"Leo, memorizing the script isn't helping your acting skill," Jihoon called out, walking across the busy lot toward the main tent.
His voice carried that signature deadpan sarcasm everyone on set had learned to both dread and love. "I suggest you chew on the paper instead—and wash it down with some holy water. Might work better that way."
The mockery sliced through the quiet murmur of crew chatter.
Leonardo DiCaprio looked up from his chair—the kind with his name neatly embroidered across the backrest.
Every main cast member had one; it was a century-old Hollywood custom, a relic from when chaotic film sets needed visible markers of who was who.
Even now, the chair was more than a seat—it was a badge of status.
Leonardo's eyes rolled almost automatically. "Lee," he groaned, his voice dripping with mock annoyance, "if you've got nothing better to do, go fuck yourself."
Jihoon smirked, about to fire back—until he noticed Leo's sudden change in posture.
Leonardo had frozen mid-sentence, eyes locking on the cluster of nine young women standing behind Jihoon.
Jihoon's eyebrow twitched. He didn't even have to turn around to know who he was staring at.
Nine bright, fresh faces, standing in a neat cluster near the lighting rig.
The faint breeze played with their hair, catching hints of perfume and youth.
Leonardo blinked once, twice—then immediately straightened his posture, brushing invisible dust off his tailored suit.
He buttoned his jacket, smoothed his tie, and flashed a grin that had melted audiences since the release of Titanic.
"Lee," he said, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Who might these angels be?"
"No wonder the air smells sweeter than usual—there are nine beautiful flowers blooming in front of me."
Jihoon gave him a long, exasperated stare. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath.
He knew Leonardo's reputation all too well.
Casanova didn't even begin to cover it.
Jihoon had personally told him to dial down the flirting while they were still in production, but apparently, the man's memory worked selectively—especially when it came to women.
The "nine flowers," as Leo poetically called them, burst into giggles once Tiffany and Jessica—the only fluent English speakers—translated his compliment. The rest didn't understand the words at first, but they slowly understand the meaning after the explation.
A tone of a world-famous actor praising them, rookie idols from Korea who had barely debuted.
Their faces lit up like sparklers. Taeyeon's eyes widened. Yoona covered her mouth in disbelief. Even the usually calm Seohyun was blushing furiously.
It was the kind of giddy thrill that reminded Jihoon of kids being praised for their first good-grade sticker in kindergarten.
The girls were trying to act poised and professional, but their excitement betrayed them completely.
Jihoon rubbed his temples. "Here we go…"
He decided to cut the flirting short before Leo's charm caused an international incident.
"Leo," he said flatly, "these are my friends from Korea. They're all members of a K-pop group called SNSD."
He turned to the girls, switching smoothly to Korean. "This is Leonardo. You all know who he is, so… yeah, no need for introductions."
Before Jihoon could finish, Tiffany stepped forward, practically glowing.
She'd spent most of her childhood in America, so she naturally became the group's spokesperson.
Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her pink dress, and her cheeks flushed a soft crimson.
"Mr. DiCaprio," she began, her voice trembling with excitement, "it's such an honor to meet you! We're huge fans—especially of Titanic! You were amazing! Um… would it be okay if we took a picture with you?"
Her tone was respectful, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed pure fangirl energy.
She looked like she was suppressing a squeal every few seconds.
Beside her, Jessica and the others nodded eagerly, whispering to each other in Korean, half in disbelief, half in delight.
Jihoon sighed again, muttering, "Great. Now I've got nine teenage hearts exploding at once."
It wasn't that he didn't understand the excitement—it was Leonardo DiCaprio. But watching the girls' innocent, starstruck faces made Jihoon's patience evaporate.
He could already feel a headache forming behind his eyes. If this keeps up, Jihoon feel that he'll need to book an appointment with a gastroenterologist, he thought bitterly.
Because his stomach can't handle this much fake sweetness in one day.
To make things worse, Leonardo noticed his expression and smirked triumphantly, raising an eyebrow as if to say, See? Still got it.
Jihoon wanted to punch him. Preferably before lunch.
"All right, girls!" Leonardo said with that movie-star grin, his arms spreading like a host welcoming guests to his kingdom.
"One by one! Let's take some selfies together. And you there—Lee—be a good boy and use your fancy camera to capture our best angles, yeah?"
Jihoon stared at him for a long moment. "You've got to be kidding me."
But Tiffany and Jessica were already dragging their groupmates forward.
The two took position on either side of Leonardo, looping their arms through his. The others lined up behind them like a school photo, giggling uncontrollably.
"Jihoon-ah!" Tiffany called out, her voice almost pleading. "Can you hurry up and take the shot? Can't you see there's a queue forming?"
Jihoon turned around. Sure enough, the rest of the girls—Sunny, Sooyoung, Hyoyeon, Yuri, and Seohyun—were waiting in line, each clutching their phones like they were meeting royalty.
Their wide, glittering eyes made it clear: if he refused, he'd instantly become the villain of the day.
He covered his face with his palm. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "I direct award-winning films, and now I'm a freelance photographer."
But there was no escape. He reluctantly picked up the camera hanging from his neck, adjusted the lens, and took a deep breath.
"All right, all right… let's get this over with. We still have work to do afterward," he said, rubbing his temples as though preparing for battle.
Each time he spent more than five minutes around the girls, Jihoon swore he could feel his lifespan shortening. They were loud, chaotic, and full of energy that could either power a city—or drive him insane.
Meanwhile, Leonardo seemed to enjoy every second of it.
He cracked jokes, gave his signature smolder for every selfie, and even mimicked Korean poses girl teaches him. The girls laughed so hard they nearly dropped their phones.
To anyone watching, it was a heartwarming sight—an iconic Hollywood actor bonding with a rising K-pop group. But for Jihoon, it felt like a circus. A very loud, pink, glitter-covered circus.
Still, as he snapped photo after photo, something softened in him.
Leonardo laughed at how miserable Jihoon looked, but his eyes still held a flicker of curiosity.
He'd known Jihoon for a few months now—long enough to understand the kind of man he was.
Quiet.
Intense.
Always buried in work.
Jihoon didn't party, didn't date, didn't even mingle with other directors. He was the definition of a loner—someone whose entire world revolved around cameras, scripts, and silence.
But watching him now—rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath, yet still indulging those girls—Leonardo saw something different.
Something human.
There was life in Jihoon's gestures, warmth in his sighs, and a trace of fondness he couldn't quite hide.
To Leonardo, Jihoon had always been a mystery—a brilliant filmmaker who spoke through his movies more than his words.
But now, seeing him surrounded by laughter, by youth and chaos and warmth, Leonardo couldn't help but wonder if this was a side of Jihoon long buried beneath ambition and solitude.
For the first time, Leonardo didn't tease him. He simply stood there, posing for another photo, quietly observing the subtle shift in Jihoon's demeanor.
The famed director who once seemed mechanical—precise, cold, unshakable—suddenly looked like someone capable of laughter, frustration, even care.
And as the camera clicked one last time, Leonardo realized something else:
Maybe among these nine girls, there was one Jihoon truly cared about—someone who'd managed to draw out the side of him Leonardo had never seen before.
A side so unfamiliar that, for a moment, Leonardo wondered if the man standing before him was the same Jihoon he thought he knew.