TBM Vol 1 Part 1

White canvas sneakers stepped confidently onto the lukewarm asphalt. Il-seo, walking with wider strides than usual, was already eyeing on a building that was a few blocks away. Soon, he began to run.

He had spent the early morning hours in the practice room and had walked this same path just a few hours earlier, but now it felt unfamiliar. The cool air brushing his flushed cheeks and the faint sounds reaching his ears seemed to move in slow motion. Skillfully dodging the illegally parked luxury cars lining the alley, Il-seo entered a gray-and-white five-story building. Waiting for the elevator was a luxury he couldn’t afford, so he took the emergency stairs, bounding up two steps at a time.

Uncharacteristically, his emotions swirled intensely behind his usually calm eyes. Breathless, he finally stopped in front of the tightly shut company door. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he grabbed the doorknob and stepped inside.

“Oh, you’re here,” said CEO Kim Jin-hong, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Il-seo, who had rushed over without even drying his wet hair, bowed to greet him. CEO Kim poured water into a paper cup and handed it to him. Il-seo drank it in one gulp, while panting heavily.

“Let’s go inside and talk,” CEO Kim said.

It had been a long time since Il-seo had been in the CEO’s office. He sat across from Kim, who had already settled into the dark brown sofa that filled the small space.

“Here’s the script,” CEO Kim said, his voice trembling slightly as he handed over the thick scenario. He tried to remain calm in front of Il-seo, but his legs shook, and when they stopped, he absentmindedly scratched the armrest of the sofa with his nails. Il-seo’s expression went blank as he reached for the script. His mind raced with thoughts, but the moment the smooth cover touched his hand, reality hit him. It felt real now.

But just as he held the script, CEO Kim snatched it back, while raising an eyebrow. “The director has reviewed it. Are you okay with the exposure levels and scenes?”

Il-seo blinked, his tired eyes following the scenario before letting out a soft laugh and taking the booklet back. “Yes, of course.”

At Il-seo’s nonchalant response, CEO Kim finally laughed. “Congratulations.”

Yet, Il-seo couldn’t bring himself to celebrate. He was still unsure if he could fully trust him.

“It’s Director Chae’s new project. His first OTT drama—but does that matter? It’s Director Chae Geum-soo! It’s better to start this way in today’s industry. Wow, Il-seo, I’m so proud! After reading the script, I knew only you could pull this off. If you give it your all, opportunities will follow, and this one is a jackpot, no doubt!”

Only after Il-seo accepted the script did CEO Kim relax, his excitement now spilling over. It was understandable—CEO Kim had been with Il-seo through his long years of struggle. Kim Jin-hong of Ondo Entertainment, who had taken Il-seo in after his previous agency dropped him just before his debut, had witnessed four years of obscurity unfolding before his eyes.

The young man who had arrived at the company four years ago with a pale, youthful face was now a twenty-six-year-old sitting on the sofa, slowly flipping through the script. His once-soft cheeks had lost their fullness, and his nose had sharpened. Though his expression wasn’t exactly bright four years ago, today his eyes carried an unmistakable gloom—a weariness etched by repeated disappointments. He had been busy pretending to be strong, but the traces of grayness remained. That very gloominess had helped him land this role.

“CEO, who’s playing the lead character?” Il-seo asked carefully, raising his head from the script. CEO Kim shrugged, sipping cold mixed coffee, the sticky sweetness lingering on his tongue.

“They’re still working on it.”

“Oh… I see.”

Il-seo lowered his head, focusing on the script once more. Each blink cast a dark shadow over the corner of his eye. He had come to the company with a pounding heart after hearing the news that he’d secured the part. But now, with the script in his hands, his heart felt strangely heavy. Until now, he’d only appeared in web dramas, minor roles with no lines, and even music videos for new idol groups. He had taken short-term part-time jobs recently, with no steady work. His desperation for an opportunity had made him fearful.

Il-seo politely declined CEO Kim’s offer to celebrate this news with a meal. He planned to carefully review the script and character files at home while bowing repeatedly as he excused himself.

—

“You really give meaning to the s3x,” Il-seo recited, his voice trailing off as a distant memory surfaced. He shook his head, trying to suppress the emotions rising within him. Refocusing on the script, he continued, “S3x is so ha… damn… s3x, haa…”

His tongue fumbled over the explicit line. He knew it was coming, but still, the first episode included both a kissing scene and an affair with the lead character. This particular line followed an intimate scene, casually spoken while dressing. He practiced the line, repeating it until his pronunciation was clear, exhaling slowly with each attempt.

The role he had been cast for, was Haru, a reckless omega with no care for tomorrow—a 20-year-old working in a nightclub, occasionally performing on stage. Haru didn’t even have a fixed surname, casually throwing out names like Kim, Choi, or Park Haru. He made impulsive decisions, living without regret. But meeting the lead character sparked his first taste of possessiveness and desire for something more.

Il-seo recalled the day of his audition. CEO Kim had informed him of the open audition, and hearing that it was for a Chae Geum-soo project, he initially assumed the role was already casted. Still, he practiced diligently and filmed two scenes. Three days later, he had landed on the part.

“Why me?” Il-seo murmured to no one, falling onto his mattress. Lying on the soft blanket, he slapped his cheek lightly, a mix of warmth and cold confirming the moment’s reality.

Reaching for a pack of cigarettes, he recalled one of CEO Kim’s instructions: he had to learn to smoke before filming. Despite having never smoked before, his character was a heavy smoker. 

Il-seo would need to master the nuances—lighting the cigarette, inhaling, and speaking without missing a beat. He shook the pack in his hand, a strange sense of aversion washing over him.

He typed into the search bar: “Sa Seung-yeon’s cigarettes.” Only one person came to mind when he thought of smoking with style. His favorite scene of Seung-yeon was from a film two years ago—the camera starts the scene from his shoes and works its way up to his long legs and waist before capturing his eyes, softly revealed through a cloud of smoke. The moment he laughed while smoking had left the theater in awe, and Il-seo had clenched his fists, mesmerized by the scene.

Lying down, Il-seo tried to imitate his expression. But of course, it wasn’t the same—his presence was impossible to recreate.

—

He turned his head, exhaling cigarette smoke as the distant sound of commotion echoed in the background. Every time Seung-yeon, who had arrived late after finishing a photo shoot, passed by the table, people locked eyes with him. He offered polite smiles to those who patted his forearm, exchanged handshakes, and gave him fist bumps, all while the scent of alcohol lingered around him. Eventually, he spotted the person who had invited him.

Gu Dong-young, who was leaning against the bar and chatting with a woman, noticed Seung-yeon over his shoulder and raised a hand in greeting. Seung-yeon sat at a nearby table with a low sigh, resting his chin on one hand.

“Is it really that hard to look at my face?”

Seung-yeon tilted his head back to make eye contact, then closed his eyes and smiled, gently removing Gu Dong-young’s hand from his shoulder. Dong-young, having forced his way to the table, sat across from Seung-yeon and poured whiskey into an empty glass, gulping it down in one swift motion. Seung-yeon asked the server for a new glass and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Your new song’s good,” Dong-young commented.

“Hell, I should have taken up acting instead. My knees will give out soon if I try dancing like this when I’m older.”

“Hey, Sa Seung-yeon!”

Seung-yeon acknowledged the senior actor approaching from afar, briefly stood to exchange greetings, and then sat back down. He downed the whiskey in one go, with his face expressionless as he ignored the snack on the table.

“You should take care of yourself,” he said.

“No way. I did a live show recently, and my eyes were practically frozen. They scolded me so much,” Dong-young groaned.

“You are going to live a long life,” Seung-yeon said with a dry smile.

“Oh, I’m going to live forever,” Dong-young replied, shaking his head as he continued drinking without slowing down, despite Seung-yeon’s warning. Everyone around them seemed to get drunk and pass out, except for Seung-yeon, who could match Dong-young’s drinking pace. The two continued drinking heavily, chatting about trivial things.

As Dong-young recounted how he scraped the hood of his car trying to shake off a sasaeng fan, his ears and neck turned bright red. Seung-yeon nodded occasionally to keep the conversation going. After emptying his glass, he checked his watch and began gathering his things to leave.

“You’re leaving already?” Dong-young asked with a hint of regret.

“I’ve got a schedule tomorrow morning.”

“You’re not even drunk!” Dong-young exclaimed.

“How much did you drink?” Seung-yeon asked dryly.

“Oh, by the way, I heard you’re going to be in Chae Geum-soo’s new project. My uncle told me,” Dong-young added, slurring his words slightly.

Seung-yeon raised an eyebrow at the mention of the project. He wasn’t particularly pleased to hear others gossip about unannounced news.

“Who’s in the cast?” Seung-yeon asked while naming a few actors, Dong-young exaggerated the rumors with each name.

“Baek Eun-jin? That bratty kid? Is he the main lead?”

“No, the lead’s a male Omega.”

“A male omega?” Seung-yeon questioned. Dong-young furrowed his brows, considering the rarity of such a role. Most public interest leaned toward beta relationships, and same-s3x Alpha-Omega stories were often seen as niche unless the project had exceptional quality. Still, Director Chae’s involvement was notable.

Dong-young’s curiosity grew, his eyes reddening with alcohol. The entertainment industry was dominated by alphas, while omegas, who were susceptible to pheromones, faced challenges working in environments surrounded by Alphas. For that reason, beta actors, who resembled omegas in appearance, were often cast in omega roles.

“None of the actors you mentioned have the looks for an omega,” Seung-yeon pointed out.

“That’s true… I can’t remember the name,” Dong-young admitted.

Seung-yeon frowned at Dong-young’s forgetfulness. “And you said about the news. You don’t even know the cast.”

Dong-young chuckled at Seung-yeon’s remark, shaking his head.

“The announcement will be out soon. It’s a rookie actor.”

“A rookie?” Seung-yeon laughed uproariously. “I bet Chae dug up some newbie. The old man’s at it again.”

Dong-young mimicked a lewd gesture, prompting Seung-yeon to avoid eye contact as he buttoned up his blazer. With a calm gesture, Seung-yeon lit another cigarette and quietly left the table, offering a brief farewell. As he made his way out, people continued to watch him, stopping him briefly with smiles and hollow promises of meeting again. 

Outside, Seung-yeon’s manager was waiting for him in a nearby alley.

“…”

The smile that had softened his eyes moments ago quickly faded as he flicked his cigarette and ground it into the pavement before getting into the car.

“How’s Dong-young doing?” the manager, Hwan, asked. “I heard he had to get his car fixed because of a sasaeng.”

“Really?” Seung-yeon responded absentmindedly, closing his eyes, clearly exhausted. Seeing his indifferent expression in the rearview mirror, Hwan said no more, and the car sped off towards home.

Seung-yeon’s thoughts drifted. The name had been on the tip of his tongue all night.

“Ah.”

It wasn’t a rookie after all. It was a relatively unknown actor named Lee Il-seo. The relief of finally remembering it eased the weight on his chest just slightly. The manager lowered the volume of the soft music playing in the car and asked if Seung-yeon had sung along. But he didn’t get any answer.

“…Seo… Il-seo….”