FRWD Ch 4

Haseong leaned back, his body entrusting itself to the unbelievably smooth ride that didn’t even jolt over speed bumps. He was in the passenger seat, having been unable to refuse Yehan’s offer to drive him home, accompanied by the concerned remark about how dangerous the world is these days.

He thought, if anything, his own somewhat harsh demeanor might make the world seem dangerous, not the other way around. He himself wasn’t likely to be in danger because of a dangerous world…. But Yehan had been too earnest for Haseong to refuse.

“Is this it?”

Yehan, stopped at a corner where the streetlight flickered as if it might go out at any moment, asked, glancing uneasily out the window. Haseong, clapping his cheeks with both hands to chase away the encroaching drowsiness, mumbled in response,

“Yes, thank you.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt and bowed deeply. To Haseong, who tried to maintain respect for his elders even when sleepy, the elder whispered as if fascinated,

“Your eyes are half-closed, but you’re still bowing at a 90-degree angle. Am I that intimidating?”

“…….”

Wouldn’t it be stranger if he wasn’t intimidated? There’s an eight-year age gap between them.

Even if they had shared drinks together, they’d only met twice. Not to mention the incomparable difference in their financial situations and careers…. Even when Yehan smiled genially, his unrealistically handsome face made it difficult to close the distance between them.

He was a man who could be playful one moment and thoughtful the next, casually dropping odd remarks in a gentle tone. Just when Haseong started feeling a sense of incongruity from this behavior, Yehan would show a human side, supporting him simply for being a fan. He was the first person to tell Haseong that he wanted to continue listening to his music.

Yehan was intimidating to Haseong. In many ways.

As if sensing Haseong’s inner turmoil, Yehan requested in a languid voice,

“If we meet again, I’d like you to be more comfortable with me…. It would be nice if you changed how you address me too. ‘Actor’ is too formal, don’t you think?”

“How should I address you?”

He asked obediently, even though he doubted there would be a next time, and if there were, it would likely be far in the future, relying on chance. Haseong himself found the term ‘Actor’ a bit awkward and cringeworthy.

“Well. You could just call me by my name. Or, more casually, ‘Hyung’?”

“…’Hyung’ is a bit…”

“Honestly, I prefer ‘Hyung’.”

Yehan dropped his gaze pathetically and grumbled. Haseong imagined himself casually calling this man, whom he found difficult to even make eye contact with, ‘Yehan Hyung,’ and then immediately gave up on the thought. It felt wrong. Something about… addressing him with the same title he used for Woochan and the other band members…

A more respectful and formal title seemed more fitting for Yehan than ‘Hyung.’ It suited their age difference, the vast disparity in their social standing, and his character.

So, for example,

“Hyeongnim?”

He voiced the thought as if seeking agreement, and Yehan’s lips flattened.

“…Let’s not go with something that sounds like I’m a gangster.”

“But since there’s an age gap, ‘Hyeongnim’ feels more fitting than ‘Hyung’.”

He was about to ask if it didn’t sound cool when he saw Yehan’s visibly gloomy expression and quickly shut his mouth.

“I should have given you the options of ‘Mister’ or ‘Uncle’ too.”

“No, I’m not that old, but!”

Startled by the bitter voice that seeped through Yehan’s sullenly closed lips, Haseong flinched.

Yehan seemed to have interpreted his words as, ‘You want an eight-year-old to call you Hyung? You shameless bastard.’ That absolutely wasn’t his intention. As Haseong sweated profusely, searching for an excuse, a finger lightly touched his cheek.

“I’m kidding. Call me whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m not shameless enough to insist on being called ‘Hyung’ by someone eight years younger than me.”

“I really, truly didn’t mean it like that….”

“I’m teasing you, Haseong. You don’t need to sweat so much.”

“…….”

At the refreshingly frank confession, Haseong was speechless.

“Don’t you hear a lot that your reactions are amusing?”

He couldn’t even deny the follow-up question. He really did hear that a lot, very often.

“Yes, I hear it often.”

He must have made a very self-conscious expression, as Yehan nodded to himself in understanding. Then, glancing at his wristwatch, he murmured with unconcealed disappointment,

“Shall we part ways? We made a promise that you’d call me casually next time. Oh, except for ‘Hyeongnim’.”

“…Yes.”

He might or might not have a conscience, but he definitely seemed to hold a grudge.

“You have the expression of ‘I wonder if we’ll ever see each other again,’ don’t you?”

“…….”

It seemed he could read minds too….

“Hmm, right on the mark? That hurts a little.”

“That’s not it….”

Haseong floundered like an overturned turtle, trying to gather his words. But as always, he could only helplessly close his mouth, unable to find the right words. As he lamented his perpetually failing eloquence, a white hand slithered towards him, caressing the skin beneath his fingernails.

‘Does this person have a habit of not being able to leave hands alone?’

He casually touched him here and there, and Haseong found it quite disconcerting. Patting his head was one thing, but such physical contact wasn’t common between men.

Perhaps, being an Alpha, he wasn’t particularly bound by notions of same-sex or opposite-sex relationships. Haseong convinced himself, recalling something he’d heard somewhere about Alpha individuals having a higher rate of same-sex relationships than Betas.

Come to think of it, Woochan had a similar side. For example, his insistence on being sent a picture of the front door as soon as Haseong arrived home. Honestly, this felt more like something a person with paranoia or delusional jealousy would do to their spouse, rather than a close younger friend.

He was complying because Woochan made a huge fuss if he resisted, but…. Haseong shuddered at the thought of Woochan’s messages piling up like fallen leaves in his notification window, then shuddered again at the feeling of something tickling his calloused hand.

‘Huh?’

He noticed that Yehan’s fingertips were also calloused and was puzzled. Just then, Yehan said,

“I should hope for such coincidences to continue.”

He said, flicking Haseong’s fingernail as if lightly kissing his forehead or cheek and pulling away. A sweet voice filled with hope lingered in Haseong’s ears. Haseong, forgetting to pull his hand away, focused as if mesmerized by the movement of Yehan’s lips.

“Then go in safely.”

“…Have a safe trip.”

Haseong got out of the car, imprinting the watercolor-like smile in his eyes. As he trudged up the hill with his bass, which he had placed in the back seat, strangely, his path was illuminated. The streetlight was definitely out…. He looked down at his feet, puzzled by the light and the long shadow it cast, then turned around without thinking.

At the foot of the hill, where Yehan had dropped him off, his car was still parked. Its headlights were shining brightly towards him. The heavily tinted windows prevented Haseong from seeing what Yehan was doing inside, but he had a feeling he knew why he was staying there with his high beams on.

A slightly strange and intimidating, but kind person, who claimed to be his fan.

Suddenly, a wave of heat rushed over him. He tried to rationalize it as the heat of an early summer night and quickened his pace. Yet, he kept glancing back, every now and then, almost until he reached his front door.

The closer he got to his home, the stronger the acrid smell of cigarettes became. However, he hardly noticed, too distracted by the light flickering at his feet. The faint light was finally withdrawn when Haseong turned completely around the corner of his house.

Shortly after, the sound of a car starting up echoed softly. He felt a pang of regret, stopping for a moment in front of the wall.

“…Whose car were you in?”

Woochan, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, asked abruptly. A pile of cigarette butts lay at his feet, indicating he had been there for a while. Haseong frowned at the butts, their tips still glowing red, not yet extinguished.

Despite the smoke rising, Woochan nonchalantly flicked his still-lit cigarette onto the pile. Haseong stepped on the butt to put it out and asked,

“What are you doing here at this hour…?”

“Fuck, didn’t I tell you not to stray?”

Before he could finish speaking, Woochan pushed Haseong’s forehead back with his index finger, an unpleasant gesture. Haseong irritably shook his head.

“Did you come all the way here just because I didn’t contact you right away?”

“Whose car were you in? Did you have some asshole friend with a car I didn’t know about?”

“Hyung.”

“And that fucker, was he an Alpha?”

Woochan suddenly grabbed Haseong by the collar and pulled him close. He inhaled near Haseong’s neck, his face contorting in disgust. A long, ragged breath escaped his lips.

“Don’t tell me you broke up with your girlfriend and started seeing an Alpha?”

“What kind of nonsense are you talking about? Let go of me!”

“You little shit, you’re ignoring everything I say, aren’t you? What have you been doing until this hour?”

“Do I have to report every single thing to you?”

Haseong forcefully twisted Woochan’s wrist to free himself from his grip. He didn’t have the patience to answer Woochan’s questions meekly.

“Get lost. I need to sleep before I go to work.”

He shoved Woochan’s shoulder aside, trying to get past him and into his apartment. But before he could take a step, he was grabbed by the back of his neck.

“You left a little after 10, and you were with some Alpha asshole until now? Were you just carrying your phone around for decoration? You didn’t even look at it. And you’re still carrying your bass, which means you didn’t go home, did you?”

“Why are you being so nosy? Are you crazy?”

“Yoon Haseong. Are you planning to switch bands? Why are you acting up so much these days?”

“When did I ever! And everyone plays in multiple bands anyway. I need to make a living! Can’t I at least look around?”

Frustrated with Woochan, who had suddenly shown up and was acting like a lunatic, preventing him from sleeping when he already had a lot on his mind, Haseong blurted out whatever came to mind. He had no time or intention to join another band, but he wanted to rebel, at least verbally.

He had endured enough. Moreover, he was more irritable than usual because of the lingering effects of alcohol and overwhelming drowsiness. They would see each other at the practice room in a few hours anyway. Why did Woochan have to show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night to confirm something he could have asked later? Woochan’s incomprehensible behavior gave him the creeps.

And how did he even know the person he met was an Alpha…?

‘Well, that’s probably why he didn’t realize there was pheromone on him.’

‘What do you mean…?’

‘Haseong, you should be careful for a while.’

Suddenly, a conversation he had with Yehan flashed through his mind. He remembered the playful smile on Yehan’s face as he warned him to be careful.

At the time, the mention of pheromones had been so out of the blue that Haseong had simply accepted it without further thought. But seeing Woochan’s reaction, he now had a vague understanding of what Yehan meant.

Woochan had marked him with his pheromones first, and Yehan, sensing it, had warned him to be careful. He didn’t know why Yehan had also marked him with his own pheromones in the process, though.

In any case, Woochan’s current outburst seemed to be because he had smelled Yehan’s pheromones and realized Haseong had been with another Alpha. He didn’t understand what Woochan was so worked up about, but based on the situation, that was Haseong’s best guess.

‘What are they both doing?’

Annoyed by both Woochan and Yehan’s incomprehensible actions, Haseong irritably scratched the back of his neck. Since Woochan had sniffed around his neck, he figured that must be where the pheromones were.

‘He said it was for dominance and marking territory, right?’

Recalling Yehan’s explanation, Haseong narrowed his eyes. He wondered why they had done such a thing to him, a Beta who couldn’t even perceive it. He felt utterly annoyed at being caught in the crossfire.

“…What the fuck. Did you really go to an audition or something?”

While Woochan was burying his nose in Haseong’s clothes, hoping to catch a scent, Haseong was forcibly turned around by a rough grip on his neck. Woochan was chewing on his lip, tightening his grip with all his might. The tendons on his exposed wrists stood out, taut and prominent.

“Huh? Hey, Yoon Haseong. Is it true? Hey, are you going to answer me?”

He wasn’t even giving Haseong time to answer. Haseong silently stared at Woochan and then removed the arm that was clutching his neck like a wild animal.

“…Let go of me and then we can talk. And no, I didn’t go to an audition. I don’t have any intention of joining another band.”

“You’re good with words. Fuck, then where were you and who were you with until this hour?”

“Ha, I just ran into someone I owed a favor to and talked for a bit. We had some drinks, and he gave me a ride home…. He must have been an Alpha.”

It was all true, albeit with slightly vague wording. Seeing Woochan’s uncharacteristic anxiety, Haseong softened and answered as honestly as he could within reasonable limits.

Continuing the argument would only deprive him of sleep and make him feel uncomfortable. It was better to tell him quickly and send him on his way.

“I don’t know anything about pheromones. I have to be able to sense something to know.”

“What kind of favor did you owe him that you were drinking and talking until this hour?”

“There was this person who saw our performance and became a fan…. He told me to keep up the good work. It was nice to see him again, and I was grateful.”

“…Oh, you idiot. Is that a favor? Aside from everything else, you went drinking with him until this hour just because he said he’s a fan? You could really get fucked doing that.”

Woochan’s momentum had definitely subsided. Haseong rubbed the back of his sore neck and grumbled.

“How could I get fucked? He’s not a female fan, and he’s much older than me.”

“What? An older male Alpha?”

“…He’s not that much older. He said he was just thirty.”

“Huh. …Well, if that’s the case.”

Woochan clicked his tongue, assuming Yehan must have been drunk to unknowingly release his pheromones, judging by his drinking habits. Haseong was about to ask why Woochan had marked him with his pheromones but stopped himself.

If pheromones leaked out so easily, to the point of being accidentally released while drunk, it was possible that Woochan, who was practically glued to his side every day, could have done the same unconsciously.

‘But he didn’t drink, did he?’

He had found it strange that Yehan hadn’t touched his drink even though he had offered him one. Haseong briefly felt puzzled but quickly dismissed the thought. If Woochan could accidentally mark him with his pheromones, Yehan could too.

Honestly, he was too tired to think about it anymore. Perhaps because of the comfortable ride home in Yehan’s cradle-like passenger seat, sleepiness washed over him. Haseong waved his hand dismissively.

“All your questions answered? I really need to sleep now, so you should go.”

“Where am I supposed to go at this hour? I’ll crash at your place tonight.”

“…I have to leave early in the morning.”

“Who doesn’t know that? You go ahead and leave. I’ll sleep.”

Woochan retorted with his usual rudeness and strode up the stairs attached to the outer wall of the building, the only access to Haseong’s rooftop apartment. Haseong stared blankly at his retreating figure, knowing that Woochan wouldn’t listen even if he tried to kick him out, and trudged after him.

Woochan, having arrived at the door first, retrieved the key from under the perilla leaf pot with a familiar gesture. He glanced at the pot and chuckled.

“Hey, when are those perilla leaves ever going to grow? Every time I think about taking some, they’re tiny.”

“They’ll grow. Don’t insult my perilla leaves.”

That jerk. Haseong pouted and turned on the living room light. Since the living room served as his bedroom, kitchen, and everything else, the single fluorescent light quickly illuminated the small space. He leaned his instrument against the wall near the entrance and went straight to the bathroom.

When he came out after a quick wash, Woochan was sitting cross-legged at a low table, slurping instant noodles. He should at least be grateful that Woochan had laid out the blankets for both of them.

Haseong glared at him disapprovingly and flopped down on the blanket. Composing music was out of the question with Woochan there. He might as well get some sleep. Noticing this, Woochan slurped up the noodles, his mouth full, and asked,

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I said I need to sleep.”

“Then can I play with that fretless while you’re sleeping?”

“No way!”

Haseong shot up from the blanket. He quickly grabbed the dark brown bass guitar that Woochan had gestured towards and pulled it close, almost hugging it.

This unique bass guitar, without frets, was by far the most precious and valuable instrument Haseong owned. Not only was it expensive, but it also held memories of the older brother from church who had taught him to play bass when he was young.

He wanted to hug it and sleep with it so Woochan couldn’t touch it, but it was too big. He placed it by his pillow instead, earning a blatant click of the tongue from Woochan.

“Shit, you scared me. Such a fuss. Are you still treating that like a sacred relic?”

“I just finished setting it up the other day. Don’t touch it.”

“Hey, instruments need to be played often to produce good sound. If you just keep it enshrined like that, it’ll rust.”

“I play and maintain it at home often, so you don’t have to worry. I use it sometimes when I practice acoustic…”

The fretless bass, with its smooth tone, was often useful for playing mellow songs at home.

He rarely used it for the band, which primarily played fast-paced rock music. The tone didn’t fit, it was difficult to play fast passages on, and hard to maintain accurate intonation. He was also afraid of damaging the old instrument by overusing it.

And Woochan, who knew this better than anyone, immediately countered.

“You never bring it to the practice room or on stage, though. Haven’t you been babying that thing for over ten years now? Sell it or use it already.”

Haseong shuddered as if he had heard something repulsive and hugged the bass tightly.

“Are you crazy? I’ll never sell it.”

“Why, is the debt of gratitude to your teacher so great that you can’t sell it? You could pay several months’ rent if you sold it. Your stubbornness is a talent, you know.”

“…….”

It was all true. He had idolized that church brother, whose face and name he could barely remember anymore, and couldn’t bear to part with the instrument he had been given.

While it was Woochan who had suggested he try playing the bass, it was entirely thanks to that older brother that Haseong had developed an interest and continued learning.

When he played the bass, that brother looked like the coolest person in the world. So, beyond mere admiration, Haseong had wanted to be like him and had persistently begged him to teach him how to play.

It must have been due to that brother’s exceptionally kind nature that he hadn’t turned away a nameless kid and had readily agreed to teach him. Although they parted ways after less than three months, he remained one of the few good people in Haseong’s memory. As such, he had not the slightest intention of selling the bass.

But in Woochan’s eyes, who knew Haseong’s circumstances all too well, it must have seemed like stubborn attachment. Haseong sighed, anticipating more unpleasant remarks. But then, unexpectedly,

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. I won’t even lay a finger on it, so go back to sleep.”

Woochan raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. Relieved, Haseong burrowed back under the blanket and added quietly,

“…I’ll know if you touch it or not. If the sound is off when I play it, I’ll know right away.”

“You’re so scary with your threats. Should I cry and beg for mercy?”

Why did that hyung never speak nicely…? He wouldn’t be so annoying if he actually cried. He peeked out from under the blanket and saw that Woochan, having lost interest, had returned to his noodles.

“Stop staring. I’m going to finish this and go to sleep.”

“…Why did you really come here today, Hyung?”

“Because you don’t listen to a damn thing I say. From now on, do exactly as I say. If you don’t want to die.”

He raised a fist and pretended to punch Haseong’s forehead. Haseong closed his heavy eyelids without replying.

‘I wonder if he got home alright.’

Just before falling asleep, Haseong suddenly thought of the man who always responded to him in a gentle and kind tone, a stark contrast to Woochan.

It was already his routine to hand over his shift to the dawn part-timer with half-closed eyes, but today, he was particularly unable to wake up. The cause was, of course, last night’s drinking, the ensuing argument that lasted until dawn, and Woochan, who had turned the fan towards himself and fallen asleep.

His old, air conditioner-less house was already cramped with two bass guitars and a master keyboard for composing, and without the fan, it was unbearable. After a mere three hours of restless sleep, he woke up drenched in sweat, even though it was only early summer.

‘That hyung is a nuisance to the very end.’

Haseong patted his messy hair, which stuck up like a bird’s nest, and yawned widely. After the morning rush hour, there were no customers. The morning sunlight was warm, the air-conditioned interior was cool, and he felt overwhelmingly sleepy.

It was 10:30 a.m. Deliveries were due at 11:00, so it seemed likely to remain this quiet until then. Fortunately, the convenience store where Haseong worked allowed him to sit in the chair behind the counter when there were no customers.

He settled into the chair, glancing at the entrance that showed no signs of opening, and before he knew it, his head was resting on the counter.

When he abruptly lifted his head,

“…Would you look at this?”

The store manager stood before the counter, arms crossed, glaring alternately at the neatly stacked delivery boxes and Haseong.

“Falling asleep on the job?”

As expected, a reprimand followed immediately. Haseong sprang to his feet and bowed deeply, assuming a proper posture.

“I apologize.”

“I thought you were diligent, despite looking like a delinquent….”

“…….”

“No more chairs for you from now on. I’ll tell the night shift guy to remove the chair when he leaves.”

“Yes, I apologize.”

It was harsh, but entirely his fault, so Haseong couldn’t complain and focused on organizing the deliveries.

The store manager sat in the chair behind the counter, watching him hawk-eyed until he had finished unpacking and arranging the boxes. He then checked if Haseong had followed the first-in, first-out system before finally putting the chair in the storage room and leaving the convenience store.

Haseong heated up a leftover lunch box and ate it standing behind the counter. As he listlessly chewed the tasteless rice, resentment and anger towards Woochan welled up.

If Woochan hadn’t come over and caused a scene last night, he wouldn’t have slept so poorly, and he wouldn’t have fallen asleep and gotten scolded. Moreover, the thought of working eight hours without a chair made him despair. It was practically torture to stand still for eight hours, especially in a job that didn’t require constant movement.

‘Should I quit and go back to the logistics center?’

Physically, it was more demanding, but the loading and unloading work paid better. The problem was that summer was approaching, and they didn’t have air conditioning in the warehouse….

Haseong quickly dismissed the thought, remembering the guy who had collapsed from the heat at the warehouse and had cried about losing a day’s wage to hospital bills.

“Sigh, this is frustrating….”

He scrolled through the job postings on the part-time job site, but there was nothing appealing. Haseong snapped his chopsticks in two, lost in thought.

Should he just endure it and keep working here? Maybe standing for eight hours would become bearable once he got used to it. Besides, it was incredibly difficult to find part-time work with such long daily shifts. If he showed consistent diligence for a month, the store manager might allow him to use the chair again….

He was sighing deeply as he scrolled through the half-hearted job postings that simply said “hourly wage negotiable” when a message popped up.

[Bleach Boss: Haseong, can you talk?]

It was the middle of the weekday, a week without auditions, and Hyeongseok was texting him. Hoping it might be about another performance opportunity, Haseong quickly called him back, holding his phone respectfully with both hands as if Hyeongseok was standing right in front of him.

“Yes, Boss. I can talk now.”

—Oh, that was fast. What are you doing?

“I’m at work.”

—At the convenience store, right?

“Yes.”

Hyeongseok sounded sleepy. It seemed unusual for him to contact Haseong right after waking up, so Haseong swallowed nervously.

“Did something happen…?”

—Oh, it’s nothing much.

Hyeongseok cleared his throat mid-sentence. The few seconds of silence made Haseong’s lips dry. Then, in a more composed tone, Hyeongseok continued,

—Do you want to work at our place? I’ll work with you on the hours and pay.

“Excuse me?”

—You know about the summer event we’re having at the club, right?

Haseong reluctantly confirmed, remembering the advertisements plastered all over the club’s hallway. Hyeongseok, saying it would be faster if he assumed Haseong knew, brightened up.

—We’ve been getting more customers with summer coming up, and Miyeon and I can’t handle everything with the event preparations and running the place. So, what do you say?

Was this a dream? Was this why he had disappeared last time, saying he was busy? While Haseong was still dumbfounded, Hyeongseok rattled off the working conditions.

Mondays and Tuesdays off. Five hours a day for the remaining days. Mandatory participation in Sunday afternoon cleaning, which included cigarette butt pickup in front of the building and warehouse organization. In exchange for five days a week under these conditions, Hyeongseok offered to match Haseong’s current convenience store salary.

He even said that on weekends when the band had gigs or other commitments, Haseong only needed to work one of the two days, and as a perk, he would get to perform on stage twice a month.

Honestly, even without considering night shift allowances or weekly holiday pay, these were incredibly favorable terms.

“I’ll do it! When should I start?”

Afraid the opportunity might disappear if he didn’t answer immediately, Haseong practically shouted into the phone. Hyeongseok, already generous with the offer, even allowed Haseong to start after he quit his current job. Haseong repeatedly expressed his gratitude to the absent Hyeongseok.

After hanging up, Haseong slapped his cheeks. A job offer out of the blue, just when he was looking for a new part-time job? And with such good conditions? He was still in disbelief, having never experienced such good fortune in his life.

After all, Haseong was usually the type to crack his head open even if he fell forward. Perhaps it was because he was born without any advantages, be it family or connections. He had never experienced things smoothly working out for him.

And yet, a part-time job offer perfectly suited to his situation had fallen into his lap.

‘Is my luck finally turning around?’

The frustration from lack of sleep and Woochan’s antics vanished without a trace. Haseong grinned throughout the remainder of his shift, buoyed by hope.

When it was time to leave, the store manager returned for the shift change. Haseong immediately put on an apologetic expression and informed him of his intention to resign due to personal reasons.

The store manager, perhaps still displeased with Haseong’s earlier dozing off, simply nodded without much comment. They agreed that Haseong would work until the end of the month. As he left the convenience store, he felt light as air, his steps towards the practice room lighter than they had been in a long time.

Working at Hyeongseok’s live club was beneficial not only for him but also for the band. Guaranteed weekend performances without auditions. Even twice a month was a precious opportunity.

Hyeongseok’s club was one of the largest and most well-known in the Hongdae area, drawing a considerable crowd every weekend. Auditions were tough, but if a band gained popularity at Hyeongseok’s, they could quickly rise to fame.

Of course, improving their skills was the priority if they wanted to gain popularity.

‘But at least we’ve been consistently meeting at the practice room these days.’

Things were certainly better than a month ago, when he was alone in the empty practice room, idly strumming his bass. His bandmates must have been discouraged by the lack of opportunities despite their hard work. If he told them this news, they might regain their former passion.

And if he worked at Hyeongseok’s club, perhaps he might even see Yehan again….

‘No. That’s not right.’

Haseong shook his head, realizing his thoughts had strayed. At a time when he should be concerned about the band’s future and his livelihood, he was fantasizing about seeing a celebrity.

He had even felt a flicker of excitement at the thought, which meant that Yehan’s gesture of illuminating his path that night had left a strong impression.

He reminded himself to focus on more serious and constructive matters, but Yehan lingered in his mind all the way to the practice room, especially his honeyed voice saying he hoped for continued coincidences.

If he started working at the club, they would probably meet again, and if that happened, their relationship might….

‘It’s hard to imagine us becoming close.’

One thing was certain, though: despite feeling slightly overwhelmed, he wasn’t averse to it. Not to Go Yehan as a person, nor to the idea of becoming close enough to address him casually. Even though he was sometimes taken aback by Yehan’s strange analogies and unusual expressions, he was an interesting, grateful, and good person.

Reliving last night’s memory, which made his toes tingle, Haseong opened the door to the musty-smelling basement practice room.

All the members, including Woochan, were there. Seeing them sprawled on the floor like corpses, glued to their phones, dampened his hopeful spirit, but he forced a cheerful tone and announced,

“I’m going to work at Bleach.”

The band members, who hadn’t even looked up when he entered, finally turned their attention to him.

“Suddenly?”

“They said they’re short-staffed for the summer. The conditions are good.”

“You have to work nights there. What about practice?”

“I’m quitting the convenience store, so we can just move practice earlier and finish before 8:00 p.m.”

As soon as Haseong voiced his carefully considered solution, a firm command came back.

“No. Don’t do it.”

It was Woochan, finding fault again. Haseong strode angrily towards him.

“Why?”

“Move practice time because of you? Don’t we have schedules too?”

No, you don’t.

Haseong scoffed, knowing full well that all three of them were unemployed, disguised as students on leave. Woochan continued, unfazed by Haseong’s rebellious attitude,

“Don’t try to do things on your own. Are you the leader? Who are you to decide to change the practice time?”

“It’s not an unreasonable request. And if I work there, the boss said he’ll let us perform on stage twice a month. Without auditions.”

“We don’t need it. I don’t like that place. They’re too stuck-up.”

“Are you going to pay my living expenses? Why do you have to control everything?”

Haseong’s voice finally rose. But Woochan simply sneered as if a puppy was barking at him.

“Just stick to your convenience store job. You won’t starve to death with that, will you?”

“I already said I’m quitting.”

“Then find another one. Not at a live club.”

“No. Why should I?”

“Ugh, you’re so stubborn….”

Woochan shot to his feet, looking ready to throw a punch. Youngjun and Juwon, who had been watching the whole time, finally spoke up as the situation escalated.

“Hey, hey, stop it. Are you going to hit him?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t sound like a bad deal. Honestly, it’s a win-win for us, isn’t it?”

“Just leave him alone. I think you’re overreacting, Woochan.”

It seemed that even to them, Woochan’s reaction was excessive. Or perhaps the offer of performing on stage once a month was too tempting to resist.

As his friends chided him for his overreaction, Woochan, who had been acting like a dictator, finally backed down.

“…Fine, whatever.”

It was a grudging consent to something Haseong hadn’t even asked for.

The part-time job, which had begun with a confrontation with Woochan, turned out to be more enjoyable and suited to Haseong than he had expected.

His main duties included cleaning, collecting entrance fees, serving, and occasionally helping with instrument setup for the bands during performances. None of it was difficult. Cleaning, calculations, and serving were tasks he had done countless times in his previous part-time jobs, and instrument setup was no different.

Moreover, unlike other employers who acted like the world was ending if their part-timers took a break, Hyeongseok, the owner, was a rare type who even offered them canned beer, telling them to drink while they worked if there was nothing to do.

Of course, since the club also served alcohol, there were occasionally customers who caused trouble when drunk. But this happened less frequently than encountering homeless people downing a bottle of soju in broad daylight and loitering near the convenience store counter, causing a scene.

The alcohol served at the live club was mostly low-proof beer or cocktails, and most customers came for the music rather than the drinks, which likely contributed to the calmer atmosphere. Miyeon, his coworker, described the job like this:

“It’s not easy to find a job this cushy.”

“I agree.”

Haseong wholeheartedly agreed. It had only been a week, but the place was already paradise to him.

“And there’s one more perk to this job.”

“What is it?”

Haseong was diligently wiping tables, touched by Hyeongseok’s promise of a beef dinner as a welcome party and celebration after the major cleaning, when Miyeon, having finished her share of tables, approached him and slammed her fist on the table he was cleaning. As if to emphasize the importance of her next words, she said,

“You get to see Go Yehan sometimes.”

“Ah.”

“You know Go Yehan, right? It’s a secret, but actually, that actor is the boss’s…”

“Cousin, right?”

It was a secret, indeed. If word got out that they were cousins, the live club would be overrun with Yehan’s fans, making business impossible. Immediately understanding the need for secrecy, Haseong replied knowingly, causing Miyeon to look surprised.

“Huh? How did you know?”

“I just… I saw him here once before. He’s… really handsome.”

The last words slipped out unintentionally. Perhaps the shock of seeing Yehan in person still lingered. Embarrassed, he touched his neck, and Miyeon nodded vigorously like a broken nutcracker.

“Right? Go Yehan was the first celebrity I’ve seen in person, and wow, I almost fainted. He was glowing.”

Miyeon stretched both arms out to the sides, gesturing as if radiance was emanating from her. Haseong understood that her reaction wasn’t an exaggeration, having experienced the same magic that transformed a dirty back alley into a runway.

“I saw that glow too.”

“Right? Even a guy can see he’s handsome, right?”

“Of course. Anyone, regardless of gender or secondary gender, would agree he’s handsome.”

“Ha, but how can he be the boss’s cousin? Genetics are truly mysterious.”

“Well, the boss is also…”

Feeling bad for Hyeongseok, who had suddenly become the target of their criticism, Haseong tried to compliment his appearance, but failed miserably.

Hyeongseok, with his unremarkable features, average height, and slightly chubby build, bore no resemblance to Yehan except for his seemingly kind personality.

“They say they’re paternal cousins, so the boss must have inherited some of Go Hyunwook’s genes. But why…?”

Miyeon tilted her head, voicing her bewilderment, when a deep, melodious voice interrupted. Haseong felt a shiver run down his spine and turned around sharply. Standing there, twirling car keys, was the man who had been inexplicably on his mind for the past few days.

“Haseong, this is our third encounter. Isn’t this fate?”

“Ac, I mean, Yehan Hyung.”

“Wow, you’re calling me Hyung? I’m delighted.”

Remembering Yehan’s insistence on being called Hyung before they parted that night, Haseong forced out the term, and Yehan’s face lit up with visible pleasure. The bright smile, as if embodying joy itself, flustered Haseong, and he averted his gaze.

But Yehan, undeterred, strode closer and brought his incredibly handsome face close without warning.

“How have you been?”

Miyeon, next to Haseong, nodded absently, as if in a trance. Yehan greeted her kindly, “Oh, hello Miyeon,” before turning back to Haseong with an expectant nod. Instinctively understanding the prompt, Haseong quickly replied,

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“I haven’t been well. I’ve been wondering when I’d run into you again, like a coincidence. I was getting anxious.”

“…….”

Having not seen him for a few weeks, he had forgotten. That this man’s words and actions were highly prone to misunderstanding.

Haseong knew it stemmed from Yehan’s fan sentiment. A fan towards a member of his favorite band. A nationally acclaimed actor towards the bassist of a nameless indie band in the small Hongdae scene….

“Haseong.”

His wandering thoughts were interrupted by Yehan snapping his fingers right in front of his face. He held out his phone.

“I wanted to ask if you got home safe that night, but I realized I didn’t have your number. Will you tell me?”

Feeling half-hypnotized, Haseong obediently took the phone and entered his number. Yehan immediately pressed the call button, calling Haseong’s phone.

“This is my number. You can contact me anytime.”

“Are you sure it’s okay to give me your personal number…?”

“It’s fine. You can spread it online as Go Yehan’s number. Then I’ll just get a new one and tell you again.”

“I would never do such a thing!”

“I know. That’s why I’m giving it to you.”

He winked playfully and then lifted his cigarette case towards Hyeongseok. At Hyeongseok’s dismissive wave, he led Haseong out the back door and immediately took out a cigarette, placing it between his lips.

He exhaled a puff of grayish-white smoke that diffused like vapor. Haseong, mesmerized, watched the scene unfold like a photoshoot.

Unlike his delicate features, the arms revealed beneath his short-sleeved shirt were muscular, with prominent veins. He then frowned slightly, as if something was bothering him. The way he held the cigarette between his lips and fiddled with the strap of his wristwatch looked like a scene from a noir film. Despite his sporty attire, it created the illusion of him being impeccably dressed in a suit.

Haseong, for the first time in his life, felt his confidence in his appearance plummet. He even began to entertain the rational suspicion that his recent break-up was because his ex-girlfriend’s rose-tinted glasses had shattered after watching a movie starring Yehan right before their split.

Oblivious to Haseong’s inner turmoil, Yehan smiled gently.

“How is working here? Isn’t it difficult having to work late?”

Haseong shook his head without hesitation. As Yehan said, he usually worked until midnight or one or two in the morning, but perhaps because the pressure of waking up early was gone, it felt manageable.

“It’s great. I’ve never had such a good part-time job. Finishing late isn’t a big deal.”

“Really? That’s a relief. I was worried because you seemed to be struggling with your part-time job back then.”

As soon as he heard Yehan’s words, a premonition flashed through Haseong’s mind. He had thought the timing was incredibly fortunate, but could it be…?

“…Did I get this job because…?”

“I just suggested to Hyeongseok that he should contact you since he needed another person.”

“…….”

As expected. He felt foolish for having been genuinely happy, even for a moment, thinking it was purely a stroke of luck and coincidence. Now that he thought about it, Hyeongseok had contacted him the day after he had talked about his part-time job with Yehan. It was strange that he hadn’t realized it sooner.

“It was convenient for Hyeongseok because he didn’t have to post a job ad, and it was good for you because you found a better job. It’s a win-win.”

“Ah….”

“I didn’t do much. Hyeongseok already liked you, so he must have contacted you right away.”

“Still, thank you so much. I don’t know how I can repay this kindness….”

Haseong fidgeted, repeatedly expressing his gratitude. Whether Hyeongseok had a favorable impression of him or not, he wouldn’t have this comfortable position if Yehan hadn’t subtly intervened. Yehan had created the opportunity, one way or another.

While he felt genuinely grateful, he also felt a sense of helplessness about how to repay this kindness. Could he possibly do anything for someone who seemed to have everything? Shouldn’t he at least treat him to a meal? Or a gift?

Lost in thought, he felt a grip on his shoulders and was forcibly pulled upright. Yehan, having finished his cigarette, stood before him, his expression unreadable, holding Haseong’s shoulders. With an unfamiliarly serious face, he broke the cigarette in half and said,

“Everything is good, but Haseong, you should break the habit of bowing so readily.”

Haseong flinched at the pointed remark, and Yehan continued in an even more serious tone,

“Being so subservient over trivial matters makes you look down on by others. Especially since you’re… like this personality-wise.”

What did he mean by “like this personality-wise?” It didn’t sound like a compliment, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask, seeing Yehan’s serious expression for the first time.

“…I’m worried about you.”

The hair that had been tickling his eyelashes was swept back by a gentle hand. He frowned as his forehead tickled, and Yehan, as if the serious expression had been a lie, returned to his usual demeanor. He unhesitatingly ruffled Haseong’s hair as if petting a puppy.

He glanced at the piercing dangling from Haseong’s ear, frowning slightly, before removing his hand. The hand then naturally landed on Haseong’s wrist, pulling him towards the building as he asked a seemingly pointless question, “Why did you get a piercing?”

Haseong was too busy answering Yehan’s question to register that he was being led by the wrist.

“The band leader gave it to me as a birthday present. It felt wrong not to wear it, so… huh?”

As they approached the hall where Hyeongseok and Miyeon were, murmurs of conversation drifted towards them. It couldn’t be customers already, especially on a weekend afternoon, and the voice sounded familiar. Haseong’s eyes widened.

“You came to see your bandmate working part-time because you were worried? How thoughtful.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

It was a familiar, and therefore unwelcome, voice. They hadn’t spoken since their argument about the live club job, so there was no reason to welcome him. He wished he could slip away unnoticed, but Yehan abruptly opened the back door, making that impossible.

The loud clang of the old metal door drew everyone’s attention. Hyeongseok, who had been in the middle of a lively conversation, was the first to react.

“That’s right, dude. Band unity! Unity is the most important… Oh, you’re here?”

“…….”

As expected, a man with bleached blonde hair and a delinquent air stood there, his posture as slanted as his expression, staring at Haseong. His gaze slowly shifted to Haseong’s wrist, held firmly by another man, and then up to the man’s face.

“…Go Yehan?”

Woochan’s eyes widened, his lips twisting into a grimace. In contrast, Yehan’s lips curved into a wide, almost euphoric smile.

“Yes, hello. I’m Go Yehan.”

Haseong had expected Woochan’s reaction to encountering a celebrity in person to be either extreme subservience or disdain. He would either try to curry favor, hoping for some benefit, or sneer behind his back, mocking the celebrity’s fame.

He had assumed Yehan would fall into the former category and that Woochan would immediately change his attitude upon recognizing him. However, Woochan’s displeased expression remained unchanged.

“…….”

“…….”

Even after Yehan’s greeting, Woochan simply stared at him, his gaze hostile. Yehan, in turn, calmly observed Woochan with an intrigued expression, offering no further words. He seemed to have no intention of waiting for a response to his greeting.

Haseong looked back and forth between the silent pair and then discreetly tried to pull his wrist free. Perhaps he had become accustomed to Yehan’s constant touching, as he only now felt the urge to pull away.

As he twisted his wrist, Yehan’s grip loosened. Their eyes met as Yehan turned his head, a knowing smile spreading across his lips as he released Haseong’s wrist. Before Haseong could feel any sense of relief, Yehan took his hand, this time openly.

His habit of not being able to leave hands alone had resurfaced. It was a case of out of the frying pan, into the fire. Woochan stared intently at their intertwined hands as if they were a squashed insect.

Still, neither of them spoke. Only Haseong and Hyeongseok exchanged awkward glances, communicating their bewilderment through their eyes. ‘What are they doing?’, ‘I don’t know.’ After this silent exchange, Hyeongseok finally stepped forward and introduced Woochan, pointing at him.

“This is Kim Woochan, the leader of Haseong’s band. He’s the vocalist and rhythm guitarist… right?”

“Yes.”

It was a question directed at Woochan, but since he showed no signs of answering, Haseong replied instead.

‘Why is he acting like this?’

Aside from his rudeness towards a stranger, Haseong was embarrassed by Woochan’s blatant disregard for even Hyeongseok, whom he usually relied on.

While Woochan wasn’t always polite and agreeable, his behavior today was particularly excessive. The glare he directed at Yehan was as if he were looking at someone who had swindled him out of all his possessions.

The perceptive Yehan couldn’t have missed Woochan’s uniquely hostile attitude towards him, but he simply maintained eye contact with Woochan, nodding a few times, as if finally understanding after Hyeongseok’s introduction.

“Aha, him.”

Yehan narrowed his eyes, saying only that. Only after Woochan voiced his confusion, “Him?” did Yehan continue,

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a little about you from Haseong.”

“Haseong?”

“Yes. You’re the hyung who’s in a band with Haseong, right?”

“How do you know Haseong?”

“Oh, Haseong didn’t tell you?”

As he spoke, a strong arm wrapped around Haseong’s neck, pulling him close. Haseong, caught off guard, stumbled and buried his face in Yehan’s chest. Flustered by the embrace, Haseong looked up at Yehan with wide, shaking eyes, just as Yehan said,

“I’m Haseong’s fan. I fell in love at first sight watching him play the bass.”

Crazy.

“What the fuck…”

The same word echoing in Haseong’s mind escaped Woochan’s lips. Glancing sideways, he saw Miyeon clutching her flushed cheeks, her feet fidgeting. Haseong bit his tongue to suppress a rising hiccup.

Why couldn’t he just say he became a fan because Haseong played the bass well? But Yehan’s unbelievable words didn’t end there.

“And we keep running into each other. This must be fate. Don’t you think so, Haseong?”

“Uh… yes… I guess it could be… or maybe not… it’s strange…”

“Why are you rambling?”

Because your words and actions are extremely problematic.

If he was genuinely asking, this man was a natural-born entertainer. And if he knew what he was doing, he was still a natural. While Haseong stammered, unable to voice his honest thoughts, a loud shout suddenly pierced the air.

“Hey, Yoon Haseong! Come here. Let’s go.”

Woochan glared, snarling fiercely. His unspoken threat – ‘If you don’t come out right now, you’ll regret it’ – was clear. However, Haseong couldn’t follow Woochan because he was about to enjoy a beef dinner.

Moreover, the resentment that had been building up over the past few weeks hadn’t yet dissipated. While they used to make up after fights, lately, their conflicts only resulted in accumulated bitterness, with no sign of resolution. This was especially true as Woochan’s interference in his personal life increased.

Just recalling Woochan’s excessive meddling made him feel disgusted. And the way he was ignored… While he used to be treated like a stray piece of tissue in the practice room, recently, he had been treated like disposable waste, shoved into the trash can where he wouldn’t be seen.

Because of Woochan’s behavior, the other members’ attitudes had also changed noticeably. The tendency to subtly mimic Woochan’s, the frontman and leader’s, treatment of Haseong had permeated the band. As a result, Haseong had become the band’s scapegoat.

Haseong’s compositions, which they would have at least pretended to listen to before, were now dismissed, and if Woochan wasn’t around, practice turned into a playtime, with members even bringing their girlfriends to the practice room, letting them sit on their laps.

When he was dating, this would have been unthinkable because of Woochan’s strict rule against bringing girlfriends to the practice room, punishable by band disbandment. But somewhere along the line, the other members had become exceptions. Or perhaps the rule had only applied to him from the beginning.

Whatever the reason, his displeasure remained. Haseong sharpened his tone and retorted,

“I haven’t finished cleaning yet. And I can’t go. We have a dinner party today.”

Woochan’s sarcastic remark, “Dinner party? I thought you were just a part-timer? You’re going to everything now,” made his stomach churn. He regretted not just calling it a welcome party. As Haseong stood there speechless,

“Hey, the way you talk when you’re supposed to be worried about your dongsaeng. It’s Haseong’s welcome party. You should wait and have some beef with us.”

For the first time, he resented Hyeongseok’s good-natured personality. How could he suggest they eat together when things were so awkward between them? He might as well choke on that delicious beef.

Hoping Woochan would have the decency to decline, Haseong stared at him expectantly. However, Woochan simply nodded without a word. Haseong barely suppressed the words rising in his throat: ‘You’re not even a part-timer or anything…’.

“Alright. Let’s finish up, everyone!”

Hyeongseok clapped his hands. Haseong, glaring at Woochan, reluctantly gathered the dirty rags and put them in the basket. Miyeon quickly rinsed the mop and returned, neatly placing it upside down.

Hyeongseok and Yehan said they would bring their cars, which were parked in a nearby empty lot. Watching them act as if it were already decided, without even asking each other if they would go together, Haseong belatedly realized that Yehan was also joining the dinner.

Considering Hyeongseok’s generosity in offering expensive beef even to Woochan, it was only natural that he would extend the invitation to his cousin.

“Go Yehan is coming too!”

Miyeon, having also realized, jumped up and down. She declared that she needed to get autographs for her friends and dashed to the counter for paper and a pen, saying she had already gotten autographs for her family a long time ago. Shortly after, a shout of “Dude, no way!” from the hallway indicated she was calling her friend.

With everyone dispersed, Haseong and Woochan were left alone in the hall. Woochan, seemingly intent on joining them, remained stubbornly in place.

Haseong diligently hung up the rags, expecting Woochan to eventually leave out of pride. But when Woochan didn’t budge, he finally tossed the basket aside and asked irritably,

“…Are you really coming with us?”

“Why? Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“Why are you coming? Even though they offered, it’s…”

“Who cares if they’re offering? But what’s with Go Yehan? He’s so annoying. That bastard, acting all high and mighty because he’s a celebrity.”

“Why are you suddenly cursing at Yehan Hyung?”

Annoyed, Haseong’s voice rose without him realizing it.

How could he call someone six years older than him a bastard when they had just met, and what was so annoying about someone who had politely greeted him first? The truly annoying one was Woochan, shamelessly inviting himself to the dinner.

“What kind of hyung are you? Does he have no conscience? Hey, Yoon Haseong. Was that fan you were drinking with that day Go Yehan too? Huh?”

Woochan started his interrogation again, poking Haseong’s head. Haseong, who wouldn’t have answered even if he had asked nicely, lost his remaining patience with this approach. He swatted Woochan’s hand away like a fly and snapped,

“Stop, stop poking my head.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll become even more stupid? Just answer me.”

“What do you care?”

“This little…”

Woochan clenched his fist and cocked his elbow back. Haseong simply observed, neither backing away nor showing fear.

He knew that while Woochan usually shoved and hit him casually, when he assumed this posture, it was just to intimidate him, and he would at most hit his shoulder. He knew where the punch would land, so he just had to dodge it.

Honestly, if he got into a physical fight with Woochan, who was similar in build, he wouldn’t win, but he would put up a good fight. The reason he didn’t fight back was simple. He knew things would become irrevocably damaged if it escalated to a physical altercation.

This was the hyung who had wordlessly taken him in when he had run away to the playground to escape his father’s drunken rage. This was the hyung who had appeared out of nowhere and shared his collected pebbles when Haseong had been sitting alone in the schoolyard, building a pebble tower, while all his friends were at cram schools.

Woochan had taken him to church, and his interest in music had stemmed from the old rock songs Woochan had introduced him to. Since none of his peers listened to foreign rock music back then, Haseong had naturally become closer to Woochan, who shared his interest.

Even though Woochan had changed and their relationship had soured…. Haseong clung to the memory of the old Woochan, allowing himself to be dragged along until now.

‘You’re too sentimental for your own good.’

His ex-girlfriend’s parting words echoed in his mind, leaving a bitter taste, but he couldn’t change his nature.

His mother, who had longed for a stable family and had gone through repeated divorces and remarriages, had abandoned him as soon as he became an adult. With his sister also gone, Woochan was the only person who hadn’t left him.

A wave of emotions washed over Haseong as he reminisced, sighing deeply. The mischievous hyung of his past was now standing before him, his face red with anger, fist raised. Just as Haseong braced himself, gauging the trajectory of the incoming punch,

“What are you doing?”

“Aaack!”

The expected punch stopped mid-air, replaced by Woochan’s pained scream.

Over Woochan’s shoulder, Haseong saw Yehan, his arm outstretched, gripping Woochan’s fist as if to crush it. He was holding it so tightly that the flesh around his grip was white, bulging between his fingers.

“Even if it’s a joke between friends, you shouldn’t raise your hand so carelessly.”

“Fuck, let go!”

Woochan’s chest heaved. He struggled and thrashed, but Yehan didn’t budge. The smile that usually played on his lips now seemed like a mocking sneer.

“Such a small head, where is there even to hit? Don’t you think?”

Yehan tapped his temple, tilting his head. He seemed to have misunderstood, thinking Woochan was trying to hit his head.

But Haseong didn’t bother correcting him. He simply bowed his head slightly in gratitude, remembering Yehan’s advice not to bow so readily.

“I wasn’t going to hit him! Damn it, are you going to let go or not?”

“Whether you were going to hit him or not isn’t the point. The fact that you raised your hand with the intent to hit is…. Whatever. Are you alright, Haseong?”

Haseong nodded silently. Yehan slowly scanned Haseong from head to toe, checking his condition, before abruptly releasing Woochan’s arm as if tossing it away.

Woochan, thrown off balance, swayed like an inflatable tube man in front of a butcher shop before steadying himself by placing his hand on a table. His eyes blazed with fury, but Yehan didn’t even glance at him.

“Hyeongseok and Miyeon left already, so you come with me, Haseong.”

Yehan addressed Haseong directly, his gaze fixed on him. He turned his back on Woochan as if he didn’t exist, then finally glanced in his direction, his eyes narrowing slightly as he muttered to himself,

“…Oh, right, there was another one.”

His reaction was like someone who realized a week later that they had lost their almost-empty lighter. He seemed utterly indifferent, admitting he had completely forgotten about Woochan’s presence.

“What should we do? I brought my two-seater today.”

“…….”

“I’m sorry. I should have told Hyeongseok to take you. But I can’t leave Haseong, the guest of honor, behind.”

He trailed off, running his large hand over his jaw. The corners of his lips, visible between his white fingers, were firmly pressed together in feigned distress, but he didn’t look particularly sorry.

Yehan took out his wallet from his back pocket. Two yellow bills were then thrust into Woochan’s hand.

“Do you want to take a taxi? Or buy something to eat on your way? You must be hungry.”

At the condescending remark, the two bills in Woochan’s hand crumpled beyond recognition.

💜

“I don’t think anything would change even if I contacted her, and I didn’t want to burden her….”

…Was this a matter of intelligence?

Yehan barely managed to suppress his true feelings, seeing Haseong casually express concern for his ex-girlfriend after having cried over the break-up just moments ago. If it weren’t for Haseong’s flushed cheeks, rosy from the alcohol, which tempted him, he would have stormed out of there. He had never met anyone so contrary to their appearance.

Haseong had eyes that were slightly small and sharply slanted without double eyelids. The corners of his eyes weren’t upturned, nor were they completely downcast, and his firmly set lips gave him a blunt impression.

Judging by his casual attire, piercings, and expressionless yet striking face, anyone would mistake him for a social media influencer with tens of thousands of followers or an idol trainee. His aura and features didn’t scream “ordinary person.”

Therefore, some might assume, as is often the case with handsome men, that he would be arrogant and entitled, but….

“Yes, I start work at 7:00 a.m., and it’s already…”

With a face like that, he worked the morning shift at a convenience store. Unbelievable.

Yehan clicked his tongue, this time out of genuine astonishment. This was a guy who could receive dozens of business cards from host bars and clubs eager to recruit him, yet he diligently went to work at a convenience store every morning, earning minimum wage to make ends meet.

Instead of auditioning for idol agencies, he endured all sorts of mistreatment in a talentless, unknown indie band. Far from being entitled, he cried and rolled around with trash bags after being dumped by his girlfriend….

‘It is a matter of intelligence.’

This guy, who should be shouting from the rooftops that everyone in this band except him is trash, is not only being gaslighted but is also having his ass targeted by the very person doing the gaslighting. It confirmed that he really was an idiot.

The lingering pheromones were so faint that even Yehan had only just detected the scent of another Alpha today. Judging by the weak concentration, the other Alpha must have been practically a Beta, a pathetically low-ranking one at that. Yehan had marked him as a bit of a joke, finding the other Alpha’s presumptuous marking amusing.