Chapter 39 : The Bet

“What do you want? A wish?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright! Then I’d better think of something too. Hell yeah!” 

Jibin, brimming with confidence as if victory was already his, practically skipped toward his manager with an excited spring in his step. 

“What were you thinking, making a bet like that?” 

Jeuk looked at me with pity, his tone implying I’d just signed my own death warrant. 

“Why? I could win, you know.” 

“Don’t get cocky for no reason. You saw him—he’s hopeless.” 

When I first met Jeuk, I thought he treated Taehwan as just another colleague.

But as time passed, I realized the truth: Jeuk didn’t even see Taehwan as a top star like Jibin, let alone a peer. 

“Why does Hyung hate Taehwan so much? I get why Jibin might—idol baggage and all that.” 

Taehwan, aside from his subpar acting, hadn’t done anything particularly wrong or made any glaring mistakes.

Sure, he had the air of a star, that ingrained swagger, but it was tolerable enough. 

“I…” 

Jeuk hesitated, carefully pulling out a story he’d kept locked away. 

“I hate how people treat acting like it’s easy, like anyone can just waltz in and do it.” 

His teeth clenched as he spoke, his disgust practically vibrating through him. 

“Don’t you find it ridiculous? The group’s about to implode, so he decides to play actor?” 

Jeuk’s words suddenly made everything click. He hadn’t just been dismissive of Taehwan—he’d been outright ignoring him, refusing to acknowledge his existence in this space. 

“They must think acting’s a joke…” 

“I get where you’re coming from, Hyung.” 

It wasn’t hard to see why he’d be annoyed.

Someone who’d never acted before swooping in to snag a lead role?

That’d rub anyone the wrong way, especially when new actors were out there grinding through auditions for even the smallest parts. 

“But this project… it only got greenlit because of Taehwan.” 

The truth was, this drama existed solely because Taehwan was attached.

That’s why no one dared call out his acting, no matter how rough it was. 

“I know,” Jeuk muttered, “that’s why I keep my mouth shut, even if it pisses me off.” 

“I actually feel a little sorry for Taehwan.” 

“Ha, sorry for him? What’s there to feel sorry about?” 

Jeuk’s brows furrowed, and he let out a derisive scoff. 

“Have you ever considered that they’re using Taehwan?” 

“What?” 

“They’ve propped him up as a shield, raking in money and hype. If this drama flops, guess who’s taking the fall?” 

Right now, most people didn’t even know the drama as Today’s Fruit Shop—they called it “Taehwan’s drama debut.”

Naturally, the blame for any failure would land squarely on him. 

“They set him up to take the heat without giving him a chance to grow or improve. That feels crueler to me.” 

The director had once said, “There’s no right answer in acting.” 

Even someone like him, who seemed to deliver flawless performances, was constantly in conversation with directors, staff, and co-stars, refining his craft on set. 

But to bring in a rookie and just say, “Looks great!”—that was flat-out wrong.

And Jeuk, with his silence, wasn’t blameless either. 

“What’s the point of saying anything? It wouldn’t change a thing…” 

Jeuk, like Jibin, had already made up his mind about who Taehwan was, his judgment sealed tight. 

“I’m not blaming you, Hyung. I’m just saying, in a situation where everyone’s getting what they want, why single out one person to vilify?” 

“Wait… are you defending Taehwan because he got you this gig?” 

“Pfft!” 

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at Jeuk’s accusation.

If I were in Taehwan’s pocket, would I have gotten mad at him in the first place? 

“Hyung, what are you even thinking?” 

I’d always seen Jeuk as the most level-headed and sharp among us, but to think he was harboring suspicions like that?

People really were impossible to fully know. 

“No need to dignify that with a response, but since you might get the wrong idea—absolutely not. I didn’t ask for this, so why would I owe him anything?” 

Taehwan pulling me into this was just him playing his cards to his advantage.

I had no reason to be grateful. 

“Wanna make a bet with me, Hyung?” 

“Fine.” 

I threw the challenge at Jeuk, and he accepted without hesitation. 

“Same terms as with Jibin. Winner gets a wish.” 

“Deal.” 

And just like that, I had bets riding with both of them.

The outcome wouldn’t take long to reveal itself. 

“Hyung, I’m kinda nervous. Think I can pull this off?” 

Taehwan, who hadn’t trembled since his debut stage and first concert, was feeling the jitters for the first time in years. 

“You’ve improved a ton. You’ll do great.” 

“You mean that?” 

“Dude…” 

“Kidding! Just trying to loosen up a bit.” 

We’d had a heated argument a few days back, followed by some awkward tension, but a drink and a long talk had cleared the air. 

“Alright, let’s do this.” 

Taehwan grabbed his script and stepped out of the car, entering the drama set for the first time. 

“Hyung!” 

As he moved toward the shooting location, script in hand, Jibin’s voice rang out from behind. 

“When’d you get here? I didn’t even see your car pull in!” 

Jibin approached with a bright smile, and Taehwan returned it with a calm grin, his earlier nerves nowhere to be seen, replaced by his usual effortless charisma. 

“A little while ago. They said it’s not time yet, so I was waiting in the car.” 

“Oh, got it. Jeuk-hyung and Hyunjae are over there waiting. First time on a drama set, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“No need to stress too much. Just do what you did during the read-through.” 

Do what I did during the read-through? 

Did this guy think I was that clueless?

I’d known for a while that Jibin’s friendliness was just a performance, banking on his own popularity.

I’d dealt with plenty of people like him before. 

“Sure, you keep an eye out for me.” 

Playing along with his act wasn’t hard.

It wasn’t like we’d be buddies for long, and I was too tired to care.

But when he came at me like that, it made me want to push back. 

“You’ll do fine without me watching~ Haha, doesn’t it feel great to be back at school? We should take a group photo later!” 

Jibin chattered nonstop as we headed to the set, while Taehwan kept his expression steady, unflappable. 

“Hyunjae, Taehwan-hyung’s here!” 

“Hyung, you made it?” 

“You’re here?” 

The four friends gathered in one place. 

“First shoot—nervous at all?” 

“A little.” 

Once the celebrity blinders came off, Taehwan could see everyone’s expressions and actions so clearly. 

“Taehwan-hyung’s a pro; he’ll nail it!” 

“It’s probably way different from performing on stage, though.” 

Like how Jeuk, who Taehwan thought was calm and reserved, was actually looking down on him. 

I’ve gotta do well… 

He wanted to prove himself to people like that, to show them what he was capable of.

But the anxiety creeping in was undeniable. 

Performing a perfectly rehearsed stage was one thing; acting, knowing his shortcomings, was a whole different beast. 

“So what if you’re nervous? Just do it anyway.” 

Hyunjae, who’d been quietly listening, tossed the words out casually. 

“What?” 

“You’re worried about screwing up because you’re nervous.” 

“Then you just reshoot. Who doesn’t get an NG? And anyway, no one’s gonna call you out even if you do.” 

Hyunjae’s blunt honesty left Jeuk and Jibin at a loss, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, so they just stayed silent. 

Jibin glanced at Taehwan, but he seemed unfazed by Hyunjae’s words. 

“Set’s ready!” 

“Alright, guys, we’re shooting soon—get ready!” 

Another staff member signaled that preparations were complete, and Jeuk and Jibin went off to check their hair and makeup. 

“Mess up, and I’ll kill you.” 

Hyunjae whispered softly as he passed by Taehwan. 

Ha, what a guy. 

Strangely, those words calmed Taehwan’s nerves just a bit. 

“Everyone ready? Let’s make this first shoot count!” 

The director gave a quick pep talk before filming began, and the four actors stepped into the frame. 

Now, they had to become Dohwan, Minwoo, Junghyun, and Hojeong. 

“Ready—shoot!” 

Taehwan cleared his mind, filling it only with thoughts of Hojeong. 

I am Han Hojeong. I am Han Hojeong. 

“What kind of terrible acting’s he gonna show us?” 

“I heard the director stormed out mid-shoot last time, and the writer was sighing nonstop.” 

“Hope we don’t catch any fallout from this.” 

Rumors about Taehwan swirled among the staff, exaggerated and unkind. He couldn’t let himself be shaken by them. 

“Hyunjae, the script…” 

“Oh, right.” 

I handed the script I’d been reviewing to Hayoon. 

“Something bothering you?” 

“Nah.” 

Right now, I needed to focus more on my character, Dohwan, than on Taehwan. 

“I’ll be back.” 

“Alright.” 

The four friends gathered in the school’s backyard, sneaking out during class to goof off and talk. 

“Ready—shoot!” 

The scene began with them lined up against the school wall, in height order.

Taehwan had the first line. 

“Shh! Keep it down.” 

He ditched the theatrical, over-the-top tone he’d used before, delivering the line in a steady, grounded voice. 

“Choi Minwoo, if we get caught because of you, you’re done.” 

It was a little stiff compared to his practice with me, but compared to the read-through?

A complete transformation. 

The one most thrown off by the change was the person who had to act next. 

“Uh…” 

Jibin, clearly caught off guard, forgot his line and turned his head toward Taehwan. 

“Cut! Why’re you turning your head? Minwoo, where’s your line?” 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” 

Snapping back to reality at the director’s voice, Jibin bowed in apology. 

“Not bad, actually.” 

“Yeah, I heard he was atrocious, but… maybe we had low expectations? It’s pretty decent.” 

“Wasn’t he way worse before?” 

“Seriously, he was unbearable last time.” 

All that practice paid off.

Even though I’d only been watching, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud. 

“Let’s focus this time!” 

The director, clearly pleased with Taehwan’s improvement, sounded even more energized than before. 

“Yes, sir!” 

Filming resumed, and everyone was on point—no NGs as the scene flowed smoothly. 

“Shh! Keep it down. Choi Minwoo, if we get caught because of you, you’re done.” 

“What’d I do? It’s Kim Junghyun’s fault for dawdling.” 

Jeuk, playing Junghyun, elbowed Jibin hard in the side, and Jibin, unable to cry out, swallowed the pain. 

Jeuk’s acting, backed by his child actor experience, was rock-solid. 

“Ugh… that’s a weapon, man, a weapon.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Keep it down, you lunatic.” 

“Why’s it always me? Am I your punching bag or what? Dohwan…” 

I quietly stepped three paces away from Jibin. 

“Wow, even you? Are you guys even my friends?” 

“Just shut up already.” 

“Ugh!” 

Jibin, his mouth covered by Jeuk’s hand, flailed briefly before giving up, standing still with his mouth sealed. 

“Cut! Okay!” 

As soon as the okay came and a break was called, Jibin and Jeuk dragged me aside. 

“What the hell was that?” 

“You knew he’d pull that off, didn’t you? That’s why you bet us!” 

They grilled me with disbelief in their eyes, and I just flashed a sly smile. 

“So, can I make my wish now?”