The day before the awards ceremony, Director Lee Seongdeok was doing his best to calm his trembling hands.

‘I should call him. It’s the right thing to do.’

The reason for his shaking was simple: he was too nervous about contacting Kim Donghu. He should have reached out much earlier, but his anxiety and nervousness had led him to delay it until the day before the Blue Dragon Film Awards.

‘There’s a chance he could win an award. I can’t not tell him.’

Usually, for a short film to be considered for an awards ceremony, you need to submit an application along with all the required paperwork and film for evaluation. After that, you wait to see what happens. Hero had managed to secure a nomination for the Best Short Film category.

It was almost expected.

After all, a film that had won four awards at Mise-en-scène couldn’t possibly not be nominated.

And yet?

To Director Lee Seongdeok, it only made things more burdensome.

‘My film is competing alongside a blockbuster that sold ten million tickets.’

In any other situation, he wouldn’t have felt this pressure. But the fact that his film’s lead actor, Kim Donghu, had also starred in that blockbuster weighed heavily on his mind.

‘If I were him, I wouldn’t even glance at a short film. I’d go straight for the big movie. Should I really reach out?’

Though his mind was running in circles, his fingers worked dutifully, sending a message to Kim Donghu.

He asked if Donghu would be willing to walk the red carpet with him, suggesting there might be a chance for Hero to win Best Short Film.

He fully expected to be turned down.

But instead—

Ding!

Of course! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m definitely going to attend as Hero’s lead.

Kim Donghu’s swift and refreshing response came through, and—

“Gasp!”

Director Lee Seongdeok shouted out loud in surprise.

And so, the two of them made their way to the red carpet for Hero, their steps light and lively.

‘The director’s doing all the worrying for me, so I don’t even feel nervous.’

This was Donghu’s first time walking the red carpet as an actor. The flashes from the cameras were blinding, and the attention from the crowd was overwhelming.

Normally, he might have been too burdened to walk properly, but seeing someone more anxious than him next to him put things in perspective.

“Kim Donghu… even now, it’s not too late. Just leave me and join the Endless Frontline team!”

“What are you talking about? If I go over there now, I’ll get stoned to death.”

I joked back, quickly steadying the director as we moved toward the photo zone. Others were starting to arrive, so we needed to hurry.

“Yes! Just now, Director Lee Seongdeok and Actor Kim Donghu from Hero have arrived!”

The MC, clearly expecting us, greeted us with a radiant smile as we arrived. That smile only increased the pressure on Director Lee, who quickly lowered his head.

Since I expected this, I smiled brightly and bowed.

“Thank you for the warm welcome.” “Th-thank you… uh, hello!” “It seems the director is very nervous, but it also looks like Kim Donghu isn’t nervous at all, relatively speaking.” “I’m only able to stay calm because of all the support.”

“Now, I have to ask this—what are your thoughts on potentially winning an award?”

‘My thoughts on winning an award?’

I started thinking about what to say to keep the mood light. But before I could respond—

“I have no doubt that we will win. Kim Donghu is the best, after all.”

Suddenly, Director Lee, who had been stumbling over his words just moments ago, began speaking smoothly. He was trembling just a second ago, wasn’t he?

As if throwing away his earlier nerves, Director Lee spoke with confidence.

“We will definitely live up to the expectations of the fans. Thank you.”

When did he become so good at speaking?

After the red carpet, as the Blue Dragon Film Awards ceremony officially began, the opening kicked off with a formal and elegant tone, fitting the event.

But calling it “formal” and “elegant” was just another way of saying—

‘This is really boring.’

Just like when I’d watched it on TV, it was unbearably dull. Aside from the actual awards, it was the epitome of boredom. Without any special performances to break the monotony, I had to put all my energy into stifling yawns.

“You look like you’re trying really hard to hide how bored you are.”

Just then, as if on cue, Actor Han Taegun appeared.

“H-Han… Han Taegun…”

Director Lee, upon seeing him, tensed up immediately as if he’d just seen a ghost. Han Taegun, completely used to this kind of reaction, naturally sat down next to me.

“Are you allowed to be here, sunbae?” “There’s assigned seating, but since Hero and Endless Frontline are practically on the same team, it’s fine. Right, Director?”

“Y-yes, yes, th-that’s right.”

“Good! Glad to hear it. Then I’ll sit here too.”

The person who responded wasn’t Kim Donghu but rather—

“?!”

Director Kang Sanghun of Endless Frontline, who sported a grand beard like Guan Yu, plopped down next to Director Lee.

The table had plenty of seats, enough for the entire Endless Frontline team to join.

Still, they didn’t have to all migrate like this—

‘This is surprising.’

I put on a startled expression, to which Han Taegun responded with a lighthearted joke.

“To think our youngest would abandon us and choose a short film… boohoo.” “Haha, but it was the right decision. You can’t turn your back on a lead role.”

Director Kang Sanghun, receiving Han Taegun’s joke, glanced at Director Lee.

“I’ve been watching to see which director had the audacity to cast our Donghu for his screen debut.”

He then gave a smile.

“You’ve got real talent. You’re going to be a great director.”

“…H-huh…”

Director Kang Sanghun’s approval, coming from such an industry veteran, hit Director Lee like a sledgehammer, making his hands tremble.

And at that exact moment—

“The next award is for Best Short Film.” “Yes, and presenting the award will be…”

The time for the Best Short Film category had arrived.

The presenters walked onto the stage, raising the tension. Without much delay, they moved straight to announcing the winner.

As expected—

“I believe this film was one of the most talked-about short films recently.” “And the winner of the Best Short Film award is… Hero! Congratulations!”

As if it had been predestined, Hero won. The acceptance speech followed.

Director Lee Seongdeok stood blankly in front of the microphone, looking like he wasn’t sure how he had gotten there.

‘Uh, uh, what should I say?’

It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered the possibility of winning, but he hadn’t been completely sure either.

How could anyone be certain of these things? The bigger the expectations, the greater the disappointment, so he hadn’t prepared a speech at all.

“Thank you so much. I’d like to thank everyone who helped make this possible…”

But once he opened his mouth, the words flowed out smoothly. He thanked all those who had contributed to the short film, his family, his friends, and finally—

“I’d like to express my deepest gratitude to the person who made this moment possible: actor Kim Donghu.”

As soon as those words left his mouth—

Tears began to pour down.

Director Lee Seongdeok’s eyes flooded with tears.

Normally, this would have been an emotional moment, but his sobbing was so intense that it made people chuckle. Watching a grown man bawl his eyes out, snot and all, while being helped off the stage by his lead actor, added a much-needed lightness to the formal Blue Dragon Film Awards.

“H-hic… Kim Donghu, I’m so g-grateful, I c-could just… sob…” “We all worked together, Director. There’s no way I could have won this on my own.” “Thank you so much for saying that…”

Cameras zoomed in for a close-up of them for the ratings, but Director Lee and Kim Donghu acted as if they were the only two people in the world, patting each other on the back.

With Hero now having won its award, the ceremony moved swiftly to the next category.

After the fan-voted Popularity Award, it was time for one of the most anticipated awards of the night.

“And now, the New Actor Awards.” “Presenting this award is last year’s winner…”

The Blue Dragon New Actor Award. Everyone held their breath as they awaited the winner.

The presenters exchanged pleasantries before announcing—

“Let’s take a look at the nominees.”

The screen began showing clips of each nominee, one after the other.

Each of the male actors showed impressive performances, but when the final nominee appeared—

“Do they really exist, even in the South?”

The last nominee’s performance made everyone hold their breath. His acting was so flawless, it was hard to believe he was a newcomer. His skills were so refined that no one could have guessed it was his debut.

Above all—

“My sister…”

As a single tear fell, the finale of his clip left everyone stunned. The gap between this performance and the others was too vast.

‘It feels unfair to compare them like this.’ ‘He’s in a league of his own.’

It wasn’t surprising when—

Drum roll.

The tension in the room couldn’t even build properly. The winner seemed obvious.

“The winner of the Best New Actor Award is… Kim Donghu of Endless Frontline! Congratulations!”

The name was called, and applause erupted immediately.

“To be honest, it would’ve been strange if our youngest didn’t win.”

Han Taegun stood up and helped Kim Donghu to his feet. As Donghu received congratulations from everyone, he made his way to the stage and stood in front of the microphone.

Thus began his acceptance speech.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Kim Donghu, and I played the role of the student soldier in Endless Frontline.”

As soon as he bowed, the crowd erupted into cheers. It was a testament to just how popular Kim Donghu had become.

The speech continued.

“I’m incredibly honored to receive my first New Actor Award.”

At that moment, question marks appeared above everyone’s heads.

‘First? Did he just say first?’ ‘Was that a slip of the tongue?’ ‘No, judging by his confidence, it wasn’t a mistake. Is he declaring it?’ ‘Is Kim Donghu saying he’s going to collect all the New Actor Awards?’ ‘There must be a second or third award on the horizon if he’s calling this the first.’

It was a moment of unexpected boldness.

Of course, Kim Donghu himself was simply thinking—

‘Wow, live broadcasts are nerve-wracking.’

He was too caught up in his nerves to realize what he’d just implied.