A sedan pulled up to the main entrance of Yongsan Police Station. With a screech of tires, the back door flew open before the car had even fully stopped, and Enbin bolted out. Masked in a hat, sunglasses, and a face mask. The cops guarding the door shot suspicious glances at his shady getup.
"Bin, wait up!"
"Moo-young, go after him quick. I'll handle parking."
"Hey! I said don't run!"
The manager drove deeper into the lot to park, leaving Moo-young to chase after Enbin.
"Where's the detective division?"
"Right down this floor."
"Ughhh! This sucks!"
No wonder he danced and sang every day—his stamina was on another level. How was the guy so damn quick? Enbin charged upstairs without missing a beat.
The criminal has been caught.
Good news just two days after filing the report.
Enbin had demanded the video, but the blackmailer went radio silent. Two hours later, the same blurry photo arrived again.
Bang!
"Where's Detective Kim Min-chul?"
Those two hours had felt eternal. When no reply came, Enbin's anxiety twisted into rage, and the photo set it off like gasoline on a fire.
Only photos. Blurry ones at that—no one could make out who was who, not even his devoted fans.
All that was left was to report it.
"Over here."
A balding detective raised his hand from the corner. In front of him sat a woman in a hooded sweatshirt.
Enbin's face hardened.
"You're the victim, Jeong Un-bin, right?"
Enbin's real name. He just nodded curtly, staring down at her. That familiar back— she'd stalked him enough times that he knew her on sight, too.
"...Look up."
At his low command, the suspect showed her face.
That stalker!
Enbin couldn't hold back—he grabbed her by the collar.
"You fucking—!"
"Hey, hey! Stop! Don't!"
"Whoa, you can't do that here!"
Moo-young latched onto Enbin's waist. Chaos erupted, but the station stayed surprisingly calm—this was routine stuff for them.
"Sorry, oppa. Sob..."
The stalker burst into tears, collar still in his grip. The detective muttered awkwardly.
"Oppa, huh? She's twenty-nine, you know."
"Handsome guys are all oppa no matter the age!"
Her words clashed with the gravity of it all. Moo-young glanced at Enbin, who looked one thread away from snapping.
"Oppa, I'm sorry. I needed money. Just forgive me once—for all the time we've spent together. Please?"
She clasped her hands, begging through sobs. Enbin's expression darkened, turning ashen pale.
All the time we've spent together? Fuck!
"I didn't really think anything of it at first. Just wondered what you were up to at home. Figured you might be seeing someone..."
She never imagined she'd catch that on camera. Shock and betrayal flickered briefly, but Enbin still saw her as the one he 'loved.' He'd tried to bury it. If only the fire hadn't happened.
"...Why the screenshot, then?"
"Couldn't see the girl's face, so I adjusted the brightness to check who it was. Never figured it out."
Enbin swallowed a quiet sigh of relief. Good. She had to stay in the dark. He'd been hiding it, biting back every urge just to keep seeing her.
The detective gestured for her to sit properly.
"The original video was on a USB that got destroyed in the fire. Screenshots were auto-saved to the cloud since she's—what'd she call it?"
'Fan photographer.' Moo-young mouthed it carefully. The detective scratched his nose with a chuckle.
"Anyway, she auto-saved every photo without discrimination. Videos ate too much space, she says. We'll verify after investigation. Oh, and yeah—it was a drone, as expected."
"What about the money?"
The woman flinched at Moo-young's question.
"Some went to food, shelter, clothes. About six hundred, looks like. Caught her at a hotel—another one-fifty or so..."
"Fuck—"
"I'm sorry! Oppa, really sorry!"
"Shut the fuck up with the oppa shit—!"
Enbin reached for a nearby chair, but she begged again, hands clasped. At least it was a relief—only 7.5 million out of 100 million spent.
Moo-young grabbed Enbin's arm.
"It's not that bad. Let's keep it cool, yeah?"
"I'm getting every last won back from her."
"Oppa..."
"Shut up! You make me sick!"
If the manager hadn't shown up, a fist might've flown. Moo-young clung to Enbin's waist again, straining with all his might.
"Moo-young, get him out!"
"Come here, you fuck—!"
"You know reporters swarm this place? Calm down—I'll wrap it up here. Go!"
Bam! The door slammed shut. Enbin finally caught his breath. Still fuming and ragged, but reason had a tenuous hold.
"Bin, want something to drink?"
"Hah. What do I do with that bitch? I wanna chew her up to vent."
"Let the law handle it now. Don't stress—it'll just hurt you more. She'll pay eventually."
Enbin scowled at Moo-young's words. The guy sounded like a damn monk—water is water, mountains are mountains, all enlightened through worldly trials.
"You piss me off."
"Heh. But it's true."
Moo-young replied confidently. Thick, dark black smog tangled around her back—denser and vaster than at the reading, her grabby ghost mom swallowed whole inside it.
"...Yeah, yeah."
Enbin grumbled, heading to the break room. They sat across from each other, cracking open canned coffees. Sanity slowly returned in the quiet space. Outside, cops shuffled by—pleasant white noise.
"Thanks."
After a long silence, Enbin spoke. Words he'd forgotten amid the frenzy.
Moo-young just smiled brightly.
"You skipped all your classes, you know."
Since that day, Moo-young hadn't gone back to school, crashing at Enbin's dorm instead. The members shared it, but they'd all moved out, and the crisis was urgent anyway.
"Seoyeondae, right? Must've been a good student."
"Force majeure or whatever."
"...Seriously, thanks. The reading, coming to find me—means a lot."
Idol life: colleagues aplenty, friends scarce. Enbin might be extreme, but starting so young had hardened him. No one easy to open up to.
"What can I do for you?"
"Do? Just buy me a meal."
"Get the 100 million back, and it's yours?"
Moo-young's eyes went wide at the offer. Coffee nearly shot out his nose—too out of left field. Joke? But Enbin's face was dead serious.
"You nuts? Why would I take that?"
"Without you, poof—gone. Money, career, girlfriend, privacy. All critical."
No friends meant every favor had a price tag. Goodwill? Hard to believe anymore.
Moo-young scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"Nah, friends don't..."
Enbin blinked. Friends? You? My friend?
"I'm a year older."
"You've been casual with me fine. And you're quick on the uptake. Want me to switch to formal now?"
"...Ridiculous."
"Yeah, yeah. Exactly. 100 million? What dog's named after that kinda cash? Stash it for retirement. Don't stop working."
Contract freeze halted everything—album drops, concert prep. Web drama with Square Film? Full stop. They and Seoul City must be tearing their hair out.
"Supposed to drop Friday, got pushed. Saturday now—bet the company's off today."
"Crazy. Is that what matters to you?"
"Told you. My first gig."
Enbin just laughed. What a weirdo—knew his path crystal clear and bulldozed toward it.
Then the manager called.
"Bin! Moo-young!"
"We're here."
"Oh, right. Got something to drink? Calmed down?"
Enbin drained the last of his coffee.
"How'd it go?"
"No leniency, company legal's on it now. You're off the hook. No rumors leaked, thank god."
Enbin had been raging to see her face. The manager peeked nervously, wiping sweat.
"So now—"
"Let's go."
Ting! Enbin nailed the trash can with the empty can. He stood abruptly, brushing past the manager.
"Sorry, hyung. You suffered because of me. I'll handle the company. Reschedule everything."
"For real?"
"Yeah. For real."
The manager's face lit up. Enbin nodded at Moo-young to follow.
Moo-young grinned roundly, tossing his can.
"I'll work twice as hard for lost time."
"That's the spirit, Bin!"
"Don't tell Mom and Dad."
"Never. No worries there!"
Before exiting, Moo-young checked Enbin's hat, glasses, mask. Just ears showing—no one'd recognize him.
"Good. Let's roll."
"Ha Moo-young."
"Yeah?"
"Need 100 million, say the word."
"C'mon, zip it?"
"Or something else. Hit me up anytime you need anything. I've got pull in this game."
"Yeah, yeah, got it. Let's go."
Moo-young waved it off, heading down the stairs. What could he need, anyway? Just act and live...
Vroom! Enbin's sedan peeled out of the station.
That evening, hearing of Enbin's comeback, Square Film tearfully sent the video to Seoul City's MiTube handler.
SSeoul City Promo Web DramaMiTube NotificationHanbam Pochah Episode 01
The late-night pub soothing youth's pains! But the boss is Enbin?▶ PLAYMoo-young's debut work had finally gone live.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Read 162 more chapters ahead on NovelDex!
https://noveldex.io/series/rookie-but-one-in-a-million-actor
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━