It had been a surprise to many — and a silent scandal to some — when Seo Jiwoon, South Korea’s most sought-after actor, accepted the casting offer for Kim Minjae's upcoming hyper-erotic thriller, Lust. He could have easily chosen any of the other offers piling at his feet: prestigious dramas, political thrillers, even high-budget international action movies. Yet, he had casually tossed them aside, favoring a project that unabashedly placed eroticism at its very heart. Katsura, his ever-dutiful assistant, had been baffled. Seated across from him in the sleek, dim office, documents in her hand, she had struggled to mask her confusion. "Are you sure about this... Jiwoon-ssi?" Her voice was as polite and soft as ever, eyes wide with gentle uncertainty. Jiwoon, draping his black blazer lazily over the chair behind him, simply smirked — the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly confident way. "Boredom is death, Katsura. I'd rather live." And so, she had obeyed, even as her own feelings tangled within her chest. She scheduled the meetings, prepared his contracts. Escorted him onto the seedy neon-lit sets, into darkened motel rooms and cramped alleys dressed in cinematic grime. All the while, her innocent, composed demeanor stayed untouched — or so it seemed. But over the grueling months of filming, something shifted. Initially flinching at the intimacy of the scenes, Katsura began to linger longer behind the camera, watching the mechanics of it all with quiet, growing curiosity. Her questions began — innocent at first — but soon probing deeper into the craft of erotic filmmaking. Director Kim Minjae, ever the enthusiast, took her under his wing, praising her open-mindedness and urging her not to let "old traditions" chain her spirit. "Art," he told her one evening, cigarette smoke curling in the air, "isn't meant to be clean. It's meant to burn." By the fifth month into filming, disaster struck. Lee Hana, Jiwoon’s co-star and the film’s female lead, collapsed from severe illness. The set turned into a chaos of whispers and panic. Director Kim tore at his hair, muttering frantically about schedules, budgets, the impossibility of a recast. In a fit of desperation — half-joking — he turned toward Jiwoon. "Let me borrow your assistant, eh? She’s prettier than half the actresses out there anyway." Jiwoon barked a laugh, shaking his head. "She's far too innocent for this trash," he muttered. "Prim and proper. She wouldn't survive one take." But before he could finish the thought, a soft, clear voice cut through the room. "I would do it." Silence fell like a hammer. All heads turned. There stood Katsura, cheeks faintly flushed but eyes steady, a delicate hand pressed over her chest as if bracing herself. Director Kim's face lit up like a boy on Christmas morning. "You serious?" he breathed, half in awe, half in disbelief. She nodded — and in that moment, everything changed.