In the season just before the snowfall, an eighteen-year-old girl wore only a short skirt, filming a summer scene in the park, shivering from the cold, yet she could only bite her lip and endure it.
His frown deepened, "Stop the car," those two words slipped out involuntarily.
He, always busy with his schedule, found himself sitting in the car, staring in the direction of the park for half an hour.
The sight of her shivering stirred an impulse in him to take her into his arms.
Wasn't he always the one who detested these insincere women the most? Yet why, at this moment, did he harbor such a thought towards her?
Finally... when a scene wrapped up successfully, and the girl happily thanked the director and crew, the plump-faced director deliberately placed his hand on her waist, taking the opportunity to grope her. His brows, at that moment, knitted tightly together.
A surge of anger swept through his heart...
This was the only time he had ever felt angry for a girl.