The Trashy PD Has To Survive as an Idol - Chapter 380

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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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380

I returned the yuzu tea I’d borrowed warmth from to the company and immediately headed back to the Practice Room. The Members were still as lively and chaotic as always.

“Ho-yoon, have a good shoot!”

After running through the performance a few more times, I made my way to the Underground Parking Lot for the special guest appearance schedule. While my Manager delayed gathering a gift to present to the Director, I boarded the Van first and sank into my seat.
Time had crept close to dawn. Fatigue descended upon me like creeping darkness.

‘I could fall asleep just by closing my eyes.’

I pressed my head against the window, fighting drowsiness with the cold that touched my skin. I wanted to review the script one more time and rest. But being alone in this quiet space, Jung Chung-yeon came to mind again, and a headache bloomed.

“Sigh…”

It was no longer surprising that the System could manipulate not just me, but anyone at will. I was somewhat taken aback that Jung Chung-yeon was among those I hadn’t expected to appear, but as long as it didn’t affect my future, it wasn’t particularly important.
What continued to bother me more than all that was—.

“…Really.”

The fact that Jung Chung-yeon, who had shed her trainee status as her appearance on my broadcast disappeared, seemed far happier now.

‘She said she’d sell her soul just to debut?’

The younger, fierce version of her overlapped with the brightly smiling Jung Chung-yeon of the present.
I didn’t regret what I’d done now. Even if I could go back, I would have edited it the same way, supported by her request.
But seeing the gentler Jung Chung-yeon, emotions welled up and faded within me, tangling together in a way I couldn’t prevent.
As my thoughts deepened,

Click.

The Van door suddenly opened.

“Hey.”

It was Kang Yi-chae.
He busied himself scanning between the seats as if I didn’t concern him in the slightest.

“What? Why?”
“Oh man, I left the gaming device in the van.”

He gestured for me to shift over, took my seat, and proceeded to search through everything without discrimination, front and back.

“Found it.”

Kang Yi-chae, who’d been searching near the basket that always overflowed with candy, spotted the gaming device and pulled it out. Rather than leaving, he settled his weight heavily into the seat and began playing.
I raised my guard and narrowed my eyes, studying him carefully.

‘What’s with him now?’

Could he have found out about meeting Jung Chung-yeon?
No, there was no way he could have discovered it.
I’d managed my expression well enough, even went out of my way to play with the Maknae. I flirted with Kim Sung-hyun as usual, laughed at Sung Ji-won’s rap.
If he’d picked up on something despite all that, he should’ve been spreading mats in Gangnam instead of being an idol.

“…Hyung, I just heard from the Manager—.”

I braced myself, focusing on Kang Yi-chae’s lips as I waited for what he’d say.

“—the scene you’re filming is a funeral, right?”
“…Yeah.”

But what actually reached me was careful concern.
Kang Yi-chae tapped the gaming device’s joystick with his fingertips as he asked.

“Will you be okay?”

Instead of saying it seemed better than not appearing on video for a year, I curved my lips into the sly smile Min Ji-heon wore when he was scheming something.

“Why? Are you worried about me?”
“Yeah.”
“….”

…So our Kang Yi-chae has become much more honest.
Realizing that tricks would no longer work on him, I dropped my smile and gave a casual wave of my hand.

“There are tons of other special guest appearances. I’ll probably only show up for about three seconds. The filming will be over in a flash.”

Kang Yi-chae wore an unconvinced expression, lowering his gaze as he asked.

“So when are you coming, brother?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.”

I watched Kang Yi-chae obediently get out of the car and closed my eyes. Soon I felt the door close with a soft thud.

‘He’s gone.’

Just as I thought he’d add one more thing, there came a knock on the window. I moved my eyes toward the sound and saw Kang Yi-chae had returned, gesturing for me to roll down the window.
As soon as I moved my eyes toward where the sound was coming from, Kang Yi-chae, who had returned, was gesturing for me to open the window.

“Actually, I don’t really like watching you act.”

What kind of sudden confession was this?

“Come back quickly. I hate being alone.”

…I see.
I had unintentionally isolated Kang Yi-chae for nearly a year during the Unknown Actor Tycoon days, and whenever he occasionally showed traces of that time, my long-abandoned conscience would suddenly make its presence known.
Kang Yi-chae scratched his head awkwardly, hesitated for a moment, then turned to leave.

“…Hey, Kang Yi-chae.”

After briefly considering whether to let him go, I called him back.
I pressed a handful of candies into his hand, and Kang Yi-chae accepted them in surprise.

“You were whining about running out of candies during practice. Take these at least.”

Kang Yi-chae blinked.

“And make sure you eat properly.”

And then I rolled the window back up.
In a world like this, a single piece of candy wouldn’t bring joy even to a child, but I didn’t want to send them away empty-handed.
I exhaled a sigh and leaned my back against the seat.

***

“Ah, Ho-yoon. Thank you for coming.”

Before the Moon Wanes was being filmed at a set near Gyeonggi Province.
I greeted every staff member I saw, and it happened to be a break time—Director Kang Jung-gun was outside. When our eyes met, he raised his hand first in acknowledgment. I quickly bowed my head in return.

“The atmosphere last time was really off… I had a separate conversation with that staff member. I gave them sufficient warning, so there shouldn’t be any issues going forward. I’m sorry about that.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“And there’s one more thing I’m sorry about….”

According to his somewhat sheepish explanation, filming Min Ji-heon’s scenes was taking longer than expected, causing all the subsequent scenes to be delayed.

“Why? Did something go wrong with the equipment?”

Having worked with Min Ji-heon twice already, I knew exactly how he operated.
There were no hitches in any of his acting, so shoots always wrapped quickly. As a result, praise from the staff always followed Min Ji-heon like a bonus.

“No, that’s not it….”

The Assistant Director answered cautiously, almost whispering, on behalf of the Director who had gone back inside for filming.

“…It’s just that Min Ji-heon keeps calling for NG.”
“What?”

That Min Ji-heon?
I furrowed my brow in disbelief, and the Assistant Director led me toward a corner of the set. In the background arranged as a funeral hall, Min Ji-heon stood in a black turtleneck with a vacant expression. He offered an awkward smile and apologized to the actor across from him. The other actor shook his head in surprise, insisting it was really fine.
Meanwhile, the Director, who had been reviewing the footage just shot, wore a serious expression as he stroked his chin, then spoke to Min Ji-heon.
Meanwhile, the Director, who had been reviewing the footage they’d just shot, stroked his chin with a serious expression and spoke to Min Ji-heon.

“…Mr. Min Ji-heon, this part here needs to be a bit more—.”

Aside from Min Ji-heon’s complexion, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly wrong with his appearance.

“What kind of scene are you filming that you look so serious?”

The Assistant Director let out an awkward laugh and spoke quietly.

“It’s Scene 27. A relatively simple part….”

I opened the script in my hand and found the section marked ‘#27’. It was a scene where the rookie detective Kang Ju-hwan, who had been trailing the protagonist Won Jae-uk, discovers that he possesses spiritual abilities and reacts with shock.

[Kang Ju-hwan: Wait, you’ve had it since birth? How… Do your family members know? Don’t they think it’s strange?
Won Jae-uk: (Casually) Strange? My family has always understood everything…. They’re good people, aren’t they?]

“Alright, let’s go again!”

As I reviewed the content, filming started once more.
Normally, shooting the same scene repeatedly would have the set drowning in the staff’s sighs, but when Min Ji-heon—famous for rarely flubbing his lines—suddenly stumbled through his acting, everyone watched with the fascination of witnesses to something extraordinary.

“Wait, you’ve had it since birth? How… Do your family members know? Don’t they think it’s strange?”

The rookie detective’s line came first.
Min Ji-heon’s gaze turned slowly toward his scene partner. Simultaneously, every camera focused on him.

“Strange?”

His voice was certainly calm, yet something subtly sharp cut through it.

“My family has always understood everything….”

Min Ji-heon’s drooping eyes lifted slightly, and the corners of his mouth twisted into a sneer.

“They’re really good people, aren’t they?”

The Director called cut and pressed his palm to his forehead. Min Ji-heon’s expression immediately softened.

“…Min Ji-heon….”
“…Yes.”
“You read the stage directions carefully, didn’t you? This isn’t a scene where he’s being sarcastic.”
“I apologize. I’ll do it again.”
“Please, let’s get it right this time.”

Min Ji-heon bowed deeply in all directions, then approached his scene partner. He seemed to be apologizing again. Yet the other actor appeared delighted at the prospect of acting alongside Min Ji-heon for another take.

‘…Hmm.’

Even when we started again, Min Ji-heon remained the same.
Whenever his tone seemed acceptable, his eyes betrayed him; whenever his eyes seemed fine, his expression fell apart.
Sensing the shoot would drag on, I settled myself at a makeshift table set up on one side of the filming location.

‘It’s oddly fascinating to see him struggling like this.’

I was staring blankly at him with my chin propped in my hand when I suddenly noticed a script resting on the empty chair beside me. Opening it, I saw it was Min Ji-heon’s—only Won Jae-uk’s lines were highlighted in fluorescent marker. Moreover, he’d meticulously jotted down his own notes throughout the margins.

‘Then why can’t he pull off the acting?’

He’d managed other roles so effortlessly.
As I flipped through the pages with a soft rustle, I naturally stopped at one spot—as if the creases marked where it had been opened most frequently.
It was the exact scene Min Ji-heon was currently filming.
Above the dialogue he kept botching, a single line was scrawled in handwriting so forceful it seemed to press into the paper.

What does it say?

.
.
.

“—Thank you for your hard work. We’ll take a brief break while we prepare for the next setup!”

At the Assistant Director’s call, the staff members bustled about.
After a brief conversation with the Director, I wandered near the set. Min Ji-heon tended to spend time alone in secluded spots whenever he needed to practice his acting.
By the time I reached the vending machine I’d spotted earlier, tucked away at a considerable distance, I finally found Min Ji-heon—his face brimming with frustration.

“Min Ji-heon.”

Several paper cups were stacked beside him, evidence of his caffeine consumption.
I rummaged through my pockets and asked.

“…Got any coins?”
“….”

Surprisingly docile, he handed over his wallet, and I took out coins to feed into the vending machine’s slot.
As I waited for the barley tea button to dispense my drink, Min Ji-heon remained silent.

*Tsk.*

In this state, Won-ha.
Comparing him to Please Camera or Dead after Hope up until now, Min Ji-heon wasn’t the type to get irritated like this from exhaustion or emotional triggers from a role.
Watching Min Ji-heon with that ominous glint in his eyes and his shoulders sagging, I nudged his leg with the tip of my foot.

“Hey, foot acting.”

Apparently that remark got to him, because Min Ji-heon blew out a breath through his bangs.

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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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