#alylm

The Heir and the Innkeeper could be your big break. Slated as a romantic drama following an irresponsible chaebol heir caught in yet another scandal that threatens to ruin his family’s livelihood. He’s forced to hide away at a countryside inn run by a hardworking, no-nonsense woman (that’s you). They clash, of course. Then fall in love, of course.

It’s an eight-episode, limited series…and it’s being backed by fucking Netflix. It’s a huge opportunity.

The only catch? The actor hired to portray the heir.

None other than Hwang Hyunjin.

While most actresses would be chomping at the bit for a chance to star alongside him, you were tempted to back out of the project when you heard who your co-star would be. Your agent had to talk some sense into you—you can’t pass this up. Working with people you may not be fond of is part of the job. You just have to show up, do what they’ve hired you to do, and that’s it. You are not obligated to interact with him outside of that.

And, thankfully, today you’re just here to work with the hair, makeup, and wardrobe teams on your character’s look and have it approved by the director.

You don’t have to film anything. You don’t even have to see him yet.

The PA stops outside a trailer with a sign that reads ‘Hair & Makeup’, and opens the door. “I’ll be back for you when you’re done.”

“Okay, thank you. What was your name again?”

“Jeongin,” he replies and closes the door after you ascend the stairs.

The interior is strikingly bright—all white walls with fluorescent overhead lighting. There are three black chairs stationed in front of individual vanity mirrors, and a small TV hangs above the back wall.

“y/n?” a deep voice greets, and you nod. He has shoulder length blonde hair and a sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “I’m Felix, that’s Yuna. Take a seat, we’ll get started on you in a minute.”

Yuna is tall with long, dark hair. She’s snipping away at the hair of the man in the furthest chair.

“Han,” the other man says, extending his hand when you sit. Felix is currently dabbing at his face with a makeup brush. “That’s Minho.”

“The Ahn brothers?” you shake his hand, recalling their roles from the call sheet.

Their characters are employees of the inn, and extremely close friends of the innkeeper, so you will have a lot of scenes to film with them in the coming weeks.

“Only when they call action,” Minho says in mock disdain.

“On or off set, he loves me. Don’t let him fool you,” Han whispers with a wink.

 Yuna removes the cape from Minho after finishing his hair, then approaches you with a clean one. Minho stands and stretches out his limbs.

“You’re lucky,” she says running her hands through your hair. “Your character gets a decent hairstyle. No tragic bangs. No dry extensions.”

You smile and relax in the chair. Minho and Han hang around in the room until another PA comes to take them to wardrobe. Alone with Felix and Yuna working seamlessly together, you find yourself even more at ease.

“I owe both of you coffee for this,” you say watching as Felix applies the finishing touches to your face and Yuna straightens the final section of your hair.

“You owe us your first award,” Felix corrects, nudging your chin up. “We’re manifesting.”

Yuna hums in agreement. “The ‘innocent girl next door with hidden fire’ look is totally working for you. Soft waves, dewy skin, a little gloss…they’re gonna eat it up.”

“I just hope I don’t mess it up,” you admit, keeping your voice light, but meaning it. “I’m not exactly the normal choice for a role like this.”

Felix catches your eye in the mirror. “You won’t. You’ve got presence. Directors and audiences notice that.”

“And cheekbones,” Yuna adds. “Presence and cheekbones? Deadly combo.”

You smile, the nerves still there, but softened by their quiet confidence in you.

Not to say that you aren’t confident in your own abilities. You absolutely are. But it’s always interesting to hear how others perceive you. It reassures you that you’re doing something right.

After your hair and makeup are complete, Jeongin returns.

“They’re finishing up a scene right now and then the director wants to introduce you and Hyunjin.” He says. “Then we’ll get you over to wardrobe.”

So much for not having to see him today.

“Sounds good,” you force a smile, following where he leads.

To the general public, Hyunjin is known for his perfect jawline, warm brown eyes and flawless skin. But you remember him for his even more flawless ego. You’ve seen beneath the façade. You know, as a firsthand eyewitness, that Hwang Hyunjin is an entitled asshole.

You wonder, briefly, if he even remembers working with you.

You doubt it.

He hardly noticed or thought about anyone except himself that day.

You enter the building where the scene is being filmed. Crew members run past, a gaffer is shouting about electrical cords not being taped down properly, and the key grip is checking the lighting rigs.

The set is decorated to look like a lavish, upscale living room, fitting for the characters that reside there. Your eyes immediately land on the long-limbed man lounging on the couch—his dark hair perfectly styled and parted at the side. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button-up shirt with rolled sleeves. His head rests on the arm of the couch, his eyes closed.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He’s probably sleeping without a clue as to what’s going on around him and all the hard work the crew is putting in. It’s actually quite fitting for the oblivious and privileged character he’s playing. And yet, you find yourself staring at him for longer than you should…

“Roll sound,” the assistant director, Seungmin, starts the roll call.

Jeongin holds his arm out to stop you from moving forward and you freeze as everything falls quiet.

“Speed,” the boom operator replies.

“Roll camera.”

“Rolling,” the camera operator chimes in.

“Marker.”

“The Heir and the Innkeeper—episode one, scene six, take four,” another crew member announces, slapping the slate.

“Action!” The director bellows.

A door bursts open and in storms an older man with greying hair—the legendary J.Y. Park. A smile spreads across your face. He was part of the reason you were more inclined to work on this project. It’s an honor to be included in the same cast as him.

“Jae-hoon!” He shouts, throwing a newspaper on top of Hyunjin.

Hyunjin shoots up on the couch, his eyes snapping open. He grabs the newspaper, looking at the headline—from the script you know it’s an image of him outside a nightclub after an altercation with someone, sporting a busted lip as two men struggle to hold him back.

“They still print these things?” Hyunjin delivers his line with perfect nonchalance.

You watch as the scene unfolds, the tension between the actors reaches you even where you stand nearly forty feet away. You have to admit—Hyunjin is good. There’s clearly a reason he’s achieved such high levels of success in this industry despite being insufferable.

Hyunjin sighs, standing from the couch, grabbing an ice pack from the end table and pressing it to his lip. “I’ll talk to the press, do an apology tour. It’s fine.”

“An apology isn’t going to cut it this time. You’ve jeopardized the merger and may have lost us billions with your incessant, childish behavior. Pack your bags, you’re getting out of the city.”

“A vacation?” Hyunjin smirks, arching an eyebrow.

J.Y. Park scowls, jaw clenched. “You need to grow up if you expect me to leave this company in your hands someday.”

They stare each other down for what feels like hours before the director yells, “Cut! We got it.”

The set drowns in sound as everyone resumes conversing and the crew starts moving things around to set up for the next shot.

“Alright, let’s go,” Jeongin says. He stops once you’ve reached the director’s chair. “Director Bang, y/n, as requested.”

“y/n, it’s nice to see you again,” he says as Jeongin retreats.

You haven’t seen him since the audition. Typically, you would have met with him and/or the casting directors to have a chemistry read with Hyunjin, but your schedules never lined up. Director Bang vouched for you, claiming he saw something in you that he just knew was right for the part. Knowing the trust he’s placing in you to get this right, though, is an added stress. You have to get along with your menace of a co-star.

“You too, Mr. Bang. I’m excited to get started,” you smile enthusiastically and bow.

“Good. You have a lot up against you, as I said on the phone, but don’t let that discourage you.” He returns your smile. “And call me Chan, please.”

He stands from his chair, makes eye contact with Hyunjin across the room and waves him over. You keep a small smile planted on your face—playing nice. You can do this. You’re an actor, after all.

“Before you head to wardrobe, I want you and Hyunjin to run through your lines together.”

Hyunjin saunters over, looking you up and down as he approaches. “Yeah, boss?”

“This is y/n. y/n, Hyunjin.”

“We’ve met,” Hyunjin says, bowing.

Ah. So, he does remember?

Although, you wouldn’t actually call what transpired as having ‘met’. You were forced to endure his tyranny.

You return the bow.

“Really? That’s great, then. Go to your trailer and go over your lines for episode 1, scene 15 and then episode 4, scene 8, alright?” Chan continues. “I’ll stop by in a bit to see how it’s going.”

“Okay.” Hyunjin gives a curt nod to Chan, who spares one final look between you two before going to watch the playback. “Nice to see you again.”

“Is it? I’m still deciding,” you shoot back, dropping the smile and meeting his gaze with a sharpness that matches your tone.

The idea of playing nice and actually having to do it are not mixing very well in your head right now. Not when you know what lingers beneath the surface with him.

You head for the exit, not bothering to see if he’s following. But of course he is. He has to.

“Still all sarcasm, I see.” He catches up to you in just a few paces to walk by your side.

“Were you expecting me to fall at your feet like an obsessed fan?” You stop walking when your senses catch up to you. You have no idea where you’re going. “Where’s your trailer?”

“There’s still time to come around,” he says, voice dripping with a smug, infuriating charm as he starts leading the way.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you say, walking behind him until you get to his trailer. He holds the door open for you to enter first.

The trailer is fully decked out with cream colored leather sofas, a kitchenette, microwave, refrigerator and freezer, bathroom, and a bed. The floors and walls are a light brown colored wood paneling, making it feel rather homey.

“You know your lines?” he asks, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.

But you’re still taking in the fact of where you are and with whom. In a trailer. With Hyunjin. A few years ago, your heart and mind would have been racing at even just the thought of this.

Although the ethereal glow that surrounded him the first time you laid eyes on him is long gone, he’s still catastrophically attractive. There’s no denying that.

And for a second your intertwined future on this project sinks in. You’ve never had to kiss someone for a role before, so you can’t help but wonder what it will be like to kiss him—mainly if you’ll be repulsed by it.

“Don’t insult me.” You recover, pulling yourself from your thoughts.

“Don’t do this, don’t do that,” he mocks. “What can I do, then?”

“Your job.”

He laughs as he leans against the kitchen counter. You start to take a seat but rethink it, not wanting to physically put yourself in a position that’s lower than him. He might be the main male lead, but you’re the female lead and you won’t let him forget that for even a second.

“From the top?” you ask.

“Certainly not the bottom,” he retorts.

You grit your teeth and let out a low breath. This is going to be a long three months.

You shake off the nerves, getting it straight in your mind that the man in front of you is just an actor. You’ve run lines with plenty of scene partners; this should be no different.

And it isn’t—for the first scene. There’s a lot of bickering, which comes naturally.

The second scene proves to be a strain. When Hyunjin steps towards you, you instinctively step back. When he moves to tuck your hair behind your ear, you either flinch or your face just isn’t relaxed enough to make it feel like a moment of genuine connection.

“You have to stop that,” he says, annoyed after the umpteenth failed attempt.

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” you reply.

“Relax your face muscles. You’re acting like—” he does an exaggerated imitation of the grimacing expression you’ve been making, “—as if I have leprosy or something.”

The look on his face catches you momentarily off guard and you have to immediately grit your teeth to keep from laughing. You didn’t know his face could contort in such a way. Regardless, he is not amusing. He can’t be.

“You haven’t told me the moves or gestures you’ll be making—so I’m not expecting it,” you reply, shaking off the distraction. “Let’s run it again, and do everything exactly like you did on the last one, don’t keep switching it up.”

Forty minutes later you’re rehearsing in front of Chan. He’s seated on the couch as you and Hyunjin stand in front of him.

“Cut, cut,” Chan says. He leans back against the couch, stroking his chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “Something is off.”

You glance over at Hyunjin, then to Chan, unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

“We can try it again,” Hyunjin offers.

“She needs to get to wardrobe. And you need to film your next scene,” Chan shakes his head. “The bit from episode one was great. The tension and hostility is perfect. But I’m not picking up on the chemistry for the later episode.”

Fuck.

Clearly, you still aren’t hiding your disdain for him as well as you thought. You need to work on that.

“I want the two of you to spend a day together, get comfortable, get to know each other,” Chan continues.

Fuck. Again.

You didn’t want to work on it like that.

“You’ll meet with the intimacy coordinator soon and whatever this—” he motions between you and Hyunjin, “—is, simply won’t cut it.”

In a matter of hours your plans for steering clear of this man when you’re not filming has been foiled. And you’ve already been reminded of just how close you will be getting on set.

“We’ll work on it,” you say.

Hyunjin nods his agreement as Chan stands and exits the trailer, muttering quietly to himself.

“I told you…you need to pull it together if this is going to work,” Hyunjin says when it’s just the two of you again.

There he is, peeking through the façade.

“Me?” You ask, appalled, but not surprised, at the accusation.

“I don’t see anyone els—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, holding your hand up. “Let’s get something straight. You and I are a team on this. I’m not going to let you steamroll through this project and shift the blame to me for anything that goes wrong.”

“Is that so?”

You don’t know what to make of his tone. Is he challenging you?

“Yes.” You hold his gaze, not backing down.

He pulls his phone out from his pocket. “What’s your number?”

“W—what?” You stumble.

“We have to bond or whatever,” he shrugs. “I’d say I’ll have my people call your people, but…you don’t exactly have people, do you?”

A snappy reply doesn’t come quickly enough this time. You reluctantly provide him with your number, and your phone buzzes when he sends you a text.

“That was a joke, by the way. Lighten up.”

You glare at him.

If he does remember you, he has to remember the way he behaved on set that day. The way he looked at you after your attempt at a joke. Is it only okay when he does it?

How and why is he acting like none of that ever happened?

“My assistant will plan something,” he says to your silence.

“Fine. Just…keep it professional,” you reply.

He arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow again. “Oh, I will. We’re splitting the bill for everything 50/50.”

“Then keep it cheap.”

He laughs, the sound grating your nerves, just as there’s a knock on the door. It swings open and Jeongin pokes his head in.

“Here to take you to wardrobe, y/n.”

Thank the fucking lord for that.

You follow after Jeongin, lost in thought, trying to come to terms with what you’re going to have to deal with for the sake of this role. This experience should be exciting. You don’t want the mental drain of putting up with Hyunjin to sour it for you. You can’t let it.

You don’t care, personally, to get to know him. But for your career? You will.

You’ll do what Chan has asked of you, but you’re keeping your guard up. You won’t be blindsided whenever he finally decides to flip the switch and show his true colors again.

You’re waiting outside of the art café Hyunjin texted the address for and it’s almost 11:00am. He was supposed to be here at 10:30. Your stomach grumbles, clearly upset. Maybe you shouldn’t have skipped breakfast. But eating was the last thing on your mind.

You start typing out a text just as a car pulls up to the curb. The rear passenger door opens and Hyunjin steps out with a lavender box in his hands.

He’s dressed in baggy jeans, a gray hoodie, a dark blue baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. The hood is pulled up—adding to his incognito appearance. It’s a subtle reminder of his fame level and how he has to dress to avoid being sighted. Especially with a female.

“You’re late,” you say by way of greeting.

“I had to make a stop,” is his cavalier response.

“Then you should have left earlier.”

He holds the box out toward you and lifts the lid. You eye the flaky, golden pastries suspiciously.

“A peace offering.”

Your stomach grumbles again and you debate whether or not to take one—but you are starving. As you reach inside, he snatches the box back and shuts the lid.

“Say you forgive me first,” he taunts as you glare at him.

You’re still searching for a way to move past your disdain for him. You need to find some redeemable qualities within him. And he’s just proven he’s not above bribery, which isn’t a good look.

“Let’s just go inside,” you shoot back.

The smell of paint, clay, and espresso hits you as soon as you walk in. It’s quaint, with small round tables and shelves of half-finished ceramics lining the walls. Aside from the workers, the entire space is empty.

“y/n, Mr. Hwang, we’re happy to have you today,” a staff member greets. “Please, take a seat and we’ll get started.”

You and Hyunjin sit beside each other, two plain clay mugs on the table with several brushes between them. The staff member brings out a variety of paints, two cups of water, and paper towels.

“You’ll have the room to yourselves, but please let us know if you have any music requests.”

“R&B,” Hyunjin says. “Slow and sensual.”

You glance over at him, feeling something between disgust and annoyance, and catch the playful smile he shoots the employee. She blushes and scurries away.

“Can’t help yourself from hitting on anything that walks, huh?” you mutter.

He reaches across you—you lean back and hold your breath as he invades your space—to place the box of pastries down on your side of the table. “Gotta keep growing the fan base somehow.”

“Gross.”

“Eat,” he says, sitting back upright.

You finally exhale as he picks up his mug, turning it around in his hands. You (begrudgingly) grab a pastry from the box while he studies the mug like he sees something you don’t.

“So, you forgive me?” he asks offhandedly as you take a bite of the pastry, his eyes never leaving the mug.

You don’t even bother trying to be dainty and just polish it off in a few bites.

“I like sugar. You just happen to be the delivery system.”

He chuckles and sets the mug back on the table. “Alright, so what are we painting? Something to represent the show?”

“Do whatever you want,” you say, picking up the smock on the table and draping it over your shoulders.

You grab the two straps to tie behind your back, but before you can register what’s happening, Hyunjin’s hands find your hips. You tense up as he turns you on the stool to face away from him, then gently takes the straps from your hands and ties them together.

The smoothness of the gesture and the light music playing in the background cause your mind to slip to a place where it doesn’t belong for a second, but you call it right back.  

“All set,” he says, his hands brushing your hips again as he turns you back to face the table.

“…thanks…” you mumble, grabbing a brush.

“Don’t worry, I can do my own,” he says sarcastically as you begin painting.

You choose not to respond. You don’t know what he’s playing at. Sure, you’re supposed to be getting more comfortable with each other, but that doesn’t mean he has to act the part of a romantic interest right now.

As you quietly work side by side, you glance over at him occasionally, but your brush stills when you catch the look on his face. He’s completely zoned in, brows drawn as he guides the brush with practiced ease. His hand moves with precision—confident, steady, almost graceful. You hate to admit it, but there’s something mesmerizing about the way he works and he seems far less like an arrogant prick right now.

You snap yourself out of the trance and return to your disgraceful mug, dabbing more paint onto it.

“What’s the cost to rent this place out, by the way?”

“Hmm?” He asks, focused on his mug.

“We’re splitting it 50/50. What’s the cost?”

“The studio picked up the tab,” he says offhandedly.

That’s a relief. You’re not exactly rolling in the dough yet.

An hour and minimal small talk later, your mug looks like it’s been through several emotional breakdowns while his looks like it could be sold in a boutique.

“Are you kidding me?” you stare at his masterpiece—an intricate koi fish with neat black linework for the scales. “How did you do that so fast?”

He shrugs. “I’m good with my hands.”

You ignore the double meaning, frowning down at your own mug. It was supposed to be a mountain landscape, but it’s just a mess of grass and sky with no real definition. Before you can protest, Hyunjin sets his mug down and grabs yours. You watch as he works—that same concentrated face, warm brown eyes focused, brush tapping paint, tongue caught between his teeth.

“Just needs a little clarity,” he says, dipping into the green. “Some separation. Depth.”

“What, are you Bob Ross, or something?”

“No mistakes—just happy little accidents.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “Not quite a laugh, but I’ll take it. Baby steps.”

“Baby steps to what?”

He doesn’t answer right away. When he’s done, he sets your mug in front of you. In just a few minutes, he’s salvaged your disaster into something almost good.

“Baby steps to you falling in love with me.” He pauses. “Well, not you, but the innkeeper, I guess.”

You dunk your brushes into the water with a dramatic splash.

“Just so we’re clear,” you say, wiping your hands on a towel, “this whole day of bonding is for the show. For our characters. It’s not a truce, so you can stop pretending to be a nice guy.”

He leans back, twirling the brush between his fingers. “Are you always this defensive, or is it just me”

“It’s just you—with your tardiness and pastries and thinking you’re so charming.”

“I am charming.”

You snort again. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

It’s not too much of an admission, it’s basically a fact to anyone with working eyes. Hell, even the blind could agree just by touching his face. But your reply shuts him up for a beat. You catch the flicker of surprise in his eyes before he recovers with a smile.

“You think I’m pretty?”

You stand and grab the mug he saved from total destruction. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you call over your shoulder on the way to the drying rack.

As you’re cleaning up, the staff hands each of you a paper ticket with your initials scrawled on it. Your mugs will be ready for pickup in a week, but you make a mental note to never return for it.

Outside, the warm, late-spring air hits your skin like a much-needed refresher.  

“Let’s send a picture to Chan.” Hyunjin says, pulling out his phone before clarifying, “I mean Director Bang. We’re on a first name basis.”

You’ve already been told you could call him that, too, so his statement just makes you roll your eyes.

“Are you always so full of yourself?”

“How do you think I made it this far?” He grins. “We’ll do a selfie. But you gotta sell it—don’t make me carry this whole relationship.”

You blink. “Relationship?”

“For the show. For the director. Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” you snap—definitely not calm.

This man irks your soul just by being near you.

You have to get control of that, quickly, if this is going to work.

“Come here,” he says, angling his phone up.

He places his hand around your waist, turning you until the art café is visible in the background. Your breath hitches at the closeness. Instinctively, you deflect—commenting on the lighting, the angle. He adjusts everything until you’re satisfied.

“Lean into me,” he says.

“This is good enough.”

He reaches around you with his other hand and lowers your head until it’s resting on his chest. You sigh, force a smile, and bring a hand up to rest on his stomach. He winks at you through the camera before snapping the picture. When he lowers his phone, you both look—it’s annoyingly cute. But more importantly, it doesn’t seem like you hate each other.

The rest of the afternoon is spent wandering through a nearby park and it’s…surprisingly tolerable. Hyunjin insists on stopping at every cherry blossom tree, to analyze and photograph it, and you’re pretty sure he’s doing it just to mess with you. Somewhere between debating the best recently released films and dodging a group of his teenage fans who might have recognized him, there’s a moment—brief and quiet—when the conversation and laughter doesn’t feel forced or catty.

But the easy rhythm between you falters when Hyunjin’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, jaw tightening just slightly. When it buzzes again, he sighs and finally answers it.

You watch the change happen in real time—the way his gaze shifts, the lightness in his features slipping away.

“Shit. I have to go,” he says after a pause. “Something came up.”

“Seriously? I cleared my entire day for this.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” He says plainly, as if that’s all the response you deserve, and more on par with the Hyunjin you remember.

You blink. Of course he didn’t. Why would he? People probably move mountains for him without being asked.

He rubs the back of his neck, clearly realizing how that sounded. “That’s not—I mean, I appreciate it. I just—it’s work.”

“This is work, too,” you remind him before sighing and shaking your head. “Alright. Go.”

His brow furrows, and for a second, it looks like he might argue—or apologize. But then he exhales instead, letting the moment pass.

WEEK 2

The next few days are a blur of list making, packing, and triple-checking your essentials. You’re leaving your cozy Seoul apartment behind for a hotel near the filming site in Gyeongju.

The train ride takes nearly four hours. From the station, it’s another thirty-minute drive, winding through hills and quiet villages before you arrive at the hotel. You see Han and Minho in the lobby when you check in and are happy to learn your rooms are on the same floor. Your fear of being on your own here for the next ten weeks slowly starts to dissipate.

“Rumor has it Hyunjin got the presidential suite on the top floor, though,” Han says.

Of course. He’s here too. In the presidential suite, no less.

That tracks.

“You guys doing anything tonight?” Minho asks. “Want to grab dinner?”

You smile and nod. “I’ll come back down after I put my stuff away.”

After checking in, you ride up the elevator to your floor. Your room, although not a presidential suite, is still quite large—more than you were expecting, really. It’s essentially a one-bedroom apartment with a small kitchen, dining area and living room.

You meet back up with Han and Minho in the lobby before heading out to explore the surrounding area and finding a place to eat. You notice how comfortable they are with each other, as if they’ve been acquainted for some time.

“Have you two worked together before?” you ask as you’re seated for hotpot.

“No,” Minho replies. “But we went to acting school together.”

“He really used to hate me,” Han says.

“Who says I still don’t?”

“You two are going to be fun to work with,” you laugh.

“We’ll make your day, every day,” Han grins.

You fall into casual conversation with them as you cook the food, but decline when they order a round of soju.

“I have my first day of filming tomorrow,” you tell them.

“You looking forward to working with such a big star?” Han asks.

You shrug. “I’m just happy to have the gig.”

Dislike for Hyunjin aside, you don’t want to go around bad mouthing your co-star. You want things on set to run as smoothly as possible for everyone involved.

“Not thrilled or elated?” Minho digs. “The scenes you’re filming with him? I bet other actresses would give anything for the chance to lock lips with the Hwang Hyunjin.”

“That’s just part of the job,” you reply.

“We’ll check back in after you film that and ask again,” Minho wiggles his eyebrows.

The three of you round out the night stopping at a few nearby stores to pick up groceries. You didn’t have time to check the kitchen, but they advise you that all standard cooking utensils (pots, pans, cutlery, etc.) are provided.

It’s 9:00pm when you make it back to the hotel.

“Thanks for letting me tag along today.”

“Any time,” Han says, standing a couple doors down in front of his own room.

“Goodnight,” Minho waves, swiping his key card and disappearing into his room.

You put your groceries away and hop in the shower before climbing into bed. Your body immediately relaxes into the mattress, but it takes a while for your brain to finally shut off. And even then, you wake up throughout the night, worried about missing the alarm for your first day.

The next morning, you’re dressed, caffeinated, and as ready as you’ll ever be when a black van pulls up to the front of the hotel at 7:30am to take you to set. As the inn comes into view, you roll down the back window, staring out in awe.

Nestled against the soft silhouette of distant mountains, the inn looks like it stepped straight out of a period drama. It’s hanok-style architecture—with sloping tiled roofs, warm wooden beams, and latticed windows—feels timeless. Stone steps lead through a manicured lawn, past clusters of boulders, giving the whole place a sense of calm, intentional design.

You sit through an hour of hair and makeup, skimming over the script out of habit, even though you’ve memorized your lines. You can still hear Chan’s voice in your head, the doubt that poured out of him after watching you and Hyunjin attempt that first scene.

You don’t want to let him down. You can’t.

You take your mark behind the front desk of the inn, dressed in a prim little uniform befitting a small-town innkeeper. Your posture is stiff and you’re starting to get antsy, looking at the time—your co-star is still nowhere to be seen.

Of course.

Eventually, Seungmin jogs over, lowering his headset. “Hyunjin will enter when Chan calls action. You won’t look up until he’s right at the desk.”

You nod once. “Got it.”

“You ready, y/n?” Chan’s voice booms from across the room.

You offer a quick thumbs up, trying to shake off the anxiety. Roll call begins—lights, camera, audio, and you close your eyes to steady yourself. And when you open them, you are her—the innkeeper.

You keep your gaze glued to the blank computer screen, fingers tapping at the keys that don’t do anything. Movement flickers in your peripherals—a figure entering the frame. Your hand shifts to a stack of guest paperwork. He moves closer. You can feel him.

Then finally—a throat clears.

You lift your head. And freeze.

Hyunjin.

With a buzz cut.

You’d forgotten about his character’s change in appearance—shaving his head to avoid recognition while in hiding.

Your stomach drops straight through the floor.

Fuck. He looks good.

He’s all clean lines, sharp jaw, eyes as dark and intense as ever. The bad-boy aesthetic works on him a little too well. You hate how much you like it.

You force a neutral expression, pushing away that very real reaction.

“Welcome to the Willowbrook Inn,” you say.“Do you have a reservation?”

He delivers his lines with just the right edge—sarcasm and arrogance lacing every word. You meet him blow for blow with contempt as the script calls for. But it feels effortless on both sides.

“There’s no master suite to upgrade to? Where’s the owner?” he demands.

“You’re looking at her,” you say flatly.

His jaw goes slack, his stare intense enough to make your heart start beating faster, even though this moment isn’t real.

“Fine. I’ll take the room,” he grumbles.

“Cut,” Chan calls. “Great tension. Let’s go again for coverage.”

Your chest rises and falls, your pulse elevated. You allow yourself a small smile at Chan’s praise.

Hyunjin approaches, eyes warm with something like camaraderie. “You okay? You looked…surprised.”

You glance pointedly at his buzzed head. “It’s like the first time you see a hairless cat. A little jarring.”

He gives you a mock-offended look but says nothing before Seungmin calls everyone back to position.

During the lunch break, Jeongin shows you to your trailer now that it’s ready. It’s about the same size as Hyunjin’s with similar wood paneling. There’s a small gray sofa as soon as you step inside that pulls out into a small bed. A kitchenette—no stove unlike Hyunjin’s, you note. And in the back, instead of a bed, there are two more gray sofas opposite each other with yellow throw pillows. It’s still cozy enough. And you do have your own private bathroom, so that’s something.

After lunch, you move on to your second scene with Hyunjin—this time, outside of Jae-hoon’s room.

He opens the door and there you are, holding a stack of towels.

He stares at them in disapproval.

“No. I meant better ones. These are the same as what’s already in the room.”

You scoff. “They dry your body, don’t they?”

“Can you get Turkish Cotton?”

“Where do you think you are right now?” You ask. “You think you can just demand whatever you want and I’ll procure it with a snap of my fingers? This is my inn, not your playground.”

“And yet,” he replies smoothly, “here I am. You should be thanking me for the opportunity, really.”

“The opportunity to commit a crime?”

“Is that a threat?” He narrows his eyes.

“Might be a promise.” You all but shove the towels into his chest. “Dinner is at seven.”

“I’ll be served in my room, thank you.”

“You’ll be served in the dining hall. Thank you.”

He steps closer, towering over you with a smirk. “You have no idea who you’re talking to.”

The line throws you. Your heart stutters. That’s not in the script.

But it’s spot on for both Jae-hoon and Hyunjin.

You hesitate, just for a second, before you snap back. “Yeah, I do. A jerk who needs to lower his ego.”

“Cut,” Chan calls. “Love the improv. We’ll reset for Hyunjin’s over-the-shoulder shot.”

Hyunjin sets the towels on a table and puts down the doorstop to hold it open. The hair and makeup team move in to do quick touch-ups. As they work, he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Really felt like you meant that last line.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“No. Lucky for you, I think you’re funny.”

You raise your eyebrow, skeptical that he thinks anything of you.

He grins. “We need to reschedule the rest of our afternoon.”

“You mean the one you bailed on?”

His grin fades just slightly. “You still upset about that?”

“You can’t be upset by someone when you already expect them to let you down.”

“Ouch.” He studies you a little too long, then takes a step back and hands you the towels again. “For the record, I think we could be good friends for the duration of this shoot.”

“Friends? What are we, twelve-year-olds?”

He laughs loudly as he moves the doorstop and shuts the door to start to restart the scene.

You settle into your film schedule and get more comfortable working with the cast and crew in the days that follow. On Thursday, after wrapping, you change out of your costume then head back to set to meet the intimacy coordinator.

You’re experiencing so many firsts with this project, but you take it all in stride. The purpose of the coordinator is to talk you through the motions and make sure no boundaries are crossed. You’re taking this whole process seriously, so you hope that he is to.

However, as you scan the set you see that he’s late. Again. He clearly doesn’t care about punctuality. Or value anyone’s time. It reminds you that he hasn’t really changed since you last worked together.

You sigh. You just want to focus on the job and doing this role justice. Not on Hyunjin and the fact that you have to go through all of this with him in particular. He’s infuriating. Charming. And then infuriating again. He needs to pick one thing so you can figure out how to handle him.

All you’d like is a little more consistency.

Ten more minutes pass before he arrives, casually slipping in through a side entrance.

“You really don’t like being on time, do you?” You don’t bother to mask your irritation.

The intimacy coordinator interrupts, offering a gentle buffer. “We’re just getting started. No worries. Let’s talk through the emotional beats before we get physical.”

Everyone just brushes off his unprofessional behavior because he is the Hwang Hyunjin.

You stand away from each other, as if COVID distancing is still in effect, while the coordinator walks you through the scene. Your character is in the midst of confronting his about the way he’s treating your staff. A storm starts to rage outside. The windows in the lobby have all been left open, and the sudden downpour puts the interior at risk. Your character rushes to shut them; Jae-hoon joins her—

You glance at Hyunjin as the coordinator continues. He’s got that focused look on his face again. Not the usually cocky mask—something quieter. Serious. His professionalism helps you relax, just a little.

—The last window is stuck, and your character struggles with it, rain soaking her as she fights to close it. Jae-hoon comes up behind her, covering her back with his body as he uses his strength to pull the window shut. When it’s finally closed, she turns—and he doesn’t move. His arms are braced on either side of her, hand still pressed to the window. In the silence, there’s tension. Vulnerability. And then a near-kiss, interrupted by a crack of thunder.

Sounds easy enough.

But when it’s time to block the scene and you step into place, your pulse ticks faster. You face the window. Hyunjin moves behind you.

He isn’t even touching you, but his presence is magnetic.

“You okay with me moving my hands here after I take them off the window?” he asks, voice low beside your ear. His hands hover near your waist.

You nod. “That’s fine.”

“Let’s take it from the top,” the coordinator says.

You run through the scene. The coordinator calls out adjustments as you go.

“Hyunjin, you’re a little too far away. This is going to be a cowboy shot. So we need chest contact to sell the intimacy. Hips can stay back. It’ll feel awkward, but it won’t look awkward. We’re not shooting below the waist.”

Hyunjin nods and steps closer. You feel his chest against your back and tense up.

“Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, okay?” His voice, soft and caring, is now even closer, and sends a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah. Okay,” you reply, forcing yourself to stay focused. That’s not his usual charm. That sounded genuine.

You start from the top, both of you pretending to struggle with the stuck window.

“And it’s shut. y/n, turn to face him.” The coordinator instructs.

You do—and your breath catches. He’s already looking down at you.

Your eyes are drawn to the tiny freckle beneath his left eye, and then down, down, down to that perfectly sculpted mouth.

The one you’ve wondered what it will be like to kiss when the time comes.

He doesn’t touch you yet. His arms are on either side of you, braced against the window.

Your eyes lift to meet his, and just like that, the set disappears. The lights, the coordinator, the others in the room setting up for tomorrow—gone. It’s just him. Just you.

There’s no dialogue, so the silence stretches.

But you don’t want to cower under his gaze.

Something shifts when his eyes drop to your mouth this time, just for a second.

His hands fall from the wall to your waist, and if your heart was racing before, now it’s tripping over itself.

Thunder cracks somewhere in the distance—your sound cue—and it genuinely startles you.

Hyunjin doesn’t break character. He wraps one arm around you. His other hand slides up your back to your head (a gesture that will surely be captured via close-ups on the actual day of filming), and presses your head against his chest, anchoring you to him. Holding you like its instinct. Like this is real.

And even though you know it’s not…your body doesn’t. You relax into him.

“Good. Let’s go again from the turn,” the coordinator says, breaking the moment.

You blink and step back.

Hyunjin lets go. Clears his throat. Nods at the direction.

But his gaze lingers for just a second too long. Like he felt it, too.

a/n: i'm never gonna pass up an opportunity for hyunjin to be picky about his bed sheets, sorry hahaha more soon!

You’re standing off to the side with a few other extras after getting dressed and having your hair and makeup done, gossiping about who the stars of the commercial are. IU? Park Bo-gum?

The female lead is the first to arrive—Seo Ye-ji. She bares a wide smile as she politely bows and greets everyone on her way to hair and makeup. When she reemerges dressed in the same outfit, you and the other girls do your best to contain your excitement.

The director calls everyone over, since several of the shots can be completed without the male lead. You watch Ye-ji film, in awe at her work ethic. She nails everything on the first take.

“Alright, extras. Veils on!” The assistant director calls.

You and the other girls put your veils on and stand with your backs to the camera. When action is called, you all proceed down the alleyway with Ye-ji blending in amongst you.

When the director has run through all the shots he can complete without the male lead, everyone is left waiting around for him to show up.

The clock is ticking—not that you’re complaining, you’re getting paid by the hour. But as Ye-ji’s assistant talks about needing to make other engagements, you can tell the director is growing anxious and it becomes apparent this isn’t normal.

Suddenly, the director shouts, “Get him to hair and makeup, now!”

You turn to see who it is you’ve been waiting on and your mouth drops open.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Both of the girls on either side of you reach down and grab your hands—sharing in the surprise of who’s air you’re breathing as quietly as possible whilst squeezing each other’s hands to death.

Ye-ji is beautiful, there’s no doubt about that.

But Hyunjin? A fucking ethereal glow surrounds his frame as he glides through set. He commands the attention of the room, but he doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he passes by. He barely nods as an introduction, says absolutely nothing about being late, and when the makeup artist accidentally gets a dab of concealer on his jeans, he swats her hand away as she attempts to clean it—complaining about a dry-cleaning bill.

You and the other girls share a look, the bubble of adoration you were in moments before starting to burst. You know actors are rarely the same in real life as the characters they portray…but this is so far from what you would have expected of him.

He yells for someone to bring him a coffee, and a meek production assistant (PA) scurries off to retrieve it from craft services. But when he brings it back, Hyunjin looks at the cup, then up to him and heaves a heavy sigh of annoyance.

“There’s a Ediya Coffee shop up the street. Get it from there.”

The PA bows, apologizes, and takes off so fast it gives a whole new meaning to the phrase running an errand.

With tensions already high on set from being behind, no one dares correct his attitude. It must be true that people can get anywhere on looks and talent, even if they’re shitty human beings.

Hyunjin changes into his suit for the commercial and, finally, filming resumes. He does the shots with Ye-ji first so she can wrap for the day, then you and the other girls are up.

The director has you do several practice runs, throwing out suggestions for Hyunjin to tweak his expression, and later chooses to have the girls, instead of just reaching out for him, to actually touch him—his face, his chest, his arms.

Hyunjin doesn’t seem too pleased at the idea.

“Watch your nails, girls, you might get a mouth full about a hospital bill,” you say quietly to break some of the tension that’s been lingering.

Some of the women laugh.

Hyunjin’s eyes find you in the crowd of women—his expression bone dry—and it shakes you to your core.

You promptly press your lips together and he quirks an eyebrow, as if saying ‘That’s right. Shut it.’

You don’t utter another word. In fact, you altogether avoid being in his direct line of sight for the rest of the shoot. When the director calls wrap, Hyunjin changes back into his own clothes, concealer stain and all, and leaves without saying goodbye. All you can think is how you hope to never work with him again.

Hair & Makeup Trailer:

Hyunjin's Trailer:

The Inn

Y/N's Trailer

The Sprinter Van