I Don’t Want to Play Villains Anymore - Chapter 46

Unexpectedly positive reactions

The higher the expectations, the greater the disappointment. It’s an obvious statement, but the feeling always comes late.

From the moment Buram had expectations, disappointment was already a reserved emotion. The high expectations make people forget that disappointment. No, they want to forget it.

That’s why they always fail. The era of fighting was that way.

They showed too much with just a teaser and received too many expectations.

“Not a student but rather a masterpiece,”

“A cinematic color palette,”

“Strangely mysterious acting,”

And— “Isn’t that silhouette Baek Ha-neul?”

The name wasn’t directly mentioned, but all kinds of nicknames were summoned in the community.

“The gaze enthralled the spirit”

“If they have white hair and blue eyes… cool… isn’t that the villain, that Haneul?”

“Personally scarier than Suha.”

Just mere seconds of a silhouette.

A few movements.

A face that had no expression turned towards the camera just once.

With that single scene, the community turned into a battlefield.

[Is it really Haneul? Is it for real? Or just someone who looks like her?]

[OMG ㅠㅠㅠㅠ If she makes a comeback like this, it’s going to be insane.]

[Did she choose a romantic drama for her comeback? Her acting career is seriously ruined.]

The speed at which these comments flowed was already faster than the teaser views. It was intimidating at first.

The attention pouring onto me, this heat being discussed without the name.

Everything felt like it would happen, yet it seemed surreal.

Then, at some point, I realized.

This was a familiar feeling.

It was the same when I filmed that commercial as a child.

It was the same after acting as Yeomra and even more so when I acted as Suha.

Whenever I immersed myself completely in something and returned, it was always like this.

Terrifying, exhilarating, and yet, on the other hand, my mind felt subtly refreshed.

I wasn’t sure if that feeling was dopamine, caffeine, or simply pure poison.

But one thing was clear: right now, the feeling I was experiencing was the result, not just expectations.

“Haneul… Haneul…!!”

“Uh, soon.”

“It’s true! Over 500,000 views! The teaser views! It’s still going up!”

Ji-woo burst into the classroom.

Whether she had been running in the hallway, her breath came out in spurts, and the smartphone in her hand shook.

Her eyes were already bloodshot.

“The community is going wild! Some people are debating whether it’s 60 frames or 24 frames for the video!”

“…So is it 24 frames or 60?”

“Ask me that later! The camera is Do-yeon!”

I casually smiled and leaned my arms on the desk.

I wasn’t sure if I should just call this a ‘success’, or if it’s just what was expected.

So, I said this.

“From now on, it’s just the beginning.”

“…Huh?”

“Not much has been released yet.”

Ji-woo paused for a moment, then slowly nodded her head.

“Right. That’s true. Only Episode 2 has been released.”

“Yeah. So, what we should be anxious about right now is not ‘how to meet expectations’.”

I continued to speak very quietly, yet clearly.

“…It’s ‘how to betray expectations’.”

Soon?

I know.

Expectations are easy to set.

But the real impact comes when you shatter them.

So I unfolded the script again.

The camera was rolling, and I waited for the moment.

Now is truly the beginning.

“Director?”

“Uh… yeah?”

Are you ready to shatter expectations?

“Action, camera.”

Click.

As that sound echoed, I was no longer Baek Ha-neul, but Baek Cheong-ha.

The atmosphere was different.

The colors captured in those eyes were different.

Even without exerting any strength in a single movement, everyone flinched, and the air trembled.

I was now the king of this school.

“3rd grade, 1st class, Baek Cheong-ha. Enter.”

Before the director’s cue was finished, I opened the door.

Creak—

The sound of the door opening was loud, and despite many criticisms since rehearsal, I decided to do it this way.

A king always enters ‘announcing his existence.’

The hallway was silent, and the children turned their eyes.

They calculated their steps while sneaking a glance at the camera.

The path lit up right now.

Where the shadow of my hair falls.

How the pleats of my school uniform wrap around my arms.

Everything must create ‘the king’s stride.’

…And then.

On the stairs ahead, there it was.

“From Ha-buk Middle School. Formerly notorious. A new student from Gangwon Province.”

The record was short, and there was no presence.

But the eyes were speaking.

“I came to k*ll you.”

“You. What’s your name?”

Baek Cheong-ha’s voice was steady.

Neither rising nor falling in pitch.

Despite that, every word carried a strange weight.

Even when said lightly, it was heavy.

“…Lee Jun-gi.”

“Ha.”

I laughed.

This was different from the kids I had dealt with so far.

He didn’t falter.

Usually, those who act with me would be nervous.

Wasn’t he just an ordinary high school student?

In this scene, more than any dialogue, ‘the gaze’ mattered.

I stared directly into the eyes of the actor playing Lee Jun-gi—Kang Do-kyung, but I didn’t know him well.

That kid didn’t avoid it either.

Good.

A counterpart who wouldn’t turn away from the camera.

That was enough.

With my hands in my pockets, I slightly leaned back.

A subtle lean, a change in posture.

All of this forms the frame of ‘Baek Cheong-ha, the king.’

“…The fate of this school, I will create it.”

I didn’t empty my emotions.

As if there had never been a vessel to hold any feelings.

What I was crafting now was not a clear objective.

It was an inexplicable will that only those who are not human could create.

And, stop.

There were no further movements.

I awaited a single reply.

But.

He said,

“I came to smash that.”

In an instant, I took a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

…Good.

Right now, this friend is alive.

Then I have to respond sincerely.

I tilted my head slightly and spoke.

“Oh. You’re saying the same thing as that kid I stepped on a while ago. But I usually say this to kids like that…”

Bang!

I kicked over the desk.

Good. I wasn’t tripped over like during rehearsal.

“Prove it. You pathetic b*stard.”

I spoke to the challenger in front of me.

One hand in my pants pocket, the other loosely placed.

In front of me, the man.

‘Lee Jun-gi.’

182 cm tall, rumored to be a good fighter based on his build.

Flowing seamlessly, a rapid response.

But.

A slow eye, huh?

“Kicking girls isn’t my style.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll never reach me.”

Jun-gi lowered his stance.

Left foot forward, right foot back.

A standard front stance.

“There’s no way you will look me in the eye right now?”

I didn’t smile.

I simply tilted my head slightly and narrowed my eyes.

“That will be in the back later.”

He lunged.

The first strike came from Jun-gi.

His right hand swung, lightly aiming for the side of my head.

I didn’t dodge.

I merely turned my head slightly, letting it flow past me.

In that split second, I gently moved my toes.

‘Up.’

Baek Cheong-ha always starts fights by changing the position of his feet first.

That’s not what they typically call a setup.

It’s about rotating the field that enters your line of sight.

In other words, it’s about creating and controlling the field.

Jun-gi lunged again with a second strike.

This time, lower, aiming for my abdomen.

“Ugh!”

I avoided it.

And slightly lifted my left heel.

My entire body spun rapidly.

My foot absorbed the momentum fully, painting a beautiful arc.

A roundhouse kick.

Without twisting my body, I just swung my leg.

A swift and sharp ‘side kick’ without an axis of rotation.

Right into Jun-gi’s abdomen.

Under the ribs, where the rectus abdominis ends.

Thud!

“Ugh…!”

Jun-gi stumbled backward.

It was a very short distance, but Baek Cheong-ha advanced forward again.

Without shaking.

Instead, I walked slowly.

My eyes clear, my arms relaxed.

“You won’t get a chance to catch your breath.”

This time, Baek Cheong-ha struck first.

Breath, breath, breath—

A series of side strikes.

Near the nerves, along the collarbone line, and to the chin.

Jun-gi, startled, adopted a defensive posture.

Raising his hands in response.

Baek Cheong-ha bowed.

In that moment, he inhaled—

An upward roundhouse kick.

Crash!!

Slicing through, it grazed over his shoulder.

But Jun-gi staggered, regaining his balance.

As expected of a well-built fighter, he handled his body well.

He planted his feet and rushed in.

Bang!!!

A right hook.

Fast.

It was indeed fast.

It brushed right next to my temple.

It was truly dangerous.

My body reacted.

Rotation.

This time, it was Baek Cheong-ha’s turn.

Literally. A turn.

The hallway, narrow.

The ceiling low, the air heavy.

The camera quietly followed, and Ji-woo covered her mouth in shock.

Jun-gi’s shoulders shook.

His breaths were ragged.

His jaw tensed, and sweat streamed down his forehead.

‘Good.’

That’s enough.

Now, it’s time to show.

I slowly inhaled.

And exhaled.

Exactly three beats, letting out precisely timed breaths.

The tension inside my body eased.

I shifted my weight onto one leg.

Right foot, fixed.

Creating an axis.

Like a spinning top, it must remain steady.

I lifted my left leg.

Precisely from below my pelvis.

First, the waist rotation started.

Then the upper body followed,

And my arms loosened, guiding the rotation.

The first spin.

It’s not just a turn.

‘It tightens.’

In mid-air, when I completed a half-turn, I had already calculated ahead.

I bent my upper body slightly, pulling in my center of balance.

My knees bent, my feet fixed.

‘Light.’

The air flowed slower than time.

And— the second rotation followed.

Left foot, accelerating the rotation.

Bang!!!

The body unfurled once more in mid-air.

This wasn’t just a simple ‘kick’.

It was as if the whole body created ‘one foot’.

Rotation and speed,

Height and angle,

All of that combined—

The point of contact was the temple.

Jun-gi.

He saw my foot enter his line of vision.

Precisely below his temple, collarbone and chin.

In that split second, my left foot reached him.

“—!”

Crash!!!

It wasn’t sonic speed.

But the sound of impact was heavily dull.

For a moment, all sound in the hallway shattered.

Even the camera’s recording seemed to pause.

Jun-gi’s body was pushed back.

His shoulders twisted back, his knees buckled.

The upper body lost its balance and flew directly towards the wall.

Right above the back of his head, the hallway wall resounded with a gruesome crash.

Thud.

The vibration traveled up my spine.

Jun-gi’s body fell limply to the floor.

He couldn’t breathe.

His body was instinctively collapsing, and his center shattered into pieces.

I landed.

Right foot— exactly like I had begun.

Two spins.

Completely executing a maneuver down the hallway.

There was no remaining tension in my fingertips.

I didn’t open my mouth, nor did I take any breath.

Instead, I slowly lifted my head.

I looked down at the fallen opponent.

The hallway floor.

bl**d didn’t fall, but the body was cooling.

In front of a gasping opponent, I tilted my head slightly.

“…That’s enough.”

I slowly turned away.

My waist felt slightly tight, but I was fine.

That last rotation was precise, clean,

And above all—

I had once again proved that I was the strongest.

“Goodbye. Lee Jun-gi. The world is results.”

A fake cigarette elegantly lit up.