The day of Seoyeon University's freshman orientation.
After a quiet winter, the campus finally burst into life.
The air was filled with excitement and energy that not even the cold could suppress—after all, this was the reward for surviving the grueling college entrance season. Smiles were everywhere.
"Excuse me."
At the line of booths stretching out from the student union—each one belonging to a department or club—a student worker turned her head and froze.
"Where can I find the dormitory?"
"The dorms?"
Whoa.
Tall, striking features, and a smooth, pleasant voice. He hadn't even tried to dress up, but still, Muyeong drew every gaze like a magnet. The student stammered, pointing down a path.
"Go straight past the chapel—it's right there."
"Thank you."
"Are you… a freshman?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Oh…"
Unbelievable. This year's intake is insane!
The student barely managed to suppress a squeal as she handed him a general club promotion pamphlet.
"What's your major? Here, have a look."
"Global Culture Studies. Thank you."
Bowing politely, Muyeong followed the direction she'd given. With a large backpack hanging from his shoulder, he disappeared up the path while the student kept staring after him.
"Who was that?"
"He said he's a freshman. Crazy, right?"
"Insane! He's ridiculously good-looking. But why's he going that way? Orientation's starting soon."
"He said he's looking for the dorms."
"So what's his major?"
"That's a secret."
"Oh, come on, that's not fair!"
The booth crowd chattered endlessly about him. And as word of mouth spread—as it always did—rumors about the handsome freshman began to ripple through the campus.
"Ugh—"
Muyeong groaned under the weight of his backpack.
He had withdrawn his housing deposit to cover living expenses, which left him temporarily homeless. When he explained his situation to the dorm manager, they'd allowed him to store his things early.
Knock knock.
"Hello, I'm a freshman in Global Culture Studies."
"Oh, right, you said you'd be dropping off your luggage first?"
"Yes, ma'am. Which room am I in?"
The dorm staff checked the chart and handed him a digital key.
"Room 501. Is that all you've got? Just one bag?"
"Just some summer clothes and a few books."
"I was worried for nothing. When I heard you didn't have a home, I thought you'd have a ton of stuff. It's a four-person room, so I was thinking we might have to lend you extra storage space."
Muyeong had sold everything when he left his house—everything, down to the last spoon. He'd gotten rid of every object that reminded him of the nightmares that once lived there.
"Thank you."
"Oh, and you're the only freshman in that room. New students usually take the bed closest to the door. The desks are labeled with name tags, so you shouldn't get confused. The others will move in after classes start—good luck settling in."
A friendly start. Feeling good about the staff's kindness, Muyeong climbed up to the fifth floor.
Creak.
"Whoa."
Bigger than expected.
People said the private university had money—and they weren't wrong. Bunk beds, neat desks, a window that let in plenty of light. Muyeong checked the name tags one by one.
"Park Moonseong, Choi Hwan, Kim Bonggun… Bonggun? That's a new one."
What kind of people would they be?
Smiling to himself, he pictured his future roommates. Whoever they were, they'd be his companions for the semester—hopefully good ones.
"Ahhh, this is great."
He flopped onto his bed, sprawled out like a kid. Having even a tiny personal space again made him absurdly happy.
Of course, he'd had to take out nearly ten million won in student loans for tuition and fees.
"Heheh."
But for now, enjoying the moment was enough. Still bundled up in his padded jacket, he lay there for a while, listening to faint music echoing from the distant auditorium.
Should I skip orientation?
It would just be the usual—campus introductions, club performances, guest events. Probably better to spend that time doing something more productive.
Like acting practice. Or, well… more acting practice.
"Hmmph."
Still, since he was here, it wouldn't hurt to look around a bit.
He shoved his backpack under the desk and left the dorm.
Outside, the student union plaza was still buzzing.
"Join the tennis club rally! Freshmen welcome!"
"If you're a true otaku, this is your place! Ataa Manga Club!"
Upperclassmen were shouting themselves hoarse trying to recruit. Muyeong strolled among the crowd, half watching, half zoning out. He didn't notice it, but nearly everyone else was watching him.
Whoa, he's tall.
Is he a freshman? What department?
If he joins that club, I'm joining too.
All that studying finally paid off…
Thanks to his daily physical training at the acting academy, Muyeong's body had toned up, giving him a more mature presence.
"Huh?"
Amid the chaos, a banner caught his eye.
[Theater Club "Dohran"]
"Dohran" was a term referring to stage makeup used by actors.
Curious, he approached the booth. Unlike the others, which were lively and packed, this one was nearly empty—just a guy in a varsity jacket sitting alone, completely focused on a mobile game.
"Ugh! Keep diving, you idiots. What awful team luck."
He didn't even look up.
Muyeong skimmed through the pamphlets laid out on the table. They were records of the club's past performances—all original plays, interestingly enough.
"Interested in acting?"
"Yeah, kind of."
The guy glanced up briefly, but his thumbs kept tapping.
"There's an application form there. If you want, take one. Damn it! They stole Baron again. Deadline's the second week of March."
Muyeong nodded but didn't pick up a form.
A theater club sounded fun, sure—but he'd probably learn more at his academy.
Once the semester started, classes and part-time work would already be enough to juggle. Adding club activities might be too much.
Buzz buzz.
Just as he reached for one of the play scripts, his phone vibrated.
Junho was calling. He pressed the call button and waved politely to the gamer.
"Thanks. Take care. Hey, Junho."
The guy didn't even hear him, lost in his game. A moment later, his friend—who'd gone to the bathroom—returned, saw what had happened, and dashed over.
"What was that?"
It was Seola, the club president. Other universities' theater clubs were apparently booming, but she had to scrape by just to keep the minimum membership count.
"No idea. Think he was interested."
"You useless bum. You didn't even explain properly, did you?"
Smack!
She slapped the back of his head.
"Hey! That hurt!"
"I told you to wave signs like the others!"
"Why? People who join that way never last. It's all cliques and posers. Real thinkers find their way here—"
"The club's stagnating because it's all the same people! The seniors graduated, and now it's just you and me and… damn it, five members total! Five!"
"Perfect. Just right for writing a play."
"Kim Bonggun!"
Seola's glare could've burned holes through steel.
Kim Bonggun—second-year Korean Literature major, dorm resident, and the sole writer behind Dohran's original plays.
"Can we just go eat? I'm starving."
"You're going to be the death of me."
"Um… excuse me."
Just then, a timid freshman approached. Seola instantly switched on her warmest smile.
"Are you interested in the theater club?"
"That guy who just left… is he one of your members?"
"Who?"
"The tall, good-looking one…"
The freshman trailed off, her face turning pink. Bonggun shot Seola a look that screamed see what I mean? but she smoothly changed the topic, handing over a pamphlet.
"He's not a member, but he seemed interested."
"Oh, I see."
"Anyway, take a look! We put on only original plays. Last year, we won an Excellence Award at the University Drama Festival and even placed in the Youth Playwriting Competition. This guy here—uh, I mean, this senior—writes all of them. He's really talented."
Please, just one new recruit!
Seola was practically begging, while Bonggun absentmindedly picked at his ear, still glued to his game.
But somehow, he couldn't shake off the image of that guy—Muyeong. Maybe it was the contrast between his clear, almost ethereal looks and his worn-out clothes.
Yeah… something about him felt unusual.
In fact, he'd look perfect for the character in the new play Bonggun was working on. Of course, he brushed it off as a passing thought.
"Are you kidding me?"
Muyeong leaned down toward the open window of a white sedan. A call out of nowhere, followed by "I'll pick you up"—and now this?
"In. Get in."
"Hold up—do you even have a driver's license?"
"Excuse me? Of course I do."
Junho proudly pulled a brand-new license from his pocket. Dated just a week ago.
"There's a car waiting behind us."
"Ugh. Unreal."
At his friend's impatient tone, Muyeong reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat. He buckled his seatbelt like it was a lifeline.
"You don't have a helmet or anything?"
"Jeez, relax. I just drove a whole lap around Seoul. You're in good hands."
"Where'd you even get the car?"
"My dad's old one. He gave it to me."
Ah, right. The perks of being a landlord's son.
Muyeong clicked his tongue but kept his eyes on the road. To his surprise, Junho's driving was actually smooth.
"Haven't seen your face in forever, so I figured I'd come pick you up. We're heading to your acting academy, right?"
"Yeah. I practically live there these days."
"I told you to come crash at my place."
"I can't. There's too much to learn—I can't step away yet."
Muyeong glanced sideways, gauging Junho's mood. The day he'd gotten his acceptance letter from Seoyeon University had been the same day he learned Junho hadn't made it.
"What?" Junho asked, keeping his eyes on the road but smiling slightly.
"Nothing. Just wondering what you've been up to."
"What else? My dad keeps nagging me to manage his buildings. Boring stuff."
Yeah… like I'm one to talk.
Muyeong looked down at his frayed sleeve.
"I wasn't all that set on college, but once I didn't get in, I kinda started wondering what to do next. Maybe I'll be your manager."
"Yeah, no. Get lost."
Junho laughed and gestured toward the back seat. There were several large black plastic bags piled up there.
"What's all that?"
"My cousin works in fashion. I went to Dongdaemun to help him out. I'm gonna be working with him for a while."
Fashion, huh. It fit Junho perfectly—always trendy, always stylish. Muyeong was about to say something encouraging when—
Swish—
Something light floated through the car. At first, he thought it was dust—but no. It was pollen.
"…Work hard, yeah? Everything's gonna turn out fine."
"What's with the fortune-teller talk?"
They were sitting so close that Muyeong couldn't tell whether the luck belonged to Junho—or to himself. But it didn't matter. His friend's success would be his happiness too.
"Drop me off here."
"Got it."
"Drive safe."
"Don't worry, man. If you ever need a car, just say the word."
"Yeah, sure. Just—please—drive safely."
Junho only grinned and waved out the window as he drove off. Muyeong exhaled deeply; maybe moving his dorm stuff had worn him out more than he thought.
Creak.
"I'm back."
When he opened the academy door, he found Oh Seok and the intermediate students sitting in a circle. The class wasn't supposed to start for a while yet.
"Muyeong, come here."
"What's going on?"
"Most of the students are heading off to college soon. Before that, I want everyone to get some real experience."
The table was piled high with printed audition notices. The students were flipping through them, choosing where to apply.
"MBV seems like a good shot."
"I heard network dramas are picking up again."
"Hey, this one's by writer Lim Songhwan. I'm doing this, no question."
"SBC or MBV… which one should I pick?"
They were all aiming high—big-name auditions, big prizes.
Muyeong slowly scanned the pile… and stopped.
[Seoul City Publicity Web Drama – Actor Recruitment]
"A web drama? They're doing those?"
"If you're going to audition, go big."
"Yeah, it's about experience, sure, but still—"
As Muyeong stared intently at the flyer, a few students laughed and shook their heads.
A city-sponsored promotional drama—not even something that would air on TV.
"…I'll do this one," he said calmly.
He picked it up without hesitation.
No one else saw it—but invisible pollen was spilling through the air, glowing faintly around him, overflowing until it felt like the room itself shimmered.