There Are Four Top Idol Uncles - Chapter 196

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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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Part 2, Episode 22
* * *
Lunch period.
Instead of eating in the cafeteria, Mun Hyeok grabbed a protein shake and headed for the auditorium.
The Wisteria Shelter, which had been his hideout, was compromised when Yewon found him there, so he couldn’t go back—and eating in the cafeteria with classmates felt awkward.
That was how the auditorium’s broadcasting room became Hyuk’s new sanctuary.
Fortunately, few students ventured up here during lunch.
So there he sat in front of the broadcast equipment, about to twist open his shake—
Bang.
—when—
The door swung open—
“Grab him!”
“Got it.”
“What—?!”
Yewon and some unknown boy suddenly burst in and tackled him.
The boy pinned his arms down exactly as Yewon directed, and though Hyuk struggled, the kid’s grip was so stubborn he couldn’t shake free.
“What in the—”
“You know what you’ve done!”
Just as Hyuk opened his mouth to protest, a voice rang out through the broadcasting room with the force of thunder.
He nearly lost himself in the theatrical cadence of Yewon’s voice—the one he’d fallen for—but he caught himself just in time.
“My crime…?!”
“Yes! How could you avoid me like that? If Siw hadn’t helped, I never would’ve found you.”
So the boy’s name was Siw.
Hyuk glanced sideways at the boy gripping his arm so firmly.
The kid’s jaw was clenched so stubbornly it almost made him laugh despite himself.
“Yewon, I wasn’t trying to avoid you on purpose—”
“Shh!”
Yewon ignored his words entirely, and before he knew it, she’d grabbed his hand and—
Wait, what—?!
She’d forced a ballpoint pen into his grip.
“Why would you—”
And then she made him sign something!
Hyuk was stunned. Was this that forced-signature contract thing he’d only heard about?
“Done!”
Yewon grinned and carefully folded the paper, tucking it into her skirt pocket and zipping it shut.
“Siw, you can let him go now.”
“Okay.”
At Yewon’s word, Siw immediately released him and slipped behind her.
What was this—some kind of bodyguard arrangement?
Hyuk was utterly baffled.
“Yewon, what exactly did you make me sign?”
“A club transfer application form.”
“!”
“I know you want to join the Film Production Club. You would never have volunteered for that boring English Conversation Club on your own…”
“!”
“Unless you were hiding some girl you liked there?”
“No!”
Hyuk blurted the denial before he could stop himself, his voice rough.
‘If only you knew what’s really in my heart…’
“Right, then.”
Yewon laughed softly.
“Then let’s make a film together, Hyuk.”
“…!”
“Stop avoiding us now. I don’t know what happened between you and Yoo Eunoh, but… let’s work it out together there. I’ve got your back.”
“…”
At the mention of Yoo Eunoh’s name, something flickered in Hyuk’s eyes.
Yewon caught that flicker and pressed forward swiftly.
“Or do you hate making a film with me?”
She pulled the paper back out of her pocket and placed it in his hands.
“If you really hate it, tear this up right now. Then I’ll let it go for good.”
Hyuk stared down at the paper crumpled in his hand.
You really hate it?
Making a film together with me, and you becoming my ally.
…You hate that?
Hyuk crumpled his face slowly, then gripped the paper tightly.
“There won’t be any spots open.”
“There is.”
“How would you even—”
“I asked Yoo Eunoh. If there was a spot. Turns out one senior dropped out of the Acting Department and switched to the general humanities track, so they left the club. There’s one opening.”
Yewon rattled off the lie without batting an eye.
Or rather, this wasn’t really a lie so much as dialogue she had written into her own play.
‘So, is there a spot available?’
Just days ago, when Yewon had asked this, Yoo Eunoh had replied like this.
‘If I make a spot for you.’
‘!’
‘Then what can you do for me?’
His pale gray eyes, looking down at her, were saying it all.
I’m testing you right now.
As if she were auditioning before some notoriously demanding director, Yewon found herself breaking into a confident smile without even thinking.
‘Whatever you want, senior.’
That was how she had won her spot.
So don’t let this chance slip away, Hyuk.
Yewon looked at him with desperate eyes.
“…You talked to Yoo Eunoh about this?”
For some reason, sparks suddenly flared in Hyuk’s gaze.
“Yeah.”
“Yoo Eunoh actually agreed to your request?”
Huh.
Yewon tilted her head in confusion.
Why was he zeroing in on that?
“No. Yoo Eunoh just answered the question. I asked if there was a spot, and he said, ‘There is one.'”
“….”
For some reason deeply displeased, Hyuk fell silent, brooding over something with furrowed brows.
Then—
“…Okay.”
“!”
He nodded.
“Come in. ‘Both of us’ together.”
Finally!
Just as Yewon was about to cry out in joy—
“…Um, actually.”
“?”
“…?”
An unexpected person quietly raised his hand and interjected.
“Sorry, but it’s not two of us—it’s three, including me.”
“….”
“…….”
“Accuracy should be corrected when necessary.”
At Siw’s composed expression, Hyuk began to feel a subtle irritation kindling.
He was already annoyed enough by Yoo Eunoh—what was this guy’s problem?
* * *
Sixth period: Acting Practice.
In the Practice Studio—a place they’d never seen before—the students looked around with wide, curious eyes.
Yewon’s face was calm, as if she’d been here countless times.
Siw glanced at her sidelong from time to time, stealing quick looks.
Just as he’d thought—not a trace of nerves on her.
Well, of course this environment would be familiar to her.
The real problem was him.
Siw exhaled a long, weary sigh.
He’d taken crash acting lessons before coming to this school, but for someone like Siw—naturally lacking any performing talent—acting was far too difficult.
She couldn’t even imagine how humiliated she’d be before this was over.
“Why don’t we all form a circle?”
At the teacher’s suggestion, the students arranged themselves in an awkward circle.
“You all seem very tense, but there’s no need for that. Today we’re just going to explore how things feel.”
The teacher smiled gently, casting her gaze around the group as she spoke.
“Now, let’s do our first exercise.”
The teacher held up the sketchbook she’d been holding, raising it high.
“Inside this are words expressing various emotions. Your job is to express those emotions with your whole body. Think of it as learning to channel your feelings freely, exactly as you experience them.”
Emotions? Channel them?
Siw felt thrown off.
Words that couldn’t have been more distant from him came flooding out.
“First, whoever wants to try, come to the center of the circle and introduce yourself. Don’t use your voice—express yourself only with your body.”
The teacher said this and flipped to the first page of her sketchbook.
And there it was—
<Fear>
At such a formidable word, silence fell over the practice studio. Everyone was clearly afraid to go first.
Seeing this, the teacher, as if she’d expected it, called out again, louder this time.
“Don’t be scared! If you get nervous in just a class like this, you won’t be able to handle the stage or a filming set later!”
What should I do?
With the teacher saying things like that, should I be the one to go?
Siw felt torn, her eyes tense and conflicted.
But then.
“My name is Yewon.”
Yewon walked out with perfect composure from among the hesitant students.
She stood in the center of the circle, slowly closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
The practice studio went quiet in an instant.
Yewon.
Was there anyone in this room who didn’t know her acting ability?
And how many people truly wanted to witness her skill tested right now?
Without realizing it, Siw watched her with tense anticipation.
If she were in Yewon’s position, she thought she’d never survive it—yet Yewon seemed utterly unaffected throughout.
How could she pull that off?
Then.
Yewon’s shoulders began to tremble, ever so slightly.
Her hands gripped the hem of her clothes tightly, unwilling to let go, and her gaze wavered side to side. Her expression was anxious—as if she stood alone before hundreds of people.
Her lips moved several times. Like someone trying to speak but unable to find her voice.
Yewon took a step forward.
Then she stopped again.
It was as if she wanted to move but her feet wouldn’t obey.
The tremor in her fingertips grew, and the hands clasped around her chest seemed to show a heart beating so fast it might burst free.
Slowly, so slowly, she crumpled forward. Then she lay on the ground, curled into herself, hiding her face inside her knees.
As if trying to disappear into somewhere safe.
“…!”
The performance was so raw, so devastating, that Siw couldn’t even close her mouth.
Then Yewon suddenly shot to her feet.
“That’s all. Thank you.”
As though she’d never trembled at all, she smiled again—that warm, sunlit smile.
At that storm of a performance, the students could only exchange glances.
Wow.
We’re in real trouble, their eyes said.

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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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