When it comes to filming, the most important factor is the weather. You can solve lighting issues or a person’s condition with money, but only a god could control the weather.
Contrary to the forecast promising clear skies, gloomy rain clouds drifted all day, and we were told to wait until the sun reappeared.
Which meant that—even though no filming was happening—we couldn’t leave the set.
‘I knew this would happen—I suggested rescheduling, but the director wouldn’t listen.’
Caesar O’n was in a foul mood.
‘I don’t know when we’ll shoot next, so I can’t eat, can’t step off set to rest, and I can’t even remove my makeup.’
As a member of the O’n family, Caesar processes far more information than humans; this sort of waiting felt like hell to him.
‘My skin itches from the makeup, I’m dizzy from no calories, I can’t rest comfortably because of my hair setting…’
And every time a break in the clouds let a ray through, he had to leap into action and film—false alarm or not.
…This had been going on for twelve hours.
No wonder Caesar was like a ticking bomb.
That was when his phone rang.
He reflexively hit decline, then froze when he saw the caller’s name.
‘Jeheon Han?’
In an instant, all the irritation melted away.
Caesar answered almost entranced.
“Hello?”
A hesitant voice came through the speaker.
—Is now a good time?
“Yes, it is. I’m on standby for the shoot, so I can talk.”
Jeheon breathed a sigh of relief.
—I was worried you’d be busy. I just wanted to call and say thanks for the meal.
…You?
Question marks floated in Caesar’s mind. Normally Jeheon would send a polite text to avoid giving any opening. Why call?
“Did you enjoy the food?”
—Absolutely. It was excellent. It brought back such good memories.
Warm, friendly words flowed through the speaker, but there was still a subtle distance in Jeheon’s tone.
Only then did Caesar realize Jeheon’s intent.
‘Oh, so he’s trying to keep up cordial relations.’
So this call was… a calculated gesture.
‘Because of the fanatics?’
Right. Jeheon wasn’t clueless.
‘He must understand that his newfound fame has caught him on their radar, and he knows I’m the only one who can handle them.’
So this wasn’t genuine goodwill—but a carrot to get something.
But…
A small smile tugged at Caesar’s lips.
‘So cute.’
He could almost hear the little gears turning in Jeheon’s head. If anyone else had done this, Caesar would’ve blocked them without a second thought. But Jeheon’s ploy was just too adorable.
‘He doesn’t even realize he’s on my palm…’
Instantly, his dismal mood lifted.
“Glad you liked it. Thanks for saying so.”
—I, uh, don’t deserve such kindness…
“It’s been a while since anyone was this considerate.”
Caesar added in a softer tone. “That’s why I want to take care of you. Don’t feel pressured.”
Jeheon’s silence spoke volumes—he was more burdened by the reassurance.
—But…
He faltered, then swallowed the rest.
—Anyway, if I can repay you, just let me know. I’ll do my best.
With hurried goodbyes, Jeheon hung up.
Even that looked cute to Caesar.
He chuckled silently at the dark screen before resuming shooting.
In the afternoon, an unexpected downpour drenched the set, but now it felt almost pleasant.
“Perfect after that heat,” Caesar said, inwardly grateful to the one who called him.
He was in a great mood.
Lying in bed, I exhaled the moment our call ended.
“Seriously, not a dog.”
How could someone melt so quickly over a thank-you?
‘I feel so guilty…!’
If Jeheon were a jerk, I could’ve exploited him without remorse. But with this angelic celebrity, one kind word and…
‘I’m so sorry.’
I despise deceiving innocent people. But I can’t give up my life over it.
…The conclusion was unavoidable: I had to go all in.
‘I have to survive first!’
So even if it’s messy, I’ll do whatever it takes.
I steadied myself and prepared for work.
I arrived at the department store close to 11:00 a.m.—not late, since I wasn’t scheduled today.
‘Manager begged me to come in because so many people want to see me.’
No one could complain about tardiness under those circumstances.
I parked and walked in. Noah Lee, standing guard in the lobby, beamed at me.
“Captain! You made it!”
Noah Lee was a blond, model-looking junior from college. He played an outstanding lineman position, defending quarterbacks, but a bar shooting left him with a shoulder injury that ended his pro dreams.
‘He lost weight when he quit pursuing pro football… but that face—definitely good enough for modeling.’
I got him a job at the store, and ever since he’s called me “Captain” and followed me around.
“Why do you still call me Captain?”
“Because you’re the Captain.”
“…Fair enough. Anyway, who needs help today? Any nightmare customers?”
Despite my blasé reply, Noah smiled like a puppy.
What is it with all these puppy days today?
“No, but someone wants to meet you.”
“So that’s why the manager called me in?”
“He said they insisted on talking to you. We kept refusing, and they went to the manager’s office.”
“The office? No unauthorized entry.”
Noah snorted—at the customer, not me.
“Then he said he’s some big shot in film and insisted you be cast. The manager finally called you.”
That’s a new breed of nightmare.
“Where is he? Still in the office?”
“He’s in the lobby.”
I walked toward the indicated spot to see what the guy looked like. And there he was…
“Ah, you showed up.”
“….”
“I’ve been waiting.”
Not exactly someone I was thrilled to see.
I glared at the man in a crisp summer suit and pomade hairstyle.
“Joshua Martin.”
You bastard—weren’t we rivals?