NOVEL NEXT chapter 30
Ye Ju-yeol was on the verge of tears now.
“I never imagined you’d actually watched my movie, sunbae-nim. I could die right now and have no regrets—hic. I’m— I’m really your fan. I’ve seen every single one of your works, from your debut film to the newly released Third Round Funeral! Not a single one missed!”
“Uh… thank you, but…”
Could he please calm down a little? No matter how much Seo-eul tried to keep his composure, he kept involuntarily retreating step by step, scratching his pride all over again. He’d survived the Paper Doll Incident No. 2 with grace, but it didn’t look like Ju-yeol was going to let him keep that composure for long.
“I really, really wanted to meet you! I mean, I’m nowhere near your level yet, but I hoped that someday we might cross paths in a project! The PD said to look forward to our pairing, but wow, w-wow… I never thought we’d meet like this, I’m just—!”
His grip was strong. It didn’t hurt, but it was firm enough that Seo-eul couldn’t break free even if he tried. Having long been trained by Sa-heon’s antics, Seo-eul simply decided to give up. Effort wouldn’t help, and it was obvious Ju-yeol didn’t mean any harm.
But when he was pushed another step backward, he finally had to open his mouth.
“Ju-yeol-ssi, maybe calm down a litt—”
“What are you doing?”
A dull thud hit his back—something solid—followed by a familiar low voice near his ear.
There was no need to turn around. Seo Sa-heon, who had silently moved behind him, was looking down at the ridiculous scene with a face that didn’t find any of it amusing. Thanks to his presence, Seo-eul stopped being shoved backward, unconsciously letting his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized it himself.
Of course, Sa-heon noticed.
He felt the tension drain from Seo-eul’s body as he steadied him, keeping one hand lightly at his waist so he wouldn’t stumble. His gaze then slid forward—toward Ye Ju-yeol, whose hand was still clamped around Seo-eul’s.
The first to react was Yoon Hyuk.
It had all happened too fast for him to intervene earlier, but now he jabbed his elbow sharply into Ju-yeol’s side.
A strangled groan escaped, but it couldn’t be helped. Having good instinct, Yoon Hyuk immediately sensed that he needed to separate his friend from Lee Seo-eul—before that expression on Seo Sa-heon’s face got any darker. Not that instinct even mattered; anyone who saw Sa-heon’s look would shut up and step back on pure survival instinct.
“Hey—!”
He hissed it without even moving his lips, ventriloquist-style. Thankfully, after a few seconds, Ju-yeol snapped back to reality.
Grinding his teeth, Yoon Hyuk muttered under his breath, “Hands.”
“Uh?” Ju-yeol blinked, then followed Yoon Hyuk’s gaze down to his own hands—still wrapped tightly around Seo-eul’s. His eyes bulged, and he stumbled backward, jerking free as if shocked by electricity. Clearly, he hadn’t been aware of what he was doing in the throes of fanboy euphoria.
Apparently, he knew his own grip strength.
Finally released, Seo-eul blinked blankly for a moment. The rapid shifts in atmosphere left his head spinning. A second ago Ju-yeol had been clinging and babbling; now he looked utterly crushed, his brows drooping and shoulders sagging like a scolded puppy left out in the rain.
Seo-eul couldn’t help it—he laughed.
Something about the sight reminded him too much of the man standing behind him.
“It’s fine. I’m not hurt. Have you calmed down now?”
Freely waving his hand again, Seo-eul soothed him with a gentle tone. And truthfully, aside from the surprise, he was fine. As an actor, he was more flattered than anything—someone liked his work that much.
At his mild laughter, Ju-yeol nodded so hard it looked dangerous. The intensity of it undermined any credibility, but Seo-eul decided to take it in stride.
Thankfully, right before his head could pop off, Ju-yeol stopped nodding and glanced up at him again.
Was he checking if Seo-eul was truly unbothered? Seo-eul smiled kindly to reassure him—only for Ju-yeol’s expression to twist into something even stranger. Yoon Hyuk’s face, too, grew equally stiff beside him.
…?
Puzzled, Seo-eul tilted his head, then suddenly realized.
Ah. Of course. Neither of them had introduced themselves to Sa-heon yet. And it wasn’t like they’d met him before. Knowing how pitifully small Sa-heon’s social circle was, Seo-eul turned his head—just as expected, he found Sa-heon staring right at him.
No wonder it had gone quiet.
The intensity of that gaze made Seo-eul’s temples ache.
Sa-heon wasn’t even pretending to show interest in anyone else. His disinterest was so blatant it might as well have been neon-lit. This wasn’t a private space; the cameras were still rolling. They couldn’t afford to ruin the first meeting like this.
“Sa-heon-ah. You should introduce yourself too.”
His voice was gentle, but the edge beneath it was clear.
You’re the one who agreed to this variety show, his look said.
At that, Sa-heon finally moved his eyes forward.
Unlike the warmth they sometimes held for Seo-eul, his black pupils showed not a trace of emotion now. Just cold, indifferent boredom—exactly the expression the public associated with Seo Sa-heon.
Even so, just locking eyes with him sent a chill down both Ju-yeol’s and Yoon Hyuk’s spines.
They swallowed hard, unconsciously straightening their posture.
They’d only ever heard about him in rumors, but seeing Seo Sa-heon in person was something else. He was tall—taller even than Ju-yeol, who was used to looking down on most men—and broad-shouldered for a model.
Even through a simple T-shirt, the defined lines beneath were obvious. His tanned skin, the veins standing out across his hands—everything about him radiated a lazy, dangerous kind of sensuality. It was no wonder he drove both stans and antis insane.
After all, his nickname was Wreck Muse.
Even Yoon Hyuk, who’d heard every bizarre stage alias under the sun, had never come across a combination like that before. Wreck and Muse in one phrase—who would’ve thought?
But Seo Sa-heon had earned it. He was a walking headline generator. If anyone else had faced the kind of scandals he had, ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) they would’ve retired long ago. There was even a running joke online:
“Never click Seo Sa-heon videos on YouTube.”
Because once you did, the algorithm was doomed—your feed would be ruined forever.
In his early days, the smear campaigns had been so intense they rivaled political propaganda. Thankfully, after a barrage of lawsuits upon lawsuits, most of it had been cleaned up. Nowadays, the public simply avoided clicking anything with his face in the thumbnail.
With a reputation that toxic, most celebrities would’ve been blacklisted. But not him.
Debuting as a magazine model, he’d quickly risen to walk runways, shoot endless pictorials and ad campaigns, and even become the first Asian ambassador for Cardet.
And then, out of nowhere, the drama he’d starred in—against all odds—became a massive hit.
If Lady Luck existed, she clearly stood right behind Seo Sa-heon.
“……”
And now came his turn for an introduction.
Both Ju-yeol and Yoon Hyuk swallowed again, identical in their nervousness. Rumor had it he had a terrible personality… but with Seo Sa-heon, who could ever be sure?
Besides, there was something else that had been bothering them this whole time—
That hand of his still resting firmly at Lee Seo-eul’s waist.
Sure, maybe he’d grabbed him to keep him from falling earlier. But… now that Seo-eul wasn’t falling, shouldn’t he let go?
They exchanged uneasy glances, but before either could say anything, Sa-heon’s eyes dropped—almost as if realizing it at the same time.
And then—
“I’m a fan of Lee Seo-eul too,” he said calmly.
No one could have predicted that line.
As he spoke, Sa-heon tightened his arm around Seo-eul’s waist, pulling him closer—
an act that could only be described as pure provocation.