CRT Ch 9

Seok Ryu sat by the fountain, putting cleansing drops in his eyes. With incidents piling up over the past couple of days, he had skipped the cleansing, and the color of his irises had grown cloudy.

He patrolled the officetel, scouting for potential followers. He planned to hand them all over to Yejun once Yoon Inoh left. Yoon Inoh had promised to contact him after leaving, but the phone Yejun lent him remained silent. The masters likely had much to discuss about their guardian stones—perhaps comparing whose was superior or venting unspoken grievances.

While looking for a place to organize the candidates noted in his notebook, he stumbled upon the movie theater. He figured watching Yejun’s dramas and films to analyze their strengths and weaknesses could be helpful. Why did people call Yejun’s acting bland? Why did everything he starred in flop? Seok Ryu had earned good reviews from clients by compensating for his half-baked abilities in such ways.

As he entered the theater, the roar of a monster echoed loudly. On the giant screen, a massive robot and beast clashed, destroying a cityscape. The dim auditorium could seat about a hundred people.

In a seat by the aisle, he saw the back of someone monopolizing the theater. Whether engrossed in the film or dozing off, the person’s upper body was tilted awkwardly. Seok Ryu considered asking them to leave for causing a disturbance but decided to find another spot instead. Yejun had urged him to avoid conflicts with residents for the time being.

As he moved, the man suddenly turned his head. Despite the angle, his gaze locked onto Seok Ryu with precision. When the screen’s light revealed the man’s face, Seok Ryu froze.

Cha Yilhyun, too, stiffened upon spotting Seok Ryu. He straightened up and paused the movie with a remote.

“So the new resident is you, Seok Ryu.”

Seok Ryu frowned instinctively. Every encounter with Cha Yilhyun triggered strange physical reactions, making his body tense up automatically. Cha Yilhyun wore a navy sweater and light jeans, an outfit that felt ominously casual, as if he had just stepped out of his home. Seok Ryu had heard only officetel residents could use the theater—could it be…?

Wait, with the contract still unapproved, getting caught for moving in without permission was the last thing they needed. He deeply regretted coming to the theater.

At that moment, the phone in his pocket rang. The screen displayed the name “Freak.” When Seok Ryu answered, Yejun’s frantic voice came through.

—The CEO lives here! If you get caught, we’re in big trouble, so be careful!

“Understood.”

Seok Ryu shut his eyes tightly. If Yejun knew he had already been caught by Cha Yilhyun, he might faint, so Seok Ryu decided to explain later. When he hung up, Cha Yilhyun was staring intently at the phone in his hand. A defense slipped out involuntarily.

“It’s not mine.”

Cha Yilhyun raised his eyebrows gently and asked, “Here to watch a movie?”

“Yes.”

This could be a good opportunity. If he could stall for three or four hours, the effects would reset, so he decided to pass the time watching a movie. If Director Kwak’s warning to brace himself was any indication, the garnet’s effect was their only hope.

As Seok Ryu approached, Cha Yilhyun cleared his belongings from the adjacent seat to make room. Now, even such gestures seemed suspicious. Seok Ryu pointedly sat across the aisle, keeping Cha Yilhyun at a distance.

Cha Yilhyun stared at him before abruptly turning off the movie.

“What movie did you come to watch?”

“The Man I Met in the Forest and Screams of a Summer Night.”

Both were films where Yejun had supporting roles.

“I don’t know them, so they must have flopped.”

“You don’t know every movie in the world, do you? There are gems even in the mud.”

“Shall we see if it’s a gem in the mud or a pearl on a pig’s neck?”

Cha Yilhyun leaned back, reaching for a laptop connected to the projector.

“They’re low-budget films, so they’ll be hard to find.”

Seok Ryu’s voice grew strained. He belatedly realized his mistake. Audience reviews were filled with more insults aimed at Yejun than criticism of the films themselves. With the contract already on hold, this would only cost them more points.

Unable to find the films, Cha Yilhyun placed the laptop on his lap and began searching in earnest. The theater, once filled with the monster’s roars, now echoed only with the sound of typing.

“Is your body okay?”

The unexpected question caught Seok Ryu off guard, and he missed the chance to respond. Cha Yilhyun was likely referring to Seok Ryu’s outburst the previous day. Today, there was no sensation of his heart pounding or throat constricting. Instead, the theater, which had seemed empty moments ago, now felt oppressively full, weighing on his chest.

After a pause, Cha Yilhyun added, “If you’re going to be a manager, take care of your health. HR will contact you soon.”

“Aren’t you going to sign Yejun?”

Seok Ryu shot back before Cha Yilhyun could respond.

“If it’s because of Yejun’s reputation, that’s just people’s lack of discernment. Some act like MSG, while others act organically.”

“I don’t know about that, but your friend is too bland.”

“His name is Park Yejun. Even among talented people, an ordinary person can shine sometimes, right? There are plenty of actors who grow on you the more you watch.”

“I watched twice, and he was just okay. The third time wasn’t great either.”

His tone was relaxed, but his gaze was resolute.

“Then tell me specifically what was just okay.”

Seok Ryu pulled out his notebook and pen, ready to take notes. In the long run, it wouldn’t hurt to help Yejun find direction as an actor. Cha Yilhyun spoke.

“When you meet someone, you get a sense of whether they’re a gem or a pebble. I didn’t feel any charm worth investing in your friend.”

“What kind of sense makes you judge someone as a gem?”

Cha Yilhyun’s dark eyes slid from the laptop to Seok Ryu. He draped one arm over the seat’s backrest and turned toward him. His hair fell along the slope of his nose.

“You can’t stop staring. Even when you close your eyes, every detail stays vivid.”

He murmured, “Songhyul is a vessel too grand for your friend.”

Yejun’s absence was a blessing. Seok Ryu couldn’t fathom how much pain Yejun had endured from such harsh words. Perhaps that’s why he clung to a pebble that merely mimicked humanity.

“You think the world is easy, but I’m betting my life on this!!”

Seok Ryu had never seen Yejun’s world as easy. He had to hustle harder than others to compensate for his half-baked abilities, risking his life just as much. Those in a position to choose could never understand the misery of being unchosen, even if they woke from death. Seok Ryu closed his wine-colored notebook and looked at Cha Yilhyun.

“Then put my resume on hold too. If Yejun’s contract falls through, I have no reason to work here.”

He hated to think about it, but it was a precaution. Cha Yilhyun’s gaze, fixed on the laptop, snapped to Seok Ryu. For the first time that day, his expression wavered.

“You’re not going to be a manager?”

“I’m only doing this to go out with Yejun.”

“Stay at Songhyul, and let your friend go to another company.”

“I wanted to join Songhyul because Yejun wanted Songhyul. If you keep rejecting Yejun, I have no reason to stay.”

“I’ve never rejected you, Seok Ryu.”

“No, rejecting Yejun is the same as rejecting me.”

“Why? You’re you, and your friend is your friend.”

Seok Ryu knew Cha Yilhyun’s thought process was unique, but he hadn’t expected such stubbornness. He understood why Director Kwak had been exasperated. Sighing softly, Seok Ryu explained patiently, matching Cha Yilhyun’s level.

“I have no reason to exist without Yejun. I’m his accessory, a buy-one-get-one.”

Cha Yilhyun stared at Seok Ryu, murmuring softly, “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

At that moment, Cha Yilhyun’s phone rang. He frowned, grabbing his phone and car keys from the seat. Seok Ryu instinctively stood and grabbed his arm.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to meet someone.”

“Where? How long will it take? When will you be back?”

Just a little longer, and the effects would reset—he couldn’t let him go now. If he failed this time, they’d be out on the streets for sure. As Seok Ryu bombarded him with questions, Cha Yilhyun raised his eyebrows gently.

“A writer is furious with Songhyul. I’ll be back once I calm them down.”

Seok Ryu had thought he treated the company like a playground, but now he seemed like a solid businessman. A resolute entrepreneur was far more helpful to Yejun than a spineless figurehead.

Though Cha Yilhyun opposed Yejun now, another chance to persuade him would come, so there was no need to rush. Seok Ryu released his grip on Cha Yilhyun’s arm.

“Come back quickly.”

Looking at the handprint on his shirt, Cha Yilhyun’s lips curved faintly. He ruffled Seok Ryu’s hair and cheek before leaving the theater. It happened so fast that Seok Ryu had no time to swat his hand away or feel disgusted. He stood frozen until the door closed and the light vanished completely.

Seok Ryu collapsed into a seat, brushing off the lingering sensation in his hair. After staring blankly at the screen’s light, he picked up Cha Yilhyun’s forgotten laptop. Just in case, he should research other companies. Though unlikely, if he failed to win over the CEO, they’d have to settle elsewhere.

He found that the only company comparable to Songhyul was Winsplay. It was struggling to catch up now but had once dominated the entertainment industry. Whether it would satisfy Yejun was another question.

At some point, Yejun’s phone had been ringing in his pocket. It seemed Yejun was calling about something urgent again. But the screen showed Director Kwak’s number. Biting his lip, Seok Ryu braced for the inevitable.

With the contract already rejected and their unauthorized move-in exposed, this was expected. Coming to the theater had been a painful mistake. Seok Ryu answered with a heavy heart.

“Yejun can’t take calls right now. If it’s urgent, try again later.”

After a brief pause, Director Kwak spoke.

—Tell him the contract’s approved.

Before Seok Ryu could ask anything, Director Kwak hung up. He stared at the phone in a daze.

💎

“It’s a scapegoat doll, not some guardian angel.”

Inoh’s sharp mockery made Yejun stammer, “It’s just a common side effect—garnets are like that.”

It sounded like Seok Ryu was hated solely because of Yejun. Seok Ryu always insisted there was no need for guilt since that was a guardian stone’s role. Inoh, who had stolen a black pearl’s face, wasn’t in a position to judge. Twirling his hair around his finger, Inoh spoke irritably.

“Seeing Jinguk survive after getting beaten by that jerk, garnets must be sturdy. Sanho gets scratched and bruised just from a slight bump.”

“You didn’t know? Guardian stones don’t feel pain, so it’s fine.”

“I know, you loser. It’s all in the manual—how could I not know?”

Inoh suddenly frowned at Yejun’s clothes.

“Looks like you got a hefty contract fee. Already buying luxury brands?”

“Oh, I got them on installment. There were so many designer stores nearby, so I went to check them out…”

“Well, back in high school, everyone thought you were a rich kid. You had nothing but wore brand clothes. Good job, though. Looking shabby around here would be embarrassing.”

“Yeah, the cliques here are no joke. It’d be nice if you were around to back me up…”

Yejun chuckled, adding, “By the way, Inoh, you were a hardcore Lee Taeon fan since high school. You cried your eyes out when you moved into the same officetel. No plans to come back?”

“What nonsense? When did I?!”

“Come on, you almost got disowned for trying to sell your grandfather’s land to buy Lee Taeon a foreign car. You became an actor because of him…”

Bang———!! Inoh slammed the table, his eyes flashing.

“Say that to Lee Taeon, and I’ll kill you.”

Yejun clamped his mouth shut. Inoh’s constant chanting of Lee Taeon’s name had piqued Yejun’s curiosity, leading him to watch his films and make him his most admired actor. But now that Inoh was on equal footing with Lee Taeon, he seemed ashamed of his former fanboy days.

In any case, Yejun decided not to provoke Inoh, who might demand repayment of the loan if angered. Of course, Yejun had a video of Inoh’s black pearl, and Inoh likely knew that.

Inoh glanced at his phone with irritated eyes. He’d been checking it intermittently, and Yejun glimpsed what looked like a CCTV feed of someone lying in bed—probably Inoh’s black pearl.

Though Inoh claimed he left the officetel to avoid the CEO, it might have been because of his black pearl. Hiding its deteriorating condition from neighbors had its limits. Inoh used to barely leave the house because of it, but today he showed no signs of returning.

Suddenly, Inoh pulled his hand back and snapped, “What are you spying on?! Every time you snoop like that, I want to beat you senseless!”

“Sorry, I just saw it…”

Inoh grabbed his phone and bag, heading for the door. It was Yejun’s home, yet he felt unfairly forced to tiptoe around his guest. But a nobody actor like him crossing an Asian star was suicidal. Yejun rushed to block the door.

“I messed up, so please calm down, okay?”

After much pleading at the door, Inoh finally relented. He stood still for a while before speaking.

“Do you believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“That guardian stones don’t feel pain. Then why does Sanho cry in pain every day? Why does he…?”

Inoh trailed off, looking at Yejun with dejected eyes.

“Are you going to extend his contract?”

“Seok Ryu? I haven’t thought about it. You?”

“I’m… scared of that house.”

Inoh’s dazed face gave an unexpected reply. His smooth, red lips trembled slightly.

“Sanho’s condition keeps worsening. If he doesn’t make it this time, I… time’s running out…!”

The Inoh who once vowed to be the “destined master” of his black pearl now looked stained with fear. Perhaps he hadn’t come for a housewarming but had fled from that house.

“If it’s that urgent, can’t you order another pearl? A healthy one this time…”

“Throw away my face, my name? I’m in a major drama this time! No matter what, I have to do it!”

Would switching pearls change his face too? Yejun couldn’t imagine Inoh abandoning his wealth and fame to live with a different face. Inoh pulled a small card from his pocket and pressed it into Yejun’s hand.

“My apartment’s sub-key. If something happens to me, you have to come. And be careful.”

“Careful of what?”

“Sanho says that Seok Ryu or whatever is a cursed gem. His past masters all met bad ends.”

Yejun had never heard such a thing. He swallowed hard.

“Why? How?”

“Curious? Go to the workshop and find out yourself, loser. How long do I have to spoon-feed you?”

Inoh left without a goodbye.

Yejun collapsed onto the bed. Dealing with Inoh’s tantrum left him too drained to clean up the mess Inoh had made. No wonder people said not to mix money with friendship. Inoh was broke back then—where did he get the money for a black pearl? Did Assemblyman Kim lend it to him?

A box by the wardrobe caught his eye. Inoh’s parting words gnawed at him. He’d been so focused on Seok Ryu’s abilities that he knew little about Seok Ryu himself. Slowly, he got up and pulled a crumpled manual from the box. Leaning against the bed, he opened the first page.

The first page listed information about garnets in a table of contents—precautions for storage, cleaning methods, all things Seok Ryu handled alone. Flipping past the table, a passage caught his eye.

—Persephone’s Seok Ryu—

“A northern lord, ambitious to rule the entire continent, orders his beautiful vassal to seduce the strategist of a captured enemy. But the vassal falls into forbidden love with the strategist and sets him free. Enraged, the lord beheads the vassal and feeds his body to wild beasts. The vassal’s soul, watching his body be devoured, sheds tears of repentance.”

Yejun, breathless from the grim tale, turned to the next page. He flipped quickly through the pages until his hand stopped.

—How to Break the Bonding Ritual—

“Forcibly breaking the bonding ritual causes fatal harm to both master and guardian stone. Use only in emergencies.”

Yejun, unblinking, read on.