"Very good, Jaehyun!"
"Again!"
The young man shifted his pose—elegant, confident, like an aristocrat born to be worshiped by the camera.
He was tall, his features unfairly perfect. The staff didn't even try to hide their admiration.
Pale skin.
Sharp jawline.
Defined lips.
Perfectly styled hair.
Broad shoulders.
He wasn't just another model—he was the leader of the popular boy group ARCADE, known for his elegance and calm charisma.
He was the human definition of main visual.
Someone whispered, "He looks like Eli Bang from Beautism."
SNAP. SNAP. SNAP. SNAP.
No one could get enough.
"That's enough pictures," the manager finally said, cutting through the chaos. "Next."
The photographer reluctantly lowered his camera… only for his disappointment to vanish the moment the next member walked in.
The staff collectively gasped.
"There are no visual holes in ARCADE," someone whispered in awe. "Every single one of them is a visual!"
This one had magenta hair and the kind of face that made you question reality—rebellious, good humored and ridiculously hot.
He wore a sleek tuxedo, a single gold earring catching the light as he smiled lazily, hands tucked in his pockets.
He was Rain, ARCADE's main rapper and troublemaker, the kind of idol who could make chaos look like art.
The photographer nearly screamed.
"YES! YES! KEEP DOING THAT! PERFECT!"
Shutters clicked like machine gun fire. The staff crowded around the monitor, mesmerized.
"He's so handsome!" someone squealed. "How did SW Entertainment find these people?!"
Then they noticed the rest of ARCADE gathered near the monitor—five living supermodels watching their member's shoot. The visual onslaught was too much. The staff blushed, some even covering their faces.
"You're killing it, hyung!" Woojin shouted adorably, clenching his raised fists.
A stylist pressed her clipboard to her chest and whispered, breathless. "Oh my god, he's so cute. I could just—" she trailed off, grinning. "—squeeze him."
"Look at Rain, acting like he's in a perfume commercial," Seojun muttered, half jealous, half impressed. "I was just standing there awkwardly."
"No, you weren't! You killed it, hyung!" Dae-hyun said.
"I agree!" added Haejin, whose pale skin and streaks of red hair made him look like a vampire straight out of a drama.
"Thanks," Seojun said with a grin.
"Okay, we're done," the manager called.
Then, the room fell silent.
The door opened.
And out stepped something that could only be described as divine.
Silver hair.Vivid green eyes.Skin that seemed to glow beneath the lights.
Rowan Park.
The idol shaking the world — hailed as the most handsome man on earth. In just a few months, he'd conquered the industry and become a household name.
The staff froze.
"So… ethereal," one whispered.
Everyone just stared. Even the camera stopped clicking.
Rowan felt every stare like heat against his skin. He'd long stopped blushing under it — but part of him still wished they'd see past the surface.
The room was silent. And yet, inside, his thoughts whispered louder than ever.
The members chuckled. They'd seen this reaction a thousand times.
"It never gets old," Haejin said.
"Can't blame them," Dae-hyun added.
"Shhh," Rain hushed. "Let me enjoy this moment."
Rowan stepped into position, gaze steady on the camera. No matter what expression he made, the result was always perfection.
Indeed, it was.
On the monitor, Rowan looked like a fallen angel—otherworldly and untouchable.
His expression was calm, eyes glimmering with quiet depth. It wasn't a cold stare but something disarmingly intimate—like he could see straight through you, past the surface, to who you really were.
The staff gasped in perfect unison.
Then—the photographer fainted.
Pure chaos followed.
"Classic Rowan," Jaehyun sighed, shaking his head. "Always making people faint."
Woojin clasped his hands. "Rowan-hyung is so cute!"
Rowan blinked, unamused.
His expression said Really? without a word.
The others immediately turned away, stifling their laughter.
The fainted photographer twitched.
By the time they piled into the van, the manager looked seconds from quitting.
They were late—again.
Chuckles rippled through the seats.
Rowan sighed. The chuckles got louder.
Rain whispered something to Haejin and Seojun, setting off quiet snickers.
Even Jaehyun, sitting up front, couldn't stop grinning at them through the rearview mirror.
Woojin patted Rowan's shoulder in sympathy, shaking with suppressed laughter.
"Alright, everyone," the manager said firmly. "Sleep for these 30 minutes. You've got four more brand shoots, a YouTube challenge, and practice for the Winter Festival performance tonight."
A collective groan filled the van.
"Shhh!" Jaehyun hissed, though he looked equally exhausted.
No one else spoke, but every expression screamed: Kill me!
First stop: a skincare shoot—bright lights, white walls, fake smiles."Look more refreshed!" the photographer chirped."I'm dying," Rain mumbled under his breath.
Next: a high-end fashion campaign.Stylists swarmed them, tugging, spraying, pinning."Chin up, Seojun! Softer smile, Haejin! No, softer than that!"Haejin's jaw twitched.
Then came the Jui Vuitton shoot.Luxury everything—luxury exhaustion.The photographer shouted "One more shot!" for what felt like an hour.
"If he says that again," Dae-hyun muttered, "I'm gonna pass out like the last guy."
Finally, the ramyun commercial.Boiling broth, bright lights, fake laughter."Make it look more delicious!" the director called."My tongue's literally melting!" Rain hissed through a smile.
And then—the YouTube challenge.Lights. Makeup. Endless retakes.
By the time they returned to the practice room, the boys collapsed like dominos.
"I'm done," Rain groaned, flat on the floor.
Rowan yawned.
Haejin was already using his jacket as a pillow.
Woojin tried to stretch, failed, and gave up halfway.
Only Jaehyun stayed standing. "Come on, guys. If our performance flops, I'm blaming all of you."
"Why don't we just do the original choreography?" Haejin groaned. "Our fans love it!"
"Yeah! Why change what works?" Rain agreed.
"They probably just want to see the version they know."
"Are the other groups doing the same?" Woojin asked.
Jaehyun sighed. "Probably not. But the company wants something special."
Groans echoed again.
"They expect too much," Rain muttered.
No one disagreed.
Rowan leaned back on his hands, eyes on the ceiling.
Slowly, the noise around him faded—breathing, faint music from a nearby studio, the soft hum of the lights.
His mind began to spin with images: stage lights pulsing in rhythm, smoke curling like waves, a break in the beat—then an explosion of sound.
Formations unfolded in his head like puzzle pieces sliding into place.
A melody formed in the silence.
Jaehyun noticed first. "Oh no. He's got that face again," he said, smiling tiredly. "Rowan's brainstorming."
Relief passed over the group like a wave.
Rowan was their quiet genius—the calm in their chaos.
"Perfect," Rain mumbled, curling up. "When he's done thinking, wake me up."
–
The boys were currently climbing the wall.
Only Kai had made it to the top—grinning smugly down at the others.
Diego, Jiwoo, Seung-hyun, and Minho were jumping non-stop, trying to come up with new strategies.
"You know what? I give up!" Seung-hyun said, throwing his hands up. "Kai-hyung's tall, that's the only reason he can get up there."
He walked over to Tae-yang, who stood off to the side, watching with a neutral expression—not exactly judging, but definitely not approving either.
The staff didn't seem to mind their antics, though their manager, Jo, was another story. The middle-aged man, lean and bespectacled, stretched his arms in exasperation before letting them fall back to his sides.
As leader, Tae-yang felt torn. He wanted to step in, but he also knew the boys wouldn't listen—not right away, at least. He didn't want to be bossy or kill their fun. Still, the curious stares from onlookers were starting to pile up, and that didn't sit right with him.
Then, Diego slipped—and fell flat on his back with a loud thud.
Tae-yang winced. Enough is enough.
Manager Jo rushed forward and helped Diego sit up, concern etched on his face.
Minho, Jiwoo, and Kai burst out laughing.
"That's enough, guys," Tae-yang said softly but firmly. "Kai, get down."
Kai was still laughing. "Did you see that?"
"I did," Tae-yang replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It was quite pathetic."
"Guys! Guys! I did that on purpose!" Diego said defensively, brushing himself off.
"No, you didn't—" Jiwoo choked out before breaking down in uncontrollable giggles.
Minho slapped his knee, howling with laughter.
"I promise you I did!" Diego insisted, pointing a finger at them.
Tae-yang extended a hand up toward Kai.
Kai grabbed Tae-yang's hand, still chuckling, and jumped down.
"You'd be the last one to make it up there! You're the shortest here!" Seung-hyun deadpanned.
"Not you judging!" Diego scowled. "I'm 171 centimeters, and I'm still growing. I'll surpass you soon."
"Sure, sure," Seung-hyun waved him off, then leaned toward Tae-yang and whispered, "I hope that never happens."
Tae-yang pressed his lips together, fighting a smile.
"My doctor said I'll be over 183 centimeters!" Diego insisted.
Seung-hyun raised a brow. "Are you sure the doctor didn't say that out of pity?"
Minho snorted. "I hate to break it to you, but when I was sixteen, I was already 179 cm—and I only grew two centimeters more after that. The max you'll grow is two, maybe three centimeters if you're lucky."
Diego pursed his lips, sulking.
"It's okay, Diego," Seung-hyun said with mock sympathy, patting his back. "You'll make it to 174."
Diego swatted his hand away. "Don't touch me."
"You're not that tall either—I think I'm the same height as you," Jiwoo said, stepping up to Seung-hyun.
"You're definitely not!" Seung-hyun shot back, instantly taking a step back.
He darted a desperate please help me look at Tae-yang.
"Alright, that's enough," Tae-yang stepped in, raising a hand. "Let's grab something from the vending machine. Looks like they're still setting up over there."
"Are there even drinks in that thing?" Diego complained. "All I saw was water and black tea. I hate both."
"How dare you hate on black tea?! Are you even Korean?!" Jiwoo fired, striking a fighting stance.
"I'm Mexican," Diego deadpanned, with arms crossed.
Jiwoo froze mid-pose. "Oh, that's right." standing upright.
Minho and Kai burst out laughing.
"I totally forgot!" Jiwoo said, hands shooting up in surrender. "I'm sorry!"
They walked toward the vending machine, the faint hum filling the silence.
"It's been three weeks since we finished recording the video, right?" Diego asked.
"Yeah, and?" Seung-hyun replied, cracking open a can of black tea.
"It just feels like forever," Diego sighed, taking a gulp of water. "All this work is exhausting—I can't imagine how it'll be once we actually debut."
"We'll be debuting in eight days," Tae-yang said quietly, turning the black tea can in his hand. "I'm… more worried than nervous."
Everyone looked at him.
Diego frowned. More worried than nervous?
"Because our company has no connections?" Minho asked carefully. "Meaning it'll be hard for us to find success?"
Tae-yang gave a slow nod.
Silence.
"I don't think we'll fail," Jiwoo said suddenly. "Our song's actually really good—and I'm not just saying that because it's ours. My sister doesn't even listen to K-pop, but she liked it."
Everyone froze and turned toward him.
Jiwoo blinked. "…What?"
"You showed her the file I sent you?" Tae-yang asked, voice low, eyes narrowing.
Jiwoo smiled nervously. "…No?"
Diego slapped his forehead.
"Did you show it to anyone else? Did she share it?" Tae-yang pressed.
"No! I swear, I told her not to," Jiwoo said quickly, waving his hands.
Tae-yang sighed, rubbing his temple. "Good."
Kai pursed his lips, while Seung-hyun crossed his arms. "Don't make that mistake again, Jiwoo."
"I know, I'm sorry," Jiwoo mumbled.
Kai exhaled and slung an arm around Jiwoo's shoulders. "It's fine. Just… be careful next time. Anyway, Tae-yang, what were you saying?"
Tae-yang shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it. I was just being—"
"—Realistic," Kai interrupted firmly.
Everyone turned to him, surprised.
Kai met their eyes. "You weren't being negative. You were being honest. If our song isn't a hit, we need plans B, C, D—every letter in the alphabet."
The others nodded slowly.
"We're going to have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition," Kai continued. "I knew that when I joined this company."
Tae-yang nodded. "Me too. I just don't want to waste my time—and end up in more debt."
The group fell quiet.
"Other groups have done it," Kai said. "Not many—but it's possible. It won't be easy, but we'll make it. Together."
They all smiled softly at each other.
Tae-yang chuckled. "It feels like I'm talking to a group of friends, not my members."
Diego scoffed. "We are your friends, hyung."
"I know," Tae-yang said with a small smile. "But it's not like that in other companies."
"We're not like those bastards," Minho said coolly, giving a wink. "Everyone here's humble."
"Except you," Seung-hyun muttered.
Silence.
The air froze.
Then—
"OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Jiwoo threw both hands in the air. Diego dropped his water bottle like a mic drop. Tae-yang froze mid-sip, eyes wide in disbelief.
Minho's smile twitched. He dares… this lowly mortal dares?
"I'm really humble, bastard—you're not!" Minho barked, pointing a finger like he was calling down divine judgment. "You bragged about being an SYP trainee! Didn't even last a month before they dropped you! Humble that!"
"OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"THAT'S A CRITICAL HIT!" Kai shouted like a sports commentator.
The room went wild. Tae-yang pulled at his hair in disbelief. Diego slammed into the wall, howling with laughter. Jiwoo made a face that clearly said, 'Damn, that was good.'
Seung-hyun's eyes widened. "ME?! You were taking selfies EVERY DAY like some discount influencer! And those CAT EARS? Bro, you looked like a CHICKEN!"
Gasps filled the room. Tae-yang clenched his jaw, tears forming. Diego was rolling on the floor, unable to breathe.
"Wanna know something?!" Minho snapped indignantly. "Those angel wings you wore for the photoshoot—remember that?"
Seung-hyun froze. "Don't—"
"Oh, I'm going there!" Minho declared, voice rising with the confidence of a man about to end a dynasty.
"If you were an angel, you'd be a chicken that learned how to fly! Because DAMN—you looked awful!"
"OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Jiwoo and Kai yelled.
Seung-hyun's jaw dropped. He turned desperately toward the others for backup—but they were all gone, folded over in laughter.
He closed his mouth, straightened up, and pointed a trembling finger at Minho.
At this point, Minho was biting his lip, trying not to laugh.
"You're… You're… UGLY!" Seung-hyun shouted.
Silence.
Minho blinked once. "Seriously?! That's all you came up with?"
He leaned forward, smirking. "You're so ugly I could draw you."
Kai gasped for air, nearly collapsing.
Diego and Jiwoo were screaming.
"All I need to do," Minho continued, his laughter breaking through, "is draw a circle, two dots, and a smile."
That did it. The room erupted.
Tae-yang slid down the wall, clutching his abs. Diego was crying. Jiwoo couldn't breathe.
Seung-hyun's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. "You—you—you—"
But Minho was already gone, collapsing onto the floor in hysterics.
Finally, Seung-hyun threw up his hands. "At least I made a pretty chicken!"
That line finished them.
The group was done for—howling, crying, chaos echoing off the walls.
Even Tae-yang, tears streaming down his face, gasped between laughs, "This group… is doomed."
–
Suho arrived early to practice.
I've got to show my members and the board that I'm capable.
He had been a trainee for over two years.
Once, he was known as the prodigy — the one who picked up dancing and singing with ease. And, of course, he had the looks. Back in school, everyone called him the most handsome. Even among the trainees at SYP — one of the biggest entertainment companies in Korea, maybe even the world — Suho was voted the most good-looking and talented.
But that all changed when Sihun arrived.
Suho had never felt ashamed of his own talent before, but next to Sihun — a complete beast on stage — it was hard not to.
When he walked into the practice room, he pulled off his hoodie and froze.
A soft, beautiful voice filled the air. It wasn't just singing — it was feeling. The melody was delicate and smooth, but the lyrics were strange, almost like someone reading from a book about mental health and self-reflection.
Suho stepped inside quietly.
A boy sat on the floor, hoodie over his head, singing as he flipped through the pages of an open book.
Suho frowned. "What are you doing here?"
Sihun flinched and turned sharply. When he saw Suho, his face went bright red. He quickly shut the book and tucked it under his arm.
"Ah—hyung! Sorry, I didn't see you there," he stammered, mortified.
Suho's radiant smile softened the tension.
"That's alright! What brings you here so early?"
Sihun shrugged, still red-faced and avoiding his gaze. "I don't know."
Suho's lips curved into a genuine smile—then he quickly stopped himself.
Why was this bastard so damn lovable?!
"Do you want to practice with me?" Suho asked, flashing his best smile.
"Sure!" Sihun agreed right away.
Suho set his bag aside and walked to the computer, connecting the speakers.
This is gonna be a good song to show off my skills, he thought, typing quickly.
A familiar melody filled the room. Suho smiled, watching Sihun's reaction.
Sihun froze, recognizing the song immediately.
Suho patted his back. "Heard this one before?"
Sihun nodded. Too Desolate.
It was one of the top songs from ARCADE—the K-pop group taking the world by storm. Their tracks were powerful, emotional, and incredibly hard to cover. Only the best idols dared to perform their songs live.
Suho misread Sihun's hesitation as a lack of confidence.
"Come on! You got this! I'll help you," Suho said, slinging an arm around Sihun's shoulders.
He regretted it a second later.
Sihun's personality was shy, cute, and youthful. There was something about him that made him seem small—until Suho realized he wasn't small at all. Standing side by side, Sihun was about the same height.
He wasn't short either.
"How tall are you, Sihun?" Suho asked, quickly pulling back to hide the sudden awareness.
Sihun thought for a moment, eyes lifting toward the ceiling. "I think I'm about 177 cm."
Suho smirked. "Ah, so you're two centimeters shorter than me. I'm 179."
"Only four?" Sihun said, smiling shyly.
"Only four," Suho teased. "Guess I'll still have to look down at you, though."
Sihun laughed quietly—a soft, genuine sound that caught Suho off guard. For a moment, the tension between them eased, replaced by an easy warmth.
"Alright, let's practice!" Suho said, eager to shift focus.
The track started again. They moved together, the rhythm filling the room, sneakers sliding across the polished floor. The mirror reflected every motion, every breath, every flicker of concentration.
Sihun picked up the choreography fast—too fast. His body flowed naturally, each movement sharp yet effortless. His expression changed perfectly with the beat: intensity, charm, emotion—all there.
Suho, on the other hand, stumbled once. Twice. He clenched his jaw, determined to keep up.
How does he learn so fast?
He glanced at Sihun through the mirror. The younger man's brow furrowed slightly as he repeated a move, adjusting his posture. His hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it away with an unthinking motion.
Suho's heart thumped harder than the bass.
When the song ended, both of them were breathing hard. The room was quiet except for the fading echo of the track.
Suho wiped sweat from his forehead. "You're… really good," he admitted.
Sihun looked up, surprised. "Me?"
"Yeah. You picked that up faster than anyone I've seen," Suho said, trying to sound casual. "Guess I've got some competition."
Sihun's lips curved into a small, bashful smile. "You're exaggerating. You're amazing, Suho."
For a second, the air between them grew heavy—charged with something neither could name.
Then Suho laughed, breaking the silence. "Let's go again. This time, I'll keep up with you."
Sihun nodded, grinning. "Deal."
The music started once more.
And as the beat filled the room again, Suho couldn't help but wonder—
Was this what it felt like to be inspired… or inferior?
–
"We've made the reservation for the shooting, sir," one of the assistants had said, her voice careful, professional. "We've secured the investors, the budget is set, most of the props are ready, and the costumes are prepared. We're ready to get started."
Director Joongki had smiled then—a small, tired smile, the kind that carried both relief and authority.
"Very well," he said. "Let's begin as soon as possible. We'll take a week to organize everything—I don't want a single detail missed. I will not tolerate any mistakes during filming."
Everyone nodded in perfect unison, like a well-trained orchestra awaiting the downbeat.
"Let's also inform the actors that filming begins in two weeks," he added.
It all sounded simple enough—until someone broke the rhythm.
"Director… what about Kenzo?" The question came from the assistant seated near the end of the table. Her voice trembled slightly, as though she already knew the answer might not be good.
Joongki frowned. "What about him?"
"The actor, Byoungho Joon Lee," she said quietly. "He hasn't responded to any of our calls."
The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.
Someone's pen rolled off the table and clattered onto the floor. No one moved to pick it up.
"What?" Joongki's tone shifted from confusion to disbelief.
"We've tried everything, sir — his agency, his manager, even his emergency contact. Then we found out he's working independently."
Her voice softened. "No response. None at all."
Uneasy glances darted around the table like whispers.
Screenwriter Gayoung, who had been smiling moments before, lost her warmth. "Are you sure you didn't call the wrong number? He seemed… determined to be part of this."
The assistant shook her head. "We checked three times. Every day, for weeks. Nothing."
Editor Tuvo leaned back with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Maybe he changed his number. Or maybe he changed his mind. The pressure can crush rookies before the cameras even roll."
Producer Kang Ta-yuh crossed his arms. "Or maybe he's ghosting us. Some actors get a taste of attention and suddenly think they're too good for callbacks."
Gayoung turned sharply toward him. "Don't be absurd. He didn't seem arrogant—just quiet. Thoughtful."
"Quiet doesn't pay the bills," Director Soo-in muttered. "If he can't handle a phone call, he's not ready for a lead role."
The remark drew a few reluctant nods.
Joongki exhaled slowly, his headache beginning to pulse behind his temples.
Soo-in seized the moment. "Director, we could have Jiwoong fill in for Kenzo. He's available, and the audience already likes him."
"No," Joongki said suddenly. His voice was firm, absolute.
The room stilled. Even the air seemed to wait.
He took off his glasses, and for a brief moment, his mind drifted to the past—
Kim Tauhyun's smile had been radiant that morning, the kind of smile you only see in people who still believe everything will go right. He had been hunched over a pile of audition profiles, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Joongki had walked in. "What's got you so happy?"
It is rare to see Tauhyun, the serious and famous webtoon writer smile.
"I'm just excited," Tauhyun said. "The live-action of my webtoon—it's finally happening."
Joongki smiled. He was excited too. The cast was A-list, the investors generous, and the visuals? Perfect.
"You know, the more I look at this guy, the more I like him," Tauhyun said, pointing to a headshot.
Joongki had leaned over.
A young face stared back at him—sharp features, expressive eyes, a calm kind of intensity. A rookie, yes, but there was something magnetic about him.
"Byoungho Joon Lee," Tauhyun had said. "He's playing Kenzo. My second-favorite character after Daniel."
He'd grinned. "I can't wait to see him!"
Back in the present, Joongki slid his glasses back on and steadied his voice. "No replacements," he said quietly. "We'll find him."
The assistants exchanged uncertain looks.
"We'll launch a search," Joongki continued. "Send someone from the staff to locate him—personally, if necessary. We can't lose him. Not this one."
Soo-in opened her mouth to object, but one glance from Joongki silenced her.
And just like that, the meeting ended—not with applause or excitement, but with a tension that lingered long after everyone had gone.
No one said it aloud, but we all felt it. Something was off.
Something about that missing actor would change everything.
One of the assistants frowned, curiosity edging her voice.
" heard he's just a rookie… what's so special about him?
Joongki rose from his chair slowly, his gaze cold but composed. The room fell silent at the shift in air.
"Make sure he joins the cast within three days," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I'll leave this matter in your hands."
"Yes, Director," the staff echoed in unison.
The sound of their voices faded into a heavy stillness—everyone aware that failure was not an option.