Defective Banana - Chapter 6

Collapsing into the chair labeled [Actor Kang Seohyuk], Seohyuk let out a heavy sigh and chugged down a bottle of water. He’d come to shoot a phone commercial, but this was practically an action movie.

The concept was to film a movie using a smartphone camera, which meant all-day stunts and nonstop action. His whole body ached.

“Mr. Kang! That last take was awesome! Let’s bring the same energy into the next scene, alright?”

“Director, the fog’s too thick. I can barely see in front of me—can we do something about that?”

Honestly, it felt a little too symbolic. Like his own future was just as murky.

“I’ll take care of it! Don’t worry about a thing. Take a break, and we’ll call you when we’re ready!”

“Alright.”

In between scenes, Seohyuk moved to the makeup room to get touched up. Sitting in front of the mirror, he blankly watched the makeup artist dabbing a sponge on his cheeks. Then his expression subtly tightened, lips pulling into a line.

A ridiculous thought crossed his mind. What if his erectile dysfunction had… cured itself?

Ever since Baek Ara slapped him, things felt different. Maybe all he needed to do was get smacked by a woman—any woman who wasn’t Kim Yeosa—and bam, magic boner powers activated?

Should he test it? Ask the makeup artist to slap him a little harder? Maybe this was his “thing” now.

He had ignored the problem for too long, thinking it would go away. But maybe the issue was never physical. Maybe it was just… all in his head.

And now, as the responsible owner of a malfunctioning lower half, he figured it was time to take action.

“Hey… could you tap a little harder?” he asked casually.

“Huh? Harder?”

“Yeah.”

The makeup artist blinked in confusion, then gave his cheek a slightly firmer pat with the puff.

“Like this?”

“No, a bit more. Really lay into it.”

He tilted his head at a better angle for slapping and braced himself.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, just… I think it works better when it’s stronger. Go ahead, just whack it.”

Now visibly baffled, the artist hesitated, then tightened her grip on the puff and gave his cheek a good, solid smack. Thwack-thwack-thwack. With each hit, powder exploded into the air, covering his face in a ghostly white mist.

Eventually, Seohyuk couldn’t hold back a coughing fit.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” she gasped, panicking as he doubled over.

He cleared his throat dramatically, then raised a hand like a wounded soldier.

“I’m fine. Really. Totally fine.”

But as he stared at his reflection—his powder-dusted, unseduced face—he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a twitch.

Defeated, he shut his eyes with a long, disappointed sigh.

***

The shoot wrapped up late that evening. As Seohyuk stepped outside the studio, heading toward the parking lot, a sudden wave of screams made him freeze in place.

“Oppa! Oppa! Seohyuk oppa!! KYAAAH!!”

Dozens of fans surged toward him, shouting and reaching, desperate to touch any part of him they could get their hands on.

He was used to this. Calmly, Seohyuk held hands, offered soft smiles, gently unhooked fingers clutching his jacket, and moved steadily toward his van.

“Oppa, you’re so hot!! I love you!!”

“Thank you.”

“Sign my poster, please!”

He signed autographs one by one, gradually inching toward the car.

“Oppa! Don’t leave!”

“Sorry, I really have to go.”

“Take me with you, please! Don’t leave me!!”

His manager, Na Seungbok, cursed under his breath. “Damn it, who leaked the schedule this time?”

It had to be someone on the studio staff. In the entertainment world, leaking info for cash wasn’t anything new. Some fans even rolled up in luxury cars like they owned the place, sometimes with bodyguards in tow.

Seungbok realized he should’ve brought security today. Now he was basically acting as Seohyuk’s human shield.

“Please, let us through. Step back, please.”

Just then, their team stylist, Shim Miok, burst out of the studio with arms full of wardrobe bags. Seeing the chaos, she immediately dashed toward Seohyuk and wedged herself between him and the crowd.

“Mr. Kang! This way, quickly!”

“Ugh! Who are you?! Move!”

“Stop pushing! You’ll hurt someone!”

Right on cue, one fan got shoved hard and went sprawling on the pavement, clutching her back.

“She’s hurt! Stop pushing! I said stop!”

Miok barked orders with righteous fury, but inwardly, she was smirking. Pretending to worry was a game she was very good at.

As always, she muscled her way through the crowd using the clothes rack like a battering ram, finally reaching the van with Seohyuk in tow.

Inside, Seohyuk plopped into the seat and gave Miok a grateful grin.

“Whew… thanks, Miok. Seriously.”

Miok smiled sweetly and gazed out at the lingering fans. “Don’t mention it. Of course I’d help.”

Even Seungbok chimed in as he started the engine. “If it weren’t for you, we’d still be stuck out there. Thank you. Really.”

“We’re a team. A family. I’m just glad everyone’s okay,” Miok said gently, sneaking a look at Seohyuk as she reached out to smooth his messy hair.

“Long day today, huh? But at least tomorrow’s your day off. Get some rest.”

Seungbok admired her maturity. Despite being younger, Miok always had a sharp read on any situation. She worked hard, showed up on off-days, and took care of everything related to Seohyuk. A total professional.

Watching her in the rearview mirror, he gave her a big thumbs-up. “Miok, you really are the best.”

***

The van rolled onto a bridge over the Han River, and the glittering lights of Seoul danced on the water below.

Seohyuk stared out the window, lost in thought, until a soft buzz in his pocket pulled him back. A text.

[Hey, free to meet tonight?]

It was his old friend Mansoo. They’d known each other since Seohyuk’s modeling days, and Mansoo had recently opened a whiskey bar.

These days, their friend group used it as a regular hangout spot.

[Yeah, I’m in.]

He quickly texted back, then called out to the driver.

“Hey, Seungbok hyung. Can you drop me at Mansoo’s instead of home?”

“The bar?”

“Yeah.”

“That guy’s bar still running?”

“Apparently. Guess he hasn’t gone bankrupt yet.”

“He always seemed a bit clueless. Good for him. Same alley as before?”

“Yup. Thanks.”

Miok, who had been silently listening, gently cut in.

“Mr. Kang… after what happened earlier, are you sure it’s safe to go alone? Should I come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. It’s a friend’s place. Totally safe.”

Seohyuk always smiled when rejecting people. Whether it was actresses or singers, he knew how to politely decline without hurting feelings. No one ever really saw through him.

Women who only care about looks… I’m so sick of it.

Even Miok, who worked with him daily, was no exception. If a woman got too close, his guard went up.

Miok knew there was no pushing past a wall like that, especially when he refused so kindly. So, with her usual soft smile, she gave a tiny nod.

Truthfully, she had planned to follow him home tonight under the pretense of dropping off clothes. She’d done it before, and it always came off as perfectly natural.

Her real plan was to wait until he went in to shower, then maybe “accidentally” run into him afterward. It was her birthday, and she’d picked her prettiest lingerie just for this.

She had waited all day, only for the plan to completely fall apart.

I don’t even like this kind of stuff, she thought, lips twitching with frustration. She turned to the window, trying to hide her face—and her disappointment.