Chapter: 21
Minho stepped onto the set, the weight of the past few days still clinging to him. His confrontation with Director Lee had left an unease in his chest, but there was no time to dwell on it. Today was a crucial shoot—one of the emotional high points of the drama. His character, Jihoon, was supposed to face his greatest failure, a moment of raw vulnerability.
As the crew bustled around, setting up cameras and adjusting the lighting, Minho took deep breaths. He glanced at the script, but he barely needed it. He had gone over this scene countless times in his head. Still, there was a nervous energy buzzing under his skin, something unfamiliar. Was it anticipation? Or was it fear?
Before he could untangle his emotions, he felt a presence beside him. Seo Hana.
"You ready for this?" she asked, her tone softer than usual.
Minho looked at her, surprised. She was usually distant, professional but not particularly warm. Today, however, there was a trace of concern in her eyes.
"I think so," he replied, flexing his fingers to shake off the tension.
Hana hesitated before speaking again. "You were different during rehearsal yesterday. It felt… heavier."
Minho's stomach tightened. Had she noticed? Was it that obvious? The lines between his character's emotions and his own had blurred more than he liked to admit.
"I'm just trying to make it real," he said, forcing a small smile.
Hana studied him for a moment before nodding. "Well, whatever it is, it's working."
Before he could respond, the assistant director called for places. Minho took his spot, heart pounding. The scene began.
Jihoon stood in the rain, drenched and trembling, staring at the wreckage of his dream. The company he had built, the people he had trusted—it had all crumbled because of his mistakes. He clenched his fists, his breath ragged.
Minho let the emotions flood in. The ache of loss, the helplessness, the suffocating weight of regret. It wasn't just Jihoon's pain—his own memories lurked beneath the surface, threatening to break free. The scandal, the betrayal, the moment he had stood on the edge of everything, staring into the abyss.
The cameras rolled. He didn't need to fake the trembling in his hands.
"Igaveeverything," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Anditstillwasn'tenough."
Silence filled the set, thick and charged. Even the crew seemed to be holding their breath.
Then, a quiet, choked sob escaped his lips. Unscripted. Raw. The kind of moment that couldn't be forced.
The director didn't call cut.
Minho kept going. His knees buckled, and he let them, sinking to the ground. Rain—or rather, the artificial downpour from the set's sprinklers—poured over him, mixing with the tears slipping down his face.
"I don'tknowhowtofixthis," Jihoon admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I don'tknowhowtogoon."
It was too close. Too real. A part of Minho wanted to pull back, to remind himself that this was acting. But another part of him clung to the moment. Because for the first time, it wasn't just about playing a role.
It was about confronting himself.
"Cut!" Director Lee's voice finally rang out, but for a second, no one moved. The weight of the scene lingered in the air.
Minho exhaled shakily and pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt weak.
Then, applause. It started with one crew member, then another. Even Hana, who was normally composed, gave him an approving nod.
"That," Director Lee said, stepping forward, "was beyond what I expected." His usual critical tone was absent.
Minho managed a small, breathless smile. "Good?"
The director actually chuckled. "More than good. You weren't acting, were you?"
Minho hesitated. Then, quietly, he admitted, "No. Not all of it."
Director Lee studied him for a moment before nodding. "Keep tapping into that, but don't lose yourself in it."
Minho wasn't sure if he could promise that.
As the crew reset for the next take, he stepped away, rubbing his hands together to ground himself. That's when he heard whispers from a group of staff nearby.
"Did you see that? He wasn't like this in the beginning."
"I swear, it's like he became a completely different actor overnight."
"He's… incredible. But there's something almost unsettling about it. Like he's lived this pain before."
Minho's breath hitched.
They didn't know how right they were.
Meanwhile, in the Producer's Office…
Kim Sangho, the drama's producer, replayed the footage from today's shoot on his monitor. He had seen many actors in his time, but there was something different about Minho. Something raw.
"He wasn't always like this, was he?" he mused aloud.
Beside him, his assistant, Jiyeon, shook her head. "Not at all. He was promising, but nothing like… this."
Sangho leaned back in his chair, watching Minho's anguished expression frozen on the screen. "It's almost like he's been through this before."
Jiyeon shivered. "That's what's eerie about it. It's too real."
The producer hummed in thought. "Keep an eye on him. I want to know more about where he came from."
Jiyeon hesitated. "Do you think he's hiding something?"
Sangho didn't answer. But deep down, a strange feeling settled in his gut.
Minho wasn't just an actor.
There was something much, much more to him.