𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃

THIRTEEN.

Y/n lay on the ground, exhausted.

Sweat dripped off his forehead and his muscles ached. Who knew script reading could be such tedious work? Soon, they had progressed from simply reading out loud to actually using hand gestures and movements. Y/n would have thought his stamina was good since he was required to dance tirelessly during the survival show, but this was exhausting.

In his hand he held his phone, which buzzed.

"Juwon.." Y/n said, sighing into the phone, "I don't want to be here anymore."

There was a slight pause at the end of the line.

"Did you screw up?"

Y/n sat up, offended.

"No, if you must know, I performed marvelously." He gritted out, huffing. "Just that we keep having to do retakes because the director is a real perfectionist."

"Were they okay? Did they treat you well?"

Y/n hesitated a little, thinking.

"Kind of..." He trailed off, "Some were very welcoming, some were a little hostile. I can see where they are coming from, though. They probably think I slept my way up." He gave a small sigh. "But overall, it wasn't that bad." Park Hyung was the one who shot him the glare. Y/n was hundred percent sure. For what? Being close to Xin Hui? For "stealing" a role? Did Park Hyung think he was incapable of acting?

"Xin Hui." Juwon muttered.

"What?"

"Was he okay?"

Oh. That. I mean, it would sense for a group member to be concerned about another.

But here was the fact: the members of Paradise absolutely loathed each other. So this was a little extraordinary.

"Yes. And besides that, the main cast are really nice." Y/n trailed off. "Juwon, you sound pissed."

"I do?"

Y/n rolled his eyes. Who was he kidding? "Your voice has that edge to it when you are mad," Y/n supplied, "Don't lie. I've known you for a long time. We survived the show together."

Until I got kicked out, that is.

"He didn't try to do anything to you?" Juwon wheedled. Like a persistent dog.

"Aren't you busy?" Y/n said in irritation, "I don't know about you, but I am." He looked once again at the stack of scripts on the floor. He had quite a number of lines to memorize—and whether that was good or bad, he didn't know. His position was still tentative. He didn't know if he would want to take the role or not.

Or to feel a short-lived connection with his most hated enemy.

Fame.

Y/n had gained it once, and it only made it more painful when the rug was pulled from his feet. He didn't know he would be able to handle it again if that euphoria was snatched away.

And there were other reasons.

"I wanted to check in on you."

"And you did," Y/n muttered, "bye."

"I—"

"Take care of yourself Juwon," Y/n softened, "but I'm going to rest. I'll see you in a few days—or weeks. I'll call you later, okay? I promise."

Without waiting for an answer, Y/n turned off his phone, directing his attention back to the script.

Cho Minho. The master of the main character. Respected and loved, his reputation plummeted after one of his disciples, Kim Kyungsoo, became a black magician.