Novels by Oh Sehna

The lights were too bright.Deverell sat on the edge of the worn-out leather chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his shirt rumpled from the previous scene. The set around him was silent now, just the quiet hum of cameras, the occasional murmurs from the crew, the hollow emptiness that came with the final day of filming.The last scene. The last time he would step into this role.Most actors felt a kind of grief when wrapping up a film, an ache for the character they had embodied for months, but Deverell felt nothing.The cameras cut. The world reset. And he walked away. As he always did.The director clapped his hands, voice booming across the space. “That’s a wrap! Congratulations, everyone!”Cheers erupted, some of the crew embracing, others already breaking down equipment.Deverell stood, slipping off the heavy coat he had worn for the scene, rolling his shoulders as he smiled at the producer approaching him. After an exchange of conversation, he grabbed his things.He had sear

The door clicked shut. Deverell exhaled slowly, staring at the now-empty hallway where Luna had disappeared.He had done the right thing. He had. Then why the hell did it feel like a mistake?He raked a hand through his hair, frustration simmering beneath his skin. Everything about this situation was wrong.Luna Grimes was not supposed to be in his house, in his clothes, in his damn head.Yet the memory of last night lingered—the way her lips had felt against his, the heat of her body pressed against his, the unexplainable pull that had gripped him the moment she stepped into that makeup room.Her scent, unfamiliar, yet it crept in, riding his senses.A mistake. That’s all it had been. Thats what he wanted to believe.Deverell turned away from the door, only to stop short when he saw the tray of untouched food sitting on the small table near the bed. The hangover soup he had made for her. The coffee, still steaming.The toast, slightly burnt because he had been too distracted making s

The first thing she noticed was the sheets, they were soft, unfamiliar, and felt expensive.The second was the room, dark, minimalistic, or hollow of emotions, and nothing like her apartment.A slow, heavy pounding in her head reminded her of the alcohol still thick in her system. She groaned, shifting beneath the sheets, only to realize, "This isn’t my bed."A sharp breath left her lips as her body went rigid, her heart slamming against her ribs.She forced her eyes open, blinking through the haze, taking in the unfamiliar space she was in. The bedroom was spacious but cold, decorated in sleek blacks and deep grays. The air smelled faintly of something woody, expensive, and dangerously intoxicating.And then she looked down, at her own self under the sheets. She was not in her clothes from last night.Instead, she was wearing a loose black T-shirt and drawstring sweatpants, clothes far too large to belong to her.From the looks of them, they were men's clothing.Oh, hell no.Panic c

She should have left.She should have turned around, walked back through the curtain, and pretended she never saw him standing there, like that, half-dressed, pale, very pale skin illuminated by the dim backstage lighting.But she didn’t.and before she could realize, she moved towards him.Something in her chest was pulling, like a magnet drawn to something it shouldn’t be. Her pulse pounded in her ears, louder than the muffled music from the afterparty, louder than her own common sense.Deverell didn’t move.He just watched her, unreadable, his shirt hanging open, his breath slow and steady like he was waiting.She stopped just inches from him, her head tilting as she studied his face, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the impossible perfection of his features, the mouth that was slightly parted as if he had just exhaled a breath he hadn’t meant to take."So rude, so entitled...", she scrunched her eyes, her cheeks red from the drinks. Deverell tilted his head in amusement.What wa

Luna adjusted the focus on her camera, exhaling softly as she framed the next shot.Deverell and Kensy laying across the velvet couch in the center of the set, their bodies draped in perfect elegance. The world around them caught its breath, as if even time itself didn’t dare disturb the illusion they had established.She should be used to this.Photographing beautiful people, actors like this, trained in seduction, in longing, in looking at someone as if they were the only thing that mattered in the whole world.But watching Deverell this way? It was not the same.She told herself it was just the lighting. The way his bare chest caught the glow of the overhead bulbs, the way his long fingers skimmed Kensy’s arm, his touch was just enough to suggest intimacy and not possession.It was only a role he was playing. That’s what she needed to remember. And why should it matter ro her.But still, her fingers tightened a little around the camera, a strange tension coiling in her chest as she

The set was a controlled chaos of motion, directors yelling out last-minute instructions, assistants adjusting lights, wardrobe stylists smoothing clothes, and the constant buzz of a world constructed entirely on illusion.Luna Grimes had seen it all before.She had spent years behind the lens, watching as actors transformed into something greater, something bigger than life. She had mastered the art of detachment, of viewing beauty, yet not being seduced by it.And still, when Deverell Blackwood walked onto the set, even she could not deny his presence.Deverell Blackwood did not crave attention.It gravitated toward him. Where ever he stroded, the spotlight was on him.Even when the cameras weren’t rolling, even when he wasn’t performing, he moved like the world was made around him, like it existed to accommodate him. He was a living work of art sculpted in too-sharp lines and effortless grace.And what was worse? He knew it.Luna never swooned over men like him.She had seen too ma