TBM Vol 3 Part 9

For a moment, memories of the chaotic first day of shooting flashed through his mind, and suddenly all strength left his hands. Still unable to properly smile because he couldn’t believe it, Lee Il-seo answered quietly.

“Th-thank you.”

“Huh, what’s this?”

But Director Chae’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked at him, and at the same time, something lukewarm dripped down below Lee Il-seo’s nose.

“Uh…”

It was another nosebleed. Startled, Lee Il-seo covered his nose with the back of his hand and tilted his head back, at which point Sa Seung-yeon approached closely, closed his eyes firmly, and pressed firmly on the back of Lee Il-seo’s round head.

“I told you to lower your head.”

Under Sa Seung-yeon’s steady hand, Lee Il-seo bent forward and pinched his nose. It didn’t come as much of a surprise anymore. Whether his nose was raw from dryness or something else, these nosebleeds had become a near-daily occurrence. At this point, it was about as normal as blowing his nose..

“Go to the hospital after shooting.”

“…Yes.”

“Tsk, your nose and lips are all covered in blood. Trying to be an actor with a body like this…”

“The blood from my mouth is makeup…”

“Lee Il-seo’s manager, Lee Il-seo, has another nosebleed!”

Sa Seung-yeon, speaking in a cold but coaxing voice, wrapped his arm around Lee Il-seo’s shoulder and walked deliberately to get tissues. Lee Il-seo, holding his nose and speaking in a muffled voice, seemed completely comfortable leaning against Sa Seung-yeon.

Director Chae watched the pair walk off, blinking in disbelief before narrowing his eyes. With a curious expression, he leaned toward the assistant director beside him.

“Those two have really become close.”

“They are. Maybe it’s the age thing—they bonded fast.”

“Lee Il-seo’s the one with the nosebleed, so why is Sa Seung-yeon releasing pheromones?”

“He must be worried.”

The assistant director, a beta, was indifferent, as expected. To him, Sa Seung-yeon’s sudden release of pheromones meant nothing. But Director Chae, who knew better, frowned slightly.

‘Well. Maybe it’s because of his rut.’

When they were setting the shooting schedule, Sa Seung-yeon had made one request: wrap up filming before his rut started. A dominant like him releasing pheromones in front of the crew? Odd. But recalling that condition, Director Chae just nodded to himself and let it slide.

***

The next scene was the motorcycle action sequence. With the road temporarily closed, the staff was bustling, working under pressure to get the timing and choreography right. Director Chae was being pulled in every direction—coordinating with the action team, reviewing cut directions with the assistant director, and checking safety measures.

Late into the night, with the end of the drama in sight, the set held a strange, restless energy. It was the kind of atmosphere where tensions could easily unravel.

“Lee Il-seo, are you ready?”

“Yes!”

Lee Il-seo gripped the handlebars and gave a spirited reply. Years of part-time jobs since high school had made him comfortable on a motorcycle. When Director Chae found out the kid could ride and also play guitar, he let out a low whistle of admiration.

“Okay, ready.”

It was a scene where Lee Il-seo skillfully turns the handlebars upon spotting an obstacle. Of course, the stunt performer would do the actual scene of narrowly avoiding high-stacked cargo, and Lee Il-seo only needed to film the scenes before and after. It was a simple scene where he just had to ride the motorcycle along the guided path.

At the signal, Lee Il-seo twisted the throttle. The engine revved, and his expression turned serious.

“Action!”

The motorcycle’s speed gradually increased, and Lee Il-seo rode along the predetermined path. He changed lanes as instructed beforehand and quickly turned the right corner. But as soon as he turned the handlebars, suddenly high-stacked cargo appeared.

“…Oh.”

The camera director and the filming team, production staff, who noticed the motorcycle rushing toward the cargo without reducing speed, waved their hands and shouted.

“What? Who didn’t clear that— Hey! Lee Il-seo! Stop!”

“Lee Il-seo, stop!”

“Uh, ah!”

He realized instantly: something was wrong. That cargo was meant for the stunt actor’s cut. He heard voices shouting at him to stop, but there was no space to swerve—not with staff and equipment flanking both sides of the narrow path.

He grabbed the brakes. The tires shrieked as they skidded. The bike tipped sideways. His body flew through the air.

“Ugh.”

He curled up his body and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his breath momentarily stop as he strongly collided with something. He could hear people’s murmuring voices, slightly muffled.

“…”

His shoulder throbbed. But… it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. Not for a crash at that speed. That odd realization made him snap his eyes open—and gasp.

The place where he had fallen wasn’t the asphalt ground.

Sa Seung-yeon’s arms and legs were tightly wrapped around his entire body, and Sa Seung-yeon’s low groan penetrated Lee Il-seo’s ears.

“Uh, S-senior….”

“Sa Seung-yeon!”

Lee Il-seo quickly got up and escaped from Sa Seung-yeon’s embrace, while the managers and staff of both actors hurriedly ran toward the accident scene. Heat filled Lee Il-seo’s eyes as he urgently held Sa Seung-yeon.

“A-are you okay, senior?”

“What about you?”

“I’m fine, but….”

Thanks to Seung-yeon’s full-bodied tackle, Il-seo hadn’t even scraped his skin. But Seung-yeon… He had taken the brunt of the impact. No matter how strong an Alpha he was, he couldn’t have walked away unscathed.

Lee Il-seo knelt beside him, pale with fear. Sa Seung-yeon slowly pushed himself up from his side. When he tried to support himself with one hand, he winced and shook out his wrist in pain.

Drip, drip. Blood trickled down his fingers. When the startled Lee Il-seo examined Sa Seung-yeon’s arm, blood was already soaking into Seung-yeon’s white sleeve.

“Senior, you’re… Bleeding.”

Lee Il-seo’s voice trembled. Sa Seung-yeon could already feel his sleeve becoming damp, so this was a fact he knew without Lee Il-seo having to mention it. Sa Seung-yeon finished getting up and stood completely, then used his uninjured arm to help Lee Il-seo, who was still kneeling, to his feet.

Then, wordlessly, he began checking Lee Il-seo’s body—his arms, his ribs, his face—for injuries. Even if Lee Il-seo wasn’t in pain now, he might be in shock. And for someone who bled as often as he breathed, a wound could be hidden beneath that slim frame.

Even as he staggered under the force of Sa Seung-yeon’s arm, checking him from various angles, Lee Il-seo couldn’t take his eyes off Sa Seung-yeon’s arm.

“Senior… Let me see how badly you’re hurt.”

“What difference would it make if you look?”

Having confirmed that there were no other major injuries, Sa Seung-yeon pushed Lee Il-seo away with his uninjured arm and smirked. As if unaware that he would have had his skull shattered if he had been hit by the cargo at the motorcycle’s full speed, Lee Il-seo just stared at Sa Seung-yeon’s arm with a bloodless face.

Meanwhile, the faint smile that had appeared while looking at Lee Il-seo gradually disappeared, and Sa Seung-yeon’s gaze toward the staff had grown cold. Drip, drip. The droplets of blood from his long fingers wouldn’t stop.

“What were you trying to do?”

“…”

“You could have…”

As if he hadn’t been watching Lee Il-seo’s final shoot. Or if he had briefly stepped away. Or if the timing of his outstretched hand had been even slightly delayed. Then Lee Il-seo could have been seriously injured. It wouldn’t have ended at the level of being cut by a knife like last time.

Sa Seung-yeon, who had nothing left but curses, finally swallowed his words, but his unfinished voice conveyed his displeasure. After clenching and unclenching his jaw until a line formed on his chin, Sa Seung-yeon stared at the scene with a cold face. Perhaps because of his expression, just standing silently was intimidating.

At that moment, a production team staff member with a pale face ran to the accident scene and repeatedly bowed to Lee Il-seo and Sa Seung-yeon.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“…”

“I heard the stunt actor’s filming was first, so I set up the obstacle incorrectly. I’m sorry.”

Upon hearing the explanation about miscommunication between the production and prop teams, Sa Seung-yeon turned to Director Chae.

“First, the stalker incident, and now this. The set management is completely lacking, Director.”

“I’m sorry.”

Director Chae was also in an awkward situation, but had nothing to say except to apologize. Despite Director Chae’s apology with a troubled expression, Sa Seung-yeon didn’t ease his fierce gaze. In the frozen atmosphere, Hwan, who had been carefully observing the situation, cautiously approached Sa Seung-yeon.

“Hyung, let’s get you treated first.”

They couldn’t delay the filming any longer. Sa Seung-yeon first moved to his private waiting room with Hwan. Although they had performed emergency treatment with the first aid kit available at the site, Hwan, examining the wound, made a troubled face, saying it would need stitches.

When Sa Seung-yeon removed his shirt to check, he was surprised too. His forearm was torn open, and bruises were already blooming across his ribs and back.

However, if he went to the hospital now, it would be impossible to finish filming today, and then his rut cycle would overlap with the filming schedule. Sa Seung-yeon let out a short sigh mixed with curses and picked up the shirt he had taken off.

“There are only a few scenes left. Let’s finish shooting first.”

He pressed gauze over the wound and tied it off with a haphazard bandage. As he casually buttoned his shirt, a knock came from the container’s door, followed by a small, hesitant voice.

“Senior…”

It was Lee Il-seo. Hwan looked at Sa Seung-yeon, and when Sa Seung-yeon nodded, he ran to open the locked door. Lee Il-seo, who gave a quick bow, walked straight to Sa Seung-yeon with quick steps.

“Did you check your wound? How is it?”

“It’s fine, just a scratch.”

“Really?”

Although he answered as if relieved, his eyes still carried anxiety and trembled faintly, unable to fully feel at ease. After attempting to look at the arm area but giving up, his expression was strangely drooping as he slowly looked up at Sa Seung-yeon. Probably due to guilt.

Having just finished buttoning his shirt, Sa Seung-yeon turned his neck until it cracked, then glanced at Lee Il-seo.

“Why? Worried to death over me?”

It felt oddly jarring to see concern on Lee Il-seo’s face. Weakness and pain had always been his territory, not Sa Seung-yeon’s.

Having lived as an Alpha all his life, he never wanted to show even a speck of weakness to anyone. Growing up with a family that wouldn’t even look inside his room, whether he was sick or not, he pretended to be fine even when sweating from pain, and after becoming an adult, he really stopped feeling pain from most injuries.

Perhaps that’s why someone genuinely worrying about him felt even more unfamiliar.

But strangely… Not unpleasant. The unfamiliarity held a certain charm. Seeing Lee Il-seo like this made him want to provoke him more—maybe claim the bandaged wound was throbbing, just to see that anxious look deepen.

But if he showed his wound now, it was obvious that Lee Il-seo would keep contacting him until it healed. He didn’t want their relationship to continue ambiguously like that. Sa Seung-yeon looked at Lee Il-seo while pulling up one corner of his mouth.

Lee Il-seo’s pale face was marred by a bluish bruise, just from Sa Seung-yeon falling on top of him. Sa Seung-yeon reached out and gently rubbed the spot. Lee Il-seo flinched, shoulders drawing in as a reflexive frown creased his face.

“You think everyone in the world is as weak as you?”

“…”

“Enough, go and rest.”

Sa Seung-yeon strode out of the waiting room. He could feel Lee Il-seo’s moist gaze following him, but soon the door closed.

***

The shoot, which had come to a halt, resumed the moment Sa Seung-yeon returned. When he stepped out of the waiting room, the entire set felt frozen, like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over it. Even behind the closed door, Director Chae’s voice had been sharp and cutting—no doubt a verbal storm had hit the staff.

“…”

But Sa Seung-yeon wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries either, so the stiff atmosphere suited him just fine. Known for his laid-back charm and dry humor, he typically brought levity to the set. Now, saying less than usual, his silence carried a different weight, one that made him seem cold and even a little menacing. The crew, rattled, shrank further into their spaces.

However, rather than being angry, Sa Seung-yeon was more focused on finishing the already extended shooting as quickly as possible due to the accident. Perhaps thanks to Sa Seung-yeon’s intense concentration, after the shooting resumed, they completed the final scene excellently without a single flaw Especially in the one-take scene where he discovers that Haru, whom he had killed, had committed suicide, and explodes with emotion while destroying a car, everyone covered their mouths and silently shook their heads.

“Cut, okay.”

At Director Chae’s call, Sa Seung-yeon dropped the steel pipe and placed his hands on his hips. He tilted his head back to the sky and let out a long breath, the exhaustion catching up to him in waves. The set fell into a stunned silence.

As Sa Seung-yeon slowly lowered his head and wiped his face with his palm, Director Chae picked up the microphone.

“The filming of ‘Temperature of Overflow’ is complete. Thank you all for your hard work.”

“Thank you for your hard work!”

“Congratulations.”

Cheers and applause rippled through the crew. A bouquet, clearly prepared for the occasion, was handed to Sa Seung-yeon. The tension that had hovered since the accident finally eased now that the final shot was in the can. Sa Seung-yeon managed a soft smile, exchanging bows and quiet thanks with the people around him.

With this, the filming of ‘Temperature of Overflow’ was truly complete. From the stalker incident to the partnership with Lee Il-seo, to today’s accident—it had been quite an eventful set.

Smiling, Sa Seung-yeon greeted everyone around him one by one while searching for one person with his eyes. Soon, Sa Seung-yeon’s gaze stopped in one place.

“Why are you crying like a child?”

“Haha, Lee Il-seo. Lift your head up, okay?”

“Congratulations!”

“We need to go over there to blow out the cake candles… Did someone bully you? Why are you crying so much~”

A crowd had formed around Lee Il-seo, all wearing awkward smiles, trying to soothe him. Standing at the center, Lee Il-seo kept his head bowed, hiding his face behind his hand. His shoulders trembled from sobs that were impossible to suppress, even from a distance.

Feeling that they might end up staying all night if they waited for the tears to stop, Sa Seung-yeon finally walked toward Lee Il-seo.

“Haru, Tae-hyun is here.”

At those words, Lee Il-seo finally lifted his head. Perhaps embarrassed by his tear and snot-streaked face, Lee Il-seo looked around for Sa Seung-yeon while still half-covering his face with the back of his hand.

“Sen… iccup, sob. Thank… ob.”

Trying to stifle his tears, he bit down on his lip, causing that familiar walnut-shaped dimple to appear on his chin—only to burst into tears all over again when his eyes finally met Sa Seung-yeon’s. This time, everyone, including Sa Seung-yeon and all the staff and actors, couldn’t hold back their laughter. Unable to wait any longer, the staff forcibly put a party hat on his crying face and gave him a bouquet.