TBM Vol 3 Part 15

So now, Sa Seung-yeon wanted to… Talk about that day… As his expression slowly began to crumple, Sa Seung-yeon spoke again.

“Haven’t you bought a new one yet? I heard the number was disconnected.”

Lee Il-seo looked dazed as he slowly lowered his head. Needing something to hold onto, he rubbed his forearm and replied without meeting Sa Seung-yeon’s gaze.

“I’ve been… Busy.”

“I see. Must be very busy, whatever it is you’re doing.”

Time is cheap for the poor, so they’re always busy. Lee Il-seo forced a hollow smile and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“I’m planning to buy one soon.”

Another lie to salvage a shred of dignity. He had no idea when he’d actually afford a new phone. Paying monthly for a broken device was a luxury he couldn’t justify. On the day he regained some clarity, the first thing he did was cancel his number. Sa Seung-yeon must’ve tried calling him after that.

“It must be inconvenient for a celebrity to be without a phone.”

“I can check my schedule by email, and it’s not like I have many people contacting me anyway.”

Each of Lee Il-seo’s responses was like an impenetrable shield. Sa Seung-yeon furrowed his brow, parted his lips to speak, but then closed them without saying anything.

Only the wind spoke now—sharp and cold, slicing through the narrow alley. It stung more than usual. Suddenly, pain surged through Lee Il-seo’s lower abdomen. He clenched his molars and forced himself to endure it. Even if he collapsed, he couldn’t show a single sign of weakness in front of Sa Seung-yeon.

After discarding his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and grinding it with his foot, Sa Seung-yeon shrugged and asked:

“Why carry around a broken phone anyway?”

It sounded like an offhand question, but it struck Lee Il-seo like a blade. Inside the phone was a photo, taken by Sa Seung-yeon, where he was smiling so brightly, it startled even him. When life got too dark and heavy, looking at that moment reminded him he’d once been capable of joy. That Sa Seung-yeon had captured that happiness made it precious. So precious, he often stared at the cracked screen, treating it like a lucky charm.

“Just, you know…”

He trailed off, forcing another smile, masking the turmoil inside. The stabbing pain in his stomach made him anxious. He didn’t want to prolong this conversation.

“Why did you come all the way here?”

Sa Seung-yeon hesitated momentarily, then frowned. As if searching through his memories, he stared at the wall briefly before slowly speaking.

“Last week…”

The moment he mentioned last week, Lee Il-seo felt his heart drop.

“Did we talk on the phone?”

He seemed to be referring to that call that ended in just a few seconds. Sa Seung-yeon must have wondered about that record too. Lee Il-seo nodded first.

“Ah, yes. Briefly…”

“Did I say anything uncomfortable? I have no memory of it at all.”

“It seemed like a wrong number. It ended quickly.”

Sa Seung-yeon’s gaze locked onto him, dark and unwavering, like the night around them. Lee Il-seo swallowed hard. His stomach throbbed again, sharper this time.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a relief, then.”

Sa Seung-yeon reached out, and Lee Il-seo instinctively flinched. The memory of that grip—beast-like, clamping around his neck and shoulders—flashed vividly.

“Ah…”

But instead of hurt, the hand gently cupped his ear, checking his temperature. Lee Il-seo’s body slowly relaxed, though his heart didn’t. Sa Seung-yeon, noticing the recoil, lowered his hand with a frown.

“Why are you trembling so much? You don’t look well.”

“…It’s just cold.”

“Well, if I didn’t say anything weird, that’s good.”

Lee Il-seo smiled bitterly and took a step back, increasing the distance between himself and Sa Seung-yeon.

“Then I’ll be going now.”

“…Already?”

“Is there anything else you wanted to ask?”

“No, not really.”

Sa Seung-yeon bit his lip, eyes lingering on the paleness of Lee Il-seo’s skin, the way his ears burned red in the wind. He should let him go—but a strange anxiety bloomed in his chest, as if he needed to say something, anything, to stop him.

But Lee Il-seo didn’t wait. He walked past, toward the studio building. Sa Seung-yeon hurried after him, adjusting his mask.

Unable to find anything to say, Sa Seung-yeon reached the building entrance and at least opened the door for him. Before Sa Seung-yeon could say anything, Lee Il-seo left with just a slight bow and disappeared into the building.

With extreme restraint, Lee Il-seo didn’t look back. His steps were so heavy that he had to grip the railing firmly as he walked. Upon reaching his apartment, he immediately clutched his lower abdomen with an expression on the verge of tears.

“Ha…”

He leaned against the door, then slid down slowly until he was sitting on the floor. A sound escaped his lips—half laugh, half sigh.

So… Sa Seung-yeon really remembered nothing

It rattled him. Still, he forced a smile and exhaled deeply. Maybe this was better. Their relationship had always been bound to end, and if Sa Seung-yeon knew how violently it had fallen apart, he’d only regret it. Lee Il-seo didn’t want to become a symbol of guilt. He just wanted to remain a good memory.

The pain slowly dulled. Even the bruises had faded with time. Surely, this would too—if he could just hang on a little longer.

***

Thanks to a string of short-term jobs, he’d managed to scrape together two months’ worth of hospital bills. He even had a small surplus in his account, but he planned to save it for emergencies. Today’s job was at a department store—long hours on his feet, but at least it was indoors.

While brushing his teeth before heading out, something warm spilled from his nose. Blood. He looked in the mirror. It was pouring, trailing down his chin. Instinctively about to tilt his head back, he remembered Sa Seung-yeon pressing the back of his head and instead bent forward.

The washbasin bloomed red. He turned to grab tissues when the floor swayed. His vision dimmed, and he gripped the towel rack hard to steady himself.

“…”

He stayed that way until the dizziness faded and the black spots disappeared from his vision. Something was wrong. His stamina was vanishing.

 He’d worked harder before—pulling overnight shoots during drama filming. This… this felt different.

But today was his last part-time job. He quickly wiped the nosebleed, put on a suit, and boarded the bus. Arriving at the department store, he received a brief explanation before standing in front of the escalator, handing out scent strips to customers. Being warm and repetitive, it was incredibly difficult to fight off drowsiness, but it was far better than doing parking guidance in the cold wind.

Starting in the morning, work ended at four in the afternoon. After changing shifts with the next person, Lee Il-seo walked quickly. His feet hurt and his body felt heavy, but unlike usual, his steps were hurried. As soon as he returned home, he connected to the internet.

 Sa Seung-yeon’s name and Director Chae’s were already trending on social media—and astonishingly, his own name was listed just two places below. Though the drama hadn’t aired yet, articles were everywhere.

With flushed cheeks, Lee Il-seo stared intently at the laptop screen for an hour. As soon as it turned six o’clock, he clicked the refresh button.

“!”

‘Temperature of Overflow’ had been released on Monflix.

***

As the cut-filled, appetizing flower pork belly was placed on the hot grill, it sizzled and cooked quickly with the sound of spattering oil.

Though it was eleven at night, the tables were almost full since the place stayed open until dawn. Lee Il-seo and Choi Kyung-hyun sat at a corner table in the restaurant. Lee Il-seo, with his cap pulled down low, leaned against the partition. With the high partition blocking the surrounding gazes, his wavering heart stabilized a bit. Choi Kyung-hyun, being a regular here, had been able to reserve the table in advance.

Normally, Lee Il-seo wouldn’t have cared about seating, but now, he couldn’t be careless. Out on the streets, he heard murmurs of the drama, whispers of Lee Il-seo—though most people still referred to him as that Haru guy. Each time, he had to suppress the urge to look over his shoulder.

‘Temperature of Overflow’ shattered records—highest concurrent viewership in its slot, top global watch time. For an Alpha-omega story with a tragic ending, it was an unheard-of success.

Discussions about Season 2 were already stirring, but due to the tragic story ending with the death of the main character ‘Haru’,’ there was also considerable opposition to a second season.

Since Director Chae Geum-soo and Sa  Seung-yeon were already famous, attention rebounded to focus on Lee Il-seo, who had made his first significant impression on the public through this work.

He hadn’t slept properly since the drama premiered two days ago. For the first time, his name was echoing through the media like never before. With his heart pounding and the intense—almost frightening—public response, he’d been glued to his laptop all day.

Articles discussed his previous roles and the agencies he had moved between, and among them, even articles where he had been misunderstood and criticized after being cast by Director Chae Geum-soo were dragged up, creating the mishap of him being criticized again.

This was also why Choi Kyung-hyun had impulsively visited Lee Il-seo’s home. Although they had already eaten beef ribs together at Ondo Entertainment, Choi Kyung-hyun had continuously left messages via email saying he wanted to treat him to celebratory meat.

“Yes, honey, I’ll be home soon. We might wake Yeon-seo.” Choi Kyung-hyun said gently into the phone.

While listening to Choi Kyung-hyun talking to his wife, Lee Il-seo stared blankly at the cooking meat. Only after repeatedly promising not to be too late did Choi Kyung-hyun hang up and open the soju cap, saying they should eat quickly. Lee Il-seo naturally picked up the glass in front of him.

Choi Kyung-hyun poured soju into Lee Il-seo’s glass. With a clear sound, the glass filled halfway. Taking the bottle, Lee Il-seo filled Choi Kyung-hyun’s glass too. The two glasses clinked, and just as Lee Il-seo was bringing the soju glass to his lips, Choi Kyung-hyun’s brow furrowed deeply.

“Don’t drink that.”

The sudden firmness in his voice made Lee Il-seo pause, hand frozen mid-air. He knew why. Beneath the table, in the trash bin, were tissues blotched with fresh blood. His nose had started bleeding the moment they arrived, right after he’d taken off his coat and greeted Choi Kyung-hyun with forced cheer. Choi Kyung-hyun had gone pale instantly—and now, clearly, the worry hadn’t let go of him since.

Lee Il-seo furrowed his brow and challenged him.

“Why not? I want to drink too.”

“Don’t be stubborn!”

“But I want to drink.”

Normally, he would’ve given in. But tonight, for reasons even he couldn’t explain, his mood was oddly light. He wanted to drink. Needed it. And so, obstinately, he tipped the glass back. The bitterness hit hard—his throat clenched, and a low groan escaped before he could catch it.

He quickly put some cooked meat in his mouth and chewed. Lee Il-seo’s cheekbones rose to their limit. After making do with instant food for so long, the meat seemed to melt in his mouth.

Similarly making an appreciative sound while chewing his meat, Choi Kyung-hyun asked Lee Il-seo:

“What about the hospital?”

“Once I get past my busy schedule, I plan to go right away.”

At this procrastinating answer, Choi Kyung-hyun, who was putting more meat on Lee Il-seo’s plate, tilted his head.

“Between this and fixing your phone… Aren’t you putting too many things off?”

Lee Il-seo gave a bitter smile and poured another glass of soju. He stared at the ripples in the alcohol as he swirled the glass, then slowly parted his dry lips.

“Actually…”

Seeing the concern clouding Choi Kyung-hyun’s eyes, he finally confessed.

“I didn’t have enough money.”

He explained that his broken phone wasn’t about laziness. That the hospital visits had been postponed for the same reason. That he’d been doing part-time jobs while still recovering, just to cover his grandmother’s medical bills. As the truth unfolded, Choi Kyung-hyun’s expression darkened with a helpless kind of dismay. Lee Il-seo lowered his eyebrows and apologized for lying to Choi Kyung-hyun.

“I hid the part-time jobs because I was afraid of what the company would say. I’m sorry.”

“No, that… You don’t need to apologize. I just didn’t know the situation.”

Lee Il-seo picked up his soju glass with a composed expression and drank again. The meat was piling up, but somehow his mouth felt rough, so he washed down the bitter taste with water.

“Um… I’m not saying this to hurt your pride or anything.”

Choi Kyung-hyun nervously looked around, fidgeting before finally getting to the point.

“If you need help, tell me. I can cover your phone or hospital bills.”

Lee Il-seo blinked. He knew Choi Kyung-hyun had just moved houses and had seen him obsessively checking loan rates and meeting with bank advisors. This wasn’t an empty offer. It was genuine—and that made it all the heavier.

Indeed, it was better to spare words that might make others uncomfortable. Lee Il-seo waved his hands dismissively and brightened his voice even more.

“It’s really fine. I’m not particularly inconvenienced without a phone, and now I have enough money from part-time jobs to go to the hospital. It’s really just because of my schedule.”

He’d meant to go to the hospital right after his part-time gig ended. But he hadn’t expected the drama to blow up like this. What was supposed to be a modest role with a few group promotions had exploded, and suddenly his calendar was jammed. Medical checkups had taken a back seat.

“Still, postponing health issues…”

Choi Kyung-hyun bit his lip momentarily and withheld his words. Reading Lee Il-seo’s uncomfortable gaze, Choi Kyung-hyun decided to go along with his words for now.

“Never mind. What matters is—this drama? It’s a big deal. If you keep this up, you’ll climb higher in no time. And someday—not too far off—you’ll look back at these hard days and laugh.”

Lee Il-seo covered his mouth with his fist and smiled broadly. They ate four servings of meat and emptied a bowl of rice with warm, savory doenjang jjigae. Though he couldn’t drink as much as he wanted due to Choi Kyung-hyun’s threat that three glasses was the absolute maximum, he was happy to eat a filling meal for once.