Im Jun-ho spun the wheel, glancing back in disbelief.
"Gold Vista Officetel in Yonggang-dong... for you?"
Yonggang-dong was that ritzy spot hugging the Han River in Mapo-gu. Why the hell would anyone hand over a place like that to Moo-young for free?
"It just kinda happened. It's not set in stone yet—we're just checking it out now... Oh! This looks like it."
Moo-young craned his neck out the window, scanning around. He'd nailed the address Han Da-kyeong had sent. Gold Vista Officetel—the name alone glittered like neon.
"Holy shit!"
The towering thirty-plus-story building gleamed like it was fresh off the assembly line. Restaurants and amenities filled the first two floors, complete with a little escalator.
"Dude, spill the details. Why are they giving you an officetel?"
"Not giving—renting. For like two months."
"That's not—"
"Oh? There's Han Da-kyeong. Let's get out first. I'll explain later."
Explaining the whole saga—from the Dr. Martel SNS promo to Hyo-jeong's allergy fiasco—would take forever. Not a quick car chat.
Slam!
"Director Han!"
"Come on in. Who's that? A friend?"
"Yeah, high school buddy Jun-ho."
Moo-young hopped out and bowed. Jun-ho bobbed his head too. She checked her watch and ran through the basics.
"The owner's Bu-yong—friend of my brother's. He thinks I'm borrowing it for work stuff, so keep it vague. Don't complicate things, okay?"
If her family caught wind she'd scored an apartment for some random guy her marriageable age, it'd be chaos. They'd push her into wedding hell to boot her from the business—and the Han family legacy.
"Got it."
"Same here. Just zip it, right?"
They mimed zipping their lips. Then, from afar, a booming voice hollered her name.
"Hey—! Da-kyeongie!"
"...Bu-yong oppa. Long time no see."
Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops, bleach-fried yellow hair screaming cheap. The building's owner looked every bit the neighborhood slacker.
He pulled her into a casual hug. "Damn, you're even prettier now."
"I could've just had a realtor show it."
"Nah, that wouldn't fly! It's for your business—gotta introduce you myself, face to face. Way better! Who's this? Staff?"
He didn't wait for answers, spinning on his heel and waving them in.
Inside screamed marble luxury, brand-spanking new.
"This place is a total money pit. Prime location, brand new, fully loaded—what's missing? But that damn qi or whatever. Tsk."
"The last tenant killed herself, right?"
He punched the elevator button for the 22nd floor with a heavy sigh.
"I'm a devout Catholic, so I tried not to buy it. But every renter bails in under a month. Drives you nuts."
"Ooh, a month...?"
"Longest was one. Five or six times now. Word spread—no buyers."
A 72-pyeong officetel listed at 2.6 billion won. Who shells out that for a haunted dump?
Ding.
"This way. At least it helps your biz a bit. Oppa's thrilled! Haha!"
That damn "oppa" this, "oppa" that. Without Moo-young and Jun-ho there, she'd have ripped him a new one. Bu-yong played the "staff's watching" card perfectly.
Beep-beep.
"Code's 0000 for now. Change it if you want."
"Whoa! This place is insane!"
"Sweet, huh? Nuts, right? Good luck finding another like it."
Moo-young gushed the second the door swung open. Endless hallway, pristine interiors. 72 pyeong felt like a palace—you could play soccer. And a loft!
"Fucking wild."
"You said mostly filming? Living room's got floor-to-ceiling glass—no extra lights needed. Han River view over there."
Moo-young plastered himself to the window, drinking in the riverside scenery. Epic. Living here would feel like owning the world.
Swoosh.
"Huh?"
Something zipped past the glass. Moo-young whipped around—nothing. Just Jun-ho hyping up the place.
He trailed faint traces down the hall. Master bedroom door ajar.
"So why'd the last tenant off herself?"
Han Da-kyeong beamed at the spotless space. Had to be top-tier for her project.
Bu-yong flopped on the sofa, shrugging. "Thirty-something woman."
"Young, huh?"
Creeeak—Moo-young eased the door open. Blinding sunlight flooded from massive windows, washing out the outside world.
"Pretty too. Aspiring actress from money. But depression or whatever—she hanged herself outta nowhere. Lived alone, so took ages to find her."
Dangling.
A woman hung from the ceiling. Matted hair nearly brushing the floor. Blood tears plopped as she glared at Moo-young. Limp fingers twitched like fighting death itself.
"...Whoa."
Moo-young locked eyes with her, hand on the knob. That's the ghost. Rougher than expected.
But—
"View here's killer too!"
Right now? Not his priority. He barreled right through her to the window.
"Whoa, this the master?"
"Auto wake-up every morning. Sun blasts right in."
Jun-ho piled in, awestruck. One step in—
"Kinda chilly here, though?"
"Really? Feels perfect to me."
Sensing something? Jun-ho rubbed his arms, mumbling. Whatever! Hanging that quietly? No wonder in a place this big.
"Hey, Moo-young. Jun-ho."
"Coming!"
Han Da-kyeong called from outside. Jun-ho left; Moo-young shut the door, glancing up. Her eyes burned redder.
What the hell's going on? her gaze demanded.
"Shh."
He closed his eyes pleadingly. "Just hang tight. We'll get along fine. Cool?"
"Moo-young! Hurry."
"Got it!"
Slam! Door shut firm, words hanging in the air.
Creeeak—the ghost dropped silently, staring blankly at the entrance. First time for everything.
"What do you think? Looks good?"
Han Da-kyeong asked, arms crossed, with Bu-yong there—keep it diplomatic.
"More than satisfied."
"Same. Killer place!"
Meaning: he'd take it for two months. She nodded, turning to Bu-yong.
"Thanks, oppa."
"No prob. When do you start?"
"Next week."
Wanted to crash now, but had to say bye to the roomies. Wrap exams too.
"I'll tell management."
Bu-yong stood to leave; they headed to the entrance. Tying his shoes—Moo-young felt a presence.
"Oh?"
Far down the hall, a woman. Thought she just hung; she walks too?
She glided toward him—weird gait. Slow, then faster.
Whoosh!
"Heading out?"
"Yeah, sounds good."
Slam!
Ghost lunging, jaws yawning wide. Moo-young slammed the door without a glance.
Jun-ho blinked beside him. "Why slam it like that?"
"Keep the draft out."
"Bull. Spill— what's with you and this Han Da-kyeong?"
"Huh? That's the bull?"
Jun-ho whispered ahead so the others wouldn't hear.
"Why else gift you this pad? Don't tell me girlfriend—"
Thwack! No point listening. Moo-young nailed his forehead with a chestnut, then pinched his cheeks—shut your trap.
Fish-puckered lips puffed out.
"Cut the crap. Help me move next week."
"Yessir—"
Moo-young grinned up at the 2202 plaque. Hee hee. Two months of paradise ahead!
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇And two days later, 2 a.m. Summer dawn still muggy.
Moo-young waited, cap pulled low, for Go Kyung-min.
Vroom!
"Hyung! Here."
"Sorry for the dawn call."
"Nah, you're the one suffering."
Two days after landing a drama bit part—boom, shoot scheduled. Last-minute evening notice. Real or fart?
Go Kyung-min yawned wide, griping. "Even rookies don't get this."
"Special case?"
"Duh. Who locks a contract and slams a schedule? Bit part or not, coordinate time. Broadcasters—tsk. All about them."
He yanked the wheel in frustration. Half-asleep, Moo-young had barely rinsed eye boogers.
"That assistant director was such a prick."
"Wait, AD? He set the schedule?"
"Yeah, usually. Why?"
Go Kyung-min eyed him curiously.
Ugh. Piglet payback for one slip-up? Moo-young chuckled weakly, waving it off.
"Nah, just feels like he hates me."
"Might bully newbies. First outdoor drama shoot?"
"Yeah, all sets so far."
Web dramas to Plague—all indoors. Outdoor? Exciting. Tense. Lines were light, but...
"Brace for chaos."
"Why?"
"Daehak-ro. Nightlife strip at dawn. Eyes front."
Broadcast vs. web scale was huge—especially intensity. Plus star power drew crowds.
"Damn."
How long they drove—Moo-young and Go Kyung-min hit Daehak-ro entrance. Human wall blocked the way.
"Out. Walk in."
Moo-young grabbed his round wire-frames, battle-ready, and plunged into the fray.
"Excuse me."
"Make way."
"Oppa—! Aaaah! Hot guy alert!"
"Quiet down!"
"Aigoo, hey, just a sec..."
Lead actor here? Crowds rabid. Drunks dotted the dawn streets; bars peeked from windows. Total circus.
"Coming through."
"Hey! No pushing!"
"Shit..."
Moo-young shoved forward; irked folks whirled.
"Ah, sorry!"
Awkward grin. Rage-fueled glares froze solid.
Staring ahead for celebs—missed the one behind?
"Wh-who're you?"
Too handsome—new face?
"Me? Ha Moo-young."
Beam and point ahead. "Gotta shoot—mind making way?"
Boom—crowd parted like the Red Sea.
Moo-young bowed left and right, slipping into the set.
"Hello!"
Staff barricaded the zone. But dawn vibe? Off. Way tense.
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Read 124 more chapters ahead on NovelDex!
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