Set to Fail // Minsung (BOOK 1 OF 2 'SET SERIES')

STF 22

INT. ENEMY GENERAL'S TENT - NIGHT.

"Ready?"

Minho didn't answer.

He just nodded once, jaw locked, eyes on the floor.

Drunk. Broken. Slumped in his armour. That was the character.

But he didn't need to act tonight.

Than was already in position, shirt halfway undone, eyes gleaming.

They'd rehearsed this scene once.

Then the script changed.

Now?

Now it felt like a trap.

CAMERAS ROLL.

"Action."

Minho stumbled into the tent.

Than's character rose, slow. Confident. Sleazy.

"Well, well," he drawled. "Look what the war dragged in."

Minho's character blinked, hazy. "Didn't know where else to go."

Than smirked. "Lucky me."

He crossed the tent, slow. Deliberate.

Fingers grazed Minho's collarbone.

Hands on his hips.

Pulling him down.

Minho followed - hesitantly, tense.

The script had said passion.

But this felt like a crime.

Than cupped Minho's jaw.

Leant in.

Their lips brushed.

Minho tensed.

Jisung, off-camera, leaned forward without realizing.

Then it escalated. Than's hands grabbed Minho's shirt - pulling it off roughly.

Minho flinched. It wasn't choreographed like that. It wasn't supposed to go this far this fast.

But the camera kept rolling. Than's mouth latched onto Minho's neck.

Minho's eyes widened. He tried to pull away. Than gripped him tighter.

Growled a line that wasn't in the script.

"Your body and soul is mine."

Minho's breath caught - then shoved. Hard.

Than stumbled back, blinking. "What the hell-?"

Minho wasn't acting anymore. "That wasn't in the fucking script!"

"You fucking marked me. What the fuck have i told you about not- HOW DARE YOU?!"

Than smirked, smug. "It looked good."

"It wasn't in the script."

"You're drunk-your character's supposed to-"

"Don't you dare pull that method shit with me!"

Director Jung stood frozen.

Before anyone could say a word-

Homin stepped in. Clapped his hands once.

"Well," he said, eyes sparkling. "That was the most natural fucking thing I've ever seen."

Everyone stared. Even Than looked surprised.

Homin nodded. "We're going straight into the next scene. Reset the tent. Add morning lighting. Keep the bruises- marks whatever."

Minho: "What-?"

"No time. You're doing great."

Jisung pushed forward and said loudly, "This is insane. What bullshit are you doing?"

Homin ignored him.

"Everyone clear? Good. Cue morning."

INT. ENEMY GENERAL'S TENT - MORNING SCENE.

Minho sat slumped on the bed. Shirtless. Blank.

He looked sick.

Dead inside.

Too still.

The scene started. Minho didn't speak for five whole seconds.

A sigh left his mouth, "What did I do?"

Quiet. Broken.

"What the fuck did I do?"

He got up.

Stumbled to the mirror.

"I let him-"

His voice cracked.

"-he touched me."

"I didn't say no."

He looked at his own reflection.

And whispered, "I'm gonna kill myself."

The room went silent.

A collective inhale.

That line hadn't been approved. Neither was it there in the scrpits.

No one yelled cut.

Minho stayed in the mirror. Shaking.

Jisung stood frozen just off frame, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Cut," Director Jung said eventually, voice low.

Minho didn't move.