CRT Ch 11

“Songhyul people barge in rudely from the start, and now they’re even spying on me? This puzzle was something the CEO carelessly tossed here too. A ten-thousand-piece puzzle—when am I supposed to finish it? I even thought about moving because of it! Though, if I had, I wouldn’t have met you, Seok Ryu…”

Isaac scattered the puzzle pieces he had painstakingly assembled. The puzzle depicted a golden tree with snails dangling from it like ornaments.

Recalling the moment Cha Yilhyun and Director Kwak stormed in the previous day still made Seok Ryu dizzy. Yejun had claimed he got lost visiting Yoon Inoh’s place. Unaware Seok Ryu was inside, Cha Yilhyun’s group lingered outside the door for a while. Seok Ryu wanted to pay respects to Isaac for not opening the door until the end.

Waiting for Cha Yilhyun to leave, Seok Ryu ended up spending the night at Isaac’s apartment.

While Seok Ryu was stuck at Isaac’s, good news came for Yejun. He landed his first-ever commercial, a three-month YouTube ad. It hit home what it meant to generate buzz just by signing with Songhyul.

Since Isaac had a severe aversion to Songhyul, Seok Ryu hadn’t revealed he was from the company. Having missed the timing, he decided to probe deeper into Isaac’s thoughts. Handing Isaac a puzzle piece, Seok Ryu subtly tested the waters.

“So, why are those people bothering you, Isaac?”

“They want the rights to turn my novel into a drama.”

“Oh, you’re a writer.”

When Seok Ryu feigned surprise, Isaac offered a shy smile.

“Wouldn’t it be good if a big company like Songhyul took it on? You’d make money and gain fame…”

“I’ve already earned more money than I could spend in a lifetime, so I’m not greedy.”

Isaac fiddled with the puzzle piece, mumbling.

“I promised a friend we’d make it into a drama together.”

“Your friend…?”

“Oh, my friend works at a drama production company. Heard of Winsplay? When everyone pointed fingers at me for writing commercial novels, he was the only one who supported me. He suggested I write The Lake of the Gods as a novel and even came up with the title. His company’s struggling because of Songhyul, so this time, I really wanted to help.”

Seok Ryu had assumed Isaac rejected Songhyul because Winsplay offered better terms. He hadn’t imagined it was for a friend. Songhyul’s aggressive approach, threatening his close friend’s company, had backfired. Isaac rested his chin on his bony knees.

“My friend’s coming tomorrow to pick up the contract, but part of me wants to run away. If The Lake of the Gods becomes a drama, my literature classmates and alumni will probably hold rituals for it to flop. They’re all sharpening their knives for my next work too.”

At those words, Seok Ryu’s heart stirred.

“You haven’t handed over the contract yet?”

“Yeah, I’ve stamped it, but…”

Everyone assumed Isaac and Winsplay’s contract was finalized. Seok Ryu steadied his voice to hide his excitement.

“I see.”

Isaac continued to share his wounds sporadically. The venomous words from his father, a renowned poet; his confession that he hadn’t written a single line since completing The Lake of the Gods… Strangely, listening to Isaac drew Seok Ryu in. Whether it was self-pity or trivial daily life, he found himself listening intently, and before he knew it, his heart felt at ease. What a peculiar person.

Isaac was like a delicate, pollution-free plant, shrinking at the slightest change. When someone like him faced a test of friendship and loyalty, which would he choose?

Dawn’s light slipped through the blackout curtains. As they worked together to fill the gaps, the ten-thousand-piece puzzle was about half done. Seok Ryu stretched his stiff back.

“Let’s take a break.”

At Seok Ryu’s words, Isaac collapsed onto the living room floor, exhausted.

“It’s really amazing. With you, Seok Ryu, puzzles are fun, and food tastes better! Want to sleep over tonight? We could figure out where that stomping noise is coming from.”

“Next time.”

Isaac thought Seok Ryu was a neighbor from downstairs. With sleepy eyes, he blurted out something unexpected.

“There’s a way to make sure the drama and my new work don’t flop.”

“What’s that?”

At Seok Ryu’s question, Isaac answered with a hollow smile. Crawling like a caterpillar, he rummaged through a drawer, then crawled back, placing a keycard with a keyring on Seok Ryu’s knee. It was the apartment’s door key.

“I’m really sensitive to doorbells and knocks. Next time, just use the key to come in.”

Yawning widely, Isaac fell asleep instantly. His towering frame sprawled out made him look like a giant washed ashore, captured as a prisoner.

In the end, Seok Ryu couldn’t reveal his identity. Yejun would worry, and the morning schedule was tight, so he had to return to the officetel.

He went to Isaac’s bedroom to grab a blanket and pillow. The room, with just a bed, was chilly. As he picked up the blanket, a small frame on the dresser caught his eye—a photo of Isaac and a man, presumably his friend, in graduation gowns and caps.

Next to it was the The Lake of the Gods rights contract, meticulously stamped by Isaac, ready to be handed to Winsplay.

This wasn’t something Seok Ryu could decide alone; he needed to discuss it with Yejun before proceeding. They had until Isaac’s friend came for the contract tomorrow to finalize things.

Calming his trembling heart, Seok Ryu placed the contract back. His gaze fell on a glass bottle filled with pills. Familiar from giving them to past masters daily, he recognized them as sleeping pills, collected diligently in various shapes and colors.

Was this the “way” to ensure the drama and new work wouldn’t flop? If Isaac completed the ritual unscathed, turning The Lake of the Gods into a drama would generate massive buzz.

Seok Ryu covered the sleeping writer with the blanket and left the apartment.

💎

The Songhyul officetel, tinged with dawn, was silent. Arriving at the entrance by subway, Seok Ryu was on the verge of collapse. The exhaustion he felt wasn’t even real, making memories feel like a burden.

As the elevator doors began to close, footsteps echoed. Someone seemed to be rushing to catch it, but Seok Ryu, too drained, couldn’t wait. Just before the doors shut, he glimpsed Lee Taeon through the gap. Seok Ryu frantically pressed the open button. He’d nearly been rude again to the actor Yejun admired.

Lee Taeon boarded without a hint of gratitude, standing with his back to Seok Ryu. Yejun would’ve been thrilled, which made it a pity. In a black cap and hooded sweatshirt, he looked like a burglar.

Seok Ryu pressed the button for Lee Taeon’s floor, information he’d reluctantly learned from Yejun. Lee Taeon’s shoulders stiffened slightly, but he didn’t turn. As the doors closed, silence filled the space with just the two of them.

Seok Ryu had excluded Lee Taeon from persuasion targets. As expected, Yejun wanted to keep him as a respected senior.

Since Yejun had been disappointed about missing an autograph, this was perfect timing. Seok Ryu planned to post Lee Taeon’s signature on SNS. Pulling a notebook and pen from his pocket, he tapped Lee Taeon’s shoulder. Lee Taeon turned just enough to see minimally.

“Could you sign this? Yejun’s a big fan.”

Lee Taeon was notorious not only for his temper but also for being stingy with autographs. A video of him pushing away kids asking for signatures had once drawn public backlash.

He didn’t glance at the notebook. His eyes, reflected in the metal doors, were fixed on Seok Ryu.

“Songhyul actor?”

“No, I’m Park Yejun’s manager.”

Lee Taeon’s lips twisted. Whether it was Seok Ryu’s job or Yejun’s reputation, Seok Ryu couldn’t tell. As they reached the seventh floor and Seok Ryu stepped out, Lee Taeon held the open button and said, “Then be my manager.”

Seok Ryu had heard Lee Taeon’s managers didn’t last six months. He probably planned to use and discard anyone casually. Stepping off, Seok Ryu looked at him.

“If you want to hire me as your manager, get in line.”

Lee Taeon let out a scoff, as if stunned. Seok Ryu turned and walked down the hall. His nape prickled until the elevator doors closed.

Carefully opening the master bedroom door, Seok Ryu saw Yejun fast asleep. A Green Tea and Macchiato script lay by his pillow, and The Lake of the Gods book was stacked on the nightstand. Though outwardly timid, his master was a tenacious survivor. Respecting such a master was only natural.

Muffling his steps, Seok Ryu went to his room, a sparse space with just a blanket and built-in wardrobe. From his suitcase, he pulled out neatly folded clothes to retrieve an old album, recalling the writer’s neglected nails and grabbing clippers too.

A glimpse of Shinbi’s grave peeked through the clothes. Whenever these traces surfaced unexpectedly, Seok Ryu zoned out for a while. Quickly covering the suitcase, he headed to the bathroom. Checking the schedule without a moment to rest, he prepared Yejun’s breakfast. As he brewed coffee, Yejun emerged, looking disheveled.

Hearing why the writer intended to give the rights to Winsplay, Yejun seemed shocked. Just in case, Seok Ryu handed him a written summary of Isaac’s personal stories from the night. Then he broached a topic he’d been mulling over.

“Would it be alright to hand over Writer Isaac to you after the rights fully transfer to Songhyul?”

“Why?”

“I’ll secure the rights as quickly as possible. If a fight between Songhyul and Winsplay begins, it could drag on. The longer the rights issue delays, the more your contribution might fade, making the Biryu role uncertain.”

A shadow suddenly clouded Yejun’s eyes.

“Are you sure the writer’s been persuaded? You thought the CEO was too, and I nearly got kicked out of Songhyul.”

The piercing words left Seok Ryu speechless. Yejun lowered his head, mumbling, “What if the writer refuses to give up the rights and gets mad at Songhyul? I was the one caught outside his place…”

It was natural for Yejun, who’d only tasted setbacks, to be defensive. Cha Yilhyun and Isaac were different. While Cha Yilhyun was naturally kind to everyone, Isaac, a reclusive person, opened up to Seok Ryu. To ease his master’s fears, only tangible results would do, not explanations.

“The writer’s definitely been persuaded. I’ll handle this well, so don’t worry.”

“Whenever you tell me not to worry, something always happens.”

Pouting, Yejun headed to the bathroom.

When Manager Byun texted that he was downstairs, they hurried down. In the elevator, Yejun clung to his script. After morning acting lessons, he had a meeting with the Green Tea and Macchiato producer. Planning to audition for Seunghyun, he intended to persuade the producer.

Yejun flipped through the script frantically.

“It’s not sinking in—I’m going crazy. I’ll definitely bomb…”

“Since Director Kwak will be at the meeting, isn’t it practically confirmed? Ten minutes, tops.”

Even Seok Ryu’s joke couldn’t ease Yejun’s anxiety.

At the officetel entrance, Manager Byun was smoking near the van, looking grim. Yejun’s expression darkened too. Seok Ryu helped Yejun into the backseat and approached Byun.

“Trouble at home?”

“What?”

“Even if there’s trouble, don’t show it in front of Yejun. Stop making him feel on edge.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, punk?! Want to get fired?!”

Tossing his cigarette, Byun grabbed Seok Ryu’s shirt. Yejun rushed over, frantically pulling Byun off. Shoving Seok Ryu’s shirt away, Byun shouted, “Inoh says he’ll take the Seunghyun role!”

The bombshell froze Seok Ryu and Yejun. Byun pounded the car with his fist, calming his anger.

“Heard Director Kwak pushed you for Biryu, and Inoh’s out for blood!”

“H-How did Inoh…?”

“Manager Jang was at the meeting. That jerk’s crushed plenty of newbies like this, damn it!”

Byun scratched his hair, sighing.

“Let’s give up on Seunghyun. Inoh’s face alone will have overseas buyers rushing in—the producer’s eyes will spin. I’m here, and Director Kwak will get you into a better drama, so don’t stress!”

Yejun, pale and dazed, let Seok Ryu help him into the car. He hurriedly called someone, his fingers trembling. When Yoon Inoh answered, Yejun switched to speakerphone.

—Meeting the producer now, so can we talk later?

“Producer?”

—The Green Tea and Macchiato producer. Why?

Pale and stammering, Yejun said, “I-I didn’t say I’d take Biryu. Director Kwak just recommended me!”

—Don’t play innocent. I know you went to the writer’s place. Eyeing what’s mine?

Yejun looked at Seok Ryu, ashen. Cha Yilhyun, Director Kwak, Secretary Yang—so many saw Yejun outside Isaac’s place, so it wasn’t surprising it reached Inoh. Clutching the phone, Yejun’s lips quivered.

“I got lost looking for your place…”

—Bullshit. You’ve been to my place enough times to get lost?

“It’s true! Believe me!”

—Then tell Director Kwak you’re not doing Biryu.

“…”

—Go say you absolutely won’t do it, you clueless worm.

Seok Ryu bit his lip. He’d heard Inoh coveted Biryu but hadn’t realized he was this vicious.

In an instant, fear and servility vanished from Yejun’s face. His ragged breathing steadied. Inoh had triggered something in him.

“Biryu’s not confirmed for you, and you got a much bigger lead role. Why can’t I do it?”

Inoh’s hysterical laughter came through the phone.

—I didn’t leave it open for a bug like you to drool over.

When Yejun didn’t give the answer Inoh wanted, he snorted.

—I’ll show you and your half-baked pebble just how pathetic you are.

Beep——— 

The phone went silent. Inoh had plenty of ways to pressure Yejun. With Cha Yilhyun already a hurdle, Inoh’s interference made Seok Ryu’s mind go blank.

Yejun gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. Normally, he’d try to appease Inoh, but today he seemed unwilling. His reddened eyes turned to Seok Ryu.

“Show them too.”

💎

The producer meeting was canceled. Yejun doggedly attended acting and language classes before returning to the officetel.

Meeting the writer again that afternoon, Isaac greeted Seok Ryu like a long-lost friend. Seok Ryu served a cake he’d bought on the way. Isaac invited him to eat together, but Seok Ryu declined. Seating the writer after his last supper, he said, “Show me your hand.”

Puzzled, Isaac extended his bony hand. Seok Ryu placed it on his knee and clipped his nails. Isaac flinched, then giggled. Seok Ryu smiled back. After tidying the nails, he opened the album for Isaac.

“Pick anything you like.”

“What’s this?”

“Autographs from artists.”

Collected unintentionally from masters Seok Ryu served or their acquaintances, they were renowned literary giants. Isaac, browsing Seok Ryu’s museum, widened his eyes.

“How did you get these autographs… Can I really take something this precious?”

“Shouldn’t you check if they’re real first?”

“You’re giving it to me, so of course it’s real!”

Isaac’s hand hesitated as he flipped through the album.

“Could you keep mine in your album too?”

Those recorded in the album burned with artistic passion until their final moments, enduring each second fiercely, unlike Isaac’s listless evasion.

“No, there’s no space for you.”

At Seok Ryu’s blunt reply, Isaac lowered his head, smiling bitterly.

“You… want me to write again, don’t you? That’s why you clipped my nails?”

Yejun shuddered at the thought of the house with his stepmother and half-sibling. For Seok Ryu, being a corpse in a jewelry shop was better than returning to the workshop. Now was the time to prove his worth to his master. Having stroked his head and given him candy, one task remained. Would Isaac crack and shatter upon learning the truth…?

“Give the rights to Songhyul, on the condition that Park Yejun gets the Biryu role.”

Isaac’s eyes trembled. His fingers curled, then fell limp.

“So it was Songhyul…”

Closing his eyes, Isaac murmured in a suppressed voice, “You know I promised my friend. This novel isn’t just mine.”

“Make up an excuse for your friend. You’re a writer, aren’t you? Hand over the rights, and Songhyul will handle the fight.”

“I can’t betray my friend…”

“Betraying me is the real betrayal.”

Seok Ryu had forgotten that those driven to despair needed more than a flimsy manual. If you’d let go midway, you shouldn’t have held their hand at all. In the end, those who triumph, triumph, and those who crumble, crumble. Locking eyes with Isaac, Seok Ryu seared it into him.

“Even if you die, hand over the rights first.”

Isaac forced a smile, wringing out the last drop.

“I thought we were friends.”

Friends? A scoff escaped Seok Ryu.

“Don’t delude yourself. I listened to you to gather information. I clipped your nails because they were dirty.”

Turning away, Seok Ryu spoke as coldly as possible.

“The one who’d visit daily to keep you company is Park Yejun. Your choice to forsake your friend’s trust and give the rights to Songhyul is solely for Yejun. Don’t misspeak.”

He could now deliver Isaac to Yejun. Isaac was just another slave expended for Yejun, dragged along by the garnet’s power without understanding why—not out of tender feelings like friendship or loyalty.

The loyalty Seok Ryu knew was fierce devotion despite a master’s coldness and suspicion. It was burning until the body incinerated, even when realizing the destined person wasn’t the one.

Isaac pushed the album back, his twig-like knuckles pale.

“I can’t take this…”

“Then throw it away. I was going to anyway.”

His master would worry, so he needed to report back. Walking to the door, Seok Ryu’s senses dulled, unsure what he was stepping on. His hand fumbled with the door lock. Isaac approached, avoiding Seok Ryu’s eyes but forcing the door open. Seok Ryu swallowed the words lingering in his mouth—words he neither needed nor should say.

As the door opened and he stepped out, Seok Ryu froze. Cha Yilhyun stood by the doorbell, hand raised, equally frozen.

Isaac’s face slowly contorted.

“Everyone, leave…”

With bloodshot eyes, he choked out, “Don’t come to my home anymore!!”

Bang———!!!

The jarring vibration dazed Seok Ryu momentarily. Over Cha Yilhyun’s shoulder, he saw flickering lights. Like a moth, he walked toward them.

Boarding the elevator, he pressed the close button repeatedly. Staring at the sluggish doors, a large hand pried them open. Cha Yilhyun stepped in, and Seok Ryu stumbled back. Keeping his distance, Cha Yilhyun leaned against the handrail.

His gaze fixed on Seok Ryu’s left cheek, carrying two textures: the sting of shattered glass or the tickle of a wool brush.

As the doors closed, he asked, “Why were you at the writer’s place?”

Seok Ryu had taken a detour to avoid him, yet here they were. Everything was a mess, so he spat out recklessly, “Can’t you tell? I came to lobby the writer.”

“Why would you?”

“Because I’m desperate. Murder, selling my body—there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

An unfiltered gaze pierced Seok Ryu, eyes seeming angry. Without Cha Yilhyun, Seok Ryu wouldn’t feel such self-loathing for his half-baked abilities. Struggling to hide his incompetence, all he’d done was push a man who thought of death daily to the brink. Hoping to become human by meeting his destined master, he was committing subhuman acts.

Cha Yilhyun’s usually soft, mild lips drew a sharp curve.

“Looks like you sell your body when lobbying, Seok Ryu.”

His words teetered between innocent curiosity and rudeness. Beyond the transparent elevator, the light reflecting off the building’s exterior stung Seok Ryu’s eyes. Everything soared upward, while he alone seemed to plummet.

Ding— The elevator reached the first floor. Cha Yilhyun stepped out, turning back.

“Let’s grab a drink.”

He added, “Something warm will make you feel better.”

Seok Ryu glared, eyes narrowed. Cha Yilhyun’s easy kindness no longer felt foreign, but it now sparked suspicion and caution.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Securing the rights and delivering the Biryu role to Yejun made him glad. He was just slightly tired from not sleeping. The exhaustion wasn’t even real. The one ruining everything was Cha Yilhyun.

“I need a drink. I’m in a foul mood.”

Anger smoldered in his glassy black eyes. Grabbing Seok Ryu’s arm, he dragged him along forcefully.