Superstar 834

After another day of hard but enjoyable training, Seo-jun returned home. Choi Tae-woo informed him that a video would be uploaded the next morning (midnight in Korean time).

“The one from your birthday?”

“Yeah.”

While the photos taken in front of the birthday banners were posted on the day itself, the videos Tae-woo had filmed needed editing—subtitles, background music, etc.—so they were only ready now.

“Tae-woo hyung, can I watch it first?”

“Of course. Wanna see it now?”

“Yes.”

Seo-jun nodded, and Tae-woo pulled out his phone and connected it to the TV. He played the finalized edit from Team 1 directly on the screen.

Seo-jun appeared onscreen.

Wearing comfy clothes, he was seated on the living room couch, staring at his phone with a face full of anticipation—like a child waiting for Santa on Christmas.

The screen darkened.

A bright calendar and clock appeared.

[March 9th / 11:59 PM]

The second hand ticked by. Then, the minute and hour hands moved. The calendar flipped.

[March 10th / 12:00 AM]

Suddenly, white text began to fill the screen.

-Seo-jun! Happy birthday!

They were messages from his fans—the “Sprouts.”

The video then cut to a caption: [A few months ago], rewinding to show how the birthday banner project came to be. From creating a new website, filtering messages, voting on favorite photos, formatting and editing text and visuals, choosing building locations, getting permissions, and finally installing the banners—

Even though he’d heard about it, seeing it brought a whole new appreciation. Seo-jun could tell just how much effort the Sprouts had put in.

[LA 8:00 AM / Korea 12:00 AM]

With that timestamp, the video returned to Seo-jun.

Just sitting on the sofa reading messages—but the joy on his face was obvious.

And it continued: his awestruck reaction at the giant banner, his wide-eyed realization that each pixel was made up of fan messages, and the way he carefully read each and every note without blinking.

“Watching this is kinda embarrassing,” Seo-jun said, chuckling softly at his own determination to read the notes from top to bottom.

Tae-woo, watching him, said,

“That part was so good they insisted on keeping it. Sometimes action speaks louder than words, and that scene really said it all. But if you’re too embarrassed, we can still cut it.”

“It’s fine.”

Seo-jun shrugged.

“I already said on camera I forgot my own birthday—what could be more embarrassing than that?”

Ha. Fair enough.

“Honestly, I agree. Words are great, but sometimes your actions deliver the message even more clearly.”

Like how the look in someone’s eyes can say “I love you” louder than words.

“I think the Sprouts will see how truly happy I was.”

He wanted them to know, without a doubt, that he was grateful and overjoyed.

“I’ll upload it as is, then.”

“Yes.”

Seo-jun nodded with a smile.

Once the video was released—

The comment sections on both [Sprout First] and Seo-jun’s YouTube channel [JUN] became instant oceans of happy tears.

---

Director Wilma Evans was kind, yet a little quirky.

She brought wolfdogs to help actors understand werewolves better, even orchestrating a dramatic entrance like something from the movie itself. She even seemed to know random trivia like a cast member’s military nickname.

She probably invited Hailey to the birthday party for the same reason.

Since the training center was a professional space, it made sense that a personal setting like a birthday party would help Hailey get closer to the others.

And sure enough, despite joining later, Hailey Lodge was now comfortably chatting with both Seo-jun and the rest of the cast.

“It really helped. Meeting the wolfdogs, I mean.”

At lunch, Hailey’s comment got everyone’s attention.

“The director said the wolves would be CGI, so in the scenes where they appear, we’d be acting with green-screen puppets.”

“That’s right.”

Seo-jun and the others nodded.

“And it wasn’t even wolf-shaped puppets. Just a green ball. At first, I was like, Really? I have to act looking at that?”

“Same here.”

While Seo-jun, who’d shot full CGI-heavy superhero films, was used to it, others like Hailey weren’t. For them, acting against green props was unfamiliar and awkward.

“I was honestly worried. I’ve never touched a wolf. Never seen one up close. How was I supposed to act?”

Then, like perfect timing, Director Wilma had brought in the wolfdogs. And a real wolf.

“Seeing and touching them up close—it really gave me a sense of how to move, react, and perform.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Since that day, I’ve even dreamed of turning into a wolf.”

“What? You too? Same here!”

“Me too!”

“Wow. It must’ve really stuck with us.”

The cast laughed in surprise. Seo-jun rolled his eyes playfully.

Of course, that was his doing.

He had used one of his abilities from the Library of Life:

[(Pre-Select) Dreamer’s Dream Voyage – Intermediate]

A dream-making AI designed to provide happy dreams.
Allows the user to choose who dreams what.
Dreams leave a lasting impression upon waking.

Backstory: When a planet reached the end of its life, the few remaining survivors built an AI named “Dreamer” to grant peaceful, happy dreams so they wouldn’t face death in despair. That AI was Seo-jun in a past life.

A great tool for immersion—but too intense if used recklessly.

If the dream was too vivid, people might lose themselves, confusing dream and reality.

Can’t have anyone leaving acting to become a forest-dwelling nature lover.

So, Seo-jun toned it down.

[(Pre-Select) Dreamer’s Dream Voyage – Intermediate downgraded.]

[(Pre-Select) Dreamer’s Dream Voyage – Basic activated.]

Dreams will be faintly remembered after waking.
Dream: Becoming a wolf.

In early March, he had used this ability on the cast. They vaguely remembered the dreams—just enough to feel a sense of déjà vu during training.

But after meeting the wolfdogs, the memory seemed to stick more clearly.

“I think I can really pull off the werewolf role now!”

Brian Gudell beamed, and the others nodded.

“All thanks to the director.”

“Seriously, what kind of director brings wolfdogs to help actors perform better?”

Seo-jun laughed.

“If Director Wilma shot a movie set in Antarctica, and everything was done with CGI, she’d still probably rent out an ice rink just so we could ‘feel’ the cold.”

Everyone burst out laughing, picturing themselves standing confused in a giant rink.

“If it’s a superhero film, she’d hire a magician.”

“If it’s underwater? She’d send us scuba diving!”

And so, once again, their eccentric but lovable director brought something new.

“Alright! Gather around, everyone.”

By now, they were used to it, and they all approached her without hesitation.

This time, she held a box.

“What’s in there?” Seo-jun asked curiously.

Smiling brightly, Wilma opened the box.

Seo-jun and the cast’s eyes widened.

Wolf ears.

Realistic, fuzzy, sharply pointed wolf ears—just like the ones they’d seen on the actual animals.

“These are specially made wolf ears,” Wilma said.

They resembled the dog ears Seo-jun had worn at his fan meeting, but far more realistic.

‘Even the texture is spot-on,’ Seo-jun thought, running his fingers along one.

“Are we going to act while wearing these?”

When Seo-jun asked, Wilma replied with a smile.

“I hope so.”

“…What?”

Her vague answer left them puzzled. She explained,

“They’re controlled by brainwaves.”

…Oh!

The actors leaned in, eyes shining.

“I’ve seen these on YouTube,” Dan Kendrick said, frowning. “They moved really awkwardly.”

The excited expressions faltered slightly.

“Really?”

“Hang on.”

Dan pulled out his phone and showed them the videos. They watched.

Oh…

Just as he said, the commercially available brainwave-controlled ears moved awkwardly and robotically.

“Are we really using these in the movie, Director?”

Sensing their slight disappointment, Wilma reassured them.

“I said they were specially made, didn’t I? Unlike retail versions, these were custom-built with great care—and budget.”

She smiled brightly. Behind her, the team responsible for the project probably had tears in their eyes.

“Rather than explain, why don’t you try it, Jun?”

Wilma handed a pair to Seo-jun.

He put them on.

Heavier than the plush ones, but not burdensome.

‘They really paid attention to the weight too.’

Feeling the device settle on his head, Seo-jun asked,

“What now?”

“Channel your emotions, Jun. Whether good or bad, the ears will respond to your brainwaves.”

Wilma handed him a mirror. Of course she’d brought one—she was always prepared.

Seo-jun gazed at the ears perched atop his head.

‘Emotions, huh.’

For someone born to act, that was easy.

Controlling a device via brainwaves? New territory.

Seo-jun closed his eyes and summoned a feeling.

Twitch—

“They moved!”

The wolf ears twitched.

While the others marveled, Wilma remained focused.

Getting them to move was one thing. What mattered was what came next.

Then—

The perked ears slowly drooped, losing their strength and folding downward.

“…Oh.”

Everyone thought of the young wolf from a few days ago.

His ears had looked exactly like that when he sadly looked back again and again.

#