Despite the trigger that made him more aware of the opposite sex, Kim Dong-hoo woke up the next day completely unfazed, as if nothing had happened.

In fact, this might have been the more natural reaction.

His body was indeed at the age where puberty was in full swing, but his mind was that of an adult, and he wasn’t the type to be overwhelmed by fleeting emotions.

Besides...

‘I still don’t quite understand it.’

His unfortunate past life reared its head again, holding him back in this area.

Back then, before he could even experience parental love, he had lost everything.

When people told him, “If you're not handsome, you should at least have a good personality,” he’d only smiled bitterly.

Those memories wouldn’t be erased just because he turned on “Romance Mode” once.

The brief moment of wondering whether to turn it on or off seemed laughable now as Kim Dong-hoo turned it on without hesitation.

But his reason wasn’t some desire for a deeper relationship with Kim Su-jin. It was purely because he thought it would help him with his acting.

There was one secret behind this, though—Kim Dong-hoo didn’t really have an “ideal type.”

He had no preference for appearance, and what mattered most to him was emotional connection.

It had to be that way.

In his past life, he had been treated horribly because of his looks. Now, just because he had suddenly become handsome, should he start judging others by appearance?

‘That would be ridiculous.’

Kim Dong-hoo wanted no part of such a shallow way of living.

Even if he didn’t force these ideals on others, he made a personal vow never to judge anyone based on appearance.

‘Sure, it’s nice to be good-looking now.’

But that didn’t mean he’d wield it as a weapon. Doing so would be to betray the person he had been in his previous life.

He didn’t want to erase the person who had struggled to overcome his appearance and live a meaningful life.

And so, that fleeting moment of excitement was just a brief, meaningless episode. Though it hadn’t completely disappeared...

One day...

When Kim Dong-hoo was fully ready to receive love...

That thrill that would grip his heart tightly awaited him.

In contrast to Kim Su-jin, whose heart raced just looking at him, Kim Dong-hoo treated her the same as always.

“Su-jin, are you feeling okay? Your cheeks are really red.”

After all, inside he was still an adult who had experienced the hardships of life, so after the initial surprise, he quickly calmed down, thinking, ‘It’s just a script, after all.’

The notion that acting in romantic scenes naturally leads to falling in love seemed like a distant and arduous path for Kim Dong-hoo.

Of course...

"...I’m fine, really. It’s just a little chilly."

Even such ordinary interactions were torture for Kim Su-jin.

"Everything’s ready for the scene!"

And so, while the two of them were in the midst of their contrasting emotions, the preparations for filming were complete.

“Shouldn’t you go now?” “Yeah, see you later, Su-jin.” “S-see you later...”

With their heartbeats entirely out of sync, filming began.

+++++

‘He’s definitely different.’

The writer of The Last Supper, Yeo Su-jeong, marveled as she watched Kim Dong-hoo’s performance. She had heard the praise surrounding him, but seeing him in action made everything clear.

‘We’ll be shooting for quite a while, but if he’s already this good, the rest of the cast might start feeling the pressure.’

There were rumors that filming with Kim Dong-hoo brought tension to the set. She had thought it was a joke, but now she could see exactly why people said that.

Just as animals start to panic when a tiger prowls nearby, the other actors, sensing the threat of being outshone, put in extra effort to prepare for their scenes.

‘This is amazing.’

In this scene, Kim Dong-hoo’s character is sneaking away to skip out on work, only to be caught by Kim Su-jin’s character, leading to their first meeting.

Much like their intense first encounter, the two characters would continue to get tangled in each other’s lives. They didn’t yet know each other’s true identities, but fate kept drawing them together for one reason:

‘It’s all about the looks.’

Being handsome and beautiful was everything. It was exciting, it never got old.

Yeo Su-jeong mumbled to herself as she seriously considered the visual chemistry between Kim Dong-hoo and Kim Su-jin.

‘Dong-hoo is...’

There was no need to even discuss it.

A visual genius beyond measure. If there were awards for just having a face, he would win them all.

Yeo Su-jeong had seen plenty of celebrities, but none as striking as Kim Dong-hoo.

‘As for Su-jin...’

She was the daughter of Kim Yoo-ryeon, the queen of the screen, and she had clearly inherited her mother’s graceful beauty.

Kim Su-jin embodied the traditional Korean beauty, with an elegance that radiated even more strongly when she donned her hanbok. Among child actors, there was no comparison—once she wore her hanbok, she stood in a league of her own.

‘If I remember correctly, they’ve known each other since they were little?’

They had known each other since daycare, and their parents were close, making them practically childhood friends.

Now, they would be filming a romance together, shooting for at least sixty days. Could they really not develop feelings for each other?

‘Am I about to play matchmaker here?’

Yeo Su-jeong wasn’t the only one thinking this way.

Most of the people on set shared the same thought.

After all, how many times had they seen celebrities fall in love under similar circumstances?

If it did happen for real...

‘Would this be the birth of the first-ever star couple among child actors?’

But it wouldn’t take long for everyone to realize how misguided their hopes were.

“How can you wander around the palace so freely?” “And who are you to speak to me so rudely?”

The scene had Kim Dong-hoo and Kim Su-jin staring intently at each other. It was a moment before any romance had blossomed, so their gazes hadn’t yet softened with affection.

But...

‘Hmm?’

It was noticeable—Kim Su-jin’s eyes trembled slightly.

She was clearly struggling to maintain eye contact but forcing herself to keep looking, her determination to push through her embarrassment written all over her face.

If it had been an act of portraying love at first sight, it would’ve made sense. But if it wasn’t...

‘Let’s not play with fire. I’m too old for this.’

Yeo Su-jeong quickly pushed aside the mischievous thoughts. Teasing too much could easily turn into something harmful.

But, as it turned out, Yeo Su-jeong’s suspicions were spot on.

“Cut! That was great, but Su-jin, try to dial down the emotion in your eyes a bit.” “Yes, Director.”

Kim Su-jin, having been called out on the subtle detail, was doing her best to calm her racing heart.

If she hadn’t been learning to act since she was little...

‘I might’ve just hugged him and kissed him on impulse.’

Playing a character destined to fall in love while acting opposite her real-life first love...

Could there be any harsher fate?

Kim Su-jin could only hope her heart would hold out.

+++++

October had arrived in the blink of an eye. As The Swordsman Baek Dong-su neared its finale...

“Zuhahahaha! Do you think breaking 30% is easy? You can’t just do it again because you did it once!”

“You don’t need to show off like that. You sound like a scared dog barking.”

Jeong Do-seon frowned at the laughter coming from the drama director next door. The Swordsman Baek Dong-su hadn’t yet broken the 30% barrier, meaning they couldn’t claim victory in the Monday-Tuesday drama slot just yet.

“I understand. It’s not easy to reach 30% on weekdays, especially for a Monday-Tuesday drama!”

“That’s a loser’s argument. I’m hanging up.”

Click.

SKS drama director Jeong Do-seon ran his hands over his face in frustration.

‘It’s too late to bring Kim Dong-hoo back now.’

How could they possibly bring back a child actor whose storyline had already ended? Even if they did...

‘Where would we even fit him in?’

He knew there was no answer. He also knew how hard the current actors were working. But sometimes, no amount of effort could stand up to the real deal.

As Jeong Do-seon despaired, over at KBC, drama director Kim Cheol-do was roaring with laughter.

“Looks like we’re still the kings of Monday-Tuesday dramas! Zuhahahaha!”

“That’s right,” agreed PD Kim Young-mo.

‘He’s enjoying this a lot.’

Kim Young-mo understood. After all, Kim Cheol-do had been singing praises about wanting to work with Kim Dong-hoo again. With their Monday-Tuesday drama breaking the 30% barrier, Kim Dong-hoo must’ve seemed even more impressive to him now.

But his amusement was short-lived. The moment Kim Young-mo checked his phone, his eyes widened in shock.

“W-what?! Is this real?!”

He was so stunned that he blurted it out, causing Kim Cheol-do to stop laughing.

“What is it? What happened?” “Challenge! Golden Bell.” “Yeah? What about it?”

Challenge! Golden Bell was a quiz show aimed at high school students, accepting participants from any region or grade, making it quite popular.

“Remember when we talked about doing a special episode featuring middle school prodigies? We’re going ahead with it.” “Yeah, and?” “Kim Dong-hoo’s going to be on it.” “What? Why would Kim Dong-hoo be on a quiz show all of a sudden?”

Kim Cheol-do couldn’t understand, and neither could Kim Young-mo, who was equally bewildered.

“Well, it’s a special competition to pick the top student from middle schools across the country, and apparently, Kim Dong-hoo qualified.” “...Kim Dong-hoo is good at studying too?” “Looks like it.”

Is this kid a cheat character?

Kim Cheol-do barely stopped himself from saying it aloud.