T/N: I need this Deokchun arc to be done with raahhh
[H-huh…?]
No matter how you listened, that shriek hadn’t been the happy squeal one gives a cute pet.
Yeonwoo quickly wrapped his hand around the hamster’s plump body.
“Uh… It’s a hamster that follows me around. I felt bad leaving it alone, so… I carry it with me.”
A clumsy excuse—but Min Yerin was too tense to notice the awkwardness.
“Th‑that’s… cu… cute… yes… the hamster is very… cute…”
She did not look charmed. Her pupils trembled, and the smile that had curved her lips moments ago froze and quivered.
“Are you… perhaps afraid of hamsters?”
“N‑no?! No, not at all.” Yet her fingers were shaking.
“Hamsters are cute, right? What woman hates a cute hamster?”
She forced a laugh, but unlike her earlier sincere smile it was painfully contrived.
She’s definitely afraid, Yeonwoo thought.
And clearly wanted to hide it. Better to pretend not to notice than to be labelled “the weirdo who carries a hamster.”
“So. Cu‑te. So – very – cu‑te.”
Even a text‑to‑speech program would sound more natural. Strangely, her diction was crisp and precise.
Yeonwoo decided to ignore the fact that the famed method actress was now giving the worst performance of her career.
“Well, I’ll be going. The shoot is running late.”
“Yes…”
It felt like she was fleeing.
But her scene isn’t until tonight, he mused.
She snatched at that flimsy excuse and hurried out of the lounge.
Left behind was—
[Yeonwoo…? Am I… not cute?]
A single hamster, wounded by the violent rejection of a newly acquired favorite actress.
[Maybe Min Yerin just isn’t into furry animals? Some people like weird pets—spiders and stuff…]
“Why do you care so much?”
[Good question… But it keeps bothering me…]
After she bolted, Dongjaryeong fell into gloom. Evidently the sudden horror after being adored everywhere else had stung.
…He really is an odd one, Yeonwoo thought. The people around him were all strange—though he had removed the most unpleasant of them.
Two days earlier he had finally completed “Lee Deokchun’s re‑education.”
No matter how he ran in circles on set, catching him wasn’t hard. If not inside, then outside.
—Hah! H‑how did you find this place?!
Who knows? He bit back. Ghosts are everywhere. If the man fainted, that would be troublesome.
—Y‑you’re going to choke me again…!
Choke you? I’ve never done that. Don’t accuse innocent people.
—Goddamn…
Even shocked, Deokchun cursed.
Exactly, we’re close enough to trade insults. Let’s not drag this out; I’m tired of you.
Yeonwoo pricked a finger, drew in the air with blood.
—What the hell are you…?!
The blood‑drawn sigil soaked into his palm. He pressed it against Deokchun’s eyelids.
—Aagh?! Ack?! Ah…?
“All done.”
There was no pain. Deokchun, who had screwed his eyes shut screaming, blinked them open.
Geez, why let eyebrow dandruff stick there?
To any passer‑by it looked like he’d merely brushed something from the man’s face—no need to attract suspicion on a nearly finished job. He patted Deokchun’s shoulders.
“Live kindly from now on, okay? Stop the stupid stunts… though I doubt you can.”
—What’s that supposed to…
—…supposed to… sir…?
“Nothing you need to know. Go home and sleep.”
—O‑okay…
The idol slunk away in his sleek sports car.
Nice ride. Not that he’ll drive it much longer.
Today
“Mr Lee Deokchun can’t be reached?”
“Yes, Director. His phone is powered off.”
“What? Are you kidding me? What do his manager and agency say?!”
“They’re trying too, but no luck…”
“Did they check his house? Anywhere he might be?!”
“Well… they think he’s deliberately gone off‑grid. They say he’s been unreachable since yesterday.”
“Dammit!” Director Heo clutched his neck.
A staff member tried to soothe him, but—
“If he’s decided to dive, how do we find him?!”
“Uh… why the mood?”
Seonghyun’s manager, arriving late, asked blankly.
“Someone in the cast vanished.”
“Vanished? Nuts. Who ghosts on a Heo production? Want out of the industry? Who is it?”
“Lee Deokchun—the idol playing the grim reaper.”
“Oh, that rude idol? Knew he was flaky—now he’s fully a dool‑gi.”
“Dool‑gi?”
“Pigeon. Means a runaway in this business.”
[Good thing I ditched the pigeon form, huh? Would’ve been lumped with that loser.] Dongjaryeong muttered inside the pocket.
Seonghyun arrived early as usual, and his presence steadied the shaken set a little—but only a little. The atmosphere kept deteriorating.
The grim‑reaper role was small yet crucial.
“He won’t really stay gone, right? Maybe he’ll crawl back in a few days?”
“We already shot his early scenes… surely…”
But surely wasn’t enough. A week passed with no contact.
“We can reshuffle shooting around him only so many times. Early episodes need him.”
“This is insane. Poor Seonghyun and Yerin—outdoor shoots got yanked forward because of that jerk.”
“Did you hear we almost made the news?”
“Seriously?”
“The director smoothed it over, but headquarters chewed him out.”
“Universal pain in the neck.”
The schedule now pulled late‑season scenes forward. Luckily the show was half pre‑produced; otherwise chaos would be worse.
“Are we going to recast?”
“Don’t even want to think about it…”
A press conference was long past; replacing an actor now meant scandal before airing.
“Everything’s going wrong lately. Even the gear’s acting up.”
“You notice the vibe’s weird? The lodging felt creepy earlier.”
“Pretty scenery, but gives me chills.”
“I thought I was catching a flu, but other staff feel it too.”
“Maybe because we’re in the mountains?”
Equipment malfunctioned—mics hissed, lights flickered. Even the location felt gloomy.
Yeonwoo listened and thought, So he really was that irresponsible.
He’d simply let Deokchun glimpse the nightmares born of his own sins and the grudges clinging to him; apparently that was enough to send him scurrying.
Minimal effort, really.
Education—imparting knowledge and fostering character, the dictionary said.
He’d merely shown the man the direct results of his deeds.
[Kids these days are so weak. He only saw what he made, yet panicked after a few days. You’ve watched stuff like that for twenty years, Yeonwoo.] Spoke the decades‑old spirit.
Nightmares—that was the key. Seeing grudges wasn’t enough; he’d touched the man’s subconscious.
A sinner should repent and make amends.
Lee Deokchun had betrayed, exploited, even tried to snuff out a life in the womb for convenience. Yeonwoo despised that sort most of all.
The title of ‘parent’ is sacred!
Some people fought tooth and nail to keep it—like Yeonwoo’s mother, Kang Yeon‑hwa.
[Think he’ll come back?]
“He can’t hide forever. I made sure of that. Running doesn’t fix it.”
[Scary kid, you are…]
Yeonwoo smiled faintly.
“What’s scary about me? He’s the scared one. I didn’t expect him to shake off the compulsion and bolt, though.”
[Wait—you used a word‑binding curse on his unconscious?]
“Had to—otherwise he wouldn’t listen.”
[True. Scum like that don’t get it till you go that far.]
“Still, diving like this—impressive nerve, huh?”
[That’s how he could do those rotten things in the first place.]
If the side effect was his disappearance, so be it. Yeonwoo felt no guilt; he’d merely hastened what would unfold eventually. Better early than late.
Without him, shooting continued—but the mood stayed bad.
“Dammit, now the lights are glitching.”
The outdoor lights fluttered though technicians swarmed over them.
“Earlier the mics buzzed, now the lights… every damn thing.”
“Did that bastard curse us before he left?”
“Wouldn’t doubt it. Editing almost blew up the other day.”
“Heard the PD nearly lost it. How can one show tangle up this bad?”
“Feels like a hex…”
“Pretty view, but I swear the place is freezing to look at.”
“Thought I was coming down with something. Turns out other crew feel it too.”
“Saying it’s just the sun setting doesn’t cover it—maybe it’s because we’re in the mountains?”
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