Stalkerizing

“Why? Fucking why?”

Why, you ask.

“He’s too handsome.”

“The more handsome, the better, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to look at, sure.”

Of course, appearance was a major competitive edge, even on video. But what Sa-yoon wanted to film this time wasn’t just a video featuring a handsome guy.

“If he’s too good-looking, the acting gets overshadowed. And guys like that usually can’t act for shit.”

“Ugh.”

Yeon-hee let out a sound like a strangled frog. Sa-yoon didn’t want to have such a bias either. But what could he do when reality kept proving it true?

Sure, there might be people who are both ridiculously good-looking and talented at acting. But they were like unicorns—supposedly real, but when you actually see one, it’s just a horse with a fake horn stuck on.

Every time he found someone who fit the image in his head and had them do a simple reading, the results were always a disaster. After countless past meetings, Sa-yoon had developed a rough, makeshift talent for face-reading.

And Sa Shin-jae’s face fit the stereotype perfectly. Upright, dependable, with a gentle look—yet not a single ounce of natural charisma.

If someone who looks like that is also a great actor, then the future of the Korean film industry is fucked. It would mean they’ve failed to recognize a gem and still haven’t debuted him.

In his mind, he could already see that ridiculously handsome face stiffening, reading lines like he was reciting from a textbook.

No matter how perfectly someone fit the image, if they couldn’t act, it was useless. Especially for this project, where the focus was on capturing subtle expressions with delicate direction.

“He’s in the theater club.”

“What?”

“He’s in the theater club. Han University Drama Society.”

“How do you know?”

Sa-yoon looked at Yeon-hee’s oddly smug expression and suddenly remembered something he’d forgotten. Right—this guy was kind of a big deal.

Unless a new club had been created while he was on leave, Han University Drama Society was the theater club at Korea University.

Sa-yoon looked back down at the screen. His face was still laced with suspicion.

“Can he actually act? Or did they just recruit him for his face?”

“I don’t know that much.”

Well, of course. It would be creepy to know that much about someone you’re not even personally acquainted with.

“But he checks every box you mentioned, doesn’t he? You won’t find anyone more perfect than this.”

“Still… he’s too good-looking.”

To be honest, aside from the fact that his looks were almost excessive, he was an exact match for the type Sa-yoon was searching for. And if he could really act? That would be the cherry on top.

As he deliberated, Sa-yoon absentmindedly moved his fingers. The screen, sensing the touch, switched to a new photo.

“Huh?”

It was a winter scene. Between rows of barren street trees, their branches stripped bare, Sa Shin-jae was gazing into the distance.

As if possessed, Sa-yoon swiped to the next image. The angle of his turned head shifted slightly with each picture. The final shot captured him looking directly into the camera.

His eyes, filled with emptiness, seemed weary and lonely. It was exactly the look Sa-yoon had been searching for.

“Is the theater club rehearsing right now?”

“Not sure, maybe for their regular performance?”

Sa-yoon immediately pulled out his phone.

[Theater]

Ignoring the barrage of notifications cluttering his status bar, he opened his contacts and typed in three letters. A list of names flooded the screen. He picked one, sent a brief message, and set his phone down on the table.

The conversation drifted through all sorts of topics, and the number of empty bottles on the table steadily increased. Of course, most of the alcohol had gone to Yeon-hee, who had a liver of steel.

Bzzzz—

About thirty minutes had passed when the vibration of a phone on the table momentarily paused their conversation. Sa-yoon picked up his phone, and Yeon-hee, noticing, also pulled out hers to check her backlog of messages.

“Yeon-hee.”

“Yeah?”

“Order more drinks. My treat today.”

“Wait, don’t tell me you DM’d Sa Shin-jae?”

“No, not that.”

He was the one making the request; he couldn’t just barge into someone’s DMs like that. Instead, Sa-yoon slid his phone toward Yeon-hee.

Theater Club – Choi Ha-rim
Sa Shin-jae isn’t a ghost member.
He used to be a child actor!
I’ll introduce him to you if he comes by.

Just an hour ago, he hadn’t even known the guy existed. And yet, within thirty minutes, he had managed to arrange an introduction with a campus celebrity.

“Whoa, that’s crazy.”

So this is how people with connections just make things happen instantly. It was pure admiration.

“Right? Apparently, he used to be a child actor, so why didn’t he continue acting? I’ll ask him directly when I meet him.”

Sa-yoon, thinking her reaction was meant as praise, grinned.

“I’ve been searching for someone like him for ages, but no one caught my eye. Maybe it was meant to be.”

With that, he even threw in a slightly fate-driven remark.

Seo Yeon-hee wasn’t exactly skilled at networking, but she had a sharp intuition when it came to drinking situations. This was it. This was the moment to get her senior to drink more.

“Exactly! This is perfect!”

Matching his energy, she naturally extended her glass, and sure enough, Sa-yoon didn’t refuse—he clinked his glass against hers.

Clink!

Their hands met in a crisp, celebratory toast, as if the casting was already a done deal.

One person was thrilled to have found the perfect fit, while the other was excited just to have a drinking companion. Their glasses kept getting filled and emptied in an endless cycle.

The drinking session went on for quite a while. And thanks to it, Sa-yoon completely forgot about an online meeting he had scheduled with a new friend.

***

“Huuuh…”

As he exhaled, the thick scent of alcohol lingered in the air.

Fucking hell, Cha Sa-yoon. Why the hell did you go all gas, no brakes?

The piercing daylight and the intense thirst combo hit him all at once as he woke up on his bed. He remembered getting drunk out of excitement, but the memory of how he got back home was a complete blank, as if someone had erased it.

At least his body’s natural homing instinct hadn’t failed him.

Yeon-hee made it back safely, right?

Holding his churning stomach, he reached for his phone. A message awaited him—a cheerful text from Yeon-hee saying she got home just fine, accompanied by a bright, grinning emoji.

So I’m the only one who’s dead? Damn, that girl’s a monster…

Dragging himself across the bed, Sa-yoon gave in to his thirst and stumbled toward the kitchen.

I shouldn’t have drunk like there’s no tomorrow. If I do that again, I’m a damn idiot.

Between self-reproach and gulps of water, he emptied his mug in no time. As the much-needed hydration kicked in, his foggy, alcohol-soaked brain finally began to wake up.

Checking the time, he realized it was already well past noon.

“No wonder I feel so fucking refreshed.”

He washed his empty cup, scrubbed it clean, and placed it on the dish rack. But just as he turned around, an unsettling feeling crept up his spine.

Did I forget something…? Phone? Wallet? Shoes?

But no matter how much he checked, nothing was missing.

Lifting his right wrist to his nose, he took a deep breath. The strong scent of body wash lingered.

Judging by that, it seemed like he had gone through his usual post-drinking routine after coming home.

“But why do I feel so uneasy?”

Feeling unsettled, Sa-yoon opened his wallet and checked each of his cards one by one. Then suddenly, he jerked his head up.

He remembered what he had forgotten.

“…Ah.”

My daily quest.

***

The auditorium, borrowed by the theater club, was in the middle of rehearsals. Sa-yoon slipped in quietly through the back door and settled in a secluded corner.

Strike while the iron is hot. He had scheduled the meeting for the very next day. Considering his usual laid-back nature, this was an unusually proactive move for him. He hadn’t been consciously aware of it, but maybe he had been more anxious than he realized about not finding the right person.

“He’s really handsome, huh.”

Sa-yoon scrolled through the SNS profile Yeon-hee had sent him. Yeah, even after a day had passed, the guy was still undeniably good-looking.

But the real concern was his acting ability.

“…I really hope he’s good.”

He didn’t want to have wasted his time coming all the way here for nothing.

“This damn society, riddled with nepotism and favoritism!”

Sa-yoon lifted his head from his dimmed phone screen. The actor on stage shouted his line while scattering papers into the air. A few more lines of monologue followed.

The scene soon changed, and other actors took the stage, but the person he was looking for was still nowhere to be seen.

As the play progressed, Sa-yoon’s eyes filled with doubt. Since the guy was attending rehearsals, he had assumed he must be part of this production.

Is he not the lead?

He had the kind of face that would normally land a significant role. Or… was it because he couldn’t act?

Just as his confusion deepened, a tall figure appeared at the edge of the stage, near the entrance to the wings. From Sa-yoon’s position, he couldn’t see the man directly from the front, but because he was sitting at the farthest corner, he caught a glimpse.

There he is.

Even from the dimly lit distance, Sa-yoon instantly recognized him. Long legs, a small, pale face—his proportions were almost unreal. Keeping his gaze fixed on a file folder, the man walked with effortless strides into the spotlight.

Sa Shin-jae was dressed in a crisp white shirt and a tie. Judging by the scene, he was playing the protagonist’s boss. The tie was broad and somewhat old-fashioned in color, likely meant to reflect the character’s outdated and rigid personality.

But on that face? It still looked damn good.

This is exactly why being too handsome is a problem.

Based on the earlier dialogue, the boss was supposed to be an uptight, old-school type who annoyed his subordinates and was generally unlikable.

Yet, Sa Shin-jae’s face was just too soft. Even with glasses on and his brows furrowed in a strict expression, there were still parts that couldn’t be masked.

The audience, who had been siding with the employees complaining about their boss, would undoubtedly switch to his side the moment he stepped on stage.

Yeah, he’s way too handsome. This isn’t going to work.