Lee Sihyeon didn’t say a word the whole time.He’d always been the quiet type to begin with, and though much had changed since losing his memories, they still knew he never said more than he had to. But this felt different. Rajoon kept sneaking glances, uneasy, at Sihyeon with arms folded, staring out the window. The cool, taciturn air, the face sunk deep in thought—not overt, but chilling—was a first.Maybe they should’ve dragged him along even by force.By the time the members and the manager, getting into the van, realized Sihyeon behind them wasn’t following and turned back in puzzlement, it was already too late.A little ways off, the two of them stood side by side. With the surrounding noise they couldn’t hear what was being said, but Sihyeon stood with his back to them, like he’d been called to a stop, and the sight was somehow familiar. Why? Thinking it over, they soon realized this had happened more than once. Lee Seonjin and Lee Sihyeon had never looked like they got along. It wasn’t that the president openly disliked him or snarled at him. Sihyeon, uncharacteristically, seemed compliant before him. Even so, something subtle always hung between them.Yeah—those times. When everyone else was heading out and, now and then, the president would call only Sihyeon aside.Even while heading back to the van first, a side glance at the two said it all—their air was sharp and severe.It wasn’t that they’d never suspected. Even before rumors of Sihyeon’s sponsors spread widely, the telltale signs—the “premonitions,” you could say—were there now and then. Eyes growing hollow day by day, abnormal reactions to touch, a face paler than pale, corpse-like—miles from normal. The sudden crack they’d heard, the run to the bathroom, the door flung open to a shattered mirror and a body soaked in blood—unforgettable. Of course they knew. Whatever anyone said, they’d lived together for two years.So first suspicion fell on his relationship with the president—but, laughably, for all his mercenary tongue, Lee Seonjin was a clean-handed man. A devoted husband, too; he loved money, yes, but not the type to get dirty for it.Yet whenever Sihyeon came back from talking with the president, his face sank deeper than usual.Much like now.That set their nerves on edge; they tried to say something, anything—but the atmosphere wouldn’t allow it, and they fidgeted helplessly. Rajoon, the other members, the manager—same. Lost in thought, Sihyeon alone was unhurried; it lasted all the way back to the dorm, through dinner.“Your phone number—heard you changed it.”When he turned around, that’s what came out first. Aside from “You okay? You look better than I expected,” blurted when they’d first met at the restaurant, this was the first small talk, and it was random. Sihyeon didn’t answer, only looked at him; Lee Seonjin, looking somehow different—complicated—was also quiet a moment.Right—he had. The phone smashed in the crash had been replaced with a new one after he opened his eyes in the hospital. It hadn’t been his to begin with, and whether he had one or not (in fact, having one was more annoying) didn’t matter to him, so he hadn’t cared. But when ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ the endless ringing made it look like he’d smash it by choice this time, the manager hurried to change the number.“I told them you weren’t well. Didn’t look like they bought it.”“……….”“Still, you won’t hear anything for a while. Things are noisy right now—and they’re the type who are very good at covering themselves.”What’s that supposed to mean? Silent, Sihyeon turned over the words he couldn’t parse and then dredged up a few thoughts.Sponsors. The porn-adjacent footage that had fouled his dreams for days. A voice scraping like a dry branch. Lee Sihyeon’s endless… As far as that, and he slid his gaze up, as if to examine the face of the man in front of him. He meant to see whether it overlapped with any of the faces in his dreams—but nothing came. Then what’s the tie?Lee Seonjin knew about Lee Sihyeon’s sponsors.Did he arrange them? Hajin had lived where that ecology was the air. He hadn’t cared enough to know the particulars, but among moneyed, muscular organizations, there were plenty who couldn’t stomach women whose bodies had known other hands; he remembered men boasting how they brought in pretty faces from the entertainment world with invitations or threats dressed up as sponsorships.Which is it? Sihyeon’s eyes thinned, measuring.“…Since we have this chance, think again about what I said before.”But Lee Seonjin, who didn’t catch any of that, tossed out the line he’d actually wanted to say and waved his hand in a vague you can go now gesture, wearing a face that looked somehow foul. They’d kept his amnesia secret from the president, so he couldn’t speak carelessly. Still, should I fish a little? Dragging something out wasn’t hard, but in Lee Sihyeon’s body, there were too many fine points to juggle.Ugh, what a mess of inconveniences.In the end, Sihyeon didn’t gamble. He turned back a step and walked for the van.On the way to the dorm, the tangled thoughts kept linking, tail to tail. Too much didn’t line up. He knew better than anyone that people’s fronts and backs differed, that masks and faces seldom matched—but the problem here wasn’t that ordinary kind of problem. His eyes pinched, annoyed. Lee Hajin, at baseline, avoided hassle.The trash called Lee Sihyeon: knew only money, character a wreck, arrogant, selling his body across however many beds.The fragile Lee Sihyeon who cried, pleading, before him—who knew a broken sort of despair.The gap between the Lee Sihyeon the world talked about and the Lee Sihyeon he knew was far too wide. He’d once thought the latter was putting on an act for him, but lately, with fragments of memories presumed to be Sihyeon’s trickling in through dreams, he realized that wasn’t it. Lee Sihyeon was a delicate, gentle sort of person. He never cast suspicion carelessly. He’d grown up in hardship from childhood, yet carried none of the usual shadows.Even when his parents died suddenly, he hadn’t collapsed; he chose to stand for his dreams and for his sick little sister’s sake. Even then, he did not despair. The gaunt face was steeped in grief, yes—but that was all.…Then what were the things that made you despair so utterly?Gaze resting on the window, heavy mood sinking thickly, his sight slid shut. Fatigue swept over him.***What they’d expected to be hell on earth was, unexpectedly, running smooth. That was possible only because the source of that expectation—Lee Sihyeon—had shown unbelievable acting.On day one, after he’d served up a shocking scene and sauntered out with his manager, about half the staff still couldn’t accept it and kept denying it—a fluke, had to be. As if to drive a spike through that denial, Lee Sihyeon, back for the next scene, again played Jihan to perfection. At first, he looked a little awkward with the method—shooting the same moment several times from different angles with the bounce board and more—and tongues clicked, knew it. But he watched the other actors’ scenes closely and quickly scoured the awkwardness away. Anything he was called on, he adjusted without a word; even the shots they’d added to show exactly what kind of man Jihan was took only one or two NGs at most. From can’t believe this they were moving to good Lord above!Especially the bit where he orders the traitor’s beheading without a flicker, then watches the wretched end of his former close aide with meaningless eyes—those chills came by the dozens; nothing more needed saying.Before the cue, he was just a young-looking man; at “Cue,” he sank, seeping a thick scent of menace and danger. When he disposed of someone with a face like he had no blood or tears, and when the cut was called, he went back to a bright face and threw a hint of worry toward the extras who’d (mostly one-sidedly) been on the receiving end—the gap of that.All that stuff about social phobia and flipping out if someone barely brushed him—clearly all rumor. Look at that face. Seemingly indifferent, yet every now and then a tiny slip of gentleness. The female staff, chilled to their cores, were screaming soundlessly inside, but Sihyeon himself didn’t know a speck of it.The director felt it too.“Ahem, ahem… hey, Lee Sihyeon?”“…? Yes.”“So, uh… are you very busy these days? You’re not, right?”“For that, you’d better ask the manager…”“No! No way you’re busy! Your activities wrapped up, right? Right?”Today they were here to film the part where the female lead, Jua, meets Jihan. Whether intentional or not, Sihyeon had never once seen the actors playing the leads; he’d only done solo shots. He knew their names, but celebrities and actors bored him, so they were just faces in a crowd. The male lead’s name was somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t conjure a face; he gave up in a few minutes and was moving to the next setup when the director, who’d been hovering, finally spoke.The manager had begged him in tears to behave before the director, but Sihyeon had recognized the look in the director’s eyes the first time the man saw him.It was thanks to a sense sharpened painfully fine to malice. He was dull to goodwill, but when you’re weighing survival, malice tips the scale. Since childhood, Lee Hajin had been ringed by malice with no goodwill to be found; it was only natural.Now he didn’t feel malice—oddly, that made the intent harder to read.Truth was, he didn’t know whether he was busy or not; he couldn’t answer for the schedule. But the face insisting he couldn’t possibly be busy conjured an image instinctively.A seven-year-old throwing a tantrum.“How about we run the scene with you once more today and… increase your screentime?”“……….”“Mm? Hey, this chance won’t come again, you know? Scripts can always be tweaked a little—we just bump your parts! I’ve already squared it with the writer, okay? So you just—”“I refuse.”If you just say you’ll do i—, mm? Cut off mid-pitch, Director Park Gangjun blinked wide at the neat refusal, then laughed, “Ha ha, my hearing’s bad lately,” and tried to dodge. Sihyeon hammered it in again: “No.” Park Gangjun’s face whipped, and he shouted like it was unthinkable.“Hey, Lee Sihyeon! Are you insane? Do you know what my ratings are? I’m Park Gangjun!”“……….”“I get that being in my drama is an honor in itself, and adding scenes might feel like a burden—you’re worried you’ll be a nuisance. Don’t worry! I’ll shoot you well and put you out right, so just trust m—”“I’m not shooting more.”“For fuck’s—why…! Why! Why not!” Park Gangjun, shocked, clung. Wasn’t it obvious? He was here at all because of the advance Lee Sihyeon had pocketed; otherwise, he wouldn’t be shooting, wouldn’t be acting, period. And even that was luck on top of luck piled high.Yes, he’d once been a loan shark—but acting it is a different beast. You have to memorize the script; you need every mark in your bones. Expression shifts, eye-lines, each tiny motion—you have to mind them all. Saying he could do that just because he’d once been a loan shark—nonsense.The luck started there.Lee Hajin had a talent for memorization—so much so that memorizing was his specialty. Important confidential documents were burned and stored in his head; with that level of recall, he’d not only memorized his own parts, he’d memorized the whole script because he didn’t know it, and so knew the full context of every scene he was in.Before rolling, he’d ask for the blocking in as much detail as possible, and at rehearsal he’d try to nail it perfectly, so he didn’t forget or fumble. His naturally un-nervous temperament helped too.Most of all, it was his background: Lee Hajin’s life itself had been acting.The child who rose from concubine’s son to legitimate son—no warm home—parents too mercenary to think of anyone but themselves; he grew up without ever learning love. To survive, he put on and took off faces. Before his mother, the bright, ambitious son. Before his father, the useful boy with small designs who would never reach for the man’s place. To those under him, a strict, cold face; to business partners, capable and trustworthy, yet not to be taken lightly. He covered and uncovered them until he no longer knew which was his own face—but so what. Who lives with their true self flayed bare?Even not knowing wasn’t bad—because knowing wouldn’t change how he’d live.So he could dress Jihan from eyes to fingertips with ease. Compared to the days when being seen meant death, it was child’s play.Which didn’t mean he needed to add more hassle.Ignoring Park Gangjun hanging off him, Sihyeon strode for the set. Dragged along in bad form, the director looked pitiful, but none of it mattered to either of them. It was the director who’d been wrong-footed by the unexpected adamance.But it’s my show…! He’d figured a line like that would bring, Thank you, director, I’ll work hard, I’ll give it my all, a grateful whoop. Then he’d chuckle magnanimously, Sure—but if you don’t give it your all, there’s no soup for you~, and clap the grateful Lee Sihyeon on the back. His perfect plan…!No…!He couldn’t risk the ratings. Staring at Sihyeon’s cool face even as he clung, Park Gangjun pulled his last card before he could think.“How much do you want!”It was a public cosplay of Won Bin’s line.He’d heard the rumors that Lee Sihyeon only knew money; that’s why he blurted it. The problem was he said it too loud. Eyes lifted from the floor. Lee Sihyeon’s gaze had a strange light—half incredulous, half amused—as he looked back.Who are you taking for a beggar…?If it were the old Lee Sihyeon, he might not even have remembered the rumor that he could be bought. As it was, Park Gangjun, brashly asking how much, was so ridiculous and so absurd that Sihyeon had to fight down a laugh. Of course Lee Hajin had been a man who played with money; perhaps it was only natural. Part of him was curious. He studied Park Gangjun and parted his lips.“…How much can you give?”Not having seen Autumn in My Heart, much less any drama, Lee Hajin didn’t realize he’d just cosplayed Song Hyekyo. Even so, the low question, asked with a radiant face, made a strange picture—and it was funny enough that not only the staff but newly arrived actors were watching that little scene with rapt interest.

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