PTK Ch 7

After finishing his shower, he stepped out into the living room. The act of washing seemed to alleviate some of the lingering hangover. He retrieved a bottle of water from the mini-bar and drank. Only then did the burning thirst subside. Standing in place, he finished the entire bottle and sat down on the sofa. On the table, a half-read newspaper lay open. While waiting for Euihyun, he skimmed through the remaining articles.

It was some time later when he suddenly checked the clock. Even if Euihyun was taking his time washing, he should have been ready by now. Yet, there was no sign of him emerging. Could something be wrong?

Folding the newspaper and setting it aside, he rose from his seat. Passing the neatly made bed, he reached the bathroom door. He knocked lightly on the closed door.

“Euihyun?”

There was no response from inside. He knocked again, but the result was the same. The light switch indicated the bathroom light was on, yet there was no sound of water or any hint of movement. A sense of foreboding crept in.

“I’m coming in.”

With that announcement, he turned the doorknob. The door opened without resistance. The sensor activated, and the light automatically turned on.

The bathroom was empty. The only trace of Euihyun was a damp sink. There was no moisture on the showerhead, in the bathtub, or even on the floor.

He turned back to the bed. Only then did he notice that Euihyun’s coat was gone. Where could he have gone without a word? For a moment, he stood there, dazed. A note placed on the pillow caught Cha Yiljoo’s attention.

I’m sorry. I’m feeling unwell, so I’m heading back first.

Was the hangover that bad? Even so, he could have waited and said something in person. Unless he was too ill to do so. Cha Yiljoo returned to the living room and picked up his phone. He tried calling Euihyun, but the phone was powered off.

Looking back, Euihyun hadn’t seemed well since the shoot. He appeared uncomfortable, as if he’d been under a lot of strain. Cha Yiljoo had thought it was just nerves. He’d dragged a shy person into a shoot against his will and let him drink until he was plastered. Caught up in his own excitement, driven by his own desires. If Euihyun was truly unwell, it was entirely Cha Yiljoo’s fault.

He made another call. The ringtone sounded twice before cutting off. A voice answered, “Yes,” Park Hanyoung’s voice.

“This is Yiljoo. It’s about Euihyun—he’s not picking up.”

— Euihyun? The last I heard from him was that he was heading to your hotel yesterday. Did he go back in the meantime?

“No, he stayed in my room. I was hoping to have breakfast together, but he left suddenly. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”

— Is that so? I’ll head to Euihyun’s place now.

“If you see him, could you ask him to contact me?”

— Yes, got it.

The call ended quickly. After a moment of thought, Cha Yiljoo sent a message and stepped outside.

He didn’t know how he’d made it back or what had driven him. He’d fled on instinct, and by the time he came to his senses, he was already in front of the hotel.

As soon as he entered his room, he stood under the shower. Ice-cold water poured down. He didn’t even think to switch to hot water and let the stream hit him for a while. The more he tried to sort his thoughts, the more tangled they became. Meaningless distractions chained one after another. The moment he acknowledged them, uncertainties turned into certainties, and fleeting emotions became tangible.

How did it come to this? How on earth?

No matter how he mulled it over, no clear answer came. He’d been careful. Ever since his first encounter with Cha Yiljoo, he’d reminded himself constantly that they were not the same kind.

“If you don’t particularly dislike Cha Yiljoo, try getting along with him. If it doesn’t work out, you can deal with it later. Just be careful about one thing.”

Pathetic. That one thing was the hardest. He’d already been burned once, so why was he repeating the same mistake? Was he too foolish to learn?

It hadn’t been a natural meeting from the start. Nor was it special enough to call it fate. The confusion and tension he felt every time he faced Cha Yiljoo, and the growing interest with each encounter—he’d thought it was simply because Cha Yiljoo was a type he’d never dealt with before.

“Euihyun.”

“For some reason, I really want to have a meal with you, Euihyun.”

“I’m drawn to you, Euihyun.”

“Can’t a gentle, kind person want to be friends?”

His feelings had grown unnoticed, betraying Cha Yiljoo’s innocent kindness. He feared he might have unwittingly let those emotions slip.

“I was wondering if it’d be hard to relate to. A man loving another man… I don’t really know if that’s realistically possible.”

“There’ve been guys who’ve made passes at me. Shamelessly.”

“If you express it too convincingly, it might cause an unpleasant misunderstanding.”

There was no chance of his feelings being reciprocated. That had been decided from the beginning. Bad premonitions never miss their mark, so why did he keep pretending not to know? He kept blaming himself.

After a long while, he turned off the water. A long sigh carried a puff of white breath. His body trembled like a leaf, but he barely felt the cold. He peeled off the wet clothes clinging unpleasantly to his skin. His eyes lacked any focus.

He put on a robe and stepped out. Mechanically, he walked toward the bedroom. He intended to collapse as is.

“Euihyun?”

A voice called from behind, and he slowly turned his head. Park Hanyoung stood there, eyes wide with surprise.

“Manager. How…”

“I asked the front desk for a spare key. Are you okay?”

Park Hanyoung examined Euihyun’s face with concern. He looked pale and somehow exhausted. It didn’t seem like a mere hangover.

“Are you sick? Cha Yiljoo called earlier.”

“No, just a bit off from drinking too much.”

He offered a faint smile as an excuse. It didn’t convince Park Hanyoung. Suddenly, his hand touched Euihyun’s forehead, and he exclaimed in shock.

“Euihyun? Why are you so cold?”

“I just showered.”

“No hot water?”

Park Hanyoung immediately looked around for his phone, ready to complain to the hotel. Euihyun hurriedly stopped him.

“I didn’t know how to work it.”

Park Hanyoung didn’t drop his suspicion, scrutinizing Euihyun closely. Euihyun forced a smile. I’m really fine, he said, and Park Hanyoung let out a long sigh.

“Why’s your phone off? You had me worried.”

“Oh, the battery must’ve died. I’m really not sick, so don’t worry.”

“Then I’ll order some warm food. If it’s a cold coming on, I’ll get medicine too. Rest, monitor how you feel, and if it doesn’t improve, we’ll go to the hospital.”

“No, I don’t need medicine. Sorry for worrying you.”

Being sick wasn’t a crime, yet he looked apologetic. Park Hanyoung shook his head and picked up his phone. He ordered room service items suitable for Euihyun.

Meanwhile, Euihyun changed into fresh clothes. He was about to leave his wet hair as is when Park Hanyoung handed him a hairdryer. Reluctantly, he dried his hair obediently.

“What happened yesterday? Two local fashion magazines called this morning. I heard a bit from Manager Han.”

It seemed he was referring to the print ad. For a global brand that only used carefully selected models, they’d taken interest in an Asian man spontaneously cast as a replacement model during a site visit.

It was good news, but it brought back memories Euihyun wanted to forget. The chaotic atmosphere of the shoot, the intense scrutiny, the warmth of Cha Yiljoo’s skin against his, the grip on his thigh. His face and ears suddenly burned.

“It just happened.”

“What do you mean, ‘just happened’? Do you know how big a deal that ad is? Why’s your face like that? Are you running a fever?”

“No, just a bit warm.”

“Warm?”

“Maybe from the cold shower.”

He kept making flimsy excuses, avoiding eye contact. Park Hanyoung narrowed his eyes again. Before he could press further, the bell rang. Room service had arrived. Reluctantly, Park Hanyoung went to open the door. The ordered food was promptly set out.

To avoid awkward questions, Euihyun kept spooning soup into his mouth. Park Hanyoung clicked his tongue while uncovering the dishes.

“They say the best cure for a hangover is soup.”

A hint of genuine regret colored his voice. Euihyun gave a small smile.

When his stomach felt sufficiently warmed, Park Hanyoung checked with Euihyun.

“The CEO suggested delaying our return since interview requests came in. We need to prepare press releases for Korea too. He was thrilled that you caught the attention of the staff and even shot the ad. I think we should follow his advice. Apparently, Cha Yiljoo told Manager Han he’d return with you and asked to coordinate flights.”

“…It’s not confirmed.”

He trailed off. Now that he’d recognized his feelings, he wanted to avoid Cha Yiljoo at all costs. If he hung out with him like before, his carefully suppressed emotions would surely spill over. That couldn’t happen.

“I don’t know how much of Yiljoo’s schedule is left, but I think I should head back first. This isn’t a leisure trip, and I shouldn’t skip training too long.”

“You can train here. Euihyun, local magazine interviews aren’t opportunities that come often. You know that, right?”

“…Yes.”

“If it’s because you’re not feeling well, should we go to the hospital now?”

“No, I’ll be fine with some rest.”

He picked at a hangnail. The irritated skin reddened. Outside of project choices, he’d agreed to leave decisions to the agency. The company wanted to seize this golden opportunity. He couldn’t let his emotions ruin his work.

After some thought, he offered a compromise.

“Can I return right after the interviews?”

Park Hanyoung looked puzzled. But he couldn’t force someone who didn’t want to stay. He assumed the first overseas trip was overwhelming.

“Alright. Travel gets old fast, and being away from home isn’t always great. I’ll schedule the interviews as soon as possible.”

As he wrapped up, Park Hanyoung added, “Oh, and send Yiljoo a text. He said he’s waiting for your call.”

Euihyun’s hand froze briefly. But he nodded, stirring the cooling soup.

In the end, he couldn’t follow through on that request. After a heavy meal, he rested briefly. Unable to sleep, he merely tossed and turned. Late in the afternoon, he went to a salon for clean, polished styling. The interview with the local magazine began at 7 p.m.

Introduce yourself.

Are you also modeling in Korea?

How did you get cast on the spot?

Even in a rush, casting on the spot is a tough call. What about you caught the staff’s attention?

I heard the set was pleased with the results. Are you?

What was your mindset during the shoot?

Any personal goals or values you particularly pursue?

The questions were more in-depth than expected. They didn’t touch on Euihyun’s personal life or his relationship with Cha Yiljoo at all. It was expected, yet somehow surprising.

Euihyun responded calmly throughout. The questions weren’t light, but he didn’t feel tense. His reserved nature seemed to find stability in the serious atmosphere.

The next day’s interview with another magazine followed a similar pattern. By the time all schedules were complete, Simon Kim called. As Park Hanyoung had said, he was ecstatic. Everyone was thrilled about the unexpected fortune, except Euihyun. He’d realized that, in the meticulously staged shoot, he alone had been genuine. Acting couldn’t surpass true feelings. The naive emotions in the photos were only natural, not something to be praised.

During the hectic two days, his phone remained off. It stayed that way until he reached the airport. If he turned it on even briefly, he feared Cha Yiljoo would contact him immediately. Euihyun knew he could neither answer nor reject the call.

Park Hanyoung checked on Euihyun’s condition constantly, assuming his rush to return was due to poor health.

“Euihyun, you sure you don’t want lunch?”

“I’m not hungry. You should eat, Manager.”

“They’ll serve meals on the flight, I guess. You really don’t need medicine?”

It was the same question for the umpteenth time. Euihyun smiled faintly and said, “No.”

Then Park Hanyoung’s phone rang. “One sec,” he said, pulling it out. His expression turned puzzled. As he answered, a name Euihyun couldn’t ignore came up.

“Cha Yiljoo?”

Euihyun shot up. Mumbling about needing the restroom, he hurried away. If he stayed, he’d surely be handed the phone. He couldn’t outright refuse without causing a misunderstanding, like they’d fought. But he couldn’t talk to Cha Yiljoo. That was the one thing he wanted to avoid.

In the restroom, a sigh escaped him. Doubt crept in. How long could he keep avoiding this? When Cha Yiljoo returned to Korea, they’d inevitably meet.

From Cha Yiljoo’s perspective, it must be baffling. Someone who left abruptly claiming illness hadn’t answered for two days, yet managed interviews just fine. Cha Yiljoo hadn’t done anything wrong, and Euihyun knew this wasn’t right, but he felt powerless to change it.

It was a while before he returned. Park Hanyoung, done with the call, looked curious.

“You didn’t contact Yiljoo? He’s worried.”

“I forgot.”

“Send him a message. He just found out we’re leaving soon.”

“Was he… upset?”

“Upset? Not him. He asked if you’re okay, how bad it is. When I said you’re fine, he just said okay. Asked you to call when you’re back in Korea.”

Euihyun nodded silently. He wasn’t sure he could follow through.

He couldn’t sleep on the flight either. He kept fidgeting with the phone in his pocket. Lost in thought, he barely noticed time passing. He didn’t know how he endured the long flight.

His house, empty for days, was frigid. Turning on the light revealed rows of potted plants. Despite watering them thoroughly before leaving, they hadn’t gotten enough sun, and their stems and leaves were wilted. Too drained to tend to them, he touched a few leaves and headed to the bedroom. He sank to the floor.

“…”

He powered on his phone. It buzzed incessantly. There were five unread messages and seven missed calls, all from the same person.

Is he worrying a lot?

After hesitating, he checked the latest message.

Euihyun, are you okay?

His eyes locked onto the short sentence. His exhausted heart began to race unsteadily. The reaction was so clear that denying it felt absurd.

He stared at the phone, then flipped it over. Burying his head in his arms, a long buzz signaled a new message.

🎥

It was a quiet Tuesday evening with few customers. Jang Daewoong wiped already clean glasses, glancing at the clock to gauge the time until opening.

As he set down the last glass, the silent staircase creaked. Jang Daewoong looked toward the door curiously. The outer door opened, and a familiar face appeared beyond the glass. Jang Daewoong’s eyes widened.

“Well, who’s this?”

“Hey, hyung.”

“If I didn’t see you today, I might’ve forgotten your face. Come in.”

Jang Daewoong grabbed a beer Euihyun usually drank. He picked out banana chips from the snack nuts and put them in a separate dish. Taking out a bottle he’d reserved for himself, he sat across from Euihyun.

“It’s been way too long, hasn’t it? Don’t tell me you’re already keeping your distance because you’re getting famous?”

“Sorry. I’ve been out of it for a while.”

“Hey, who’s asking for an apology? I was just curious. How you’re doing, if everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s updating me on you.”

“Nothing special, really.”

“But what’s with your face? You look rough. I thought you’d be all polished by now.”

“I haven’t slept well.”

“What, your company not letting you sleep?”

“No, they treat me better than I deserve.”

“Better than you deserve, huh?”

“Just…”

He trailed off, scraping the condensation off the bottle. Jang Daewoong watched him silently. Euihyun only came to the bar when he had something weighing on him—something he couldn’t tell just anyone. What was it this time?

He almost asked outright but stopped. Euihyun’s tense expression hinted at inner turmoil, making Jang Daewoong hesitate to pry. Instead, he opted for small talk.

“How’s life lately? No news on your next project?”

“I’m training regularly, studying English a bit. I went to the U.S. briefly for the company’s anniversary event. Still thinking about the next project.”

“Getting some buzz, so you’re probably getting offers, huh? That’s great.”

Even with the encouragement, Euihyun only smiled faintly. His lips quickly set, tinged with bitterness.

“Seeing you finally get attention makes me happy. Feels like everyone gets their shot eventually. You should’ve had this sooner, though. Still, I feel a bit bad. You’ve been single for years, and now you probably can’t even think about dating. When all eyes are on you, it’s easy to get caught up. Climbing to the top is hard, but falling happens in a second.”

It was advice born of experience. Euihyun nodded slowly but said, “I’m not at the stage to worry about that.”

“You’re saying you won’t worry about it ever?”

“If I’m going to live that strictly, I might as well join a monastery. My personality’s practically saintly.”

Even the playful jab only got a small laugh. Euihyun was usually reserved, but he seemed especially down.

Just as concern started to build, a buzz sounded. Jang Daewoong’s phone was silent. The bar was still just the two of them. The buzzing continued, but Euihyun didn’t check his phone.

“Sounds like a call.”

“…It’s fine.”

He slipped his hand into his pocket. The buzzing soon stopped. Maybe it was a persistent reporter or a spam call. Jang Daewoong was about to let it go when the buzzing started again.

Euihyun showed no intention of answering. He didn’t even check the caller. His stiff face held an indescribable expression—troubled. This time, Jang Daewoong didn’t ignore it.

“What’s up? Who’s calling?”

“…”

Lips sealed, Euihyun gripped his phone tightly. The persistent buzzing finally stopped after a while. A long, hollow sigh escaped him.

Jang Daewoong narrowed his eyes, observing Euihyun’s unusual behavior. Then, a realization hit. Covering his mouth, he whispered sharply.

“No way. No way!”

He couldn’t even finish. Euihyun’s eyes trembled slightly, like someone dreading confirmation from another.

“Did you get a boyfriend?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then, someone you like?”

“No….”

He couldn’t even deny it to the end and let his words trail off. His gaze, which had been precariously meeting Jang Daewoong’s, dropped to the mouth of the beer bottle. As expected, his inability to lie hasn’t changed, then or now. Jang Daewoong let out a quiet sigh and asked again. His tone had softened considerably.

“What kind of guy is he?”

Euihyun shook his head without answering. He couldn’t bring himself to confess. The moment he spoke it aloud, it felt like the emotions he’d been suppressing would swell uncontrollably. Words had more than enough power to do that.

Euihyun had developed feelings for someone. Even if it was one-sided for now, that in itself was good news. As far as Jang Daewoong knew, Euihyun hadn’t had a partner in years. He hadn’t even harbored a crush. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know loneliness, yet still.

“If you think he’s into guys, confess. What’s there to hesitate about?”

It was rare for Euihyun to feel his heart flutter for someone, so there was no reason to hold back. Jang Daewoong knew Euihyun’s shy personality well, but doing nothing would achieve nothing. Even if he made a bold move, there was no guarantee the guy would reciprocate, so seeing Euihyun look so dejected made Jang Daewoong inexplicably anxious.

“Why? Is he not showing any signs? Euihyun, a guy like you has more than enough of a chance. Does he have his head in the clouds? Or, what, does he already have someone?”

“…He’s straight.”

“What?”

Jang Daewoong’s face was painted with shock. Euihyun couldn’t even lift his head, as if he were a sinner.

To think the person he’d finally fallen for was straight. It was better not to harbor feelings that wouldn’t be returned in the first place. You shouldn’t even look at a tree you can’t climb.

Now Jang Daewoong understood why Euihyun’s expression had been so dark.

“Who is it?”

“…….”

Of course, no answer came.

“Someone I know?”

No matter how persistently he prodded, Euihyun remained stubbornly silent.

That’s when it happened. Euihyun’s phone, which had been quiet, buzzed again. Jang Daewoong, who had been sighing repeatedly, asked in a tone of disbelief.

“You’re getting a call. Why aren’t you picking up?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Is it him?”

This time, Euihyun silently nodded. The vibrations continued, grating on Jang Daewoong’s nerves. Since Euihyun wasn’t forthcoming, Jang Daewoong had no way of knowing who the guy was, how they met, how deep Euihyun’s feelings were, or what made him so sure the guy was straight.

“Is he really straight? If he’s calling you this persistently just because you haven’t been in touch, it doesn’t seem like he’s completely uninterested. Are you sure you’re not just convincing yourself it’s hopeless?”

“I’m certain.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You said it yourself, hyung.”

“Me? When did I….”

Jang Daewoong frowned, genuinely confused, then suddenly his eyes widened. He gasped, swallowing hard, and for a moment, he couldn’t continue. Euihyun’s head drooped even lower.

Still reeling from the shock, Jang Daewoong shouted.

“Cha Yiljoo? How did this happen!”

“…I don’t know myself.”

Falling in love with someone doesn’t always require a dramatic reason or a grand moment. Love begins without warning, without symptoms, and only becomes undeniable when it’s too obvious to hide. Once Euihyun realized it was Cha Yiljoo, all his other doubts dissolved at once. If it was Cha Yiljoo, anyone would fall for him. That made it all the more heartbreaking. Not just because Euihyun’s feelings were unrequited or because the guy was straight—but because it was Cha Yiljoo.

Jang Daewoong took the beer Euihyun had been fidgeting with. Then he placed a new glass in Euihyun’s empty hand. Euihyun quietly accepted the drink handed to him.

“What do you want to do about it?”

“Nothing. Really, nothing.”

Jung Euihyun was someone who was endlessly strict with himself. So he likely knew better than anyone how bleak the situation was. In truth, at a time when he was finally starting to gain some attention, there was no point in getting hung up on something that wouldn’t work out. In cases like this, rather than blindly encouraging him, it was better to help him let go.

“They say it’s darkest under the lamp. The brighter the light, the darker the surroundings become. And Cha Yiljoo? He’s not just a star—he’s the sun. A being that shines on its own. Can someone like that even see what’s around them properly?”

Euihyun nodded readily. Since realizing his feelings, he hadn’t once—not even for a single moment—hoped that Cha Yiljoo would look back at him. He hadn’t even dared to imagine a future with him, not even in his dreams. He wasn’t at an age to blindly chase the beautiful, warm parts of love anymore.

These feelings would become a burden. To Euihyun himself, and to Cha Yiljoo. If that was the case, it was better to discard them. If that wasn’t possible, then to fold them away and hide them from sight.

“Are you going to confess?”

Jang Daewoong cautiously probed Euihyun’s intentions. Euihyun immediately shook his head.

“I’m fine with things as they are. I don’t want him to know.”

If he rashly confessed, even their current relationship would fall apart.

It wasn’t just anyone—it was Euihyun, whose feelings didn’t budge easily. The weight of his emotions right now couldn’t possibly be light. Yet, despite that, he was resolved to let go, and that made Jang Daewoong feel a pang of pity.

“Ugh. Let’s close the bar tonight and drink until we’re cross-eyed.”

Jang Daewoong immediately sent a message to the bar’s members, announcing it was closed for the night. Then, saying, “You, too—grieve until tonight and shake it all off,” he clinked his glass against Euihyun’s. Euihyun gave a faint smile that seemed like it might fade any moment, then took a sip. His insides felt like they were burning.

“Everyone’s going on about love, but it’s really tough. A life where your feelings are fully returned is probably as rare as winning the lottery.”

Jang Daewoong’s lament continued. His mouth felt dry, so he shoved in some banana chips, but they only tasted bitter like chewing on charcoal.

In the middle of it, another call came from Cha Yiljoo. Euihyun didn’t pick up, not even once.

The phone predictably played a message saying the recipient was unavailable. Cha Yiljoo’s brow furrowed. Manager Han, who was on a call with the road manager, glanced over and asked what was wrong. Cha Yiljoo sighed and shook his head.

“The car’s ready. Let’s go.”

Surrounded by security, he stepped outside. The moment the gate opened, flashes erupted from all directions. The arrivals area was packed with entertainment reporters and fans. As Cha Yiljoo’s group moved, a crowd followed their path. Cha Yiljoo waved at the cameras, occasionally bowing slightly, and headed toward the waiting vehicle. A guard closed the door after he climbed into the backseat. With a thud, the chaotic atmosphere was shut out.

Leaning back deeply into the seat, a long sigh escaped him. It was early morning, and the world outside was pitch black. The window reflected not the scenery but Cha Yiljoo’s exhausted face. The crease between his brows remained. No matter how much he thought about it, the questions lingering in his mind wouldn’t fade.

For days, he hadn’t been able to reach Euihyun. From what Park Hanyoung said, nothing had happened to him. Euihyun was avoiding Cha Yiljoo himself. Why, though? He racked his brain, wondering if he’d made some major mistake without realizing it. Maybe Terajima or someone in his group had been rude. Even after considering every possibility, he couldn’t make sense of it. Euihyun was human, so he could be upset. But he wasn’t the type to ignore someone outright without reason.

He worried Euihyun might actually be sick, but that didn’t seem to be the case either. He’d heard that since yesterday, Euihyun had returned to work and was handling his scheduled tasks.

Every time Cha Yiljoo called, Euihyun’s phone was on. If he’d lost it, Park Hanyoung would’ve known. Didn’t he check his missed calls at least once when he woke up or before bed? Cha Yiljoo had left countless messages asking him to call back.

The sudden situation left him frustrated. It would’ve been better if Euihyun had picked up and let out his anger directly. But that guy, of all people, doing that? Cha Yiljoo let out a wry chuckle at his own thought. Should he go to Euihyun’s place? If he wasn’t answering calls, it was doubtful he’d even open the door.

Deep in thought, Cha Yiljoo pulled out his phone again. He tapped the recent call log. Euihyun’s name dominated the list. Without hesitation, he pressed the call button. His expression grew more resolute. Soon, a long dial tone began. It felt like he might pick up, but he didn’t. Would this be another dead end? Just as doubt crept in, the call connected, and someone answered.

— Hello?

But it wasn’t Euihyun. It sounded like a middle-aged man, and the voice was unfamiliar. Cha Yiljoo double-checked the recipient. It was definitely Euihyun’s number.

“Excuse me, isn’t this Jung Euihyun’s phone?”

— Uh, I think so?

“What do you mean, you think so?”

— This is a bar in Itaewon, see? I’m a designated driver. I got a call to come here, but the customer didn’t come out. So I went up to the bar, and there’s no staff around. The customer’s completely out of it, probably drank too much.

“…Is that so.”

— I was about to leave, but the bar’s door was open. I was wondering what to do with him all alone here. If you know him, could you come over? I need to head back soon.

“Then I’ll give you a contact number. Call them and explain the situation—they’ll come pick him up. The person’s name is Park Hanyoung, and the number is….”

Cha Yiljoo pulled the phone from his ear to look up Park Hanyoung’s number. Then, a sudden thought struck him, and he paused.

— Instead of going through all that trouble, why don’t you just call them yourself…

“No. I’ll go myself. Where is it?”

— You’ll come? The address is…

The driver gladly explained the bar’s location. When Cha Yiljoo entered it into the map, the name “Cock Bar” came up. Manager Han, who’d been glancing at Cha Yiljoo during the call, checked and asked.

“Yiljoo, not going home?”

“I have somewhere to stop by. I’ll drive myself to the company.”

Manager Han looked puzzled but nodded, as if to say, “Do what you want.”

There was a lot Cha Yiljoo needed to hear from Euihyun. Why he’d been avoiding his calls, and why he was now carelessly drinking. The crease in Cha Yiljoo’s brow smoothed out. His expression grew noticeably colder.

“Euihyun.”

At the sound of his name, Euihyun turned. There stood Cha Yiljoo, wearing the same gentle smile as always. Euihyun instinctively smiled back before realizing this wasn’t the time. He hurriedly looked for an escape, but no suitable place was in sight. Cha Yiljoo approached with steady steps.

“What are you doing here?”

Even if he had every right to be angry, he asked with a grin. Euihyun couldn’t respond. His mind went blank, and no words came to him.

“Why did you run off like that the other day?”

“I like you.”

He blurted it out and froze. It wasn’t what he meant to say. The words spilled out before he could swallow them. His lips had been sealed, yet they came out anyway. He wondered if he’d misheard, but the voice confessing his aching heart was unmistakably his own.

Was this a dream? His vision held only Cha Yiljoo. The voice didn’t sound direct but felt like a ripple in the air. His perspective was like an audience looking down on both Cha Yiljoo and himself.

“I’ve come to like you, without even realizing it.”

Even knowing it was a dream, he couldn’t control himself. It was clearly his body, but nothing obeyed his will. He thrashed his limbs to wake up. It was exhausting and futile.

Cha Yiljoo, looking at him with concern, gave a small chuckle. He muttered that Euihyun shouldn’t have said something like that. Was it because it was a dream? That faint ripple in the air pierced clearly into his ears. Then Cha Yiljoo looked up, no longer smiling.

“Don’t you have any shame?”

The added remark stabbed his chest like a needle. His entire body froze. There was no reason to feel pain, yet his heart was unbearably crushed.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

Really, I’m sorry.

He repeated it over and over, but his voice didn’t escape, trapped inside again and again. The dark, swelling mass within him finally swallowed Euihyun whole.

“…!”

His eyes shot open. His vision cleared suddenly, accompanied by a faint dizziness. His rapid breathing made his back heave incessantly. Moving slightly, the sweat on his forehead slid down his neck. The awful sensation drew a groan from him.

He’d had a terrible dream. A lucid dream, yet he was powerless. It was fiction, but the emotions were too vivid to shake off. The suffocating heaviness clogging his throat didn’t fade easily. Euihyun wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand and sat up. The arm under his head tingled.

He slowly scanned his surroundings. The clock pointed to 3 a.m. He must’ve been out for quite a while. His alcohol-fogged mind groped for memories.

After returning from the U.S., he’d been suffering alone and sought out Jang Daewoong. He hadn’t planned to spill his feelings. He just thought being with someone—anyone—might quiet the noise in his heart, even briefly, by stopping thoughts of Cha Yiljoo. He was wrong. The dam he thought was fortified crumbled pathetically. Trying to soothe himself with one drink, then two, he’d exceeded his limit again. He couldn’t remember anything after that.

Jang Daewoong, like Euihyun, was passed out on the table, sleeping. He shivered, perhaps cold, and groaned softly. Euihyun quickly took off his coat and draped it over him. He felt heavy, thinking Jang Daewoong had overdrunk because of him. He should get him home now. He vaguely recalled thinking the same before passing out, but he wasn’t sure if he’d called a driver. Checking his call history would clarify, but his phone was nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t in his pockets or on the table. Scanning the floor yielded nothing. His blurry vision didn’t help. He used Jang Daewoong’s phone to call his own number. Luckily, vibrations came from nearby. Following the sound to a nearby table, he paused. A sudden presence was felt from the quiet staircase. A customer at this hour? Euihyun tensed slightly, watching the slowly opening door. Then he froze.

“…!”

For a moment, his heart seemed to stop. He almost wished it had.

Cha Yiljoo, unbelievably, stood beyond the glass door. How… what was happening? His thoughts stalled. His limbs stiffened, unable to move. He forgot to breathe, staring at a reality too vivid for a dream. The moment felt eternal.

He truly couldn’t think. Why, why on earth? His mind churned with endless questions. He wasn’t the only one shocked—Cha Yiljoo stared back, equally stunned. A cold dread stiffened the back of Euihyun’s neck.

Cha Yiljoo broke eye contact first. His gaze slowly shifted sideways. Euihyun followed, seeing the sleeping Jang Daewoong.

“I went to a fashion show I was invited to, and he happened to be there. Probably not long after he came out.”

Jang Daewoong had mentioned meeting Cha Yiljoo once before. He’d praised Cha Yiljoo’s manners, but Euihyun wasn’t sure if Cha Yiljoo had known about Jang Daewoong’s coming out then. At least from what Euihyun had seen, Cha Yiljoo wasn’t someone tolerant of homosexuality. The uneasy reaction now only fueled his anxiety.

“Before,” Cha Yiljoo’s voice snapped Euihyun’s dazed attention back to him.

“I’ve heard about it. That Jang Daewoong runs a bar in Itaewon. That it’s a place only certain kinds of people frequent.”

Cha Yiljoo stared at Euihyun as if demanding an explanation. He had to say something. Otherwise, he’d be gravely misunderstood. Some of it was true, of course. Still, he didn’t want Cha Yiljoo to find out like this.

He desperately wanted to explain, but his mouth wouldn’t move. Should he confess everything now or deny it to the end? He wavered, unable to decide. Some silences imply affirmation. As he hesitated, Cha Yiljoo’s patience ran out.

“That thing with Brett—I was being nosy, wasn’t I?”

Cha Yiljoo didn’t linger in the uncomfortable atmosphere. He turned abruptly and descended the stairs. Euihyun, stunned, chased after him in a panic. No clear excuse came to mind. He just knew he couldn’t let him leave like this. His heart raced wildly, aching in his chest.

“Hey…!”

When he shouted, Cha Yiljoo stopped. But he didn’t turn around. His solid, wall-like back made Euihyun’s heart sink.

What should he say, how, where to begin?

Unable to find the right words, he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and bit his lip in frustration.

“I should’ve sent the manager instead.”

Cha Yiljoo’s voice wasn’t agitated. But it lacked its usual warmth and kindness. It felt like a blade ruthlessly slicing through Euihyun’s lungs. His trembling fist clenched tightly. His throat tightened, but he desperately tried to explain.

“I’ll explain everything, what you just saw, I mean….”

His words tumbled out, unfiltered, in his urgency. It was a mess. He bit his lip in despair.

Cha Yiljoo let out a long sigh and said, “I’m sorry.”

“For showing up like this. You must be shocked, Euihyun. Go back inside.”

His tone was still polite, but that was all. The line he drew was so clear that Euihyun couldn’t muster the courage to hold him back.

Cha Yiljoo got into the car. The moment he started the engine, he left the bar behind. Euihyun stared blankly at the receding taillights.

Heat surged to his throat, face, and ears. At the same time, goosebumps prickled his skin. His legs, barely holding him up, visibly trembled.

A despairing groan erupted from deep within. The ground beneath him seemed to collapse endlessly.

He sat in a bathtub filled with hot water. Even after a long time, his trembling didn’t stop. He didn’t know how he’d gotten home. The steam blurred his vision, his breathing grew short, and his mind slowly fogged. His sense of reality dulled.

But a droplet fell from the ceiling, rippling the water. The memories he’d tried to suppress flooded back. He rubbed his swollen hands over his face. He wiped his mouth repeatedly, swallowing what threatened to burst out. No matter what he did, the cold ache in his chest wouldn’t fade.

It was irreversible. It was all over.

His mind cruelly accepted the brutal conclusion, but stubborn lingering feelings refused to yield. He tried not to think, but his thoughts ran wild, berating and blaming himself for his mistakes.

Cha Yiljoo had been unconditionally kind to him. Thanks to his efforts, what could’ve been a one-off meeting had lasted until now. He’d pulled Euihyun, an unnoticed actor, into the spotlight. And Euihyun had ruined that precious relationship with his own hands. Despite swearing never to fall for a straight man again.

He couldn’t face Cha Yiljoo again. He didn’t know what expression to wear, what to say first—everything felt impossible. Yet he feared being ignored like this. He wanted to properly apologize for avoiding contact and for yesterday.

He knew how people reacted when they learned the truth. Kindness turned to disgust, trust to betrayal. Human faces could be brutally honest in revealing emotions when confronted with unwanted truths.

“….”

He furrowed his brow. A corner of his heart throbbed. Dizziness worsened, and his stomach churned. He’d been in the water too long. He stumbled out of the tub.

Dripping water, he walked to the dining table. His phone, left there, was still off. The company might call, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn it on. He’d resolved to face anything, yet he kept hesitating.

After a long pause, he powered it on. His nerves focused on the activating screen. But, contrary to his fears, the phone stayed silent. What made him think someone might’ve contacted him? A bitter, self-deprecating breath escaped.

Then, a vibration buzzed. The timing was so perfect it startled him. The phone rang relentlessly, urging Euihyun, who was frozen in shock.

He steeled himself again. He couldn’t cowardly run away now. He had a duty to explain, and Cha Yiljoo had a right to an apology. Swallowing hard, he reached for the phone.

But the screen didn’t show “Cha Yiljoo.” An unfamiliar number appeared instead. His tension dissolved. The insistent ringing stopped.

Who was it? As the belated question formed, a short vibration signaled a message. It was from the number that had just called. Not a spam call, then? He was about to check the message when the phone buzzed again. Another call, from a different number this time.

He let it ring without answering. The phone finally quieted after a while. Only then did he notice the missed call log. Over fifty unread messages, more than seventy call attempts—all from unfamiliar numbers. In just a few hours, what did this barrage of contacts mean? Anxiety surged.

Euihyun stared blankly at the unbelievable scene. The vibrations signaling incoming calls continued relentlessly. The phone, just turned on, felt hot. Something told him not to answer these calls rashly. Instinctively, he knew.

Soon, a long text message arrived. This time, it was from a number already saved in his phone. Euihyun quickly checked the contents.

「This is Yoo Soonyoung from StarNews. We did an interview at a hotel before—do you remember? If you have some time, I’d like to have another conversation. We want to feature an in-depth interview with Jung Euihyun in our special section. If this goes through, we’ll conduct interviews on different topics over the course of Yiljoo’s days, and the content will be distributed across various portal sites. That’s our plan for now, but if you have any specific requests, we’ll adjust accordingly. Please contact me when you see this. Day or night, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be waiting for your call.」

Euihyun remembered Yoo Soonyoung. But reading the message, he wasn’t entirely sure if this was the same person he knew. He wondered if it was sent to the wrong person by mistake. However, the name mentioned repeatedly was unmistakably his own.

He stood there, dazed by the ongoing incomprehensible situation. Meanwhile, his phone’s vibrations showed no sign of stopping. Was he caught in some bizarre dream?

It was a while later when a familiar name appeared on the screen. The moment he saw the three characters ‘Kim Jihee,’ he tapped the call button.

“Reporter.”

— Hey, Actor Jung. Finally picking up? Why have you been so hard to reach?

“I’ve been getting sudden calls from unknown numbers. But what’s this about?”

— I knew it.

“What?”

— What’s that? Actor Jung, you really don’t know what’s going on?

“What do you mean….”

— If you’re at home, turn on your computer first.

“Oh, okay.”

He booted up his laptop. Kim Jihee dropped a hint about the situation.

— Actor Jung, didn’t you shoot an ad in the U.S. recently?

“Oh, that….”

— Your company just sent out a press release about it. There hasn’t been much news lately, so everyone was digging up old dating rumors to stir something up. This was like setting a dry forest ablaze. It’s not just any photoshoot—it’s a global brand ad. And I heard you even did an interview with a local magazine after the shoot. How could this industry not go wild?

Her explanation helped him piece things together. He connected to the internet. There, he saw his name trending in real-time searches. Not only that, but the main entertainment page was dominated by articles with ‘Jung Euihyun’ clearly mentioned.

He clicked on one of the articles. It featured a profile photo from the U.S. shoot, stating, ‘Actor Jung Euihyun was temporarily selected as the model for a world-renowned brand’s advertisement, receiving astonishing praise from discerning industry insiders.’ It also mentioned that he’d conducted interviews with two prominent fashion magazines right after the shoot.

There were countless related articles. Most were similar in content. Some discussed Euihyun by listing his past works, while others highlighted his exclusive contract with TAP Agency.

Even during the shoot, he hadn’t anticipated this level of impact. He hadn’t been specially cast. Circumstances had forced the situation, and he’d just been there, pushed into the job. Yet people were acting as if Euihyun had achieved something monumental. Even seeing and hearing it, he could hardly believe it.

“I don’t know why this is happening so suddenly.”

— That’s how it works here. You get recognized overseas first, and only then do people back home start buzzing. How many national actors, athletes, or singers got their start that way? Oh, I’m so proud and thrilled! You’re just too adorable!

Kim Jihee was as excited as if it were her own success.

— You’ve given a proper slap to those who couldn’t see Jung Euihyun even with their eyes wide open! Times like this, you’ve got to play hard to get. Don’t be an easy guy, okay?

At that point, she was probably clenching her fist. Euihyun gave a faint smile and said, “Thank you.”

“Um, I’m still getting a lot of calls right now.”

— Oh? Got it. You must be swamped, so let’s talk later. Actor Jung, congratulations, really.

Kim Jihee’s voice faded, and the surroundings grew quiet again. His overheated phone left his ear and cheek burning. Euihyun stared blankly at the laptop. The real-time search rankings kept updating, but his name stayed firmly at the top.

Soon, his phone rang again. The calls were relentless, almost frightening in their persistence, as if demanding he answer immediately. Feeling uneasy, he hurriedly turned off the phone. With that, complete silence settled in.

It was strange. He was receiving unprecedented attention, but it didn’t feel entirely good. His heart grew heavy. The anxiety that had been lurking deep inside suddenly seemed to swell.

‘When all eyes are on you, it’s easy to get caught.’

The reason was clear. Someone with a secret they couldn’t share would naturally fear such scrutiny.

‘Climbing to the top is hard, but falling happens in an instant.’

He’d never once worried about his past being exposed or his privacy invaded. The world had granted Euihyun freedom in proportion to its indifference.

At some point, cracks began to form in his peaceful life. It started when Cha Yiljoo appeared. His attention drew others to Euihyun, and now they were watching him for his own sake. Family, relationships, reputation—perhaps even his sexual orientation. Things that had never been an issue in his acting career might now become obstacles.

Crises always come with opportunities. That was an absolute truth in the entertainment industry.

As the source of his fear became clear, his heart pounded wildly. Coming out wasn’t just his own issue. It would cause significant trouble for his company and those around him.

Regret came too late. Why hadn’t he thought more carefully when signing the exclusive contract? He hadn’t meant to deceive anyone. He’d simply been optimistic that it wouldn’t be a problem, now or in the future. It had always been that way.

After much thought, Euihyun stood up. He knelt in front of the home phone, which he rarely used.

His lips dried with nervousness. His heart raced so fiercely it interfered with his breathing. This wasn’t a hasty decision driven by sudden attention. It was something he should’ve said long ago—before signing the contract, before Cha Yiljoo took root in his heart. Disclosing everything and abiding by the company’s decision was the only thing Euihyun could do now.

Steeling himself, he picked up the receiver. His fingertips trembled slightly as he dialed. He entered the personal phone number Park Hanyoung used. A long dial tone soon followed. Before long, a familiar voice said, “Hello.”

“Manager.”

— Oh? Euihyun. I’ve been calling you nonstop, but you didn’t pick up. You must be shocked, huh? Things got noisy all of a sudden.

“A little.”

— I meant to give you a heads-up, but your phone was off, so the press release went out first. Are reporters still contacting you? You must’ve been startled, getting all those calls out of the blue. The company’s been flooded with interview requests, and we’re swamped. We didn’t expect this kind of response…

Cutting off Park Hanyoung’s excited chatter, Euihyun started, “Um.”

— What’s up, Euihyun? Got something to say?

“I want to meet the CEO.”

— The CEO hasn’t come back yet. He was supposed to return in two days, but it seems this thing with you added to his workload. What’s this about?

Park Hanyoung asked without suspicion. Euihyun’s grip on the receiver tightened.

“I have something important to discuss.”

It was late afternoon when Cha Yiljoo entered his apartment. For the first time in a while, he’d worked out, sweating buckets, and cooled his heated body with a swim. He’d also read a book he’d been putting off. For now, he wanted to avoid thinking about anything. He needed time to sort out his tangled thoughts.

But once he got home, there was nothing to do. He’d already showered. He took off his coat and slumped onto the sofa. In that brief moment of leisure, memories he’d tried to ignore resurfaced. Euihyun’s face—marred by shock, embarrassment, despair, and shame—left a vivid afterimage in his mind. He’d looked like he was about to cry.

When Cha Yiljoo arrived at Cock Bar, the designated driver he’d spoken to was gone. Euihyun had regained consciousness. He wore an expression as if he’d seen a ghost. And beside him, Jang Daewoong was asleep. In that moment, an old rumor Cha Yiljoo had heard flashed through his mind.

Recalling it, he roughly ran a hand through his hair. He should’ve turned back when he saw the queer symbol. He shouldn’t have let his doubts solidify into certainty. The more he thought about it, the worse his mood sank.

He found the audio remote and turned it on. Music soon played, filling the silent space. He closed his eyes calmly. But the peace didn’t last long. A sudden doorbell rang.

“….”

He lifted his head slightly, glancing at the noisy phone. Few people would call him. He paused his thoughts briefly, then sat up abruptly. He grabbed the phone and checked the caller. As expected, it wasn’t Euihyun. His thumb hovered over the power button. The phone rang more fiercely, as if begging not to be ignored. Staring at the screen, he let out a quiet sigh. He dragged the call icon. His “What” was laced with clear irritation.

— Yiljoo. What’s going on?

The blunt question came from none other than Simon Kim.

“What.”

— Why is Euihyun, who should be floating on air by now, suddenly requesting a meeting? I was just about to catch some sleep, so why bring up something serious now? Huh? Want to guess what time it is here?

Cha Yiljoo glanced at the desk clock.

“Four, probably.”

— Exactly. And you think Park Hanyoung didn’t know that? Did he really not know the time difference between New York and Seoul is massive, calling me relentlessly until I picked up?

He sounded grumpy, likely because his sleep was interrupted. Cha Yiljoo didn’t respond. Unfazed, Simon Kim kept talking.

— If not, it means the matter’s urgent enough to disturb my sleep. What do you think? Park Hanyoung said Euihyun’s been off since before returning to Korea. He requested the meeting because there’s a reason he can’t continue the contract, and he wants to come clean now. He was hanging out with you in the U.S., right? Did something happen?

“….”

— You’re not saying anything, so you know something, don’t you?

“Why don’t you ask him directly?”

— I’ve been trying to call him dozens of times. His phone’s off, and the home number Park Hanyoung gave me isn’t connecting. What’s this reason he can’t continue the contract? Come on, Yiljoo. You know something.

“Nothing. And he requested a meeting, right? Meet him and find out.”

— Look at this guy. Did the one who was so protective of Euihyun suddenly drop dead?

When Cha Yiljoo stonewalled, Simon Kim openly mocked him. Not backing down, Cha Yiljoo retorted.

“I didn’t sign up to play co-manager when I signed the contract.”

He hung up without hearing Simon Kim’s response. He tossed the phone aside carelessly. As he started to lie back, a thought struck him.

After some hesitation, he picked up the phone again. He scrolled through recent call logs. Even going back days, Euihyun’s name didn’t appear. Cha Yiljoo’s finger lingered over his contact for a long time.

In the darkness, the small screen glowed. Unable to keep the phone off, he’d set it to silent. With the lights off until sunset, the phone flashed like a lamp with every call. It tirelessly emitted light. He lifted his buried head. A familiar caller name caught his eye. He wanted to ignore it, but doing so would only cause unnecessary worry.

Reluctantly, he answered. His “Yes” cracked pathetically.

— Jung Euihyun? Are you okay?

Simon Kim asked, sounding alarmed. Always worrying about others, as usual. Euihyun sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“…Yes.”

— Really? Your voice sounds rough. They said you’ve been out of it for days.

“I’m fine now. Sorry for worrying you.”

— Why apologize for that? It’s not like you wanted to be unwell. But you said you have something important to talk about—that’s kind of scary. What’s going on?

He bit his dry lower lip. He’d prepared himself for this. But was it too cowardly to confess like this, hiding behind a phone? That wouldn’t do.

“I’ll tell you in person.”

— In person? Is it something you can’t say over the phone? I’m still a ways from returning to Korea.

“….”

— Are you feeling pressured? This whole thing was pretty sudden, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry.”

— Stop apologizing for no reason. It doesn’t seem like a light matter, so let’s talk slowly when I’m back in Korea. I’ll adjust my schedule to return as soon as possible.

His words sped up. He was likely pressed for time. A voice saying “Thirty seconds” to a secretary came through clearly. It was time to let the busy man go.

“Then I’ll see you then.”

— Sounds good. Take care of yourself until then.

As Simon Kim wrapped up the call, he suddenly said, “Euihyun.”

“Yes?”

— There’s really nothing going on, right?

He sounded genuinely concerned. Just being asked like that made Euihyun feel supported, like he’d gained an ally. But it also weighed on him just as much.

In the silence, Simon Kim pressed further.

— If you’re an artist, act like one. Complain to your manager, throw a fit sometimes. We’re not paying manager fees for charity.

“…Okay.”

He answered reluctantly. A faint smile, ready to fade, lingered on his lips. He was about to disappoint people who cared for him like this. Guilt took precedence.

The call soon ended. He placed the phone back on the floor. Sleep didn’t seem likely. He buried his head in his arms again. The phone lit up and dimmed repeatedly through the night. No contact came from Cha Yiljoo.

🎥

The next project Cha Yiljoo chose, Guilty, was a courtroom thriller centered on Myungho, a lawyer with a 97% win rate, who takes on the case of Jinyeong, a man detained for inciting his husband’s murder. Throughout the trial, Myungho insists Jinyeong is innocent, yet he can’t shake his own doubts about him. There’s no evidence proving Jinyeong’s guilt. But there’s no evidence proving his innocence either. To protect his reputation and pride as an undefeated lawyer, Myungho presses on with an uncertain battle. Jinyeong, sensing Myungho’s lack of trust, doesn’t cooperate readily. He only offers cryptic remarks, deepening Myungho’s confusion. To make matters worse, an unknown entity threatens Myungho to abandon Jinyeong’s defense, eventually escalating to life-threatening intimidation.

The first shoot began with a scene of Myungho visiting Jinyeong at the detention center. After finishing rehearsals early in the morning, they moved to the main shoot.

Standing in front of a luxury sedan driven by a chauffeur, he looks up at the detention center. The building, resembling a typical public institution, seems to symbolically reflect Jinyeong’s ambiguous guilt or innocence. In the story, this follows a threatening call urging him to abandon the defense. His reluctant gaze conveys complex emotions. A single sigh fully expresses his frustration at being entangled in a troublesome matter.

He irritably musses his hair. Finally, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. A wisp of white smoke curls into the bluish air. Cha Yiljoo grimaces bitterly and stares at the detention center again. His back, the cigarette smoke, and the detention center beyond create a strange harmony.

The director called “Cut” with satisfaction. Cha Yiljoo flicked the ash off his cigarette and handed the butt to the coordinator. He took a water bottle and blanket from them and sat in the director’s chair. He immediately reviewed the footage on the monitor.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?”

The director expressed his approval right away. The staff buzzed with anticipation of an early wrap. But Cha Yiljoo said nothing. His gaze on the monitor was sharp, his expression intensely serious. He slowly scanned his movements and expressions, scrutinizing every detail.

“Should we reshoot?”

“Why? Not happy with it, Cha Yiljoo?”

“Considering a client who’s likely guilty, the threat to drop the case, and public scrutiny… it feels like he’s thinking too much. The emotions seem excessive overall.”

He spoke as if critiquing someone else’s performance, cold and bold. The director, who’d thought it was fine, reviewed the footage from the start. It was rare for an actor to request a reshoot when the director was satisfied, especially over acting rather than appearance.

After three reshoots, the first scene was finally completed. It was nearly noon.

“Yiljoo, what about lunch? Want to eat at the company like usual? The planning team called for you, by the way.”

Manager Han asked while checking the schedule. It wasn’t a question requiring much thought. Yet Cha Yiljoo held off answering, pulling out his phone. He checked something, then replied after a long pause.

“Let’s grab something nearby. I’m tired from not sleeping.”

“Alright, whatever.”

Cha Yiljoo greeted the nearby staff individually and headed to the car. His natural smile and warm tone were no different from usual. Yet Manager Han kept tilting his head. Cha Yiljoo’s pensive look during the shoot and his long pause over a simple question felt off. He hadn’t been in touch with Euihyun, with whom he used to message frequently. He didn’t even ask about Euihyun’s updates, which he used to check often.

Manager Han didn’t pry about what was wrong. He just patted Cha Yiljoo’s shoulder encouragingly.

“Good work.”

🎥

Life quickly returned to routine. The only differences were the occasional glances of recognition from passersby and messages from old acquaintances who’d been out of touch.

He went to the company early for English lessons and followed a tailored workout program around lunch. The company postponed all incoming interview requests until after his meeting. Park Hanyoung sometimes looked curious but didn’t press for details. Despite spending Yiljoo’s days like this, he hadn’t met Simon Kim.

There was no contact from Cha Yiljoo either. Unlike before, he didn’t drop by the company during schedules or run into Euihyun by chance. Euihyun lacked the nerve to reach out first. He only heard from Park Hanyoung that Cha Yiljoo’s next project had started filming.

He wasn’t upset. The sudden distance in their relationship was entirely his own fault, not Cha Yiljoo’s. Besides, starting a new project would naturally shift focus away from external matters.

“…Euihyun?”

His name, called out of nowhere, made him flinch. Snapping back to reality, he met the English instructor’s eyes. He must’ve zoned out at some point.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been distracted since coming back from the U.S. Still jet-lagged?”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not something to apologize for.”

“…Where were we?”

“There’s nothing worse than sitting through something you’re not into. Let’s stop here for today. We’ll cover what we missed tomorrow with extra progress. Rest well and come back tomorrow with some energy.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He bowed his head. The instructor left, and the door closed. Alone, Euihyun sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. It wasn’t jet lag or sleepiness, but he didn’t know why he kept spacing out. It wasn’t just during lessons. A few days ago, he nearly got hurt while working out. Even when he tried to focus, it was fleeting. His mind often went blank before he noticed.

Sighing deeply, he stood up. Since the lesson ended early, he figured he should get some fresh air.

Euihyun headed to the building’s rooftop. When he opened the heavy iron door, a biting wind rushed in. His body instinctively shrank, but his mind felt oddly clear. He inserted coins into the vending machine by the door. Without hesitation, he chose milk. The faint warmth of the freshly dispensed milk was the only comfort in the bitter cold.

Holding the paper cup, he walked toward the railing. Then his steps halted.

“…Oh.”

Sensing his presence, Manager Han, who’d been smoking, turned around. Their eyes met, and he gave a slight nod. Euihyun quickly bowed back.

Lifting his head, he felt a bit conflicted. Leaving or standing beside Manager Han to chat both felt awkward. As he hesitated, Manager Han turned again, eyeing Euihyun. Feeling uneasy just standing there, Euihyun slowly approached. Manager Han shook his cigarette pack, offering it to Euihyun. A couple of cigarettes poked out from the torn opening.

“No, I quit.”

“Oh, right.”

Manager Han seemed to recall a similar moment from before. He tucked the pack away, exhaling a long stream of smoke. Then, as if puzzled, he asked.

“If you’re not here to smoke, why come out? It’s cold.”

“The only vending machine with milk is here.”

Euihyun held up his paper cup. Manager Han’s eyes flicked to check its contents. Turning back to face forward, his lips curved subtly. The cigarette in his mouth hid it from Euihyun’s view.

Seeing Manager Han made Euihyun’s heart pound erratically. Did his presence mean Cha Yiljoo was at the company too? Even if so, it would be for work, not to see Euihyun.

“You don’t seem to have a schedule today.”

“No way, he’s going to be busy from now on. Yiljoo’s shoot started last night. It only wrapped up this morning, so he’s resting for a bit before heading out again later. I’m just here at the company for a quick errand.”

Euihyun let out an “Oh” and nodded. If things hadn’t gone sour with Cha Yiljoo, he would’ve heard all this directly from him. He thought he’d fully resigned himself, but there was no helping the emptiness that crept into his heart. Afraid he’d pry further, he took a big gulp of the milk, which had already gone cold. The milk, supposed to be sweet, didn’t quite taste that way.

Manager Han glanced at Euihyun, who had lowered his head, and brought up something unprompted.

“He said he’s tired from not sleeping. Maybe he was nervous for the first shoot, or something like that.”

“But he filmed it successfully, right?”

“Well.”

The vague reply came back. For some reason, it felt like what Euihyun was curious about didn’t align with the topic Manager Han wanted to discuss.

The conversation paused there for a moment. Manager Han lit another cigarette. If he had nothing to say, he would’ve left, but that didn’t seem to be the case. After smoking enough of the cigarette, he spoke.

“Do you happen to know why Yiljoo’s been acting strange lately?”

“What? What do you mean….”

“He won’t say what’s bothering him, but it seems like he’s got some serious worries. There wasn’t any sign of this before he returned to Korea. If anything, he was unusually upbeat. It’d be quickest to ask him directly, but the timing’s tricky, and he’s particularly sensitive right now. I thought maybe Jung Euihyun might know something.”

“Well, I don’t really….”

Euihyun shook his head. A trace of worry, previously absent, clouded his face. He felt inexplicably downcast. Manager Han awkwardly scratched his head. He hurriedly stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking on the railing.

“It’ll pass. Don’t worry about it.”

He added, “I’ll head down first,” and left. But after a few steps, he turned back. It seemed he’d forgotten something. Rummaging through his pocket, he soon handed Euihyun a few coins.

“Get another drink. That one’s cold.”

He even placed the coins directly in Euihyun’s hand. Euihyun had thought him gruff, but this warm gesture brought a faint smile to his face. However, it didn’t last long.

Euihyun didn’t presume that Cha Yiljoo’s troubles were because of him. As Manager Han said, it could be nerves from his first project in a while. Or perhaps Cha Yiljoo had other concerns unknown to them.

What bothered Euihyun was that Cha Yiljoo was losing sleep over something. As filming continued, his stamina would naturally wane, and Euihyun worried about him struggling with sleep deprivation from the start. It might be meddlesome to worry when he was only hearing news secondhand, but still.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. He slowly scrolled through the old messages he’d exchanged with Cha Yiljoo. When he reached the end, his finger lingered aimlessly near the text input field. But unable to do anything, he shoved the phone deep back into his pocket. Who was he to dare? What right did he have?

The wind grew stronger. Euihyun, as if pushed, descended from the rooftop.

🎥

On his way home, he stopped by the supermarket near his place. He’d remembered the sorry state of his fridge. He picked up some freshly stocked potatoes and carrots first. He chose a pack of curry from the discount section. Heading absentmindedly toward the meat section, Euihyun paused. He stared at his shopping basket. Then he put the curry back and reduced the amount of carrots and potatoes, which were too much for one person.

At the meat section, he ordered beef for soup instead of pork. While waiting for the meat to be packed, he idly scanned the fridge. His eyes landed on meat for hot pot. Naturally, he thought of Cha Yiljoo, who’d once brought heaps of hot pot ingredients. It had been especially tasty and warm since it was a rare treat, but it seemed he wouldn’t be making it anytime soon.

He pushed aside the deepening thoughts and headed to the checkout. There were still things to buy, but he hurriedly paid. He’d meant to stock the fridge, but what he bought didn’t even fill half a bag. The short walk from the supermarket to his home felt unusually long. As he trudged along, he tried to shake off the stagnant thoughts. It wasn’t hard. It would’ve been, if only he hadn’t spotted a sedan like Cha Yiljoo’s.

“…!”

He flinched and stopped. He stared at the sedan parked in front of his building for a long time. He hadn’t memorized the license plate, so he wasn’t sure. But he hadn’t seen that car model around recently, and his heart couldn’t help but race.

He frantically scanned his surroundings. His gaze, searching for Cha Yiljoo, darted chaotically. He checked around the car thoroughly, took a few steps, and scoured the alleys. His heart grew unbearably anxious.

Wandering aimlessly, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. He turned toward home. Maybe. Just maybe. With fragile hope, his steps quickened, turning into a run. By the time he reached his front door, his shoulders and chest were heaving, and his ragged breaths burst out.

“….”

But Cha Yiljoo wasn’t there either. He checked his phone, but there were no new messages.

As expected, it was a mistake. The moment he realized that obvious fact, his body and heart sagged. Like a deflated balloon, all his strength drained, and he couldn’t move a finger. He barely opened the door and stepped inside.

The chilly living room greeted Euihyun. He took off his shoes at the empty entrance. He moved the potted plants on the floor back to their places and organized the groceries. He stored the vegetables in their plastic bags, wiped the milk and water bottles, and put them in the fridge. He opened the laundry detergent and placed it on the case. While at it, he opened the storage to check the number of towels. His gaze, scanning from top to bottom, stopped at the toothbrush holder.

Next to Euihyun’s toothbrush was one that looked almost new. It was Cha Yiljoo’s. It could still be used plenty, but that wasn’t likely to happen. Throwing it away didn’t feel right either. He stared at the ownerless toothbrush for a while before turning away.

He went to the kitchen to prepare an early dinner. A meal for one was always simple. He reheated the bean sprout soup he’d had for breakfast and scooped rice left in the cooker. Kimchi, seaweed, and a few pickled side dishes—always in stock year-round—made up the rest. Even then, there were only three or four dishes.

He took a spoonful of the repeatedly reheated, now bland bean sprout soup. He stuffed his mouth with the dry, overcooked rice. People living alone are often neglectful of themselves. Euihyun was no different. Rather, that was the norm for his life. It might feel awkward and empty now, but he had to return to it.

He’d grown used to letting people go. Every meeting presupposes an eventual parting. The only regret was that this parting stemmed from Euihyun himself.

Facing the empty house, he continued his modest meal. It was the same food as always, but it strangely felt like chewing sand.

Even then, his phone stayed within arm’s reach. It had been ten days already.

🎥

As he performed his third set of barbell rows, a sharp pain shot through both upper arms. His breathing, deliberately deep and steady, became noticeably labored. The harder it got, the louder the trainer counted, boosting Euihyun’s resolve. He lifted the barbell one last time and slowly lowered it. His back felt like it might split in two. His arms trembled as if convulsing.

“Haa… ha….”

Bending forward, sweat dripped from his face. Dizziness made his vision spin. The trainer, watching, handed him a towel.

“Euihyun, got something urgent today?”

“…No.”

“Then why push yourself so hard?”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just worried about you. I know you’re always diligent, and I respect your passion, but overdoing it isn’t good for your body. Bulky, rock-hard muscles don’t suit romance, you know?”

Euihyun gave a faint smile at the playful advice. The trainer ordered extra stretching to relax the strained muscles. By the time he finished the assigned workout, his underwear was soaked.

“Put a hot compress on your shoulders and back when you shower later. Great work today.”

“Thank you.”

The trainer exchanged a bow with Euihyun and left. Instead of heading to the shower, Euihyun lay on the bench press. His limbs were already shaking, but he didn’t care and lifted the equipment. Immense pressure bore down on his arms, armpits, sides, and back. Each time he lifted the fixed barbell, thick veins bulged on his sweaty forehead. A low groan escaped through clenched teeth.

Greedily lifting, he couldn’t bear the weight and set it back down. His wrist nearly bent backward.

“Haa, haa….”

He covered his face with stinging hands. A rush of blood brought heavy dizziness.

He pushed his body to the limit to shake off stray thoughts. In those moments, his mind truly went blank. He often collapsed into sleep from exhaustion. The downside was that pausing even briefly let suppressed worries flood his mind in an instant.

He jolted upright. He didn’t have the strength to move a finger. As he caught his breath, a voice called from above his bowed head.

“Euihyun.”

It was Park Hanyoung. Seeing Euihyun’s state, he launched into a scolding.

“Don’t you know even good things become poison in excess? Look at all that sweat. They say you’ve lost weight lately too.”

Euihyun smiled faintly, wiping sweat repeatedly. Park Hanyoung said, “This isn’t something to laugh about.” He couldn’t handle someone who smiled through a lecture. Losing steam, he shook his head.

“Looks like you’ll have to eat lunch alone today. I’ve got an unexpected meeting to attend. There’s a lunchbox ready in the cafeteria. I’ll check after the meeting, so don’t skip it just because I’m not there, okay?”

Euihyun nodded without a word. Park Hanyoung said, “Nod two more times.” Euihyun obediently complied. Only after securing that firm promise did he leave.

Euihyun meticulously wiped the sweat droplets on the floor and headed to the shower. The water on his body felt refreshing. He washed until he was satisfied and turned off the tap. He dried his hair thoroughly to avoid dampness. Already, everyone he met was worrying about him; catching a cold would only cause more concern. His overly dried, frizzy hair was roughly smoothed down. He pulled on his hoodie and went to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was usually quiet, but today it was especially so. Most staff seemed to have been called to the meeting.

“…!”

Euihyun, entering without suspicion, froze mid-step. He’d spotted an entirely unexpected figure. Someone was eating alone in the empty cafeteria. He recognized him instantly. There was no mistaking it. It was Cha Yiljoo. Sensing his presence, Cha Yiljoo looked up. Their eyes met immediately. Every cell in Euihyun’s body seemed to freeze. His feet felt rooted to the floor. Cha Yiljoo, too, stopped all movement, staring only at Euihyun. In that sudden, dreadful silence, they were thrown together.

The moment felt eternal. In that instant, everything around them seemed to vanish. It was as if only Cha Yiljoo and Euihyun existed in the world. Seeing him after so long was both welcome and painfully not. Euihyun tightly clenched his faintly trembling hand.

He’d desperately wanted to see Cha Yiljoo at least once. But not like this, so abruptly. This way, he couldn’t find any words. He wasn’t mentally prepared.

As he hesitated, time slipped by uselessly. In the end, Cha Yiljoo looked away first. He shifted his gaze from Euihyun to the book he’d been reading and resumed eating. Euihyun’s lips pressed tightly together. Even though he’d braced himself, the pain of reality always surpassed imagination.

He stood awkwardly, unable to leave or grab his lunchbox. Fleeing because it was uncomfortable felt like it would mark the end with Cha Yiljoo forever. As he wavered, Cha Yiljoo stood up. He packed his lunchbox, gathered his book and things, and walked toward Euihyun. Euihyun’s eyes anxiously followed him.

But Cha Yiljoo passed right by. Disposing of his empty lunchbox behind Euihyun, he didn’t spare him a glance. It was as if Euihyun were invisible. Was this how it felt to be ignored? A shiver ran deep in his chest. The ground beneath seemed to sink endlessly.

Euihyun waited for that hellish moment to pass. His disheveled appearance added to his despair. He’d showered thoroughly, but he worried needlessly that he might smell of sweat.

“I heard from Kim. You requested a meeting.”

Like an illusion, Cha Yiljoo’s voice broke through. Euihyun turned, stunned. Had he misheard? Cha Yiljoo, still facing away, continued.

“Is it because of that issue?”

“…I thought I should come clean now.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

At that, Cha Yiljoo turned to face Euihyun. There was no hostility or disgust in his eyes. Instead, he looked at Euihyun calmly. Only the habitual smile was gone.

“It feels like you’re doing this because seeing me makes you uncomfortable.”

“….”

It wasn’t entirely that, but it wasn’t entirely not that either. Euihyun couldn’t find a reply and pointlessly lowered his head again.

“Honestly, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked that day. It was something I’d never imagined or suspected. But as time passed and I thought it over, I think I understood why you did it. We got close without much connection, but we barely knew anything about each other, did we? You must’ve suffered, feeling like you were unintentionally deceiving me. It’s not a secret you could casually share either. Honestly, men who like men… I still don’t understand it. I might even feel a bit of aversion. But I don’t have ignorant prejudices. Just as not every straight person is attracted to every opposite-sex person, I know not every gay person sees every same-sex person as a romantic prospect. Even if you’re like that, I’m not the one you’re interested in, right?”

His heart seemed to plummet. Cha Yiljoo was certain Euihyun couldn’t possibly like him. Euihyun hadn’t wanted to be found out. He had no intention of confessing. But hearing that from the man himself, he couldn’t stay composed. He didn’t know how to hide his crumbling expression. He clenched his fist out of sight.

“So, doesn’t that mean there’s no problem? I might be selfish, but I want to be comfortable with you again, like before. We’ll keep running into each other, and staying in this vague state will only make things awkward. I’ve thought for a while that we could be good friends. Knowing who you are hasn’t changed that. What about you, Euihyun?”

Friends.

A title he could never have unless he buried his feelings for Cha Yiljoo. Hiding behind that convenient label to linger by his side would be no different from deceit. Yet he couldn’t give up that easy, comforting mask. If keeping the line of friendship meant he could stay near Cha Yiljoo, if Cha Yiljoo would smile at him like before, Euihyun would gladly sacrifice everything.

Praying his voice wouldn’t tremble, he spoke with difficulty.

“…Is that okay?”

He’d asked for an opinion, but Euihyun sought permission instead. It was so like him. Cha Yiljoo burst into laughter. Caught off guard, Euihyun’s gaze lingered on his softened face.

Cha Yiljoo soon added, perhaps overstepping, with advice.

“You should rethink meeting Jang Daewoong. Being with someone who’s openly come out….”

“No.”

Euihyun cut in before he could finish. Cha Yiljoo looked surprised. Euihyun firmly corrected his misunderstanding.

“We’re not like that. You’ve got it wrong.”

“If not Jang Daewoong, is the partner you’re seeing now trustworthy?”

“There’s no one like that.”

“What about someone you dated before? It’s not uncommon for past lovers to expose private matters later.”

Euihyun understood what Cha Yiljoo was worried about. Jang Daewoong had gone through something similar, after all.

One person came to mind. It was all in the past. A past he could never revisit. There was no reason not to share that old pain, a scar that no longer hurt.

“That person… ran away. He won’t come back. I’m not waiting either. He had more to lose and more fears than me, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

It was understated, but not a story to share so casually. He wouldn’t tell just anyone’s story like that. Suddenly, there was nothing left to say. A brief silence settled in.

Soon, Cha Yiljoo spoke up, saying, “Well then.”

“There’s no need to worry anymore. Just be a bit careful.”

“But….”

“Everyone has a secret or two. You don’t have to tell the whole world. Sometimes, truths are better left buried.”

“Still… if it comes out later, it’ll be impossible to fix. The longer it goes, the worse the damage will be.”

“If you were that scared, you shouldn’t have stepped into this world in the first place.”

The sharp retort visibly stiffened Euihyun. A hint of dismay crossed his face, which had been feigning calm. Cha Yiljoo hadn’t meant to corner him like this. He let out a deep sigh and continued, his tone much softer.

“I know what you’re worried about, but you don’t need to take responsibility for a future that hasn’t happened. Whether you tell Kim the truth or not, it’s your choice, but nothing will change. Your anxiety will just spread to others. Do you really think Kim would terminate your contract now, so naively?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. What did you do wrong?”

Banned from apologizing, Euihyun had no more words. Maybe Cha Yiljoo was right. What could Simon Kim do? Terminating a contract during heightened media attention would only stir trouble. In the end, it was a problem with no clear solution.

“I’ll handle things with Kim, so stop overthinking and eat.”

Cha Yiljoo calmly urged, his tone gentle, like soothing a sulky child. He also apologized for the incident at Cock Bar.

“I’m sorry for leaving like that. I was caught off guard too.”

“No. You had every reason.”

Euihyun quickly shook his head. Cha Yiljoo smiled his signature smile and confirmed.

“Back to how things were. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Euihyun stared blankly, then nodded repeatedly. Cha Yiljoo’s smile deepened. His face looked relieved, as if shedding a burden.

Euihyun had thought he’d never smile like that again. That he’d never reach out first again. He’d braced himself to endure blame and hatred. So this moment felt unreal. The condition for rebuilding their shattered relationship was simply “friends.”

Yes, that was enough. If he didn’t get greedy, if Cha Yiljoo never learned his true feelings, there’d be no problem.