Mr An

The first thing I learned that morning was that my manager had learned how to ruin my breakfast without even raising his voice.

“Seong-hyeon.”

I froze with a spoon halfway to my mouth.

Across the practice-room table, Manager Park Eun-seo stared at me over the top of her tablet.

That was never a good sign.

“What?” I asked carefully.

She tapped the screen once.

“You have a drama casting.”

I blinked.

“A what?”

“A drama casting.”

My spoon slowly lowered.

Around us, SOLAR’s members continued eating as though this were perfectly normal news.

It wasn’t.

I stared at her.

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke before nine in the morning.”

Min-jae nearly choked on his juice.

“Wait. Seong-hyeon is acting?”

“I am sitting right here,” I protested.

Tae-jun, our leader, leaned back in his chair. “What kind of drama?”

Eun-seo’s expression didn’t change.

“A BL romance.”

Silence.

Absolute, beautiful, terrifying silence.

Then Do-yun screamed.

“HYUNG!”

I nearly dropped my spoon.

“Why are you screaming?!”

“YOU’RE DOING A ROMANCE DRAMA?”

“I didn’t say yes!”

“You don’t have to!” Min-jae said, grinning. “Your face already said yes.”

“My face said nothing!”

Ji-won, who had been quietly eating, finally looked up.

“Your face is red.”

I immediately covered my cheeks.

“I am not red.”

“You’re red,” Tae-jun confirmed.

“I am warm!”

“You’re panicking,” Min-jae added.

“I am having breakfast!”

Everyone laughed.

I wanted the floor to open beneath my chair.

Being the center of SOLAR meant I was used to attention.

Thousands of people screamed my name at concerts. Cameras followed me through airports. Fans analyzed every smile, every outfit, every accidental glance toward another celebrity.

But this?

Romance acting was different.

Especially BL romance.

I wasn’t an actor.

I was an idol.

I knew how to perform onstage. I knew how to dance until my legs stopped cooperating, how to smile when I was exhausted, how to wave at cameras from exactly the right angle.

Acting was another world.

And romance?

That was even worse.

Eun-seo slid her tablet toward me.

“Read it.”

I stared at the casting proposal.

PROJECT TITLE: UNTITLED BL ROMANCE DRAMA

My stomach twisted.

“No.”

“You haven’t even read the rest.”

“No.”

“Seong-hyeon.”

“No.”

“Read.”

I sighed dramatically and picked up the tablet.

The production company was reputable.

The director was famous.

The script had already attracted attention from several networks.

And then I saw the lead character description.

Bright, emotionally expressive, popular young man whose public image hides a much more vulnerable private self.

I stopped.

Something about those words felt uncomfortably familiar.

“You’re perfect for it,” Tae-jun said quietly.

I looked at him.

“That is exactly why I’m worried.”

He smiled.

Eun-seo continued.

“The production team specifically requested you.”

“Why?”

“Because they watched SOLAR’s last music video.”

Min-jae leaned over my shoulder.

“That’s basically your audition.”

“Don’t make this worse.”

Eun-seo scrolled down.

“They want someone who can naturally play a cheerful public personality while still showing emotional depth.”

Ji-won nodded.

“That does sound like you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Was that a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

I sighed.

Then I saw the schedule.

Filming would begin after our current promotions.

It would be demanding.

But manageable.

I was about to hand the tablet back when one line caught my attention.

Male lead opposite Eom Seong-hyeon: An Keon-ho.

My entire body stopped functioning.

The room disappeared.

The voices around me became distant.

My eyes stayed fixed on that name.

An Keon-ho.

No.

Absolutely not.

Not him.

Anyone but him.

Because An Keon-ho wasn’t just some rookie actor.

He was—

My celebrity crush.

For approximately three years.

I had watched his debut drama.

Then his second project.

Then every interview I could find.

I knew his birthday.

I knew the coffee brand he had once said he liked.

I knew he preferred quiet restaurants.

I knew he hated being called cold because he apparently considered himself “just shy.”

I knew all of this information because—

Because I was a normal person.

A completely normal person.

Who had absolutely not watched the same interview seventeen times.

Min-jae looked at the tablet.

Then looked at me.

Then looked back at the tablet.

His eyes widened.

“Oh.”

I immediately snatched it away.

“Don’t.”

“You know him?”

“No.”

“You went pale.”

“I’m tired.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I am not.”

“You’re definitely smiling.”

I pressed my lips together.

That only made everyone laugh harder.

Tae-jun leaned toward me.

“Is An Keon-ho your type?”

“No.”

The answer came far too quickly.

Everyone stared.

I stared back.

“…Maybe.”

Min-jae slammed his hand against the table.

“I KNEW IT!”

“Lower your voice!”

“You have a crush!”

“I do not!”

“You absolutely do!”

“I admire his acting!”

“You know his coffee order!”

I froze.

“How did you—”

The entire table erupted.

I covered my face.

I was never going to survive this.

Eun-seo calmly took the tablet back.

“Good. Since everyone has finished embarrassing him, there’s one more thing.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“The production company wants confirmation today.”

I slowly looked up.

Today?

That fast?

“Do I have to decide now?”

“Yes.”

I looked down at the proposal again.

At the title.

At the character.

At the name.

An Keon-ho.

My heart was already beating too quickly.

This was ridiculous.

I had performed in front of seventy thousand people without shaking.

I had danced through injuries.

I had stood onstage while fireworks exploded behind me.

Yet the thought of sitting across from one actor made my palms sweat.

Maybe I should refuse.

Maybe I should tell them I wasn’t ready.

Maybe—

“Seong-hyeon.”

Tae-jun’s voice softened.

I looked at him.

“You don’t have to do it because everyone expects you to.”

I nodded.

“But?”

“But if you’re curious, you should try.”

I looked at the proposal again.

There was something exciting about it.

Terrifying.

Embarrassing.

But exciting.

I imagined stepping onto a drama set.

Wearing someone else’s character like a second skin.

Learning lines.

Working with professionals.

And—

An Keon-ho.

My heart betrayed me again.

I closed my eyes.

“Fine.”

Eun-seo raised an eyebrow.

“Fine?”

“I’ll do it.”

Min-jae immediately started cheering.

Do-yun joined him.

Ji-won simply nodded.

Tae-jun smiled.

Eun-seo tapped her tablet.

“Good. I’ll confirm.”

Then she added casually,

“Your first script reading is tomorrow.”

My eyes snapped open.

“Tomorrow?!”

“Yes.”

“With him?”

“Yes.”

“An Keon-ho?”

“Yes, Seong-hyeon.”

I stared at her.

She looked completely calm.

“How am I supposed to act normal?”

Min-jae grinned.

“You’re an idol. You’re trained to act normal.”

“That is not helpful!”

Everyone laughed again.

I pushed my chair back.

“I need air.”

“You’re inside.”

“I need emotional air!”

I escaped into the hallway before anyone could stop me.

The practice room door closed behind me.

Silence.

Finally.

I leaned against the wall and exhaled.

Tomorrow.

I was going to meet An Keon-ho.

Not through a screen.

Not through an interview.

Not through a magazine photograph.

In person.

As his co-star.

I pulled out my phone.

Without thinking, I opened my private notes.

At the top was a list I’d never admit existed.

Things I Like About An Keon-ho

I stared at it.

Then quickly locked my phone.

“No.”

I whispered to myself.

“This is going to be completely professional.”

I took a deep breath.

I was Eom Seong-hyeon.

Center of SOLAR.

Professional idol.

Experienced performer.

I could handle one actor.

One drama.

One romance scene.

One—

My phone buzzed.

A message from Eun-seo appeared.

Tomorrow, 10:00 a.m. Script reading. Don’t be late.

Underneath it was the production company’s cast announcement.

My eyes landed on the final line.

Eom Seong-hyeon × An Keon-ho

My heart skipped.

I stared at the names.

Then whispered the words I had secretly used for years whenever his face appeared on my screen.

“Mr. An…”

And somehow, I already knew this was going to be a terrible idea.

Or perhaps—

The most important one of my life.