“Hey!”
Hyungyu’s voice rang out from behind, sharp and urgent, but I couldn’t afford to turn back.
Not now.
Stopping a disaster was more important than answering his call.
“What the hell was that?”
“Who just made that noise?!”
Yongseok ripped off his headset, slamming it onto the table as his voice erupted like a thunderclap.
The sudden disturbance during filming had shattered the silence.
“Can’t you see we’re shooting here?!”
His face twisted with fury, eyes scanning the set like a predator hunting for the culprit who’d dared to disrupt his carefully orchestrated scene.
“Who was that?!”
“What’s going on?”
The staff, engrossed in a critical moment, muttered their frustrations, their voices laced with irritation.
“Director! We need to put out the fire now!”
There was no time for detailed explanations—not when an explosion could be seconds away.
“What are you talking about?”
“Quickly! There’s a gas leak somewhere!”
“What?”
At the mention of a gas leak, Yongseok’s piercing gaze shot toward Junhyung, who flinched and waved his hands in denial.
“No way! That’s impossible. I checked everything!”
“No, I’m telling you, I smell gas!”
“Are you sure it’s not just the smell of something burning?”
“I don’t smell anything.”
But like Hyungyu and the others, they couldn’t detect it.
My words fell on deaf ears, dismissed as nonsense.
“I’m serious!”
“Nobody else smells anything.”
“And even if there was something, yelling out of nowhere?”
“What’s that supposed to accomplish?”
“But we need to put out the fire…”
I couldn’t exactly pull the smell out of the air to prove it.
Frustration gnawed at me as I stomped my foot, helpless.
“Can you not interrupt?”
“I was just getting into the moment.”
Gongjun’s words were polite, almost gentle, but his eyes screamed get lost.
“Director, please, just trust me this once, okay?”
“Haha, sorry about our kid.”
“He’s just a bit eager,” Hyungyu said, stepping up beside me and bowing apologetically.
“Director, turning off the fire and restarting will take forever.”
“Let’s just keep going,” a staff member piped up, and others nodded in agreement, eager to move on.
“No!”
“If we leave it burning, the flames will spread, and then… it could actually explode!”
The word explode made Yongseok flinch, just slightly.
He sighed, his brow furrowing as he sank into thought.
Junhyung had sworn everything was checked, but the possibility of a gas leak gnawed at him, an uneasy doubt he couldn’t shake.
“Director.”
Jaehoon’s voice cut through the tension.
“Let’s turn it off and start again.”
Clad in a sleek black suit, his long legs carrying him with effortless grace, Jaehoon’s entrance felt like a scene from the drama itself, unfolding in slow motion.
“Turning it off and relighting will delay the schedule a lot…”
“It’s fine.”
“Safety comes first.”
“You know that.”
“An accident hitting the news before the broadcast would be a disaster.”
Jaehoon’s single sentence carried more weight than a hundred of my pleas.
Yongseok, swayed at last, gave the order.
“Put out the fire.”
“Check for any gas leaks.”
“Alright, we’ll put it out and restart!”
“Grab the fire extinguisher!”
Grumbling, the staff moved to douse the flames.
Phew. We’re saved.
As the fire died down, I let out a shaky breath and turned to Jaehoon.
“Thank you.”
He’d been a good guy ever since he’d bought snacks for the crew way back when, and that hadn’t changed.
“No worries.”
“I’ve been through this a few times myself, so don’t sweat it,” he said with a reassuring smile.
“Hey, Hyunjae?”
“Can we talk for a sec?”
Before I could respond, Gongjun grabbed me, dragging me to a secluded corner of the set.
“…You trying to get yourself killed?”
The moment we were out of sight, his true colors emerged, his voice low and venomous.
“You know how important this scene is.”
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
His hands trembled with barely contained rage.
“I’m sorry for breaking your focus.”
“But we could’ve all died!”
I understood his anger, to an extent.
But saving lives trumped everything else.
Death wasn’t exactly a better option.
“Who’s dying?”
“You’re the only one going on about some smell nobody else noticed!”
“It’s real!”
“You keep pulling stunts like this to sabotage me, but it’s not gonna work.”
“Sabotage?”
“That’s not what this is!”
“If it’s not that, then why, in the middle of this critical scene—”
“There’s nothing here!”
“Nothing over here either!”
The fire was out now, and the staff were scouring the set for any trace of gas.
“See?”
“Nothing,” Gongjun said, his voice dripping with certainty, as if my warning was some kind of prank.
“That can’t be right…”
I knew I’d smelled it.
Even now, the faint whiff lingered, though I couldn’t pinpoint where.
“You’re still insisting it’s there?”
“What am I supposed to be smelling, exactly?”
Convinced I was making it up, Gongjun shot me a final warning.
“Listen, you and I are on different paths.”
“So stop trying to ruin mine and focus on your own work.”
Without waiting for a reply, he stormed off.
It’s not like that…
I stood there, stunned, as complaints filled the air.
“Man, now we have to do all this again.”
“Why’d we put out a perfectly good fire?”
“What a mess.”
The staff’s grumbling reached my ears, and as I snapped back to reality, I felt their glares zeroing in on me.
“I checked multiple times, damn it!”
“I thought we’d be home before sunrise, but now we’re screwed.”
Yongseok had made the call, but I was the one who’d raised the alarm—and the easiest target.
All the blame fell on me.
“I’m so sorry!”
“Really sorry!”
Hyungyu was bowing to the staff on my behalf, and I hurried to join him, dipping my head in apology.
“I’m sorry!”
I rushed to Hyungyu’s side.
“Boss, I’m so sorry.”
“I was sure it was gas…”
Guilt twisted in my chest.
Because of me, he was taking the heat.
“It’s okay.”
“I’m the one who said to put it out and restart,” Jaehoon said, stepping in to comfort me as I shrank under the weight of my guilt.
“You don’t have to feel that bad.”
“These things happen.”
“I’m sorry.”
My sense of smell had never failed me before.
Was it because I’d been human for too long?
“Forget it.”
“You think this is my first rodeo?”
“Just… next time, come to me first instead of shouting like that.”
Hyungyu brushed it off as a minor incident, his easygoing laugh cutting through my anxiety.
“Alright, let’s light it up again!”
Some time passed, and a staff member, lighter in hand, announced they were ready to relight the fire.
It’s still there…
But I couldn’t bring myself to speak up again.
The lighter flicked, a spark igniting.
“Wait! Stop!”
A frantic shout rang out, freezing everyone in place.
All eyes turned to the source.
“No!”
A tall staff member came barreling toward us, panting.
He glanced at the lighter’s dying ember and exhaled in relief.
“Over there!”
“There’s a huge gas canister…”
“What?”
Without hesitation, everyone rushed toward the low wall he’d come from.
“What’s that?”
“Why’s it there?!”
“Holy—how is that even here?”
Just as he’d said, three massive gas canisters sat nestled between old trees on the other side of the wall, hidden from view.
That’s it.
I’d finally found the source of the gas smell that had haunted me.
The wall was just high enough that you’d need to stand on tiptoes to spot them, and a fan meant to blow smoke off-screen was positioned right beside them.
No wonder I couldn’t figure it out.
“Damn it!”
Yongseok cursed the moment he saw the canisters.
The thought of what could’ve happened if they’d ignited was horrifying.
“Director…”
Junhyung muttered, his face pale with dread.
That was the spark that set Yongseok off.
“Are you insane?”
“Were you trying to kill us all?”
The set fell deathly silent under the director’s furious shouting.
“You said you checked everything!”
“Is this what you call checking?!”
“I’m sorry,” Junhyung mumbled, but Yongseok wasn’t hearing it.
This was, without a doubt, the angriest moment of his directing career.
“Alright, we’re done for today.”
He abruptly called off the shoot.
Despite the sudden halt, the staff didn’t dare protest, their heads bowed in silence.
“Let’s clear those canisters out and prep for tomorrow,” Yongseok said, forcing his anger down as he approached me.
“You… did good.”
“Always speak up about stuff like this, no matter where you are.”
“Getting chewed out lasts a moment.”
“Dying doesn’t.”
“Yes, sir.”
I nodded, and Yongseok left the set without looking back.
Only then did the staff start to speak.
“What just happened?”
“Three canisters?”
“If there was a leak, we could’ve all been goners.”
“No kidding.”
“Gives me chills.”
Still reeling, they gathered around the canisters, marveling at the near miss.
Hyungyu and Jaehoon were among them.
“Man, that was close.”
“Who could’ve known those were there?”
Relief washed over me—not shock, but gratitude that we’d avoided catastrophe.
My nose never lies.
“But, Hyunjae, how did you even smell that?”
“I didn’t catch a whiff.”
“Honestly, I thought you were mistaken.”
“But it was real.”
They stared at me, amazed that I’d been the only one to notice.
“I’ve got a dog’s nose,” I said, finally able to say it with pride.
“We almost had a disaster.”
“I only smelled something burning.”
“Who leaves three canisters like that?”
The staff who’d grumbled earlier now offered sheepish excuses, perhaps feeling guilty.
“I’ll call the village chief to find out why those are there.”
“Let’s move these first.”
“Hey, rookie, start packing up the gear.”
The crew began cleaning up the set, and the actors, with no reason to stay, prepared to leave.
“Well, looks like we’re done for today.”
“Let’s head out.”
“You worked hard today.”
“Thanks to you, we’re alive.”
“See you tomorrow.”
They piled into their cars and dispersed.
“You were right, but next time, please come to me first,” Hyungyu said, half-joking, half-worried I’d get too cocky after being proven right.
“I already told you I would!”
“I’m just saying, don’t go charging in during a shoot like that.”
“It was an emergency!”
“I let it slide earlier because people were watching…”
Hyungyu, it turned out, was the type to nag more than I’d expected.
His lecture didn’t let up the entire car ride.
The next day, we returned to the same set, the same people, but something felt different.
“Whoa!”
“You’re finally here!”
Normally, I’d get a curt nod at best, or complete indifference.
This enthusiasm was… odd.
“Haha, hey, good to see you!”
Their warm welcome caught me off guard.
I figured it was just gratitude for yesterday’s save.
But I had no idea this was only the beginning.
“Hyunjae nim?”
…Nim?
The honorifics hit me like a bolt from the blue.
I stared at Junhyung, dumbfounded, wondering if my ears were playing tricks on me.
Oh, as exoected of our puppy !
I nearly want to seethe fire tho, but Im glad there were no victim