s head was abruptly yanked back. Seeing the gleam of ecstasy and murderous intent in ‘Seo Moon-gyu’s’ eyes, Park Chan-jong—no, ‘Jang Hee-jun’—felt a shiver run down his entire body.

‘Yes, this is the feeling.’

Regardless of what ‘Seo Moon-gyu’ knew or why he had burst in, ‘Jang Hee-jun’ instinctively knew he wouldn’t be returning home in one piece tonight.

****

*Drrr, drrr!*

In the cafe, where only the actors’ breathing could be heard, a phone vibrated, its sound echoing. The man holding the camera roared. He seemed utterly furious that the tension had been shattered just as it reached its peak.

“…I apologize, Director Hwang. It’s mine.”

PD Go Woo-seung apologized to the director of photography with an embarrassed expression.

“…Oh, really?”

The director of photography’s expression became subtle. He likely hadn’t expected the culprit to be the PD himself.

“Director Hwang, PD Go didn’t put his phone on silent because he’s expecting a very important call. Isn’t that right, Director?”

“Huh? Oh, oh! Moon-gyu… no, I left it on in case Baek Hwi-kyung’s agency called.”

PD Go Woo-seung quickly seized the lifeline Kim Jin-woo had thrown him. Perhaps because Baek Hwi-kyung’s name was mentioned, a look of understanding appeared on the director of photography’s face. Among the staff gathered there, not a single person hadn’t been frustrated by Baek Hwi-kyung today.

Seeing the director of photography’s expression soften, PD Go Woo-seung exhaled a sigh of relief. Then, he glanced somewhere and abruptly stood up, as if he had witnessed a strange phenomenon.

“It’s Tae-young?”

Yeon-ho’s ears perked up like a cat hearing a can open. As an awkward atmosphere settled between PD Go Woo-seung and the director of photography, Yeon-ho, along with the actor playing Jang Hee-jun, had been desperately looking elsewhere.

‘It must mean Han Tae-young called, right?’

Yeon-ho tried to calm his stirring emotions, convincing himself that Tae-young couldn’t possibly be at the filming location.

‘My shoulders are stiff.’

Yeon-ho turned his head from side to side. Not only his shoulders but also his neck and back felt as stiff as a wooden plank. He had only rehearsed as Baek Hwi-kyung’s stand-in, but it seemed he had been unconsciously tense.

‘Not the type to get nervous in front of a camera? What a load of rubbish.’

Yeon-ho felt ashamed of his earlier arrogance. The silver lining was that he hadn’t actually uttered those conceited words aloud. Yeon-ho thought it fortunate he hadn’t said anything when Kim Jin-woo told him to relax, and then he looked towards the glass wall. It wasn’t intentional; his gaze had simply drifted that way as he stretched.

“…?”

Yeon-ho spotted Tae-young beyond the glass wall. His heart plummeted as if someone had suddenly pushed him from behind.

‘Is that really Han Tae-young? No. It must be a poster reflected in the glass. Or maybe a panel…’

A myriad of thoughts flashed through his mind in less than a second. The situation of facing Tae-young with the glass wall between them felt surreal to Yeon-ho. Tae-young stared intently at him, unmoving like a display panel or an advertisement photo, making him seem even less like a real person.

“Hey, Tae-young. Han Tae-young! What are you doing out there, not coming in?”

PD Go Woo-seung approached the glass wall and called out to Tae-young. Even as PD Go Woo-seung pounded on the glass wall with his palm, Tae-young merely nodded in greeting, showing no intention of moving from his spot.

PD Go Woo-seung turned around, his face a picture of exasperation.

“I wonder if they can’t hear me out there?”

It was a question anyone could have answered, but PD Go Woo-seung happened to look at Yeon-ho.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I imagine they can’t hear.”

“Hmm. Right? Can’t be helped then.”

Upon hearing Yeon-ho’s reply, PD Go Woo-seung took out his phone. Moments later, Tae-young could be seen answering his phone through the glass. Perhaps due to the light reflecting off the glass, it felt as if he were watching a movie on a large CRT screen.

“What are you doing?”

Tae-young’s lips moved, seemingly in response to a question.

“Oh, come in. What interference? It’s not like we’re filming, so it’s fine.”

‘Understood.’

Only at the very end did Tae-young’s voice faintly carry through the phone’s earpiece.

“Mr. Tae-young, what brings you here!”

As Tae-young entered the cafe, the staff members who had been lingering in the back could be heard greeting him warmly.

“Welcome, Mr. Tae-young. Did you just drop by on your way?”

Tae-young moved further inside, and above the heads of the similarly-sized crowd, he appeared, towering like a lighthouse.

“My home is nearby, so I stopped by to show my support.”

“Did you come straight from home?”

The making-of video staff member asked Tae-young, focusing the camera on him.

“Yes. I just woke up and came out, so I look a bit shabby. Haah. It’s embarrassing, so please don’t film too close.”

Tae-young covered his face with a large hand, as if bashful and experiencing a moment of self-awareness.

That display was so utterly phony that Yeon-ho frowned. ‘That’s all lies and empty words.’ If he truly looked unpresentable, Tae-young was the type to snatch the camera and prevent any filming. ‘He can even put on an act; he really is an entertainer.’

While saying he just woke up was certainly a lie, it seemed he had indeed come from home. Tae-young’s attire, as he greeted the staff, was lighter than usual. A black baseball cap, a white shirt, jeans, and sneakers—an outfit that wouldn’t look out of place in a campus drama or a commercial. In fact, if he hadn’t dropped out, he would be the age of a graduating college student.

“Oh, Mr. Tae-young was a resident of this neighborhood?”

“Wow, Mr. Tae-young is here? How did you know to come here?”

“Yes, I live in this neighborhood. I heard about the filming from Jin-woo hyung.”

‘Jin-woo… could he mean the assistant director?’

Yeon-ho instinctively looked at Kim Jin-woo. There could be another staff member named Jin-woo, but Yeon-ho had a strong feeling that the ‘Jin-woo hyung’ Tae-young mentioned was Kim Jin-woo. ‘Are they close?’

While he was thinking this, Tae-young’s perfume scent reached him. As Yeon-ho turned his head to confirm it was Tae-young, an arm was abruptly slung over his shoulder. Yeon-ho’s body swayed forward, as if a sack of rice, not an arm, had been thrown onto him.

“Who is this person?”