Chapter 7: A Private Gathering
by GideonEpisode 7: A Private Gathering
“No, we were just at the same agency for a while,” Jubin replied calmly.
“Ah, I see. I was wondering if you’d worked on the same project, since he’s actually using the word ‘sunbae’ for once.”
Kim Do-won pouted his characteristically thin lips, muttering in a nasal whine that sounded genuinely hurt. “Do Zion, call me sunbae too.”
“You’re still my hyung,” Do Zion chuckled softly, turning away. The people around them burst into laughter.
“Yeah, sunbae sounds like you’re drawing a line. Hyung feels more like a nickname—it’s better.”
Judging by the atmosphere, the two seemed to be on very comfortable terms, sharing a deep sense of trust. That was why they could joke around so easily without any awkwardness or need to walk on eggshells. Their interaction was completely natural, devoid of any tension from trying to establish a hierarchy.
Honestly, I never expected Zion to be this sociable.
The Zion I remembered was a curt, aloof young Alpha who’d just turned twenty, always treating me with a blunt indifference.
Even as I checked the messages he sent through the paid messaging app every day, I still found it hard to believe. I wondered which version of him was real: the cold, blunt truth-teller he’d shown me, or this warm, charming person everyone else saw.
A quiet, reserved nature can still hide a gentle kindness that puts others at ease—a thoughtful charm that’s impossible to conceal. With his stunning looks already winning half the battle, his competence must earn him trust and respect from everyone he works with.
And with his easygoing, considerate nature to boot, it was no wonder he was so well-loved.
To think that kid had grown up so much.
After finally accepting it, Jubin felt a strange sense of pride—even though he hadn’t raised the boy himself—and a surge of joy at the thought of working with him.
“Sorry I’m late,” Director Bae Eun-hye apologized politely as she entered the reading room.
At her appearance, Do-won sprang to his feet and cheered wildly.
“She’s so pretty! Our director!”
It seems Kim Do-won is the mood maker for this project.
Atmosphere was everything on a set, and someone like Kim Do-won was absolutely essential. Everyone else joined in, clapping and cheering for the director.
“Bae Eun-hye! Bae Eun-hye! Bae Eun-hye!”
Director Bae Eun-hye offered a brief smile, clearly used to such enthusiastic welcomes. Even the woman rumored to be terrifying while working seemed to have a soft spot for the mood.
“Hyung, sit down.”
Zion, who had been standing beside Do-won, gently calmed him down. Jubin watched the exchange, quite surprised.
The reason was simple: Zion’s casual comment had immediately reined in Do-won, who had been running wild like an unbridled colt, and Do-won had complied without a word, as if he’d already played his part.
Zion had effortlessly defused the tension, calming Do-won—who might have otherwise come across as a loudmouth—with a single, well-timed remark.
The man was a genius of timing.
“Sorry for being late to the first reading,” the youngest director announced, quickly handing out the freshly printed scripts. “It took some time to reprint these because so many sections were revised.”
“The full table read isn’t until next week,” he continued. “But we figured you’d all be too nervous, so we scheduled this today for the main and supporting cast with the most lines. We wanted to give you a chance to build chemistry and get familiar with each other.”
Finally, Cha Jubin received his own fresh script. Though it was shorter than the full one, it was still a historical drama—the sheer volume of text was still daunting.
As I turned the page marked Episode 1, I saw that each scene was clearly numbered and titled, with the action and dialogue-driven emotions laid out explicitly.
The lines and scenes were already familiar to me.
After all, this role had originally belonged to Lee Seo-rim. To provide specific guidance, direction, and feedback as an acting director, I had to understand the work better than anyone else.
Considering how suddenly I’d taken over the role, I was incredibly lucky.
With every page I turned, the name “Cha Jubin” was stamped diagonally across the paper to prevent script leaks. Seeing it made my heart race with a thrill of satisfaction. It was a pleasant reminder of exactly who this script now belonged to.
Director Bae Eun-hye took charge, initiating a round of casual introductions.
“Well, you’re all famous already, but shall we take a moment for some brief introductions?”
The first one to stand was Do Zion, the production’s actual lead. He bowed politely.
“I’m Do Zion, playing King Segyeom. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
Thunderous applause and cheers erupted. The room filled with a mix of genuine praise and playful banter—comments about his stunning looks, jokes that this was the King’s official coronation speech, and remarks about his “national treasure-grade” poise.
The sudden surge in energy and the fast-paced atmosphere were a bit overwhelming for Jubin.
Will I even survive here, let alone fit in? he wondered, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest.
After the lead actors finished their introductions, Kim Do-won, the first of the supporting cast, took his turn. Now, it was Cha Jubin’s turn.
He tried to stand up as quietly as possible to avoid scraping his chair against the floor, but Zion, who was sitting next to him, had already pulled the chair out for him.
“Oh, thank you,” Jubin whispered to Zion.
Under everyone’s gaze, he officially introduced himself.
“I’m Cha Jubin, the actor playing the role of Royal Concubine Hyeonseo. I know I have a lot to learn, but I’ll do my best to learn from all of you and do a good job with this role.”
He worried he might have overdone it, but fortunately, the applause was loud.
The welcoming atmosphere put him at ease. As he sat down, a sigh of relief escaped him. Zion unscrewed the cap of the water bottle in front of him and handed it over.
“Drink up, sunbae.”
His throat was parched from nervousness. As Jubin turned slightly to drink, Zion shifted his body forward, shielding him from the view of others.
His gaze remained casually fixed on another supporting actor who was greeting him. Thanks to this, I was able to take a sip of water and straighten my posture. I met his eyes for a moment to thank him.
Though it was only for a fleeting instant, the gaze that met mine was strangely filled with personal desire.
I tried to smile naturally, but I wondered if I’d managed to keep my expression in check.
This was the moment the “first reading” rule—that even acquaintances get awkward—was shattered.
The lead actors’ seamless, natural reading created a vivid atmosphere, making it feel as if they were actually filming.
The other actors, following along with their scripts, were startled into gasps of admiration by Do Zion’s captivating voice as he delivered the lines for King Segyeom’s first appearance.
Even the actors who were close colleagues knew it—they just couldn’t get used to that voice. It was deeper than a typical baritone, making it perfect for the role of the king.
Standing right beside him, Cha Jubin felt a chill race down his spine in real-time. He kept scratching his shoulder, a futile attempt to shake off the overwhelming sensation.
Hyeonseo’s character was introduced halfway through the first episode. Jubin carefully followed every line of the script, waiting for his turn.
Finally, it was time for Hyeonseo’s first scene.
This was the moment he met King Segyeom for the first time as an adult. Hyeonseo had long harbored a secret love for Segyeom. He had to convey a complex mix of emotions: the uncontainable joy of seeing his beloved, tempered by the absolute deference required in the presence of the King. He needed to show a restrained brightness and a fluttering excitement he couldn’t fully hide.
Cha Jubin slowly turned his body toward his scene partner, Zion.
“Your Highness. It is an honor to meet you. I am Hyeonseo.”
Zion, whose eyes had been glued to the script, delivered his line as he turned to face Jubin.
“Hyeonseo… a lovely name. What brings you so deep into the palace gardens?”
Jubin lowered his gaze, a shy smile playing on his lips. “I live here, Your Highness.”
“Is that so? You’ve tended the garden beautifully. I stopped to rest, thinking it a quiet spot, perfect for reading.”
A faint, knowing smile touched Zion’s lips. Propping his chin on his hand, he openly admired Jubin’s face as he continued with his next line in a level tone.
“May I visit often?”
“Yes, Your Highness…”
Jubin’s lips parted as he quickly recalled the script’s stage directions and actions.
“The flowers are in full bloom, and the whole world is bathed in a bright, cheerful orange. It is a truly beautiful day. I was thinking of taking a stroll—would His Highness the Crown Prince care to join me?”
“Just for today.”
As the first meeting scene between Segyeom and Hyeonseo concluded, Director Bae Eun-hye—who had been filling in for the other roles—finally tore her gaze away from the two actors.
“You two… you just recited those lines from memory, didn’t you?”
Even though the table read was over, Zion was still staring intensely at Jubin, his back completely turned to Director Bae.
“Are you two geniuses or something?”
Forced to meet Director Bae’s eyes, Jubin waved his hands in frantic denial. “No, no. It’s just the opening scene, so we memorized a little bit.”
“But you only just got the script.”
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