Chapter 76: He’s an Alpha.
by GideonJubin couldn’t even open his mouth, something choking his throat. The heavy sound of breathing over the phone pierced his heart.
—I’ll say it again. I’ll make sure you see, even if it takes years—no, decades—that there is no end to our relationship.
Countless past lovers had made promises they couldn’t keep.
—So, no matter how much of a senior you are, don’t you dare decide the fate of our relationship on your own.
Those who had passed through his life always acted as if they would give him everything, only to demand his sacrifice in return.
He remembered how much he’d cried, clutching his own tattered self.
He had no regrets since he’d treated them well, but he had no energy left to give. It would take a long time to recover.
I’m not so damn foolish that I’d fall for sweet talk like this… So why…?
—I like you, senior.
At Zion’s final words, Jubin’s heart lost its rhythm.
He never knew embarrassment could feel so physical. His ears, face, neck, and chest all flushed a deep red. He bit his lip hard, afraid he might blurt out something stupid.
—Are you listening?
Jubin swallowed hard, finally breaking the suffocating silence.
“Yeah, I’m listening.”
He forced a casual tone, pretending it was all just a lighthearted joke.
“I like you too.”
It was a little scary, and incredibly unfamiliar. But strangely, he didn’t mind saying those words to Zion.
Because he had a certainty that Zion would always come back to him.
“I like you, Zion.”
The confession, carefully suppressed and disguised as a joke, flowed out lightly.
They had been chatting for what felt like five minutes, but when Jubin checked the time, thirty minutes had already flown by. He spoke gently.
“Go to sleep now. You have a shoot tomorrow.”
—Yes, let’s go to sleep. Call me as soon as you wake up.
It was a tender request: Don’t go for a smoke; find me first.
Jubin kept wanting to lean on his kindness, to find solace in it, but he had to keep his guard up.
“I might oversleep. Have a safe trip to the States.”
—Goodnight, sunbae.
After the call ended, it took a long time for Jubin’s floating heart to settle.
“Do Zion, what am I going to do with you…?”
“Do Zion-sunbae, are you awake? I’m heading out now.”
When I opened my eyes, I saw a message from Zion.
Take care.
I sent a quick reply to the man who was already halfway across the Pacific Ocean, then headed to the bathroom.
After finishing my morning schedule, I arrived at CEO Moon Woo-jin’s office right on time.
“Oh, you’re here? Sit, sit.”
He gestured for me to take a seat, still tidying up some documents. On my way, I’d bought the coffee he liked and the milk tea I preferred.
Handing him the coffee, I asked, “What did you call me in for?”
He took the cup with a satisfied smile. “Yeon-a, I need you to clear your schedule.”
“For what?”
“Andrew Jin is coming to Korea next week.”
Jubin calmly set his milk tea on the table.
Andrew Jin had gone on an indefinite hiatus after his last project. Rumors of his return had circulated occasionally, but they were usually just baseless gossip. This time, however, CEO Park Ji-bun’s words were the real deal.
“…Who told you?”
“CEO Park did. He said they’re casting Koreans for the lead roles in the new project. He’s keeping his visit a secret, but the reporters already caught wind of it. They’ve even set up an embargo, so the information seems reliable.”
Once the reporters got a hold of it, any chance of secrecy was gone. Fame is a terrifying thing, Jubin thought.
He rose from his seat, went to the desk, and retrieved his tablet. He then opened an email and handed it to Jubin to read.
“Take your time,” Moon Woo-jin said.
The email was in English, and the translation was a bit clunky. The sender was Andrew Jin, and the gist of the message was…
“He wants to meet me?”
“I thought it was spam at first. But no, this is real.”
“How do you know?”
“CEO Park told me Do Zion got one too.”
So that’s how the reporters found out, I realized. The email must have been sent to more people than just Do Zion and me.
I knew this was a good thing, but it didn’t feel real. I should have been thrilled, but my emotions couldn’t keep up. I tried to focus only on the facts, terrified that I’d get my hopes up for nothing.
“Am I on the casting table?”
“Of course you are!”
Only after CEO Moon Woo-jin’s confirmation did the daze finally lift, and a smile escaped Jubin’s lips.
“Congratulations!”
He couldn’t believe it. The director he admired most—the very person who had inspired him to start acting—wanted to meet him.
It might be a test, he thought, but the fact that the director is the one asking to see me means he’s already made up his mind to some extent.
“This isn’t a dream, is it?”
“Of course it’s not, you idiot! It’s real! Not a dream!”
A single breath was enough to make his heart swell so much his lungs felt tight. Jubin covered his face with both hands and took a deep, steadying breath.
Jubin tried to calm down, but it was easier said than done. His fingertips trembled ever so slightly.
“But Yeon-a, there’s one thing you need to know.”
Jubin slowly lifted his head. “What is it?”
“Do Zion is pretty much a lock.”
It wasn’t surprising that Do Zion would star in Director Andrew Jin’s film. A collaboration between the romance maestro and Do Zion was only a matter of time.
“CEO Park said something strange yesterday. He told me to make sure I deliver this script to you, saying the company’s survival depends on it.”
CEO Moon Woo-jin grumbled, sounding hurt by CEO Park Ji-bun’s lack of trust.
“As if I’d ever give it away,” Jubin chuckled softly at the man’s half-muttered complaint.
“Keep it as a souvenir.”
CEO Moon Woo-jin held out a one-episode sample script titled Iconic Mood.
As he leaned forward, his shirt collar slipped slightly to the side, revealing a red mark on the nape of his neck. It was a vivid, unmistakable mark—the kind left by someone’s deliberate touch.
Jubin quickly averted his gaze and took the script with a practiced ease.
The feeling was completely different from when he had received the script for Leaves Resting on the Eyes.
He felt a surge of pride, as if he had been recognized by a master, and a thrill at the thought that his life’s trajectory might change. Yet… the moment felt too important to simply enjoy lightly. He needed a moment to compose himself.
My heart is racing too fast.
“How should I reply to the email?”
“When do I need to respond by?”
“The sooner, the better. We can’t keep them waiting forever.”
“I’ll think about it.”
CEO Moon Woo-jin, who had known Jubin long enough to recognize that a vague “I’ll think about it” was a polite refusal, continued calmly.
“Jubin, you know… I’ve always wanted to see you two in a project together.”
He’d been saying that ever since his days as their manager.
“Your acting styles are completely different. The way you approach a project, the way you think, even how you interpret your characters—everything is opposite. When else are you two ever going to fall in love, even if it’s just for a role?”
CEO Moon Woo-jin was strangely invested in the two of them getting close. He’d always cheered them on, hoping they would grow together as actors. At one point, Jubin had wondered if it was just a lingering sentiment from his time as their manager.
“You two have exactly one thing in common. Do you know what it is?”
Jubin shook his head, clueless.
“You’re both flawless.”
CEO Moon Woo-jin clapped his hands together with a flourish. Do Zion had once said that Moon Woo-jin was unexpectedly sharp in the most random of ways.
“When you’re stuck in your head or trapped in your plans, Zion can give you the energy to take immediate action. And when Zion’s quick decisions might throw him off balance, I think you can be the one to steady him.”
He seemed convinced that while this was a challenging combination, it was a perfectly complementary one.
“That’s why I want you two to use this opportunity to create a masterpiece. You’ll gain fame by working on a project by your favorite director, and Zion will push past his limits by tackling the romance genre.”
It was sincere advice, framing the situation as the perfect synergy.
CEO Moon Woo-jin possessed a profound vision, able to see the big picture and the finer details all at once.
Without this ability, he never would have become CEO.
Since Moon Woo-jin was pressing the issue so hard, Jubin decided to give it some serious thought.
“I know…”
If you already know, then why are you still stressing over it? Moon Woo-jin crossed his arms, his gaze piercing as if he were trying to dig out Jubin’s innermost thoughts.
“If you know, then what’s the problem?”
Jubin was still trying to figure out the root cause of his deepest anxiety, but he knew exactly what the most obvious surface-level worry was.
“Are you worried you’ll lose out to Yeon?” Moon Woo-jin asked, tossing out a casual probe just in case.
But he’d guessed wrong.
“I’m way past the age for that.”
“Then what the hell is the problem?”
Finally, Cha Jubin let out a deep sigh and confessed.
“He’s… an Alpha.”
Jubin even emphasized that he was a Dominant Alpha.
“That’s not surprising. What else could he possibly be?”
“And I’m an Omega.”
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