As usual, when Yushan and Jun got to the room that they had been booked to stay in to develop chemistry, everyone went to his own business the moment their managers left.
The room itself was far too large for two people who hardly spoke to each other.
It wasn't a simple hotel room; it was more like a small suite... spacious, modern, polished to perfection.
There was a sectioned-off living area with a sofa that looked too elegant to be comfortable, a low glass table, and across the room, separated only by open space, stood the wide bed with its white sheets folded in neat, sharp lines.
The air carried that faint scent of disinfectant mixed with perfume, like every luxury hotel room did, clean but soulless, designed for temporary stays.
But neither of them treated it like a shared space. They moved around each other as if bound by invisible walls.
Yushan always drifted toward the living area, setting down his phone and laptop on the table, opening them both as though drowning himself in digital noise could substitute for conversation.
He spent hours there, and when night came, he simply stretched out on the couch, falling asleep in that same uncomfortable position.
He never once touched the bed. Not even to sit on it.
Jun told himself it didn't matter. He was here for work, for professionalism, not for comfort or companionship. That it didn't matter if Yushan liked him or not, if he wanted to work with him or not.
He repeated that truth so many times in his head that it started to sound rehearsed. But still, he couldn't help noticing how Yushan treated him, as if he were invisible, a shadow passing through the same space.
A week passed like that. Days blurred together, one quiet morning bleeding into the next, and not much had changed.
Yushan's routine was the same- silent, predictable in its detachment. He barely acknowledged Jun unless it was something about rehearsal. Even then, his tone stayed flat, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond him.
It bothered Jun more than he wanted to admit.
He had spent nights rewatching the clips and behind-the-scenes footage of Yushan with Xin laughing together, teasing each other in front of the cameras, their energy so natural it felt unrehearsed.
They had shared those unspoken moments that told a story without words. Even in crowded sets, their eyes found each other easily. One glance, and it was like they were having an entire conversation through a secret language only the two of them understood.
The difference was stark, almost painful.
Watching those clips now only made Jun feel like an intruder, an unwanted replacement trying to fit into shoes that didn't belong to him.
The effortless chemistry Yushan once shared with Xin seemed uncomparable. No matter how hard Jun tried to ignore it, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was standing in someone else's place, filling a void that wasn't meant for him.
He pressed his palms to his face and exhaled, slapping his cheeks a few times just to break the loop of thoughts running through his head. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he turned off his phone and tossed it onto the bed, watching it bounce slightly before falling still against the sheets.
He told himself he was fine, that he could endure this. But the silence between them was starting to feel suffocating.
He remembered what Yushan had said during the live stream, how he'd casually mentioned that he wouldn't be partnering up with anyone.
The sting of it hadn't faded. If anything, it lingered stronger now that they were forced to share the same air every day.
Jun's admiration for Yushan, which had once been bright and steady, was beginning to twist into something complicated, disillusionment mixed with resentment.
The man he had looked up to for years, the idol he had thought he understood, now felt like a stranger sitting just a few feet away.
But he kept reminding himself that he had nothing to lose. This opportunity had come unexpectedly, and if it slipped away, he could survive it.
He could focus on growing, on improving himself, on proving that he belonged here on his own merit. He didn't need anyone's approval. Not even Yushan's.
After all, Dreamlight Production had officially hired him as a permanent actor. He had a place here now. That should have been enough. He didn't need to worry about the things beyond his control- the politics of the company, the ghosts of old partnerships, or whatever strange wall stood between him and Yushan.
Every actor in the company had a partner. Every pair was known for their chemistry, their harmony, their easy collaboration. That was how Dreamlight built its reputation, through pairs that seemed to understand each other without words.
Jun was determined that one day, he would find someone who matched him too. Someone who didn't make him feel like he was walking on broken glass just by being in the same room.
He lifted his eyes after a while and noticed Yushan on the couch again. He was on his phone.
He kept dialing, waiting, frowning, then lowering the phone again before trying once more. It was a ritual Jun had seen too many times now... repeated, restless, always ending the same way.
The call never went through.
And when it didn't, Yushan's face darkened, the quiet frustration surfacing like a shadow. His jaw tightened, his thumb lingered on the screen, and then he'd set the phone aside with a sharp exhale that barely qualified as a sigh.
Jun had stopped counting how many times he'd seen it happen, but it was enough to make him notice the pattern. Every failed attempt left Yushan angrier, quieter, more withdrawn.
And no matter how hard he tried not to think about it, the question kept surfacing in his mind. Who was Yushan trying to call so desperately? And why did every attempt fail?
Was it Xin?
The thought came naturally, and once it did, it refused to leave. If Yushan was trying to reach Xin, then why wasn't it working?