The man sitting on the sofa slid into frame through the slightly dim lighting. In the sea of black that was his suit, the only thing that stood out was a stark-white face—something bleak and funereal on it, as if no joy, anger, sorrow, or pleasure existed there at all. Tap. The tip of a pale finger lightly struck the hardwood armrest of the sofa.Tap, tap, tap.The evenly spaced sound was, for some reason, chilling, but the man’s face remained expressionless—if anything, vaguely bored. Only that he was waiting for something was clear. His lightless eyes were fixed in one direction, and he didn’t so much as twitch.It was a scene where darkness was rising. No effects had been laid in, but the empty room, the dim lights, and the man alone between them seemed to prove it.The bottom of everything lay—right here.…What even is that…?Everyone looked like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing, but they couldn’t even breathe properly; they just stared, blank, at the set.It wasn’t the scene they’d expected, so no one had the slightest grain of hope to begin with. Even in this industry, people talked about Lee Sihyeon’s acting. That he had nothing to offer but his face had already been ripped to shreds—no, stripped naked—by his last lead drama; there was no need to say it again.Everyone knew the only reason he’d been able to appear in this drama was because of some strange pressure from the investors, though they’d all tried to keep it quiet; it was common knowledge. That alone made it impossible to see him in a kindly light. This was Director Park’s drama—the kind actors with real skill would kill to join—and he’d gotten in by some crooked trick? More than a few crew members had already called home to say they’d be pulling an all-nighter, sure Director Park—who was a demon when it came to work—would grind him until he cried.But then what was this.Just moments ago, the one who’d come onto set all bright-faced, practically advertising his idol status, had been Lee Sihyeon.Even during rehearsal, and right up until the moment before they rolled, what sat on that sofa looked less like a loan-shark and more like a pretty, young guy who couldn’t tell up from down. The sighs came out all by themselves. At least, for god’s sake, frown a little. Everyone went back to their places with gloomy faces, and the director, snake-cold, curled a grin and called the take. How many times are we going to hear that line today? The cameras’ red lights came on.And then, the next moment, something unbelievable happened.There was no Lee Sihyeon on the monitor.No, he was there—but the man there was someone you could not believe was Lee Sihyeon.The instant the cue hit, the expression vanished from his face. Like the tide drawing back—changed in the blink of an eye—what settled there was a numb mask that seemed incapable of feeling anything at all. Huh? Around the time everyone was staring in confusion, the posture of the body that had been sitting there slackly had also changed. A leisurely, slightly inclined torso; a relaxed yet razor-edged air; even the unforced movement of his hands. It was the smell of a male who knew, clearly, that this was his territory.And yet the gloom that seeped from him made it plain that this space—and he himself—were not normal. The set lights felt different than usual. As if only that spot were truly another place; as if one step into it and you would sink… forever. In a word—They were scared.“—Cut! Are you out of your minds!? Why aren’t you coming in!”The director’s voice, fury boiling to the top of his skull, snapped everyone’s dazed minds back to reality. Sihyeon, who had been lounging back on the sofa, straightened, thinking he must have done something wrong, and checked the script again—but it didn’t look like he’d missed anything. He didn’t really know what civilians thought a loan-shark acted like, so he’d just behaved the way he always had. Was that not it?When he turned his head, his face already back to bright, the manager standing dumbstruck by the camera was flapping and nodding hard. Ah, so it’s fine? He was on the verge of nodding back in answer—though the manager looked on the verge of tears, it didn’t feel like a bad mood—when a sharpened voice cracked across the set like a scolding.“Is this your first time acting? What are you doing spacing out and missing your cue to enter! You want to go home? Huh?”It was Park Gangjun. Only when he saw the demon-faced director shouting at the four or five extras did Sihyeon remember: in the next beat, the underlings were supposed to drag a man in. No wonder it felt too long—I missed the timing. So the NG wasn’t because of me. Good. He had just begun to feel relieved when Director Park, as if he’d sensed that, snapped his head around and yelled at him with a terrifying face.“Lee Sihyeon!”“Ah, yes.”“You too—you—get it right!”So it was awkward, after all. Sihyeon clicked his tongue, then dipped his head slightly toward the director. “I’m sorry.” A self-conscious throat-clear answered him. But what exactly does “get it right” mean? Sihyeon wished he’d be more specific. He didn’t hear it, but in truth, everyone on the set knew that Director Park’s words were pure bluster.It had been a scene so chilling you could only stare—what, exactly, was he supposed to do “more right” there? Still, they could understand the director too. If he praised and lifted him up here, the kid might get cocky, and if he failed to establish dominance from the start, he might end up dragged around by that famous temper of his—most people were thinking something like that.Park Gangjun, who knew better than anyone that he was nitpicking without a cause, felt a flush of embarrassment as he watched Sihyeon bow his head and apologize so obediently. If the kid would just act like a punk and demand what exactly was wrong with his performance, he could drag out every non-reason in the book and grind him to paste. But when he behaved this meekly, it weighed on the conscience. What the hell is with this kid…? Director Park, who had never once picked a baseless fight in a professional setting, sank into a gloom.The truth was, Lee Sihyeon’s acting had been perfect.No—so perfect it raised goosebumps.Are you insane? That face, transforming the instant the cue hit! When the fingertip tapped the hardwood armrest, holy shit, that’s the real thing, he’d thought. If it had just kept going—straight on into the next beat with the door slamming open, the underlings coming ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) in, and him watching it all with that same blank face…!It had been perfect! And now it was ruined—wrecked…!He’d screamed cut with blood in his throat because the extras never came in—and while he’d shouted, mad to the roots of his hair, he wasn’t ignorant. Part of him had assumed Sihyeon would be the one to rack up dozens of NGs before they could move on, and he knew the extras had probably been so shocked by what they saw from outside that they’d forgotten to enter. But that was that, and this was this. Goddamn it, what a waste, it’s killing me!It was a fluke, right? We’ll never get that again, right? Ha…Crushed with disappointment, he spoke again, face more sullen than before.“Rolling again… cue…”—But he did get that scene again. No—he got something even more perfect.Turning the words get it right over in his head, Sihyeon reproduced the exact same movements as before, only with an even darker pall hanging over him. This time, the underlings came in on cue, dragging in a man wrecked to rags by special-effects makeup, and only those numb eyes seemed to flow as they fixed on the sight.A face as if he were regarding an inanimate thing.Looking down at the man forced to his knees right in front of him, Sihyeon seemed leisurely, as if utterly used to this situation—and at the same time, bored. Thunk. The sleek tip of the well-made dress shoe at the end of his elegantly outstretched leg tapped lightly at the man’s chest. It wasn’t in the script, but no NG call came. When the man didn’t lift his head, a gaze came instead. A chill. Under that peculiar pressure, the extra playing the man forgot he was supposed to be acting and, fumbling, raised his head. And—Their eyes met.A refined face, but so cold it was almost grotesque. The picture-perfect Jihan opened his mouth.“…Talk.”The low voice was hair-raising. It was only a drama shoot, and yet the pressure to speak surged so palpably that the man’s lips went dry. Maybe it was the atmosphere, but although he could see the jumble of gear and cameras from his angle, somehow it didn’t feel like a set; it felt like Jihan’s dark office, for real. That chill eye settled on him, and this time he tried to speak—frantically reaching for his next line. The mood said he had to. But contrary to his intent, his mouth wouldn’t open. Because—He had nothing to say.Ah—only then did the man snap back to himself and shake his head in a rush. Get a grip. It’s just a shoot.Sihyeon, looking down at him, slowly closed his eyes and opened them, then sank a little deeper into the sofa. Tap. The wood rang again. As if that were the starting gun of a sentence being passed, a cold gaze fell, and the underlings, caught in it, started wrecking the man further without so much as a heartbeat to think.The thud of kicks, dirtying cloth, a scream-like groan—and Sihyeon’s face stayed tranquil, as if regarding a weathered landscape.How long did it go on?Tap. The sound came again, and though it was very small, the ghost-like resonance pierced to the bone, and the underlings’ movements stopped, all at once, as if bewitched. A dead-quiet stillness hung for a beat. Then—rising from the chair, Sihyeon began to walk toward the man.Step. Step.It was only a few paces, but the approaching footfalls drilled vividly into the inner ear. Heads bowed. Knees bending, Sihyeon in front of the man sprawled to ruin on the floor reached out a hand. A pale back of the hand, slender fingers for a man—reaching, careless, to seize a fistful of hair—none of it felt real.Their eyes locked again.Sihyeon’s face, unchanged from before, opened slowly.“Now.”Darkness was here.“Looks like you want to die.”The man’s eyes flew wide. Nothing else had changed. Only that one line—only that pale voice, asking about death—made it feel like his throat was being squeezed. He’s going to kill me. The fear crawled up from his toes like a whisper that said he would die here, now, this instant. “I…” A tongue that shook. “I—I’ll say everything.” He barely got the words out—and then, in proportion to the fear, the pleas burst like a flood. “I’ll say everything, so, so please… please.”Save me.Wet tears smeared his cheeks. He no longer knew what was acting and what was real. He hadn’t actually been hit, but the way his whole body ached gave him goosebumps. No—someone, anyone—could someone get that blank face out of his sight.At the man’s scream-like plea, the hand clutching his hair went slack and slid away. In his eyes now there was only the dress shoe that had tapped his chest a moment ago, not that face. Misery and relief washed in like waves. He squeezed his eyes shut—and a voice fell like a sentence.“It’s a relief you’re just smart enough… not to die.”For someone who said that, the beautiful face looking down at the man sprawled on the floor was nothing but bleak.

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