As Yoon Nam-hyuk decided to attend the film production team meeting, Qi Huai was chatting freely with members of the new planning team in the conference room. Everyone present was completely captivated by him. They thought that aside from his endlessly charming and handsome face, his personality was his most attractive quality. He was emotionally intelligent, well-informed, emotionally stable, had clear thinking, knew what he wanted and didn’t want, could persuade others in a comfortable way, and even offered better suggestions. Who wouldn’t want to work with an artist like that?

“Wow, such a smart, handsome, and articulate artist—Manager Choi should have signed him long ago. Why wait until now?”

“Actor Qi should come to the company more often! I beg you, even just seeing his face once a day is so good for my eyes. I feel like my nearsightedness is healing just by looking at Qi’s face.”

Qi Huai smiled: “Please don’t tell optical brands’ clients that I can cure nearsightedness.”

Everyone burst into laughter. One staff member said, “Oh my, we’ve had such a good chat it’s already so late. How about we take a break, hit the restroom, and I’ll get some walnut cookies and coffee as snacks?”

Another staff member looked at Qi Huai: “Oh, by the way, the men’s restroom on our floor is broken. If you need it, you’ll have to go upstairs to the production team area. Sorry for the trouble, Actor Qi.”

Qi Huai nodded: “Thanks.”

Chatting with so many people was exhausting physically and mentally, especially since everyone wanted to stack resources and schedules for him. But Qi Huai didn’t want to become a ‘real’ actor. If all his time got consumed by schedules, he wouldn’t have time to progress with his missions.

To get these staff to accept his idea of “work-life balance,” he had to argue a lot. It was definitely time to sneak off to the restroom to catch his breath.

The production team was upstairs. Qi Huai didn’t take the busy elevator but used the stairs instead.

Just as he pushed open the door to the production team stairwell, he keenly detected strange noises coming from the nearby storage room.

The sound was low, mixed with painful gasps and the cracking of pencils and neutral pens. The snapping noises made his teeth ache.

Could someone be unwell? Or was…

Qi Huai frowned.

Since the whole production team was waiting for the president to arrive for the meeting, almost everyone sat quietly in the conference room—not a single figure, ghost or otherwise, was in the hallway.

Qi Huai was helpless and knocked on the door himself: “Anyone here?”

The sound stopped.

The system whispered nervously: [Host oppa, no way someone is doing that here? No, it can’t be the protagonist uke, right?!]

Qi Huai was afraid of that too…

The plot intro said the protagonist uke was always in rag crises. Now with system bugs, Qi Huai had no clue where the protagonist uke was.

What if the protagonist uke and Park Seok-jin were in there doing who-knows-what, and he ignored it? In ten minutes, their relationship would jump from “acquaintance” to “flirty”!

Qi Huai couldn’t handle the pressure.

So he kept knocking, even louder: “There should be someone inside, right? I just heard noises. Sorry, I’m concerned about your safety…”

The door creaked open a crack, then a familiar voice hissed low and gritted, “Shut up!”

Behind the door was Yoon Nam-hyuk’s cold pale face, his flush not yet faded. His perfectly tailored suit sleeve was disheveled, obviously hastily covered. Bloodstains still showed around the cuff and wrist.

“Is that you…?” Yoon Nam-hyuk frowned in inquiry upon seeing Qi Huai but, rather than questioning why he was there, he seemed more intent on making him leave quickly, “I’m just looking for something. Don’t meddle, get lost!”

He finished speaking and tried to close the door, but Qi Huai pressed the door panel firmly and quietly asked, “What happened to your arm?”

“Assistant Yoo Ji-hoon!”

Just then, someone called Assistant Yoo’s name at the end of the corridor, and a door near the storage room showed signs of opening.

Yoon Nam-hyuk was shocked and hastily dragged Qi Huai into the storage room, quickly closing the door.

…He couldn’t let Assistant Yoo see this.

Yoon Nam-hyuk thought to himself.

Outside the door, a staff member rushing over from another meeting room asked Assistant Yoo, “Has President Yoon arrived yet? Everyone’s been waiting for ten minutes.”

Assistant Yoo paused: “The president might be caught up with another call. I’ll check upstairs. Sorry for the wait.”

Inside the room, Yoon Nam-hyuk pinned Qi Huai against the door.

They were close; Yoon Nam-hyuk’s ear almost touched Qi Huai’s cheek. He held his breath, listening to footsteps fade away before sighing.

He released his hand from Qi Huai’s mouth, clenching his fists behind him, coldly saying, “Pretend today didn’t happen. Otherwise, I have a hundred ways to make you suffer. Now get lost.”

But Qi Huai didn’t move.

Relying on his height, he lowered his eyes to observe Yoon Nam-hyuk, smirking with a slight lift of his lips, voice low as a whisper: “You drag me in here, then make me leave… what kind of dirty business are you hiding?”

Yoon Nam-hyuk frowned and looked up, “None of your—!”

Qi Huai suddenly stepped forward. Yoon Nam-hyuk abruptly stepped back. Warm breath brushed his cheek. The ear Yoon Nam-hyuk accidentally grazed by Qi Huai seemed redder and hotter; his dark pupils gleamed fiercely.

From Yoon Nam-hyuk’s clenched-teeth expression, Qi Huai knew he wasn’t shy.

Flushed skin, sweating temples, quick breaths, disheveled clothes… Oh, he was horny.

Apparently, it was uncomfortable.

But no matter how uncomfortable, Yoon Nam-hyuk still had the strength to drag Qi Huai into the bathtub and stomp on him a few times—he was strong.

Qi Huai suddenly gave a harmless smile. Yoon Nam-hyuk’s back chilled: “What are you doing—hss!”

Yoon Nam-hyuk tried to pull back his arm but failed. The hastily closed sleeve was violently pulled open by Qi Huai, revealing fresh and old cuts and crescent-shaped fingernail marks on the arm, including recent bloodstains.

The room fell silent.

Qi Huai’s smile faded as he silently held Yoon Nam-hyuk’s wrist and asked, “Did you… do this to yourself?”

“What’s it to you?!” Yoon Nam-hyuk again tried to pull his arm back but couldn’t resist Qi Huai’s strength. He suspected Qi Huai had gone easy on him at the hotel that day, so he was so easily dragged into the bathtub. “Let go!”

“Self-harm is wrong.” Qi Huai grabbed the prominently placed medicine box from the shelf and began rummaging for ointments and bandages.

Yoon Nam-hyuk sneered, “I don’t understand you. I came here to get medicine for an accidental injury, but I ran into a weird, rude guy who guesses randomly.”

He had quite a few labels stuck on him.

Qi Huai sighed helplessly, “Are you underestimating my intelligence? Do I look like a fool?”

Yoon Nam-hyuk: …

“As president, you get injured and not only come find your own medicine, but also hide from your assistant and these things.” Qi Huai kicked the broken pencils on the floor and glanced at the bloodstained ornate knife on the rack. “I’m not blind.”

“Ah!” Yoon Nam-hyuk snapped, “I accidentally cut myself while sharpening pencils! Do you think you’re a cop interrogating me? Or have you found my secret and are trying to blackmail me?”

His poor lies broke down and he started to lose his temper…

Qi Huai didn’t want to argue. Opening the ointment cap, he teased: “Afraid of pain? Someone who hurts themselves like this probably isn’t scared of pain, so I don’t need to go easy, right?”

He poured the ointment on the wounds without warning.

Yoon Nam-hyuk groaned and bit his lip, pain making his temple throb, almost breaking his lower lip.

Qi Huai rolled up some gauze and placed it near Yoon Nam-hyuk’s lips: “Bite this.”

Yoon Nam-hyuk glared fiercely but didn’t move.

Qi Huai patiently said, “Be good.”

Yoon Nam-hyuk glared angrily.

Qi Huai smirked: “If you bite your lip and it bleeds, it might become company news. Hmm, if someone finds out we’re hiding here together, maybe the media will say I bit you. Should I go out and shout?”

A threat! Bastard!

Meeting twice and still thinking the other was an asshole!

“…” Yoon Nam-hyuk bit down harshly on the gauze.

His soft lips brushed Qi Huai’s finger as Qi Huai rubbed his fingertips. Yoon Nam-hyuk suddenly turned his head, closed his eyes, no longer looking at Qi Huai.