Free Web Novel“Popcorn.”
“Ready.”
“Cola.”
“Ready.”
“Zero?”
“Yes.”
I clapped my hands.
“Excellent, minions. Finally everything’s ready.”
“I’ll turn on the TV, hyung.”
Biju switched the GTV channel with a serious expression.
While Joonghyeon and I opened the live chat and forums on the tablet PC, Hyunhyuk set up the handycam on the table.
He wanted to capture our maknae’s reaction.
“Aagh...”
Jiho pressed both hands to his cheeks and groaned.
“Hyungs, can you just act like nothing’s happening? I’m really under pressure.”
“No way.”
We smiled brightly.
“Our maknae is finally appearing in a drama. We can’t miss that.”
“That’s right. We have to watch the live broadcast.”
“Aaah, I want to be alone.”
We giggled at Jiho rolling around on the sofa.
It was so fun teasing him. He’s always the one teased, so being on the other side must feel great.
Biju peeled an apple and asked,
“Are you that embarrassed?”
“Ye...yes...”
Jiho stopped rolling, staring straight at the ceiling.
“I kinda feel like an out-of-body experience. Like I want to become that single light bulb on the ceiling? I wish no one would look at me. Ugh, I don’t know. Anyway, ah... ugh! Ah!”
He croaked “Waaah!” like a T-Rex, curling and uncurling his hands, making a commotion. If there were an art of making noise, our maknae would be an intangible cultural asset.
Just an hour ago he seemed calm, but now, with the broadcast about to start, his anxiety exploded.
“I totally messed up in there. On set they treated me like a baby and said I did well, but...”
“You thought it wasn’t good?”
“Yes...”
We just watched his glum face and silently smiled.
He doesn’t get it.
Even if we’re gaining public recognition, we’re not so popular that exhausted drama staff would cheer us on.
He’s not a top star whose ego you would flatter. If they praised our maknae so visibly, it means he did truly well.
If he’d done poorly, they’d have given him cold stares—and gossip about having to reshoot simple cameo scenes.
I thought about reassuring him with that, but then—
“Uwaa, nuna... What do I do? Won’t I be embarrassed at school?”
He called our oldest sister, bawling.
“Nuna, nuna! I’m in a drama and I’m so nervous! Talk to me.”
“Nuna, have you told your boyfriend to watch? Why are you doing this? Fine. I won’t talk to you. No, I’m not really serious. I’m just expressing how I feel.”
He called our second and third sisters, chattering away.
“Dad’s calling. Not picking up.”
He argued that answering would only increase his stress, then grinned “Uaa!” and answered, “Daadd!” That was so cute we left him be.
Honestly, it was so entertaining.
Hyunhyuk, studying advanced Chinese characters, wrote “喜怒哀樂” in his notebook, then memorized it while looking at Jiho.
“...” freeweɓnovel.cøm
When our eyes met, Hyunhyuk wrote “惑世誣民”—meaning to deceive and mislead the world—in his practice book.
“Hey, what’s ‘惑世誣民’? You should write ‘群鷄一鶴’.”
Hyunhyuk scoffed and wrote “妄想症.”
Really...
To avoid stress, Jiho carefully melted a portion of popcorn in a paper cup and ate it, then grabbed his phone.
Articles about tonight’s first broadcast of GTV Friday drama Slip poured in.
As a genre drama that drew attention even before airing, the comments were overflowing.
There were some drama fans worried whether the writer could carry the story, but not many.
That’s because PBS drama Yeowoo Guseul, which premiered earlier, was receiving a successful response.
Yeowoo Guseul, the debut work of a rookie writer, got rave reviews from the start.
Although the acting skills of the twenty-something leads were criticized, its strong CG and directing pushed Yeowoo Guseul to dethrone the Wednesday-Thursday dramas and claim the top spot.
Discussions about overseas rights were already underway.
Plus, the main OST from episode 2—played when the male and female leads locked eyes after finding an amulet—had already entered the charts.
It was sung by senior singer Cha Woohyun.
I wondered if we’d chosen poorly by not getting Yeowoo Guseul’s OST, but our song wouldn’t play until at least episode 10 anyway.
At least we didn’t record the Pinwheel OST.
Pinwheel, about prosecutors’ work and love, evaporated in ratings like the wind.
They cast popular actors and a famous director, but the script was the main complaint.
Old-fashioned storyline and dialogue, excessive PPL from episode 1.
Scenes of the chief prosecutor sitting in a massage chair in his office going “Phew...” and the prosecutors eating sandwiches at the same deli for every strategy meeting were already circulating as memes.
Thanks to that, the ratings hit an all-time low.
It would’ve been a disaster if we’d done that.
Luckily, we weren’t a priority from the start.
“This OST feels off,” Hyunhyuk said.
“The drama’s about to air, but the song drifted around until it finally reached me.”
I agreed.
The song itself wasn’t bad and the drama looked good on paper.
But if an OST takes that long to get to us, there must be problems we don’t know.
Our manager thought the same.
Seokhwan hyung checked with the actor team, and sure enough, the lead actors and writer were locked in a power struggle over the story’s direction. No wonder senior singers avoided it.
I heard Joyuri Band took our place. I wonder what faces they’re making now.
Anyway.
HBS Pinwheel sinking in ratings, PBS Yeowoo Guseul thriving, and the highly praised GTV launching Slip.
How will Slip be received?
I hope the drama quality is good so our OST stands out.
Above all, our maknae practiced his cameo for nights on end.
I clasped my hands like Grandma waiting for a school play.
“Looks like that was the last commercial.”
Biju said, and on TV Park Gyuho in a snapback was dancing, shouting “This is it!” in a clothing brand ad.
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
I sent the YouTube link to the person and got a reply that he’d block it today. When I asked if I was treated to a meal, he replied immediately, so I guess he won’t actually block me.
Our maknae, still melting popcorn in his mouth, asked,
“But hyungs, why are you so calm?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Biju hyung was going ‘James!’ and Joonghyeon hyung was joking about attendance.”
We snorted.
“Even reading the script feels serious. Do you really think they’ll use those lines as is?”
“That’s right, hyung. The director said since it’ll be a murmur, we could say anything.”
“You’ve got a good memory. Our Jaem...”
“Eat your apple, hyung.”
The maknae pouted, claiming “I won’t appear much,” propping his chin on a pillow.
“Here it comes!”
On the darkened screen, subtitles appeared: “This drama is based on real persons....” White letters floated up one by one from the left: S L I P. Jiho explained it was an homage to some alien movie.
Then an eerie flute sound, like something out of the jungle, and the camera captured a dark reed field.
Early evening.
A midnight-blue sky above swaying reeds. Power poles stood like gravestones, streetlights casting a vermilion glow on the road.
It looked like a film.
The fugitive’s ragged breathing, and finally Slip began.
Slip followed the script exactly.
When I read the script I imagined a movie, but seeing Slip on screen was even more.
The cinematography was so beautiful it drew gasps.
I usually just watch weekend dramas with Grandma and ask “Who can we insult here?” or “Wait, the father-in-law is the grandpa?” so I can’t judge well, but every site I visited was praising it.
There wasn’t a single useless frame.
“Wow...”
Before long we forgot monitoring and were melting popcorn every five minutes.
We did that until the carbonation bubbled out.
When the hero Park Cheoljin was contemplating the flint-like murder weapon, scratching his stubbly beard, the clue finally came.
“It’s coming. It’s coming.”
“Aaah...”
While Jiho covered his eyes with Hyunhyuk’s dried sweet potato, the back of the precious figure we’d been waiting for appeared.
“Waaa!”
We cheered like a soccer team scoring a goal, and Jiho bowed his head like a foreign fan among Korean supporters.
“Wow, our maknae’s back view is oozing handsome vibes.”
“We must screenshot this.”
“Oh. Jiho. That uniform fits well, huh?”
A military police officer holding documents at his side appeared.
He wasn’t extremely tall, but his long legs gave him good proportions. Our maknae, wearing the police uniform like a stage outfit, smiled brightly and greeted.
“He’s got more screen time than I thought.”
I expected a cameo blur, but the scene cut to his upper body entering the police station saying “Hello, sir.”
Showing his face outright meant significance.
Even now various forums buzzed, “Who’s that guy?”
Meanwhile, the officer’s gaze turned to a group of trivial high schoolers.
Then we froze.
I thought the tteokbokki line would pass, but our ad-libbed lines were playing too.
“What is this.”
I jumped up.
My brothers murmured and got up, and the maknae’s eyes widened.
“Why is that... why is it showing me?”
“Didn’t the director say the audio wouldn’t come through? What happened...?”
My chest sank.
Biju, as “James,” was ashen, sending a text: “Minjun, hit the TV power strip!” While he waited for “Does that mean turn it off?” he appeared on screen.
Biju held his face, moaning “Auy auy...” while Hyunhyuk and I sighed deeply.
The only person calm was Beetle murmur “His left side looks more handsome.”
“Pwahaha! Hahaha!”
Our maknae, who’d been demoralized, jumped around screaming “Eheh, look at that~.”
I almost gave him a flick on the head.
The comments streamed with “ㅋㅋㅋ.”
Some praised him for lightening the brooding drama, but most were just “ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ.”
Everyone was mocking our insignificance.
“We acted so threateningly though.”
“Didn’t you feel it in ‘Jeokseok Maemae’? We just don’t mesh with those kids.”
“No wonder we lost to elementary schoolers, us.”
Our drooped gazes flicked briefly to the Soufflé community, but we moved on.
We needed a mental break.
Besides, we couldn’t miss our maknae’s performance.
“...Ugh.”
The energy teasing us vanished. Jiho peeked from behind Joonghyeon’s back, then shouted “Ugh” if his face appeared.
“He messed up his expression there; it didn’t match the line.”
We reacted to his timid murmur.
“What are you talking about? You did great.”
“...Really?”
“People online have been asking who the actor is. Those who don’t know us don’t think we’re singers.”
“Oh. Really?”
“See for yourself.”
Watching the glowing praise fill the screen, our maknae’s eyes sparkled.
We smiled at the gentle smile forming on his pale face—not just to boost his spirits, but because he truly had done well.
He °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° seemed unsatisfied because his standards were high, but to us he was amazing.
Biju whispered, pleased that Jiho ate a big breakfast sausage.
“You really did well, Jiho.”
“Exactly. I don’t know why you say you’re bad whenever acting comes up.”
On screen, Jiho delivered his lines like an actor.
More than feeling his acting was strong, it felt like having a real M.P. officer in the station.
When his cameo ended, we clapped.
“Wasn’t I not bad? Right?”
Our maknae, checking again and again, wore a happy expression.
“But what’s the next scene you appear in? I heard it got added to the script.”
“Oh, that?”
Jiho smiled brightly at our question.
“You’ll see. It’s a really fun scene.”
Officer Heo trudged under a power pole.
This was Oseong District.
Every time he walked, his radio crackled loudly.
The constant vibration made Heo lower the volume with a tap.
His junior walking beside him said,
“I wonder if we’ll be on duty all night. If we find them in the playground, isn’t that a waste?”
“It’s not a waste, it’s a relief.”
Heo smiled gently and sighed. In the cold air his breath turned white.
‘Cold.’
If I’m cold, how much colder is that little girl?
They were patrolling to find a missing nine-year-old girl. Normally one or two patrol cars would suffice.
But today was different.
A violent murder had occurred in the area—and the missing girl vanished from the same neighborhood where a mysterious scream had echoed.
The media and authorities were in a panic, mobilizing all Oseong District’s police and officers to patrol.
Three hours had passed since sunset.
Yet everyone doubted they’d find her.
‘Still, we have to try.’
His junior asked,
“If we find her, do you think we’ll get a citation or a night off?”
“Well, maybe.”
Heo hesitated, then raised the volume.
A passing patrol car radioed in that they’d found nothing.
Heo’s gaze drifted to the takeout food inside the car. His junior, watching it drive off, clicked his tongue.
“Patrolling at that speed makes it seem like they don’t intend to find a kid.”
They both silently agreed.
‘Let’s assume they’re tired.’
Though his steps felt heavy, he thought of the child trembling in the dark.
“...”
They passed a shop with warm tteokbokki and fishcake soup. His junior paused.
Heo decided he’d buy some on the way back, if they had time.
Then they saw Captain Park Cheoljin of the violent-crimes unit, searching alone nearby.
Heo greeted him happily with a salute.
“Good work, Captain.”
“Uh, you. Right. Sejun. Keep it up.”
But the captain didn’t know his name.
He read the name on the jacket—one he’d borrowed from another recruit.
Heo forced a smile.
‘I thought he’d at least know my name.’
Well, he must be busy.
With a bright smile dispelling his slump, Heo murmured “Stay strong,” and continued patrolling.
Then a clue emerged.
“A little girl? I saw someone heading that way.”
“Really?”
They brightened and moved toward the tip.
It led outside the patrol boundary dividing Gyeonggi and Seoul. But they thought it right to check.
He considered reporting upwards but feared he’d be scolded for wasting time if it proved false. Better to confirm first.
His junior buttoned up his jacket, shivering.
“But isn’t this close to the murder site? I heard it was in a nearby hill.”
“It probably is. Scared?”
“Aren’t you?” freeweɓnovel.cøm
“Terrified. I’ll run away without looking back, mark my words.”
He joked as they walked on.
Dark night.
Reeds swayed eerily, as if someone watched them.
“...Shall we go back?”
Just then—
“Sniff... sob...”
Under the road cutting across the reed field, a girl’s sobbing drifted up from a storm drain.
“No!”
“Hey! Dummy! I said don’t go closer. Why are you going? It’s dangerous!”
“Hyung, what do we do? Our maknae.”
“Jiho. Why are you trying to go into danger?”
The members shook him like reeds, but Wang Jiho just laughed.
‘Hyungs.’
Why are you all so overinvested...
