Chapter 97: Reporter Choi
by GideonThe studio lights were blindingly bright, and the atmosphere was unusually tense.
Since the very first scene was a high-intensity one, the staff were on edge.
“Let’s adjust the angle of the light reflecting off the vase on the cabinet.”
At the camera director’s instruction, a member of the props team rushed over, turned the vase, and asked, “Like this?”
We’re actually filming… The reality of the situation was already overwhelming, but thanks to the chip’s side effects, even the light filtering through the rice paper-covered walls seemed to shimmer and blur.
“Sunbae.”
At the sound of that familiar voice, I turned my head. Zion was approaching, his loose white silk jeogori hanging open.
He radiated the aura of a supreme ruler who had conquered the entire continent. The abs visible through the gap in his jacket seemed even more defined today.
It had been a long time since the chip’s side effects had robbed him of his appetite, but his sexual desire for Zion was steadily on the rise.
“It looks good on you.”
“It looks good on you too, sunbae.”
Zion approached him, his smile gentle.
If I reject his confession, will I still be able to see this smile?
I’ll be able to see it, but only while we’re working on this project.
What about after that? What am I going to do?
“Sunbae, you’re not feeling sick today, are you?”
Ever since Zion had become a part of his daily life, there had been only one thing that bothered him.
His already sharp intuition was now practically piercing the heavens.
“If you’re feeling unwell, you have to tell me. Don’t hold it in.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Once again, Jubin feigned ignorance and let the comment slide.
“Do Zion, Cha Jubin, we’re rolling!”
At the camera director’s shout, Jubin checked the camera’s position and lay down on the floor.
Zion stripped off his pants and handed them to his manager before straddling Jubin’s body.
Perhaps because they were in front of the camera, Zion had already slipped into character, his face as cold and impassive as King Segyeom.
“Do Zion!”
The cameraman, who had been checking the viewfinder, called out loudly. “We can’t see Cha Jubin’s leg properly.”
“Excuse me, sunbae,” Zion said, offering a brief apology to Jubin in response to the cameraman’s comment.
He reached out and guided Jubin to wrap his thigh around Zion’s waist. To help create a more natural pose, Jubin lifted his hips.
This was a position they were both familiar with.
“Is this okay?”
This feels like the moment right before we fuck, Jubin thought.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied, shaking his head to dismiss the lewd thought.
After checking the camera positions one last time, Jubin took a final, steadying breath.
The boom mic hovered silently above Zion and Jubin’s heads.
The crew had finished all preparations for the scene from Leaf Resting on the Snow.
“First rehearsal, let’s go.”
The assistant director called for standby, and Director Bae Eun-hye’s voice crackled over the speaker.
“Ready.”
Jubin mentally rehearsed his lines, which he had memorized so thoroughly he could recite them in his sleep.
“Action.”
The red tally lights on the cameras flickered on simultaneously.
The set transformed into a deep night in the Joseon Dynasty, the scene focusing on the tyrant’s bedchamber as everyone held their breath in anticipation.
“And him…”
The tyrant, Segyeom, looked down at his concubine, Hyeonseo, as if ready to devour him alive. “You tried to run away with him? How dare you even think of escaping me?”
The tyrant, who had lost his heart to a concubine who wouldn’t even spare him a glance—preferring the kind-hearted main consort instead—was now berating him with fierce intensity.
Jubin, playing the role of the terrified concubine, hunched his shoulders and forced his breath into a threadbare voice.
“Y-Your Majesty. He did nothing wrong…”
Perhaps because the gaze meeting his was so overwhelming, he couldn’t dare look at the supreme ruler, bowing his head even lower.
A rough hand seized Jubin’s chin, gripping it brutally.
He had never been forced into his arms like this before, and Jubin shuddered reflexively.
The terror he’d felt moments ago wasn’t acting. He was just an Omega, instinctively frightened by a powerful Alpha.
“Are you begging for my mercy?”
The performance had to continue.
“What… what must I do to save my friend?”
“You ask how you can save him?”
The voice, now laced with a madder-than-ever derision, sounded so foreign.
I miss the Zion I used to know.
Jubin feigned a reaction to the screams of his friend, who had been captured in his place. This was the part where Kim Do-won’s realistic screams would be added during editing, so Jubin had to carry on with his raw, unpolished acting.
“Ah, no…”
The green eyes, now stained with madness, curved as Zion’s lips pulled back into a smirk.
“Can you hear it? The sound of your precious friend’s limbs being severed… one… by… one…”
Zion’s breathy voice whispered directly into Jubin’s ear.
“That’s the sound of them being torn off.”
A rough hand ripped at Jubin’s otgoreum. Startled by the brutal force, Jubin almost called out Zion’s name.
The one trying to seize and the one trying to resist clashed.
Seriously, every single time… his strength is just insane. I can’t win against him. Not even close…
“Ngh!”
My whole body trembled as I tried to hold him back. Zion threw his massive frame into me, pinning me down with all his weight.
“Fine, go ahead and lift me. Let your scream ring out louder than your dying friend’s.”
He was practically berserk. It was as if Zion had forgotten this was just a rehearsal, completely consumed by his role as King Segyeom.
Clatter!
The violent struggle sent the display cabinet shaking. A ceramic vase fell and shattered on the floor, shards scattering across the blankets spread beneath us.
The moment the fragments flew, Zion instinctively pulled Jubin into his arms.
“Cut!” Director Bae Eun-hye shouted.
Jubin was reeling from the sudden chaos. Is this still the lingering affection Hyeonseo feels for King Segyeom?
No, that was wrong.
This was his own pure feelings for Zion.
His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst, all because of a little skin-to-skin contact after so long.
“Sunbae, are you hurt?”
Where had that cold mask gone? For a fleeting moment, the face of the refreshing boy he once knew peeked through.
His eyes were filled with genuine worry, directed solely at Jubin.
The moment he met that sincere kindness, Jubin’s emotions, already at their breaking point, surged over.
Damn it… He had finally crossed his own line.
He had to hide this overflow of emotion from him at all costs.
“I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”
Though his heart ached at the sincere, gentle concern, Jubin feigned composure and pushed him away.
“Are you two all right?” the director and staff asked as they approached.
It hadn’t been a major accident, and rescheduling was always a headache, so they had expected to push through with the shoot. But their expectations were wrong.
Director Bae Eun-hye had hastily changed the schedule after receiving a phone call.
“Scene Number 52. We’ll reschedule and shoot it another time. I’m sorry.”
She bowed deeply to everyone, apologizing profusely.
When the director bowed, the crew clapped in support, their expressions showing they understood. The set began to wind down.
“Sunbae.”
Zion draped his outer coat over Jubin’s bare shoulders.
He glanced around to see if anyone was watching, then leaned in and whispered low in Jubin’s ear.
“Need help cleaning up the construction site?”
He threw out a dirty joke as casually as ever, as if determined to prove that their relationship wouldn’t change even after they started dating.
Jubin laughed it off, keeping his tone as light as the joke. “I can handle it myself.”
“Hold on.”
As if worried someone might see, Zion tightened the coat around Jubin, wrapping it more securely.
He’s acting just like a boyfriend making sure his man is properly covered up.
“Thanks.”
Joo-won, who had been waiting nearby, came running over.
“Hyung, you worked hard. Let’s head back to the waiting room.”
With Joo-won’s help, I made my way back. After changing in the dressing room, I returned to the set to speak with Director Bae Eun-hye.
For some reason, Zion and Director Bae were locked in a serious conversation.
Maybe their schedules aren’t aligning, I thought, keeping my distance and waiting for them to finish.
Just then, a commotion erupted outside the set.
“I told you, only authorized personnel are allowed in here!”
It was the youngest PD’s urgent voice. What’s going on? Is some outsider causing a scene?
As I turned my head, Zion was already standing beside me.
“Sunbae, let’s step outside for a moment.”
“Outside? Where? I need to talk to the director—”
Shouts erupted outside the set. Even the security guard, who had been guarding the interior, rushed out.
“What’s going on?”
Sensing the situation was escalating, I tried to investigate, but Zion abruptly stepped in front of me. He moved too fast to be a coincidence, like someone who had sensed the danger before anyone else.
“I’ll explain later, Director. Right now, you need to—”
Just then, a man in a suit burst through the half-open set door, causing a commotion.
“I have the production company CEO’s permission! Why do you keep trying to kick me out?”
It was Reporter Choi from Light Search, the very man I’d been avoiding.
Of course, our eyes met.
“Cha Jubin! I’ve finally found you.”
He shoved the rookie PD aside, his face twisting into that signature, relentless smile.
“And the nation’s hero, Do Zion, is here too.”
His gaze was filled with the absolute certainty that he wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed today.
“Do you know Lee Seo-rim woke up?”
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