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“Action!”
The metallic clash of swords rang out throughout the studio. A grunt from one side, a gasp of pain from the other.
“Shit! Cut, cut, cut. What happened? Dokja-ssi, are you okay?”
“Probably? Agh, shit that hurts. Joonghyuk! Yah, Yoo Joonghyuk! What the hell, you-”
Dokja hissed as he kneeled down. The pain subsided slightly, and he was able to glance up at his co-star from his crouched position as the man seemed to have frozen, his pupils the size of pinpricks. The prop dropped to the floor from his shaking hand, the metal clattering loudly in the silence that followed.
He no longer looked like the picturesque, novel-worthy protagonist he was to be dressed and performing as. His voice trembled as he looked from the beads of blood on Kim Dokja’s side to the hand covering the wound.
“I-” He swallowed thickly, tears welling up in his eyes, and mumbled quietly as he crouched down. “Sorry, Dokja-ssi, can you get up? Did I hurt you?”
Dokja paused, confused.
“Yeah, yeah I-I’m okay. But I- you- are you okay? You’re crying like you told the stars to go away and they did.”
Joonghyuk looked away, taking a couple of deep breaths, and helped up the main actor. “I’ll be fine. Go get Lee Seolhwa-nim to disinfect and bandage your wounds so that we can continue filming.”
Bihyung looked between them, then shouted, annoyed, to the remainder of the crew and cast. “We’re taking ten, go grab some water or cry. I need to have a talk with the idiot who gave them the wrong props ! Can we get this right, people?”
People broke into motion, busying themselves with scripts, makeup touch-ups, or background arrangements. Joonghyuk gently nudged Dokja towards the on-set medic and turned away, excusing himself to use the restroom.
Dokja stared after his back in distaste, then turned to Yoo Sangah, a friend of his who ended up cast as a side character. “What’s his problem?”
Joonghyuk heaved, sweat dripping down his forehead, and looked at his tear-streaked face in the theater mirror. It had been so long since he had seen neither hide nor hair of Dokja, and the first time they were cast into a movie together (much less in the same room) he just had to slice open his side. An uncomfortable feeling bubbled in his stomach.
He hadn’t wanted to hurt the elusive man, much less talk to him after the hell he’d been put through, but there they were: a man with near nothing to gain and everything to lose, and the one person who he’d promised never to part with post-childhood. The last conversation they’d had before secondary school was still reverberating loudly around his skull.
“Hyuk-ah! Haha, did you get confessed to again, ‘loverboy’?”
“Yah! Dokja, don’t- That wasn’t a confession, she just… had something to ask me…? I guess?”
“Yeah, and Min Jiwon isn’t called the Beauty King. We all know you’re such a playboy, haha.”
“Whatever. Wanna read it?”
Dokja patted his backpack down as he spoke. “Nah, I’m okay. Ah- I forgot my workbooks in the classroom. Don’t wait, Joonghyuk, go without me.”
“Why can’t we go together?”
“Your little sister needs you.”
And not more than 10 minutes later, as Joonghyuk was waiting at Mia’s preschool, an ambulance rushed past with sirens blaring in the direction of the school. Joonghyuk stared and watched them pass, a sudden realization hitting him like a bullet.
“Dokja?”
"Get away from me, Yoo Joonghyuk. I don’t want to see your face right now.”
“I’m genuinely concerned! The last time I heard from you was when you told me to pick up my little sister, and the next thing I know I see a bunch of police cars and an ambulance headed in the direction of our school! Why can’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Dokja shoved him aside, clicking his tongue and looking at him with a scathing glare.
“Like you’d care.”
“Excuse me? ‘Like you’d care’? LIKE YOU’D CARE? Dokja, I care. Sometimes I think I care too much! I do so much to keep our friendship afloat: I take you to libraries, I let you tease me about all the bullshit love letters I receive, I let you cheat off my homework and leech off my lunches! What have you done for me? God, it’s like you don’t even care about our friendship! All you do is laugh at me, leech off me, whatever you want!”
It’s like I’m not even a person, just some stupid ‘protagonist’ you always seem to compare me to! I-I’m not strong, or stoic, or a regressor, or anything you expect me to be!
“I’m Yoo Joonghyuk , your friend and classmate and- and something else! I don’t even know if we’ve been friends this whole time, or if you’re choosing to play me like a fiddle, but I’m sick of it!”
From now on, if you don’t tell me anything, fine! I’m not your friend as long as you choose to treat me like a toy.
Joonghyuk stormed off in a fit of rage while Dokja stared at him with tired eyes, looking dully from his spot on the sidewalk. The sidewalk they’d always walked. The sidewalk where Joonghyuk had made fun of Dokja’s shoelaces being untied, then taught him how to tie them. Where the first girl went up to Joonghyuk and gave him that first love letter, and Dokja looked at it with envy and a slight sense of pride.
“Fine, you bastard!” He shouted at the retreating figure with rage filling his veins, legs feeling like lead. “I don’t need you anyway! I’ve never needed you! Enjoy your bullshit life and your fakeass admirers and those dumb love letters and your shitty singing! I don’t need you! Piss off! I never want to see you again!” Dokja’s throat was sore when he was done shouting, and as he wrinkled his nose with distaste, he looked one more time towards the head of wavy hair, the black backpack he always made fun of for being ‘emo’, the tall figure with lithe footsteps that were stomping on the ground. “Don’t come back, Joonghyuk. It’s better this way.”
Dokja looked at his bandaged hands, then touched them to his slightly bloodied bandage, well-covered by his bangs, and stormed off in huff.
They saw each other again. Unfortunately, not in the way either had hoped.
Yoo Sangah brushed her hair away from her neck and placed it in front of her shoulder. “So what’s the history between you and Joonghyuk-ssi, anyway? You don’t seem very confrontational, Dokja-ssi.”
“He’s a bastard , that’s all he is. Ow!” Lee Seolhwa patted down his skin with an antiseptic wipe and unwrapped the bandage from its packaging. “Just a bit more, Dokja-nim. I have to put the bandage on, or it could bleed onto the costumes. Also, you should try getting along with Joonghyuk-nim. Maybe it could be different this time?”
Kim Dokja looked at the cut, sighing slightly and cringing from the pain. “Get along with that bastard? In another universe, maybe. He’s tone-deaf and too much like a protagonist and an asshole and anyone who says otherwise is a damn liar. He’s a terrible person, trust me.”
Dokja gritted his teeth as Seolhwa yanked on the bandage plastered to him, ensuring it would stay in place.
“Well, you never know. People can change a lot in time. How long ago was the last time you saw him?”
“Around ten years. He’s still the same miserable guy I first met, though. Why should he get sympathy points when he can never give any to the people around him?”
Yoo Sangah looks at him carefully, contemplating her next words. “Well, ten years is a long time. Plus, maybe he never meant anything bad if you two had an argument last time?”
“Bullshit, but… Ugh, fine , I’ll try getting along with him.” Dokja rolled his eyes and nodded towards Lee Seolhwa as she packed up the first aid kit and slid it back in place on the shelf.
Lee Seolhwa stood up, dusting off her pants. “If you need a conversation starter, maybe you could discuss his sister?”
Dokja froze in remembrance. “N-No, Seolhwa-ssi, I think maybe I’ll use a different topic. Thank you though.”
That was who I told him to look after before I was pushed. Nope. Not that topic.
“Everyone, back on set in 3! If anyone is late, they’re getting their drinks last!”
Dokja stood up, panicked, and Yoo Sangah walked out in front of him.
“But I don’t really want to-” He bumped into a firm chest, just barely missing his nose. “Ow! What the-”
He looked up at the figure, whom he had then recognized as Yoo Joonghyuk, His Royal Asspain Supreme, with red eyes and messed-up mascara.
What the fuck.
The other man walked over to the makeup section as everyone settled back into place.
Bihyung shooed them on and called for Set. Dokja was placed back in the spotlight, sword on his waist and poker face set.
“Joonghyuk should be around here somewhere, right Jihye-”
The camera panned to Joonghyuk, makeup quickly redone and looking like nothing had occurred prior. The green screen background led a sharp contrast to his black trench coat and outfit as an old man smiled coyly in the background.
Kim Dokja gritted his teeth and smirked.
“The Theater Master. He has full control of Joonghyuk-ssi, everyone, watch out!”
On cue, Joonghyuk darted at Jihye and closed the gap between his fist and an inch’s worth of space against her face as she jumped back and ‘collapsed’ onto the ground. His other coworker, Jung Heewon, lunged at the second protagonist. “I’ll get the Theater Master, Heewon-ssi, just distract him.”
Joonghyuk glared in his direction. Dokja was only just barely able to evade as Joonghyuk pointed the tip of his sword towards him.
“Dammit!” Dokja unsheathed Unbroken Faith and swung it with both hands at the center of Joonghyuk’s blade.
Clang! The weapons repelled against each other, magic power enveloping each blade. A huge crater formed in the center of the roof and Dokja’s knees nearly buckled, the force driving both people’s feet into the concrete.
“CUT! We need new camera angles. We’ll get the editing team to make the VFX on the ground for the later scenes.”
As Dokja and Joonghyuk froze their bodies in place, Joonghyuk turned towards him with confusion and hurt in his eyes.
“Dokja.”
The man clicked his tongue in discontent and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “What is it, Joonghyuk? If you’re planning on apologizing for the sword wound earlier, you can forget it. I don’t need an apology for an accident no matter who caused it .”
“Dokja, I’m… can we talk after this shoot? Just the two of us? I’m sure our managers will understand if we discuss topics regarding our roles.”
“Damn bastard. If I wanted to talk with you, I would have done it already. I see no need for us to meet after this.”
“You don’t want to, but we both need to address our past, Dokja. I know you know.”
“And what will you gain after all this? Weren’t you the one to walk away?”
“It was because you practically forced my hand, Dokja! Just-“
“Cameras in position! Gilyoung, on for the next scene.” Bihyung shouted, startling them both slightly out of position as a young boy was ushered into place wearing a dirtied sweatshirt and shorts.
“Quiet on set! Lights, camera, action!”
Dokja touched Lee Gilyoung’s shoulder and staggered forward a bit “Gilyoung. Please. Do you know what to do?”
Gilyoung nodded reluctantly. “Yes, hyung.”
Dokja looked at the boy, guilt flooding his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“No.”
Gilyoung started mumbling incoherently under his breath and stared at the tiled floor of the rooftop as Dokja downed the diluted and dyed corn syrup methodically as though he’d done it countless times before.
The reader inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as power rushed into his veins (well, as much as the sugar in the syrup would provide anyway). He opened them, pupils slanted, and pushed against the force the secondary protagonist was exerting. Dokja gritted his teeth, being pushed slightly back, and reared back to ‘punch’ Joonghyuk square in the jaw.
Dokja roared out in anger, furrowing his eyebrows as his nose wrinkled in frustration. “You idiot! Aren’t you a real protagonist? Haven’t you only regressed three times?”
The reader sent another blow to Joonghyuk’s head, slowing him down a bit, and kicked his chest with the vigor of a wronged man.
“Do you really think so? You’ve already forgotten the determination of your first attempt. You bastard, don’t fall into those sentiments…” Dokja murmured into the space between them. “If you can’t find the meaning of life in front of you, didn’t you decide to live for the greater cause?”
Furious tears welled up in Dokja’s eyes, his breath stalling and synchronizing with the man’s in front of him.
Dokja sucked a breath in between his clenched teeth. “Alone…? What did I come here for if you are alone? ”
Dokja dashed behind the protagonist, only to be met with his blade once again as their swords clashed, sparks flying into the air from the blow.
“Why are you alone?” Dokja shouted, wiping a tear with the sleeve on his shoulder. “When you died like a fool in the Theatre Dungeon, when you cried over your dead little sister, when the prophet stabbed you in the back! When your loved one gave birth to a child…!”
Dokja dodged one final time, then started trading blows with Joonghyuk harder than usual.
“You went crazy after your child died! Fighting against demon kings and the returnees! Helping people and fighting against those damn reincarnators! Finally standing before the constellations!”
Dokja closed his eyes. “Look around you, and try to live. Somehow. I…”
Dokja’s hand trembled as he looked ahead into Joonghyuk’s eyes.
“You… Who are you?”
“CUT!” That’s all for today, everyone. Go home and I’ll see you all here by 6 AM tomorrow.”
Joonghyuk sheathed his sword, Dokja smoothing his hair back, and they both took a step back as costume and makeup departments swarmed them.
Joonghyuk called over his shoulder, Dokja unwittingly making eye contact with him. “Dokja! Eat with me for dinner.”
Dokja looked away, sighing and grumbling under his breath. “Fine. I’ll let Biyoo know.”
They met outside the studio, Biyoo smiling at Sajeo and trading phone numbers as both of the men they managed glared each other down.
“Sajeo-nim! You’re dealing with this fussy man?” Biyoo grinned and nudged Sajeo with her elbow.
Sajeo laughed. “The same could be said for you, Biyoo-nim. Isn’t he such a pain to deal with?” The two women sighed, looking at the clashing gazes of their assigned actors, and Biyoo shrugged. “Well, this is a talk I suspect both of them have needed for a long time. Right, Sajeo-nim?” The wolf-like woman patted Biyoo’s back in sympathy. “Oh, man. You have no idea . I can drive by the way, Biyoo-nim.”
Biyoo sighed in relief, then turned to Dokja and Joonghyuk.
“I call shotgun! And we’re going to the First Murim restaurant, which I’ve heard is Joonghyuk-nim’s favorite, so he can actually eat there rather than starve to death.”
Kim Dokja swiveled his head to meet Biyoo’s gaze. “What?! I’m not sitting in the back seat with him-”
Joonghyuk stepped forward, sliding open the van’s door and sitting down, smoothly sliding the buckle shut, and motioned to his co-star to hurry up.
“What the fuck! Biyoo, you traitor…” All the blonde girl did was smile coyly and usher him in so he was sitting thigh-to-thigh with Joonghyuk, a grimace present on his worn face.
Sajeo smiled, adjusting the rear view mirror and turning on her signal light. “Here we go!”
Two actors and their managers step into First Murim. The younger manager, Biyoo, asked for a table for four, arranged to meet with the owner of the establishment and ordered four dumpling and chicken soup orders. The older manager and the two co worker-nemesis sat down in a corner booth and the manager ordered a bottle of Soju due to the suspicion that this was going to be a very, very long night.
“So. We need background knowledge otherwise we won’t be able to figure out why you two are so damn pissy with each other. As managers, it’s our job to ensure the cooperation within and without the actors’ roles. So! Who’d like to go first?”
Yoo Joonghyuk raised his hand. “I think this is a stupid idea.”
Kim Dokja raised his hand, trying his best to scoot away from his childhood ex-best friend. “I also think this is a stupid idea, Sajeo-nim.”
Biyoo sat down across from Joonghyuk, grabbing both mens’ skyward wrists and dragging them down. “Too bad! We’ve decided that enough is enough, and I’m personally sick of the tension every time Dokja-nim sees a shipping comment between him and Joonghyuk-nim online.” Biyoo, with a placating smile on her face and eyes like that of a devil, narrowed her pupils in Joonghyuk’s direction.
“Ah, Joonghyuk-nim! Why don’t you start us off. ”
“No.”
Just then, a large shadow fell over their table. A giant woman, four soup bowls balanced skillfully along her forearms and hands walks up to the table with a shorter man holding three comically oversized plates of dumplings on rice all meticulously placed on a tray following her lead.
Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja blanched, faces paling instantly as Namgung Minyoung and Kyrgios Rodgraim stared at them, sliding cutlery and dishes onto the table while indiscreetly glaring at their students.
“...Master.” The two actors spoke at the same time, faces paling as their masters stared each of them down.
“So, Disciple Yoo , where have you been?”
“My naughty disciple. When was the last time you came to see your master?”
An imposing aura weighed down on the booth as Namgung Minyoung and Kyrgios Rodgraim sat down. An eerie smile was plastered onto the giant woman’s face as Kyrgios’s eyes narrowed at his disciple and his acting co-star.
‘Oh, shit.’ Kim Dokja silently murmured prayers for salvation to any god that was listening as Yoo Joonghyuk stared at the worn resin coating of the table, wishing it would consume him.
Their masters both spoke at the same time.
“Let’s talk.”
‘FUCK.’
After the initial verbal beating given to the grown men (and the delicious dumplings and chicken soup Biyoo had ordered), Yoo Joonghyuk’s master turned to Kim Dokja and eyed him curiously; her eyes grazing over his thinner figure and the purposely avoidant eyes trailing along the ceiling noted the sweat dripping down the side and back of his neck as he crumbled under her gaze like a poorly made sand castle.
“You. Disrespectful man. How do you know my cute disciple?”
Quick! Play dumb.
Kim Dokja stood up abruptly, nudging Joonghyuk’s shoulder with urgency. “I… I don’t know him at all! Nope, never even seen him before. What disciple, ma’am?” Not that dumb, Kim Dokja! Let me out, Yoo Joonghyuk! Your master is scary!
Namgung Minyoung reached over the table without much delay and pushed Dokja back onto his seat. “Don’t lie, this master heard about your little breakup with my disciple from years ago. I’m just upset that I’m finally being introduced now.”
Dokja stared at the giant woman, his head blanking for a brief second as he processed the breakup statement.
What breakup? Yoo Joonghyuk was dating someone? But I was near him all the time before I was pushed. I don’t recall any of our classmates being attracted to more than his face. Maybe Nirvana? But they transferred schools within the first two weeks of the school year…
“Ah, well, it’s good to see the ex-boyfriend my cute disciple was trying so hard to hide. What do you think, Kyrgios?”
“My disciple ran off to join an actor’s studio, at least yours continued to meet you.”
“Hm, not unexpected. Everyone complains about how your silly disciple became the best ‘villain’ in Korea’s acting industry, but you raised him from the ground to the stars. If anyone’s to blame for his reckless abandonment, it should be you. Who taught him how to be a ‘responsible and filial disciple’? Certainly not the man sitting beside me.”
Yoo Joonghyuk glanced at Kim Dokja worriedly. What the hell did the Kyrgios Rodgraim say? The man who unhesitatingly swept away the acting world alongside one of the most influential K-pop idols in the entertainment industry, his own master?
Kim Dokja groaned, shifting away uncomfortably from his old classmate. “ Master Kyrgios, you made me repeat the same lines for hours on end! You told me to emphasize words in different parts and to drag out words differently each time! And held a checklist! What if I didn’t join Dokkaebi Industries? My throat would go hoarse from the wear and I would never see the light of day ever again. Hm? Did you want that for your precious disciple?”
“Tsk.”
Yoo Joonghyuk snorted, coughing to hide his amusement, as a death glare taught by the blue-haired man sitting across from Yoo Joonghyuk beams into his forehead from beside him.
“This was wonderful, master, Yoo Joonghyuk’s guardian, but I’m going to get going!” Kim Dokja gritted his teeth and flung himself onto the seat divider of the booth and ran off as Biyoo hurriedly called after him.
“Dokja-nim! Your wound might reopen, please be careful!”
Yoo Joonghyuk lifted Biyoo and Sajeo by the collars of their jackets as he shouldered open the door of the restaurant and chased the slippery man.
“Kim Dokja!”
The reader was crouched against the wall of the restaurant, the darkness of the alleyway doing poorly to hide his sickly complexion. He winced as he pressed the pads of his fingers lightly against his wound from the hours prior, blood staining his shirt.
The shouts from his childhood friend snapped him from his dizziness as footsteps came from the entrance of the alley.
Yoo Joonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja in shock, hands hesitating as he reached out to slowly hand his acting companion a roll of self-adhering bandages and pour rubbing alcohol on a clean tissue.
“Kim Dokja, were you going to run off again without telling me?”
Dokja looked up, hearing a concerned and defeated tone rather than an accusatory one.
“What does it matter to you? It’s not as though you actually care, right?”
Dokja scoffed. The concern was borne from nothing but courtesy, he was sure of it. Yoo Joonghyuk, ever the charmer, never needed to concern himself with antagonistic characters like him. His gaze met Yoo Joonghyuk’s as a tear fell from his old best friend’s face.
“Why are you crying? It’s not like you’re the one with an open side or unhealthy ideologies about life.”
Yoo Joonghyuk choked out a sob, stepping closer to the wounded man. “Let me wipe away the blood, okay? It’s going to hurt, but you’ll be alright. You’re going to be okay. You’re not going to die.”
He won’t die, right? He can’t die. We need him. I need him. What will I do if he’s gone?
“Why… what happened when we lost contact?” What happened when I cut you off? “Why are you so upset at my injury?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stopped from wiping his wound for a brief moment, just enough for Kim Dokja to catch a glimpse of his somewhat messier-than-usual hair.
“I saw the article from when you fell. How the cameras were broken and they couldn’t catch the perpetrators.
“Then I saw the image of your body at the top of the article. You were just lying there on the pavement. I know you went to the hospital. I know you avoided me. I just can’t understand why.”
His co-star murmured under his breath, so quietly that the sound was near indistinguishable from the wind blowing through the corridor..
“Why did you push me away all those years ago, Kim Dokja?”
Kim Dokja slowly opened his mouth as explanations and thoughts ran through his head, wrapping the bandage around his side carefully.
“I… mmmmm… I was scared of you feeling pity for me, like I was some glass figure that needed to be wrapped in foam and covered in bubble wrap. When I was with you, the bullying never happened, sure, but they found me before school and kept hitting me. The threats were getting to be too much, and by the time I figured out that maybe distancing myself from you was the easiest way to stop you from getting hurt too.”
A hiss came from his mouth as he tightened the wrapping. His hands faintly shook as he recalled the fateful incident. “That one day where I’d forgotten my book was genuine. I went back to class, and Song Minwoo was just… waiting for me . He and his friends pushed me around, shoving desks onto me, and I tried to get away. I forgot I didn’t have my phone with me that day, so I couldn’t call you for help. They grabbed me by my arms. Grabbed me and just…”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s fists clenched as he continued to listen.
“Tossed you out of the window?”
Kim Dokja chuckled.
“Yeah, I guess that’s another way to put it. One of them ended up realizing that they could have gotten expelled and called an ambulance, I bet. No sympathy from them.”
Yoo Joonghyuk slipped the bandage into his hand and, without warning, pulled Kim Dokja into a hug. He rested his face in the crook of the reader’s neck, breaths uneven, as his fingers dug into Kim Dokja’s shirt.
“You fool. I would have stopped them. I could have stopped them. Why didn't you let me help?”
He pulled back, wiping away tears the reader hadn’t noticed were falling.
“They wanted to ‘befriend’ you, wanted to force you to smoke and drink and bully me too. I don’t- I didn’t want that to happen. I was scared you’d hate me.”
“Kim Dokja, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”
Kim Dokja looked up through wet eyelashes at his friend, his companion, and smiled.
“What is it, Joonghyuk-ah?”
Yoo Joonghyuk pulled him forwards, desperately clinging to his neck and placing their foreheads on one another.
“I could never hate you. How could I, when you’re the one I love the most?”
He kissed Dokja with a surge of courage, tears still falling from his eyes, as the other chuckled sadly between their lips.
“I’m not a good person, Joonghyuk-ah. They bullied me because they knew they would be a bad influence on you. I tried doing the right thing, and look where it got us.”
“What does it matter? They would never have understood me the way you do anyway.”
Kim Dokja buried himself in Yoo Joonghyuk’s warm embrace, muffling faint cries.
“I’m not good enough, then. I’ll never be good enough.”
He whispered in the space between them, his voice watery.
“Nobody forced you to, and nobody will. I promise.”
And maybe that was all Kim Dokja needed.
He broke down in tears as Biyoo and Sajeo ran into the alley, halting in their tracks and looking towards each other.
Sajeo grinned at the heap of sadness that was a main character and co-star, motioning to First Murim beside them.
“Namgung-noonim said that we get free dessert for the trauma and the overinterrogation.”
The group of four stepped into the restaurant again, two of them with interlaced hands and flushed faces and the other two with large grins and even larger egos.
“We’re back, grand-masters!” Sajeo giddily ran forward and collapsed against Namgung Minyoung, Biyoo practically jumping into Kyrgios’ arms with a squeal that could rival that of a dog toy.
“I can’t believe we would have had a chance at being in the acting industry rather than managing the ones inside of it! If only the goods ,” Biyoo pointedly glared in the direction of the two men, “Had bothered telling us instead of staying up until dawn reviewing scripts for old and new scenes, huh?”
The giant woman grinned coyly, speaking loud enough for Yoo Joonghyuk to overhear. “He was too focused on his career, but if you and his boyfriend convince him he’d probably let you give it a try.”
Both actors quickly released their entangled hands, sticking them into their pockets as each took a step to the side. Biyoo grinned at her ‘grand-master’ as she clung to Sajeo’s arm.
“If I can be of any help, I say let them have some more alone time and try getting their permission after.” Sajeo leaned against Biyoo. “That was how Joonghyukie got permission to become an actor.”
“Hm.”
Biyoo’s phone chimed with a KakaoTalk notification at the same time as Sajeo’s. She unlocked her phone unhurriedly, then suddenly shrieked as Sajeo gaped at her own screen.
“Dokja-oppa! Your favourite script writer just messaged me asking if you want a role in her newest production! The casting director is leaving everything to her!”
Kim Dokja whipped his head towards his manager.
“You couldn’t mean… tls123? The tls123?”
“That’s the thing, oppa… she says her name is Han Sooyoung.”
Sajeo stammered, then recollected herself. “Joonghyukie, you too! W-What?!”
Sajeo grabbed Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulders and shook them in delight. “She says she’s going to be one of the actors and that she’d love to meet you two for coffee. She’s the best screenwriter of the century. You two have to take this chance.”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked towards Kim Dokja, who was beaming with delight.
“Who am I to say no to my favourite author-turned-screenwriter? I’d be insane not to go.”
Yoo Joonghyuk nodded his head in agreement. “Does it interfere with the current film we’re in the middle of?”
Sajeo shook her head no. “She knows the schedules and wants to film, this is insane!”
“Her films have always been exemplary. I couldn’t turn down this offer if I tried.”
Biyoo shoved the group to the door in a hurry.
“Then we’d better get going, grand-master-nims! We’ll take your dessert offer next time we’re here, but for now these two have to sleep early!”
Kyrgios glared down his disciple. “Stay in contact.”
Dokja nodded his head in assent and strode out excitedly, the two managers and his boyfriend right behind him.
"We'll be back soon, master. Promise."
And this time he meant it.