Chapter 24: A Difference You Can’t Ignore

“Anything going on with you lately?”

“No.”

Even that answer came out shorter than usual, and Yeonho hyung’s brows bent slightly with concern before smoothing out again.

He gripped my shoulder once, firm, then let go, making my body sway a little.

At the same time, there was something I wanted to ask him too.

Not like Hwan, casually throwing it out like a jab—but still.

Why had he been drifting away, only to start focusing on the team again?

Why was he acting like a leader again?

I was a little curious.

“I know you’re weak in the early mornings, but hang in there a bit more.”

“Yeah. I’ll get it together.”

Luckily, before the conversation could drag on, the director’s voice called out from afar.

The staff quickly cleared the area.

Standing at the far end of the tunnel with a megaphone, the director gave instructions.

“Let’s film Jaeha this time. Run from there to here until I call cut. Look at the camera coolly while you run. Got it?”

The directions were always vague, but it wasn’t my first or second day—I had a rough idea of what kind of style he liked.

Still… “coolly,” seriously?

Standing alone in the long, gray tunnel, I stared straight into the camera.

Everyone else had stepped back.

In front of me, the lights and busy staff made the scene feel cluttered.

Even just focusing on that round camera lens was enough to tire my eyes.

“Camera, ready—action!”

The voice echoed briefly through the tunnel.

I ran, locking my gaze onto the lens.

The cold dawn air brushing past my dull cheeks.

Holding my breath, I barely managed to stop right in front of the camera—

The director signaled again.

“Jaeha, shorten your stride a bit. Let’s go again.”

“Yes.”

At his words, I glanced down at my feet for a moment before turning back.

Far behind me, the scattered figures of staff and members looked just as exhausted as I felt.

The members were one thing—but even for them, filming someone else’s scene was tiring.

The staff must have it worse.

Facing the lens again, I checked my footing.

Shorter steps.

Don’t move too big.

“Action!”

I ran again.

Stopping in front of the camera, staring into it—

The director tilted his head.

“Make your eyes sharper.”

“Yes.”

I nodded and walked back again.

The return felt longer this time.

My eyes felt dry under the contact lenses, so I rubbed around them lightly.

The stylist rushed over, checked my makeup, and stepped away again.

Even the tightly packed lights on the gray walls started to irritate me.

No.

Get it together.

We’re not finishing everything today—don’t get worn out over this.

I forced my frayed nerves into something sharper instead.

And ran again.

The vague instructions kept coming.

“Your breathing’s too rough.”

“Stand straighter at the end.”

The cold air cooled my heated face as I ran.

I almost raised a hand again, but stopped—didn’t want the stylist rushing over.

Back at the starting line, I stared at the pale floor, slightly bent my knees, braced my hands, and checked my footing.

Not too wide.

Don’t pant.

Stand straight.

Show emotion.

“Can’t you even open your eyes properly, Seo Jaeha?!”

“…Yes. I’m sorry.”

While steadying my breath, my vision flickered faintly.

Dizziness crept in.

I straightened up and glared at the lens again.

Minjeong had come over at some point, fussing with my outfit while whispering angrily for me.

“What’s wrong with the director today? Are you okay, oppa?”

“I’m fine.”

“Should I say you’ll take a short break? Jungwon oppa said he can go first.”

Jungwon?

Watching her fix my collar, the words slipped out without thinking.

“Jungwon would do it in one take, right?”

“Hey, what are you saying? The director always picks on you like this. He’s just taking out his stress on you.”

“I’ll do it one more time.”

Minjeong stepped away, and I stood alone at the starting line again.

I didn’t even want to look at the director, so I forced my thoughts elsewhere.

What does he even want from me?

Give proper directions first.

Even trying to stay positive, the edge of my patience kept stabbing at my chest.

Maybe Yeonho hyung was right.

Maybe my acting really was trash right now—like how I couldn’t even handle that interview earlier.

Why does everything feel so damn awful today?

No… it’s always been like this.

“Ready—action!”

Even after the echo faded, I stared at the camera—

Then ran.

This time, I didn’t think.

I just ran.

Stopped right in front of the lens—

And stared.

The moment I felt my breath shaking in my jaw, I blinked, cut off my gaze, turned sharply to the left, and stepped out.

I had just started walking back to the starting point—

“Okay. Who’s next?”

“Yoo Jungwon.”

It ended just like that.

My steps halted mid-turn.

Staff who had been waiting far away rushed back to reset the starting line.

And I was left standing there alone.

Just me—with nothing but frustration left.

That… was okay?

What was even different?

Still dazed, I watched as everyone moved on without a care.

I took a deep breath through my nose.

The cold air cooled my heated insides a little.

From afar, I saw Jungwon’s silhouette walking to the starting point.

Then I turned away, gave a half-hearted bow, and moved behind the camera—

Closer to the director.

He glanced at me sideways.

“Director, I’ll watch Jungwon’s take before I go.”

“Sure.”

He studied my face for a moment, then turned his focus back ahead.

Jungwon stood at the starting line.

Framed in that invisible square, he stood slightly angled—looking this way.

The director didn’t give him much direction.

“Jungwon, run like you’re dreaming. With a wistful expression. Ready—action!”

I stepped slightly to the side—not to watch through the camera, but with my own eyes.

Folding my arms against the cold, I stood there like a spectator.

Jungwon ran.

His long strides closed the distance quickly.

And then—

His gaze landed exactly on me.

…No.

That was just my imagination.

I was standing near the lens—that’s all.

He came much closer than I had.

Close enough that I could clearly see his expression.

Even in that empty tunnel, with nothing behind him—

His expression stood out vividly.

A faint emotion turning clear.

Like he was tracing a dream—

Looking at me.

No… at the camera.

I didn’t even realize I was staring so openly.

When his dark pupils trembled slightly—

I flinched.

What kind of expression had I been looking at him with just now?

My body, stiff and rigid, finally turned.

I pushed through the staff with stiff steps and walked toward the back of the tunnel.

Kept walking.

The director’s voice echoed behind me.

“Ah, that was close. Jungwon, that was good, but hold your gaze a bit longer at the end. Keep looking at the camera. Let’s do one more.”

Even after that, the director wanted another take.

His voice buzzed in my ears.

I walked faster.

Only after stepping out of the tunnel did that suffocating pressure lift.

Finally, I could breathe.

The cold air still lingered, but at least the heaviness was gone.

I looked up at the sky.

Faint lights—stars or maybe satellites—only visible if I stared long enough.

Should I just go back to the car?

I glanced at the tunnel entrance, still glowing with artificial light.

…No.

Didn’t feel like going back.

So I took the long way around to the other side, where the cars were parked.

I climbed into the backseat of the van.

The seat was a bit cold, but it shut out the noise and the air.

That alone made it better.

I pressed my palm to my throbbing forehead, then closed my eyes.

My calves ached from all the running.

I tried to massage them, but my shoulders hurt too, so I stopped.

My lungs, filled with cold air, stung.

No.

Everyone’s hurting.

They all push through.

Don’t make a big deal out of it.

Just do better.

Jungwon’s face—staring straight at the camera—lingered in my mind.

He was good.

Of course he was.

This was acting, too.

No—Jungwon wasn’t just good at acting.

He was good at everything.

Singing, projection, stage presence…

Even just standing there, he commanded the camera.

His focus was insane.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep.

Only bad thoughts kept surfacing.

If there were no more group shots, the others would probably start leaving soon.

Maybe I should tell the manager I’m heading out too.

I wondered vaguely where my phone was, curling up against the cold.

I drew my body in like a shrimp, burying my head into the seat.

Didn’t even last long like that.

Then—

A soft knock tapped against the window above my head.

Startled, I jolted awake.

Even that brief doze cleared my mind a little.