Another Regular day at SM

Days passed quietly after Jim flew back to the States.

With the whirlwind meetings and pitch sessions behind him, Jihoon finally had space to breathe — and focus.

He holed up in his apartment like a man with a secret.

The curtains stayed drawn, the phone was often on silent, and his laptop rarely left his side. Jihoon wasn't just polishing a script — he was sharpening a weapon.

This wasn't about hiding a good idea for the sake of profit or keeping SM out of the loop.

No.

This script was his ace. A card tucked tightly up his sleeve, reserved for the day he'd challenge the shadowy hands pulling strings behind the scenes.

But even amidst his creative lockdown, life didn't stop.

Every evening, like clockwork, he took Jieun to SM Entertainment for vocal lessons.

She was shy at first, hesitant to stand among other trainees who had been grinding for years. 

It didn't take long before the whispers started.

"Freak!" Taeyeon muttered under her breath one evening after class, watching Jihoon hit a perfect falsetto.

Jessica, arms crossed, nodded in agreement.

"Freakishly fast," she added, half-joking, half-annoyed.

Jihoon grinned when he heard that.

Just a year ago, when he recorded that demo for the drama OST, he barely knew how to hold a note.

Now, his breath control and pitch were nearly debut-ready.

He wasn't just keeping up — he was catching up, fast.

Jieun, too, was blooming.

Her once-fragile voice now carried weight, tone, and texture.

The other trainees noticed. Some were inspired, most were intimidated.

It was hard to ignore the fact that the "siblings" — as people started calling them — were accomplishing in months what others hadn't in years.

One night, Jihoon pulled Boa aside in the hallway, curious.

"Noona," he asked, "how did you get so good at singing and breath control? Any tips?"

Boa blinked, smiled sweetly, then said, "It's easy! Just sing while running on the treadmill!"

Jihoon nodded solemnly, not catching the glint of mischief in her eyes.

The next day, he dragged Jieun into the gym, fired up two treadmills, and said, "Let's do this. If Boa-noona did it, so can we."

Ten minutes later, both were gasping like fish out of water, doubled over the machine rails.

"I can't… even breathe," Jieun wheezed.

"Forget singing," Jihoon coughed. "I'm about to pass out."

Boa later burst out laughing when they told her what happened. "I was joking!" she said between giggles. "You actually did it?"

Then came the conversation with Lee Sooman.

"Jihoon-ah," the old mian said one evening, gently sipping his coffee, "let Jieun become a trainee with us. If you agree, I'll personally ensure she debuts as a solo artist. The company will support her fully."

Jihoon's smile faded. He leaned back, crossed his arms.

"Old man," he said, not unkindly, "I don't want Jieun in this business. Not like this. And even if I did, I can't make that decision for her. It's her life. You want her in the company? Talk to her parents."

Lee Soo-man wasn't done yet. "Then what if you join her? Form a duo. That way, you can keep an eye on her, protect her."

Jihoon rolled his eyes. "So basically, you want me to be SM's next cash cow," he said with a smirk.

"No thanks. Let's talk about Jieun being a trainee the day you sat at the director's chair again."

That shut things down. Lee Sooman didn't bring it up again.

Not because he agreed, but because he knew the limits of his power these days.

The days of his ruling SM with a single word were gone.

Kim Youngmin held the president's title now. He made the business calls — and Jihoon knew it.

SM needed profits, and that pressure often meant pushing idols to the brink with endless schedules. Lee Sooman knew it too.

Deep down, he wasn't sure he could shield Jieun from that grind. Not anymore.

So for now, Jihoon kept her close — not as an idol-in-training, but as a sister discovering her voice.

The spotlight could wait. The world would hear them soon enough — but only when they were ready.

Just like that, the stormy day passed, and life casually clicked back into gear like nothing ever happened.

Jihoon returned to his usual rhythm, as if chaos was just a brief commercial break in his drama-filled life.

His studio was back on track, the team buzzing, and the air carried that sweet scent of movie magic again.

Director Yoon Jongbin was still deep in the trenches filming Shoplifter, now in its gritty mid-production stage, and things were running steady.

Worth mentioning — well, depending on who you asked — was Ji Changwook officially signing on with Jihoon's agency.

No persuasion needed. Changwook practically signed himself in.

Honestly, if you weren't signing with JH Entertainement by now, people would start questioning your sense.

Cause, after just three movies, Jihoon had smashed records that no Korean filmmaker had even dared to dream of.

And let's not even start on the box office stats.

Critics adored him, audiences loved him, and the Cannes jury? Well, they handed him the Palme d'Or last year.

The first Korean director to do so. Ever.

And yet, with all that prestige, here he was — being dragged out of bed by a phone call from someone who still treated him like a rookie assistant late to rehearsal.

"Yoboseyo…" Jihoon mumbled into the phone, barely awake. "Noona… why are you calling me at 8 a.m.? Don't you artists ever sleep?"

Boa's voice came through, no-nonsense and already annoyed, "Come to the studio. We're re-recording the single today. I'm releasing it soon."

Jihoon sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What?! You're just about to release it? Com'om! It's been, like, a month since I gave you the demo."

"You think I own the company? Ya! Quit talking nonsense and drag your ass here now!" she barked before hanging up.

The line went dead. No goodbye. No please. Classic Boa.

So Jihoon, grumbling and dramatically sighing like the world was ending, made his way to SM Entertainment.

As he stepped into the recording booth, there she was, arms crossed, glaring at him like he owed her ten years of royalties.

"Noona-ah, what makes you so sure I'd show up?" he asked with a pointed look of fake irritation.

Boa didn't even blink. "If you didn't come, I was gonna come bang on your front door."

Jihoon visibly paled. "Don't. Please don't. I've been in the news enough lately. If reporters catch us together, they'll start another dumb rumor."

"YA! Who do you think the scandal hits harder? Me, obviously," she shot back, rolling her eyes.

Jihoon groaned, slumping into the chair. "Still don't get why you want me to do a feature with you. I'm a director, not an idol. This is a waste of studio time."

"You're here already, might as well stop whining," Boa snapped, snatching the lyrics sheet. "Do you want me to hit you with a mic stand so you'll shut up?"

He threw his hands in the air. "Okay, okay! Let's just finish this quickly so I can go home and nap in peace."

"Oh—right. Teacher said you should go see him after the recording," Boa added with a sly smile.

Jihoon dropped his head onto the desk. "Of course he did. What a day."

Recording a proper single was no joke.

It wasn't like the quick, casual guide he tossed together before.

This time, every line, every beat, had to be perfect.

It took him three full hours, multiple takes, and an embarrassing number of throat-clearing breaks before they finally wrapped.

Thinking the coast was clear, Jihoon quietly gathered his things, tiptoeing like a thief trying to sneak out of a crime scene.

Then Boa's voice cut through the silence like a horror movie jump scare.

"Lee. Ji. Hoon. You forget something?"

He froze mid-step. "Uhh… I forgot to turn off the stove at home?" he said, flashing an awkward grin.

Boa narrowed her eyes like a predator locking in on her target. "And instead of calling 911, you thought running away was the better option?"

"Wow, noona! Did anyone tell you your eyes got bigger lately? Did—uh—you go to a clinic or something?" he stammered, already sprinting toward the door.

"LEE JI HOON!!! YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!!!"

Boa's voice thundered through the SM building like a war horn signaling the start of battle.

Employees ducked behind doors.

Interns pressed themselves against the walls.

Trainees froze mid-dance routine.

Even the janitor paused mid-mop.

And then—there he was, hit with a blast of deja vu so strong it might've slapped him in the face.

It hadn't been that long since weirdness last struck this building, and judging by the collective gasp, glance, or existential sigh, everyone else felt it too.

Now, Jihoon, Korea's golden boy of cinema, bolting down the hallway like a fugitive with a death wish.

Behind him, a furious Boa in full pursuit, heels clacking like gunfire, ponytail whipping like a banner of war.

She chased. He ran. She yelled. He screamed.

From studio to corridor, rehearsal room to cafeteria—like an endless game of tag between a raging goddess and a man who really should've known better.

And just like that, a new legend was born.

By the time the chase reached the rooftop, rumors spread through SM faster than a trending tweet.

There were multiple versions.

The first version was Boa had fallen hard for Jihoon. But Jihoon? Completely oblivious. So he ran every time she tried to confess to him.

The poor girl was just trying to shoot her shot, and he was out there playing Temple Run.

Then the second was. 

Jihoon — youngest Palme d'Or winner in Korea's history.

Boa — the reigning queen of K-pop.

Together? Secretly dating.

But SM's puppet master, Lee Sooman, didn't approve.

He kept sabotaging their relationship like some drama villain with a grudge and an imaginary villain style trench coat.

One trainee swore on her bubble tea that she saw the two lovebirds on the rooftop — standing on the edge, wind blowing dramatically, like they were cosplaying Romeo and Juliet.

Word had it they were ready to end it all for love — until Sooman appeared, watching from the stairs like a Shakespearean villain.

That version quickly evolved: now Lee Sooman wasn't just disapproving — he was forcibly tearing them apart.

But wait—there's more.

Another version started gaining traction, thanks to none other than SNSD's resident chaos queens, Sooyoung and Hyoyeon.

According to their version, it wasn't just a love story.

It was a full-blown love triangle.

Boa loved Jihoon.

Jihoon… was in love with Lee Sooman.

And Lee Sooman?

No one knew. Maybe he loved himself.

From rooftop confessions to forbidden love and tragic betrayal, the story took on a life of its own, rewritten every time someone retold it.

"Honestly," Sunny whispered one afternoon while sipping her juice box, "I think it'd make a great drama."

"Let's write the script!" Yoona declared. "Jihoon oppa can direct it!"

Taeyeon added, dead serious, "And call it Scandal Rooftop: The Forbidden Director."

So yeah. Just another regular day at SM.

[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe, AniMantra, JiangXiu and OS_PARCEIROS for bestowing the power stone!]