Click.
The sound of a photo being taken rang out.
Click click.
Han Seong‑tae held a dumbbell in one hand and, with the other, snapped pictures of his reflection in the mirror.
“……What are you doing?”
Watching him, Kim Dae‑hyeon spoke up.
Click.
Han Seong‑tae, finger on the shutter, turned to look at him.
“Oh, I just opened an OnStar account. They said I need a photo for the profile.”
Even as he explained, he kept pressing the shutter.
‘Is this right?’
Tilting his head, he captured himself on camera.
He had already taken dozens, yet none felt satisfactory.
Every shot looked awkward, so he couldn’t stop pressing the shutter.
“You made an OnStar?”
“Yes, yesterday. Someone I know said it’s good for building recognition.”
“Good call. Nothing beats OnStar for self‑promotion.”
“Hyung, do you use it too?”
At the question, Kim Dae‑hyeon nodded and took out his phone.
He tapped the screen a few times and showed Han Seong‑tae his profile.
“You’ve posted tons of photos.”
“Gotta post. Each little thing like this works surprisingly well.”
On his page were more than a dozen posts: personal workouts, matching moves with other stuntmen—showing the life of an action actor as is.
“I was going to ask if you use OnStar. What’s your name there?”
“Han Seong‑tae.”
“In Hangul, Han Seong‑tae?”
“Yes.”
Seeing the odd look on Dae‑hyeon’s face, he glanced at the ID.
‘Daehyun_Kim’
Kim Dae‑hyeon’s name was written in English.
The vibe felt different from his own Hangul profile.
With tags and all, Dae‑hyeon’s page felt flashy.
“Well, it’s plain—nice, really. Feels like you.”
“Should I switch my name to English too?”
“Huh? No need. Do whatever you want.”
“Right?”
As Han Seong‑tae nodded, Dae‑hyeon fell silent—only for a moment.
“No, actually, changing the ID might be better.”
He kindly explained the ins and outs of OnStar.
Listening, Han Seong‑tae learned a lot.
[‘One Who Defined His Era’ wants you to upload a proper photo shoot.]
[‘Founder of Jeet Kune Do’ says you need fame to connect with many people in fitness.]
The Gods of Acting showed keen interest, each suggesting what kind of posts to upload.
Smiling at their messages, he listened on.
“But Seong‑tae, aren’t you a college student?”
“Yes, I attend Korea University.”
“A college kid who’s never used OnStar? I thought every youngster used it.”
At the doubt, Han Seong‑tae gave a sheepish grin.
‘Because I never cared about anything but acting.’
He believed acting well was all that mattered, so he ignored SNS. The result was this awkwardness.
“It’s just… I’m not into these things.”
A flimsy excuse, really.
“Well, that happens. Watching you train, it’d feel stranger if you cared about other stuff.”
Dae‑hyeon nodded understandingly.
“Want help taking photos?”
“Hyung?”
“I may look like this, but I have six hundred followers. I can shoot better than you, right?”
Puffed with pride, he made Han Seong‑tae nod.
A six‑hundred‑follower guy had put in work; there was no reason to refuse.
“Strike any pose. I’ll nail it.”
“Thank you.”
“No thanks needed—actors help actors.”
Thinking he must repay him later, Han Seong‑tae posed.
[‘One Who Defined His Era’ taps your shoulder, saying if you’re shooting, get the pose right.]
[‘Founder of Jeet Kune Do’ advises turning your arm slightly inward so the muscle pops.]
For some reason the Gods reacted more fervently than usual.
“Heard you started OnStar?”
As soon as he sat, Kim Min‑seok leaned in; Han Seong‑tae pushed his face away and nodded.
Mi‑so’s words at Dongmyo had given him much to ponder.
This era required self‑PR. SNS like OnStar were one effective method.
[‘Man of a Thousand Faces’ quietly suggests showing an intellectual side.]
[‘One Who Defined His Era’ ponders what kind of shoot you should upload.]
And the Gods were enthusiastic.
“You using OnStar? The sun must rise in the west.”
Laughing at Min‑seok’s quip, he recalled how uninterested he’d been in SNS until high‑school graduation. No wonder his friend was surprised.
“Hey, what’s your ID? I’ll bump your follower count.”
“Mine’s ‘Sungtae Han’.”
“So you just Romanized your name?”
“Yeah.”
“Plain and simple—so you.”
Was that praise? Ignoring his look, Min‑seok pulled out his phone and tapped.
Dding!
―‘SeokSeok’ started following you.
Seeing the alert, he turned to Min‑seok.
“This ‘SeokSeok’—that you?”
“Yup, me.”
“…So you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ignoring him, Han Seong‑tae scrolled through Min‑seok’s posts—so many he never reached the end.
“Min‑seok.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re pretty good at photography.”
He murmured in admiration. Not on Yu Seon‑bin’s level, but every shot felt stylish.
‘He really has talent for directing and shooting.’
If he could do this with photos, what happens when he directs for real?
“I know, right? So, could you help me sometime when you’re free?”
“Sure.”
“That easy? You don’t even know what I’ll ask.”
“Even if it’s grunt work, I’ll help.”
It was Min‑seok, a friend who’d stuck by him; he’d refuse nothing short of illegality.
[‘Founder of Jeet Kune Do’ nods, saying loyalty is splendid.]
[‘One Who Defined His Era’ smiles softly at your friendship.]
“That’s touching.”
As Min‑seok gripped his shoulder in gratitude, a vibration drew Han Seong‑tae’s attention.
―‘Seo harin’ started following you.
A familiar name appeared.
News that he’d joined OnStar spread quickly.
He kept his mouth shut, but someone at his side didn’t.
―Heard from Min‑seok—you started OnStar?
“Yes. I realized what you said was right, so I’m trying things one by one.”
Kim Mi‑so laughed over the line.
―Harin contacted me. She asked me to tell you her agency is waiting to hear from you.
Pausing, he fingered his pocket unconsciously, where the card from Jeong Du‑sik lay.
―She was curious how you’re doing, so I also told her about OnStar. That’s okay, right?
“Yes, it’s fine.”
So that’s how Seo Harin followed.
Ending the call, he sat on the bed, took out the card, and tapped his knee.
“Not yet.”
Shaking his head, he set it down.
He felt it was still early to enter an agency.
‘I can’t call myself an actor yet.’
Coldly assessing himself, he wasn’t an actor, so no need for an agency. Unlike idols, actors had no trainee stage.
‘You join an agency because you’re already an actor, not to become one.’
Only when experience and roles gave him certainty, when he felt he needed care as an actor, would he sign.
‘Without that certainty, why would I need an agency?’
Absolutely no reason. So he kept the card. Time enough to join after becoming an actor.
[‘Man of a Thousand Faces’ says conviction is vital and respects your view.]
[‘One Who Defined His Era’ calls you wise for not acting in haste.]
He wasn’t worried. With the Gods beside him and his love of acting, conviction would come.
‘Time to practice.’
All he did was move toward becoming an actor.
Grabbing his bag, he left home.
Perhaps seeking that conviction, he felt restless. Bag on shoulder, he ran to Action School.
It was a bit far, but nothing could block his passion.
Bang!
The sound of pounding a sandbag.
Thunk!
The clank of a barbell being set down filled the gym.
Amid it, Han Seong‑tae read his script and practiced.
He mixed training with checking which actions he could perform.
[‘Founder of Jeet Kune Do’ says you can’t yet handle advanced moves and must find action that fits your body.]
With a master of action right beside him, practice had no big hurdles.
“Seong‑tae.”
An accustomed voice reached his ear as he repeated drills.
Kim Dae‑hyeon wiped sweat as he approached.
“Practice going okay?”
“Yes. How about you, hyung?”
“Same as always. Seong‑tae, you said vacation starts tomorrow, right?”
He nodded at the question.
“Perfect timing. Starting tomorrow we’re all matching moves. Want to come early to map blocking? Can you?”
“I can.”
“Good. Oh, and prepare yourself mentally before you come.”
“Sir?”
He tilted his head, but Dae‑hyeon just smiled and walked off.
Watching his back, Han Seong‑tae wondered.
Prepare himself mentally?
He couldn’t guess what that meant.
Time passed, night ended, and morning came.
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