In the midst of rising smoke on the road, the door of a black sedan opened, and a man stepped out. Indifferently dusting off his blood and dirt-stained suit, he casually tossed his gun to the side of the road. With weary, heavy steps and a deep sigh, he looked around with a lonely expression.

No one among the dozens of people lying around moved. His dark eyes glowed sharply. He hastened his steps to a man collapsed in the center, snatching a bag from his grasp. A smirk formed on one corner of his lips, icy like the Arctic. Walking away slowly under the rising sun, the man moved on.

“Cut!”

Director Ma Youngjun clapped and cheerfully shouted.

“Great work, everyone!”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

“It’s finally over!”

With the director’s signal, the hundreds of staff, who had been holding their breath, now burst into cheers and joy. The last shooting of the year-long film project, “The Man in Grey,” had just concluded. It was a challenging project that required much experimentation.

“Bro, you did great!”

Manager Byunghoon approached the man, taking the gunpowder-scented jacket and passing it to the stylist, Sumi. She briefly looked at the blood-stained jacket with a grimace before stuffing it into a bag.

“Wow, it’s finally over. You really worked so hard for this movie, oppa.”

“You guys too.”

The man, with his tired eyes closed, smiled faintly. Despite the heavy fatigue, his handsome features shone even more vividly. Sumi stared blankly at his surreal face for a moment before gathering her things.

The man personally greeted the director and staff. As he did, the sun fully rose, unfolding a clear autumn morning.

“The sun’s up,” muttered Byunghoon.

“Yeah. It’s been a killer year.”

After the set was somewhat cleared, the man finally got into his van. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment. The stylist handed him a neck massager and a cup of warm green tea. Having not had a single drink during the entire shoot, the man quickly finished the tea and opened another bottle of water.

“Bro, can I have your phone?”

“Yeah.”

The phone was placed in the man’s hand. He stretched his shoulders a couple of times and turned on the phone. It was filled with light greetings and a few advertising contacts.
Born with good physical stamina, he used to handle most film shoots without feeling tired. However, this movie was exhausting, pushing his physical limits. There were especially many action scenes, most of which were shot outdoors. He spent the year rolling around in mountains, fields, seas, and roads. It was a year of intense action filming.

“Your agency head said you should take a break for a while. You’ve never really rested since your debut.”

“I guess I should.”

As he gazed at the brightly lit sky, the man shifted his attention back to his phone. He habitually opened a cafe app and logged into his fan club. Even with heavy eyelids weighing him down, this was an essential part of his routine he couldn’t forgo.

She was there. A soft smile that he couldn’t hide spread across his lips.

After taking a shower as soon as she got home, Dajeong eventually opened a can of beer. The crisp alcoholic fragrance pierced her esophagus, sinking deep into her stomach. The sharp and slightly burning sensation pricked her body.

[Yoon Dajeong. I heard from your sister. Bad things happened at the hospital? Don’t start with morning beer. Think about your gastritis. AM 7:11]

She ignored the message from Kyungjoon, a close friend close enough to be called family. The heartache was more intense than the stomachache that day. Days like these called for a little help from alcohol. She was a fragile human, and the weight of life was always overwhelmingly solemn.

[I already drank. AM 9:30] [You’re driving me crazy. AM 9:31]

Please, let nothing happen to the baby.

She half-heartedly read Kyungjoon’s message and put down her phone. Disturbed, she turned on her laptop and logged into actor Lee Jaeho’s fan club. It had been a three-year routine and an important part of her life. Dajeong was one of the administrators of Lee Jaeho’s official fan club.

Dajeong’s escape.

Immediately after logging in, she checked the report board, removed illegal advertisement IDs, and deleted spam posts. She had to check frequently, as illegal ads, persistent like weeds, popped up daily.

“Ah, these ads are really getting craftier…”

Then she went to the pending membership list, reviewed applications, and checked their answers. Out of 11 applicants, she approved 7. She could never accept those with wrong answers.

“If you don’t even know the date of Lee Jaeho’s debut, why join the fan club?”

Muttering irritably to herself, Dajeong scrolled through the free board. No major news today. Our actor has been very busy with his movie shooting.

Most new chit-chat posts expressed longing to see him.

[When will our actor’s movie finish? I miss him so much.]

“Yeah, right. Me too. I miss him.”

Dajeong sighed deeply and sipped her beer. It was past 10 am, and the living room was filled with sunlight. Looking at the sunlight, she suddenly thought of the baby in the NICU.

Hoping that Sunshine-like hope would also reach the baby.

How great it would be if her actor updated his SNS today. Lost in these idle thoughts, Dajeong habitually wrote a daily post on the free board.