The Trashy PD Has To Survive as an Idol - Chapter 297

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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297

Recently, on the filming set, one person’s praises had been echoing with unusual frequency.

“Where did Seo Ho-yoon go? I wanted to give him this.”
“Last time, Ho-yoon helped me move the equipment…!”
“He’s genuinely so kind and gentle. Seo Ho-yoon, isn’t he just an incredibly good person?”

Good?
That “good”—the one defined in the Korean dictionary as “righteous and virtuous, conforming to moral standards; or something of that nature”—was that really what they meant?
When had the meaning twisted so?

‘This makes no sense.’

Min Ji-heon shook his head vigorously as he headed toward the waiting room.
He had lived a rather ordinary life. His mother cherished him dearly, and his stepfather was a good man. He even gained a beloved younger brother.
It wasn’t as though his given abilities spared him from all hardship, but thanks to them, he had learned to surrender himself to circumstances like water flowing downstream and to adapt with flexibility.

Yet Seo Ho-yoon had a peculiar talent for effortlessly shattering the composure he had so painstakingly cultivated over the years.

“Aigo~oh.”
“….”
“Has our great actor arrived?”

He could see the figure seated on a folding chair at one corner of the set, languidly chewing squid—a person with a neat, composed appearance.

“…Hello.”

His expression naturally furrowed.
Though it quickly returned to normal, he couldn’t help but find Seo Ho-yoon unsettling—like an existence precariously balanced on the boundary between life and death.
It hadn’t been this way at first.
What troubled him more was that he was ever so slightly tilting toward the side of life.

“Have you eaten?”
“Nice to see you.”
“Wow, you’re fresh, kid. Where’d you ditch the formal speech?”
“…yes.”

Noticing Seo Ho-yoon’s brow furrow with unusual tension, Min Ji-heon took a subtle step back.
He didn’t seem upset about anything in particular, but something felt off.

“Then I’ll do my best today as well.”

Min Ji-heon gave a hasty bow before hurrying into the Waiting Room. Even as he changed into his costume, his thoughts kept circling back to Seo Ho-yoon.
Lately, Seo Ho-yoon had become Min Ji-heon’s greatest preoccupation.

Now that he thought about it, his acting had improved remarkably fast.
Where it had been raw and rough at first, now it carried a gradually refined quality. Even Director Jung had said, “With Seo Ho-yoon, we can just trust and move forward now.”

“We’re starting filming soon!”

[Min Han-jun and Kim Woo-ho ultimately decided to move together until they found his younger brother.
But with opposite temperaments, the two constantly clashed. When Min Han-jun suggested they stay together to look after the survivor, Kim Woo-ho responded with his usual indifference, and once again they found themselves arguing.]

“I don’t want to. They’re just dead weight.”
“Do you really have no compassion, Kim Woo-ho? If we leave them here, how is that any different from killing them ourselves? These people are injured….”
“Then go volunteer somewhere.”
“I have.”
“Ah… how impressive.”

Perhaps it was simply a role that suited his natural disposition.
The ruthless, unprincipled side of Kim Woo-ho reminded Min Ji-heon of Seo Ho-yoon, whom he’d spoken with in the Underground Parking Lot.

“Agh!”

[Just then, Min Han-jun is tackled by an infected and falls.]

Thwack!

[Kim Woo-ho grabs Min Han-jun’s arm and pulls him up, then strikes the infected with the bow, speaking with perfect composure.]

“If I were truly as ungrateful as you think, you’d already be rolling around on that street, Han-jun.”
“….”

Min Ji-heon’s tightly clenched lips trembled faintly.
He averted his gaze, steadied his trembling legs with effort, and as he collapsed again, he extended his hand as if pleading for help. But Seo Ho-yoon ignored him and walked ahead first.

“By the way, my younger brother is definitely alive, right? Do you know where he went?”
“…I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since we parted ways back then.”

He paused briefly, then turned his head to look at Min Ji-heon. His expression made it abundantly clear how pathetic he found this.

“What exactly do you know?”
“….”

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, whenever dialogue like this came up, Min Ji-heon felt genuinely choked up. He lowered his gaze as if suppressing his emotions.

“Cut!”

At the same moment, Director Jung’s voice echoed across the filming set.
While monitoring the scene they’d just shot, Min Ji-heon carefully observed Seo Ho-yoon conversing with Director Jung.

“—so here’s the thing. Seo Ho-yoon, didn’t you say before that you don’t smoke? But judging by your posture, you look like a smoker. I think lighting up in this scene would really bring out the atmosphere….”
“…Ah, yes.”

Seo Ho-yoon, unusually looking somewhat flustered, soon spoke with an embarrassed smile.

“Director, even if you asked me to fly around the set without wires, I would do my best to make it work….”
“You can’t fly without wires. It’s dangerous.”
“…But cigarettes are a bit….”

When you worked as an actor, cigarettes often became something that represented a character’s personality or functioned like an accessory, making them difficult to simply avoid.
However, Seo Ho-yoon seemed extremely uncomfortable with anything involving cigarettes, bristling like a cat that had touched water, his entire body tense and guarded.
Though he wore an expression of displeasure, he wasn’t the type to be forceful, so ultimately Director Jung respected Seo Ho-yoon’s wishes and decided to create the cigarette smoke using CG instead.

“Then at least hold it naturally in your mouth.”
“…Yes. I apologize.”

Seo Ho-yoon, stripped of his usual glib charm, felt strangely unfamiliar.
The subsequent shoot was a solo scene for Seo Ho-yoon.
Min Ji-heon watched from the script.

[Kim Woo-ho had a conversation with someone who claimed to have seen his younger brother, Kim Woo-hyung, at Migeum Station. But he learns that the last anyone saw of him was when he encountered a horde of infected and fled….]

Seo Ho-yoon simply listened to the other person’s words with composure.

“Yes. Thank you for telling me.”

Even then, not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. Despite learning that his only family might be dead.

“…Are you alright?”
“What’s not to be alright about? We’re all in the same boat anyway.”

[The other person finds Kim Woo-ho’s demeanor unsettling and glances nervously before hastily excusing himself. Kim Woo-ho exhales a deep sigh and rummages through his pockets for a cigarette.]

“Hah….”

But all that emerged was dust.
Seo Ho-yoon irritably brushed his hair back, his gaze landing on the corpse of an infected sprawled on the ground. He nudged it with his foot, rolling it over, then rifled through its clothes.

“Filthy bastard.”

After quite some time, he finally found a slightly bent cigarette with a frayed end. Seo Ho-yoon brought it to his lips with trembling fingertips.

Click, click.

A crimson flame flickered from the grimy lighter. Seo Ho-yoon drew deeply on the cigarette, his cheeks hollowing with the force of the drag.

[Only when alone does Kim Woo-ho confront his true inner self.]

He exhales colorless smoke into the air like a sigh. The clear sky, contrasting sharply with Kim Woo-ho’s dire circumstances, is captured in the camera’s frame.

“…What bullshit am I spouting.”

Emptiness, despair, and fear.
The ashen emotions swirling within him were transmitted unfiltered to those watching.

Standing beside the Director, who had stopped filming with admiration, Min Ji-heon came to a realization.

‘He’s smoked before.’

The way he held the cigarette, the timing of his inhalation—
these were details no non-smoker would know.
As Min Ji-heon’s narrowed eyes swept over Seo Ho-yoon, preparations for the next scene finished quickly.

[On the way to Migeum Station, all survivors except Min Han-jun and Kim Woo-ho ultimately perish. Overwhelmed by the endless tide of infected, Min Han-jun breaks down in tears, consumed by guilt for failing to save the people.]

Seo Ho-yoon released the bowstring, embedding an arrow dead center in the infected’s forehead, then strode toward Min Ji-heon and seized him by the collar.

“Are you insane?!”

Seo Ho-yoon’s voice was consumed by rage.

“Did you decide you wanted to die?”

Their faces drew so close they nearly touched. Sorrow poured from Min Ji-heon’s eyes.

“People!”

Droplets gathered at his chin trembled and fell from his quivering frame.

“Damn it, how could I just leave when people are dying right in front of me!”

Violent anguish flooded from Min Ji-heon’s lips.

“When they’re screaming for help!”
“Why couldn’t you just go?!!”

As if brushing away the tears that had fallen on his own hand, Seo Ho-yoon hurled Min Ji-heon aside and fixed him with a cold stare.

“Are you trying to save all 6 billion people on Earth?”
“What, what?”
“Everyone, look here. We’ve got ourselves a saint!”
“That’s not what I meant, you crazy bastard!!”

At the edge of Min Ji-heon’s eyes, tears glistened once more before rolling down his cheeks. Seo Ho-yoon let out a harsh laugh and spoke.

“Hey. If you’d taken even one more step forward, you’d be dead. That guy calling for help? You couldn’t save him, and you’d be gone too.”
“….”
“And I could’ve gotten dragged into it.”

[An infected creature lunges at the two from behind as they argue.]

I grab Min Ji-heon’s arm and twist my body, swinging my bow to shatter the infected creature’s head. Startled, Min Ji-heon gapes wordlessly, unable to move.

“Min Han-jun. If you’re going to die, die alone.”

[Kim Woo-ho, who everyone pointed fingers at for being selfish—he was simply someone who did his best within his own limits.]

I release my grip on Min Ji-heon and adjust my bow. My attention has already shifted to another infected creature.

“But you want to live too, don’t you? That’s why you’re pulling this stunt.”

Min Ji-heon slowly lowered his head.

“…Same here.”

At my words, added a beat too late, Min Ji-heon’s shoulders trembled. He wiped his face with his grimy sleeve and slowly got to his feet.
Once I confirmed Min Ji-heon had regained his composure, I walked ahead, muttering.

“Don’t get swept up in emotions. You know we almost died back there too, right? Idiots, seriously….”
“You said Kim Woo-ho could’ve gotten dragged in too. So that’s three of us.”
“What are you talking about.”

Kim Woo-ho spun around, raising one eyebrow.

“I survived because I was going to abandon you and run.”

.
.
.

The intense filming marathon continued.

‘Surprisingly, nothing major happened.’

When Seo Ho-yoon mentioned the bracelet, he’d clearly had something on his mind.
Yet despite that, he’d devoted himself faithfully to the acting, never probing further into my thoughts.
Min Ji-heon habitually touched his bare wrist. He couldn’t wear it during filming.

“Se~nior~~.”

Just then,

“Oof!”

Someone suddenly grabbed my shoulder.
It was Lee Kang-seok, who was filming a different drama on the adjacent set.

“…Ah haha, haha. Hello, Lee Kang-seok.”

Min Ji-heon quickly donned his public mask.
He found Lee Kang-seok uncomfortable—not just the way he worshipped him like some religion, but also how he carelessly wielded his influence over everyone else.

“Senior, you’re already done filming today? I wanted to see you act…”
“Haha…”

As I forced an awkward smile and tried to slip away, I caught sight of Seo Ho-yoon standing at a distance with his arms crossed, watching this spectacle like someone peering into a stranger’s home.

“Oh, Seo Ho-yoon?”

Lee Kang-seok murmured, turning his head to follow my gaze. Seo Ho-yoon flicked the cigarette he’d been holding for the shoot into a trash bin with perfect precision, then leisurely walked over.

“Wow, I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up.”
“…Pardon?”
“It’s been a while.”

And then he broke into an unpleasant grin.
He looked exactly like,

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a stereotypical villain from a children’s program.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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