TBM Vol 2 Part 1

“That’s ridiculous.”

The moment the reality hit, Seung-yeon felt a sudden loss of strength. Something was definitely wrong. It was the first time he couldn’t focus like this while working. At the start of filming, he messed up during the intimate scenes, causing frustration among the team. Now, he’d grown so accustomed to it that he was embarrassed by how natural it had become.

It didn’t make sense. How could my immersion be interrupted just because my co-star was performing well? He’d worked with actors far more talented than Lee Il-seo and never felt this way before. He could confidently say that no one had ever left him feeling so strange, so disoriented, as Lee Il-seo did.

As these thoughts sank deeper, so did the darkness in his eyes. Seung-yeon, who hated anything unplanned, instinctively furrowed his brows. The mere fact that there had been a physical response unsettled him—why had Lee Il-seo triggered his desire like this?

“Damn it.” 

He clenched his teeth, hating himself for putting it into words. He had to find the source of this mess if he was going to get rid of these feelings.

“Is it a pent-up desire?” 

He wondered. But it didn’t make sense. His desire had never been strong to begin with, and thanks to his Alpha traits, he kept his needs in check by having sex regularly—just like the way one would exercise.

However, he had only been with beta women until now. Sure, he could have pursued a relationship with an Omega, but with no interest in starting a family, it wasn’t worth the risk of pregnancy. Men? That was never a consideration for him. The rarity of attraction between two men, coupled with the difficulty of finding a partner who met his preferences, led him to stick with beta women. His partners were chosen out of convenience—so there was no need for complications when a beta woman sufficed.

His standards for sex weren’t too rigid. As long as both parties agreed and their desires aligned, that was enough. But, in hindsight, he realized he had an unconscious preference for pale skin and a slender frame.

He hated to admit it, but the boy from his past had probably influenced those preferences. The anticipation, the excitement, and the shame from that time had tangled together into an uncomfortable memory. He had tried to bury it deep, only holding onto the songs that the boy had left behind.

And that was how he had lived—never actively thinking about the boy, except in his occasional dream. The boy was no more than a song now.

After much deliberation, Seung-yeon finally realized why. A bitter smile crept onto his face.

“Ah…”

Lee Il-seo reminded him of that boy. Of course, there were many differences, but certain details—his unusually pale skin, his slender neck, the way he played the guitar, and his faint, sweet voice—made Seung-yeon think of him.

He frowned. Right now, Jang Tae-hyun’s character was more likely to be swayed by Haru, so these feelings weren’t a serious issue. But if left unchecked, they could become a nuisance.

“Seung-yeon hyung, are you in here? The director is looking for you.”

Hwan’s voice echoed from outside the bathroom door. Too much time had passed without finding a solution. It was time to leave now.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Seung-yeon slowly locked the bathroom lever and stared at himself in the mirror, letting out a long sigh. He straightened his furrowed brows, wiped away the ambiguous smile, and reset his expression like someone donning a mask. This was what he was best at. Even when turmoil raged inside him, he could always project calm. If he didn’t want to be manipulated, he had to be the one pulling the strings.

With a quiet sigh, he convinced himself that he could control all the inconvenient variables—at least for now.

The chaotic filming had finally wrapped up, and the cast and crew headed to a nearby restaurant for a company dinner. The dinner, originally scheduled earlier, had been postponed to celebrate Il-seo’s return. The air filled with the sizzle of short ribs grilling on hot plates.

Il-seo, rubbing his stomach through his clothes, focused intently on the meat. He hadn’t eaten anything since vomiting up the sushi that Seung-yeon had bought him yesterday. The scent of the seasoned meat was almost too much to handle.

Just then, murmurs rippled through the restaurant as Director Chae entered. He had arrived late, having stayed behind to wrap up the final scene. Il-seo stood awkwardly to greet him, followed by the other actors.

The moment the director sat down, his glass was immediately filled with soju. He stood up, with a glass in hand, and cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable with all the attention.

“Sorry for being late,” he began. “Our Temperature of Flood team has worked incredibly hard. We’ve faced big and small challenges along the way.”

Several pairs of eyes turned to Il-seo, and even the director glanced his way before continuing. 

“But all of this has been in the name of making a great drama. We still have a long way to go, but let’s keep giving our best.”

Applause followed after his speech, with some even tapping the table or clinking their cups in celebration.

“Seung-yeon and Il-seo, say few words!” someone called out.

Seung-yeon smiled slightly, standing after a pause. Il-seo quickly followed the suit, standing across from him.

“I’m just grateful for all the hard work everyone’s put in,” Seung-yeon said. 

“Let’s finish this project safely.”

Il-seo, a bit more flustered, added, “It’s been a surreal experience, filming every day. I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Thank you—and I’ll definitely enjoy the meat!”

Laughter erupted from the table, and someone shouted, “Il-seo’s hungry!” A veteran actor jokingly criticized the director for ordering more food when the poor kid was starving, and Il-seo’s face turned red. Amid the commotion, a chorus of clinking glasses followed, toasting the success of the drama.

“Cheers!”

Il-seo toasted with Seung-yeon before downing his drink. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down—he hadn’t realized that it was soju in a beer glass. Trying to be polite, he drank the whole thing, but immediately felt the heat rising inside him. He hadn’t been drinking recently in an attempt to lose weight, and his body wasn’t taking it well.

A veteran actor next to him noticed his discomfort. “Il-seo, you don’t have to drink if you’re not feeling well,” he said kindly.

Il-seo waved his hand. “I’m fine! Please, let’s eat.”

The wound from his previous injury had healed, and the stitches were long gone. His focus shifted back to the sizzling ribs—he wasn’t about to miss out on this rare opportunity for free food and drink.

Catching Seung-yeon’s gaze on his empty glass, Il-seo quickly looked away, but Seung-yeon didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned back to chat with the director.

Feeling slightly out of place, Il-seo reached for the tongs to flip the meat, only for the restaurant employee to step in and take over. Il-seo sat quietly while waiting.

Moments later, a commotion erupted at the entrance as an actor named Shin Sang-eun waved excitedly. 

“Jae-ho! Over here!”

Park Jae-ho, still in his coat, made his way to the table. The mere mention of his name made Il-seo look up, his previously indifferent expression softening.

“Sit here. I didn’t use this spoon.”

Shin Sang-eun rose from her seat while giving the cushion behind her a light pat, and Park Jae-ho took her place. As she began to move away from the table, Director Chae turned towards her.

“What? Leaving already?” he asked.

“I need to head home early because of the baby. Jae-ho’s taking my place instead,” she replied.

“Hello, Director. Sister Sang-eun’s Black Knight is here,” Park Jae-ho greeted him with a smile while stepping in for her. Shin Sang-eun looked slightly regretful as she left, while Park Jae-ho took her place at the table. Director Chae thanked him for his imprompt appearance and poured him a drink. Il-seo, seated beside him, followed suit and filled his own glass. After taking a sip, Park Jae-ho leaned in towards Il-seo.

“Can I have another drink?” he asked.

“Of course. It’s free you don’t need to ask!” Il-seo responded with a broad smile.

The tension that had clouded the dinner dissipated with Park Jae-ho sitting next to him. He picked up a pair of tongs and placed a heap of meat onto Il-seo’s plate.

“Eat up—you could use some extra pounds,” he teased.

Il-seo laughed, placing a piece of meat in a lettuce wrap. As he did so, Director Chae smiled, watching as Park Jae-ho added another piece with his chopsticks.

“You two seem close,” the director observed.

“Yes, we did a web drama together. I practically raised him,” Park Jae-ho joked, throwing an arm around Il-seo’s shoulder. Il-seo laughed as he leaned into the embrace, while Seung-yeon, seated across from them, cast a brief glance at Park Jae-ho’s arm around him.

“Il-seo’s acting was a bit rough back then, but he’s improved a lot,” the director added.

“Did you really watch that?” Park Jae-ho asked, his eyes widened with surprise.

“I had to! You can’t cast a lead role without reviewing their past work,” Director Chae replied.

“Well, then it must not have been that bad if you remember it well,” Jae-ho teased.

“Let’s just say the lines weren’t exactly memorable,” Il-seo added quietly, eliciting laughter from both the director and Jae-ho.

“You’ve come a long way,” Jae-ho said, pouring another drink for Director Chae.

“Well, that’s the important part,” the director nodded, pouring a drink for Il-seo as well. Compliments filled the air, making Il-seo’s cheeks flush. He took a sip, grateful for their praise. Director Chae spun his glass in his hand before continuing.

“Il-seo had to endure a lot of unnecessary criticism early on because of me.”

Il-seo bit his lip as he listened, nodding slightly, while some at the table exchanged knowing glances. Rumors had swirled about Director Chae, and whether they were true or not, the gossip about Il-seo being sponsored never seemed to die down.

Amidst the uneasy atmosphere, Seung-yeon’s sharp gaze swept over the table, lingering on Il-seo. The memory of his own strange, solitary arousal resurfaced. Could Lee Il-seo, with his natural ability to captivate, have used his charms to win over the director through more than just his acting? It was hard to ignore how other men—whether it was Koo Dong-young, who often brought him up when drunk, or Park Jae-ho, who was now casually draping himself over him—seemed to linger around Lee Il-seo. He certainly had a way of keeping men close.

“Well, I’ve never seen anyone improve so quickly. Isn’t that right, Seung-yeon?” Director Chae asked.

Seung-yeon snapped out of his thoughts and smiled belatedly. 

“Yes, indeed. I can’t think of anyone else who could play Haru’s character well.”

Hearing Seung-yeon’s voice, Il-seo visibly relaxed, his shoulders easing. He bowed his head slightly, hiding a small smile behind his glass. He was used to rumors by now. He knew that explaining himself would only fuel more gossip. Yet, when it came to Seung-yeon, his indifference wavered. He felt an anxious need for Seung-yeon not to believe the rumors.

When Director Chae had mentioned the gossip, Seung-yeon’s subtle shift in expression had ignited a familiar panic in Il-seo. It reminded him of his days as a trainee when he had felt abandoned by Seung-yeon. But that anxiety melted away the moment Seung-yeon smiled. It was then that Il-seo realized nothing else mattered as much—just a few kind words from Seung-yeon could make the whole world feel right again.

“If not Il-seo… who else?” Seung-yeon had said softly.

Il-seo, repeating Seung-yeon’s words to himself in a near whisper, bit his lip, suppressing the laughter bubbling inside him. His heart, which had been cold and tense, now pounded pleasantly. Seung-yeon held his heart far more tightly than he had ever realized.

“When’s the drama coming out?” someone asked.

“Mid-December,” came the reply.

“Perfect timing for winter!”