Chapter 75
His cold response made Cheong-yeon feel embarrassed for even worrying. Do-heon had a talent for utterly destroying someone’s feelings with his words—if there were a championship for speaking unpleasantly, he would win first prize.
Cheong-yeon quietly gritted his teeth while crumpling the corner of the script page spread out on his desk.
But there was nothing to refute because Do-heon wasn’t exactly wrong.
“……”
When Cheong-yeon fell silent, a moment of stillness passed between them.
During that pause, the sound of raindrops tapping against the window filtered in from outside. Tap, tap, tap. This made Cheong-yeon’s hearing sharpen acutely.
Strangely enough, only now did it truly sink in that he and Do-heon had become complete strangers.
“Now that I hear it, you’re right,” Cheong-yeon muttered self-deprecatingly.
“I didn’t call to talk about this. I originally contacted you about the car. What’s with this sudden conversation?”
Cheong-yeon quickly changed the subject, pushing away his bitter feelings.
“I gave it to you to drive. Does a car have any other purpose?”
“Why would you bring something like that without saying anything when I never asked for it?”
This time his voice had a distinct edge to it.
Although his wounded pride made it difficult to articulate, Do-heon’s habit of offering excessive compensation that was never requested felt no different than putting a price on every moment they spent together.
“Would you rather walk after your drama starts?”
Do-heon asked as if he couldn’t understand Cheong-yeon’s reaction.
“I have a manager.”
“He’s only with you for scheduled activities.”
“That’s true, but still…”
“What? You want to see him outside your schedule too?”
Cheong-yeon’s lips twitched at the clearly sarcastic tone.
“Who said that?”
“Then stop complaining and accept it.”
“How can I just happily accept something so burdensome when it’s not even necessary? Does this just sound like complaining to you, Director?”
“Even if you don’t like it, at least pretend to be happy and accept it in front of me.”
“I thought you said not to lie!”
“Ah, that’s right. Then use it even if you hate it.”
His arrogant voice, readily acknowledging and changing his words, was almost commanding.
“You should have at least told me before giving it.”
“If I’d wanted to give you a choice, I would have asked directly.”
The implication was clear: you have no choice in this, so just accept whatever I give you.
Cheong-yeon tried to maintain his composure while suppressing the growing unpleasantness rising within him. But his emotions refused to be restrained, bubbling up like boiling water.
Every syllable Do-heon uttered crushed his pride. Why was he talking this way? He had always been an arrogant, self-centered person, but today it felt even worse than usual.
“Do you know how sick I am of your one-sided behavior, Director?”
“Yoo Cheong-yeon.”
Do-heon’s low voice resonated through the receiver. A cold, emotionless voice in stark contrast to Cheong-yeon’s emotionally charged one.
“What I give to you and how I give it is my decision.”
“……”
“Surely you don’t imagine you can pick and choose what you want in this relationship?”
Ah, that one hurt. A pain spread through his solar plexus.
Cheong-yeon took a small breath, quiet enough that Do-heon couldn’t hear.
“And if you’re being sponsored, behave properly on set. Don’t go around giving people the wrong impression.”
Cheong-yeon’s brow furrowed at the additional remark.
Behave? Why was he suddenly being told this, as if he’d given someone the wrong impression?
“I don’t understand why I have to hear about my behavior from you, Director. And how am I supposed to drive such an expensive car in my situation when I don’t even have parking at home? Do you know how much gas prices have risen lately?”
“Perfect timing then. Move to a new place while you’re at it. I’ve been concerned about you staying somewhere with no security.”
“What did you say?”
Why was the conversation suddenly jumping in that direction?
“I really have to go now. Goodbye.”
“Director, wait…”
Just as Cheong-yeon tried to continue, Do-heon unilaterally ended the call.
“Hello? Director?”
He quickly grabbed his phone and called out to Do-heon, but the call had already been completely terminated. Cheong-yeon stared blankly at the dark screen for a few seconds.
“Ah, Moon Do-heon! You… you jerk…!”
He had wanted to tell him he didn’t need the car and to take it back, but somehow the ridiculous conclusion was that he should move to a new place.
Thoroughly annoyed, Cheong-yeon immediately called Do-heon back. But all he got was the empty mechanical tone saying the phone was turned off.
“……”
Drop, drop. The sound of rain, now falling in thicker streaks than before, suddenly filled the room as it knocked against the window.
In the ensuing silence, Cheong-yeon was overwhelmed by an unfamiliar emotion. Do-heon had always been unilateral and self-centered, but this was the first time he had cut off a conversation with Cheong-yeon so abruptly and even turned off his phone.
“Huh.”
After remaining frozen for a moment as if malfunctioning, Cheong-yeon put down his phone and rubbed his face with dry hands.
There was no need to be so shocked that Do-heon’s attitude was different from before.
Just as Cheong-yeon had drawn a line declaring they were complete strangers, Do-heon could also draw an even clearer line. Not returning his missed calls, declaring his superiority in this contractual relationship, cutting off conversations as if he didn’t need to listen to the end—these were all rights Do-heon could exercise with someone who was now a perfect stranger.
“Get it together, Yoo Cheong-yeon.”
Cheong-yeon reminded himself as he picked up his pen again. After regulating his scattered breathing, he resumed reading the script that was spread out on his desk.
*
A few days later, just before departing for the first drama filming location. Cheong-yeon received a master key to a newly built officetel and a credit card through his manager.
Cheong-yeon, who was just about to step into the van, looked at his manager questioningly.
“The CEO asked me to deliver these to you. He said it would be inconvenient for you to drive a personal car without parking at your current home.”
Cheong-yeon stared blankly at the key and card his manager had handed him. Perhaps because he had already heard about this from Do-heon, he showed little emotional response.
“Why the credit card?”
“I think it’s for car maintenance expenses and other living costs that will come up. Since actors typically get quarterly settlements, many agencies provide cards as a courtesy.”
The manager spoke as if it were a company benefit, but Cheong-yeon knew it was all from Do-heon.
“The CEO said he’d have people take care of moving your belongings. Just let me know which date works for you, and I’ll book the moving company right away. Also, let me know if there’s anything you want to set aside beforehand.”
“…I don’t have anything like that. Just move everything as is.”
Cheong-yeon responded with a sense of resignation while listening to the manager’s kind explanation.
It felt too troublesome to call Do-heon again to argue about whether he liked it or not, and truthfully, he didn’t have the energy for it right now. Today was the first day of drama filming, so he was already tense and overwhelmed enough.
“You’ll probably need space to store costumes and props, and scripts pile up with notes, adding quite a bit of bulk and weight. The bigger an actor’s home, the better. Above all, officetels have good security management. So please don’t worry too much and just accept it.”
Noticing Cheong-yeon’s darkened expression, the manager added in his characteristically gentle tone. He spoke so smoothly, as if he perfectly understood what Cheong-yeon was worried about.
Cheong-yeon stared quietly at the manager.
‘And if you’re being sponsored, behave properly on set. Don’t go around giving people the wrong impression.’
Suddenly, Do-heon’s words from a few days ago came to mind.
Thinking carefully, the only person Do-heon might have taken issue with was the man who knew about his idol activities—the former trainee actor he met on the full script reading day.
He had briefly chatted with that man about acting, but the only people around who could have seen this were his manager, Min Hye-rin, and a few drama staff members.
Considering all circumstances, the only person who would readily report that day’s events to Do-heon was narrowed down to one: the manager.
“Actor Yoo? Are you feeling unwell?”
Cheong-yeon, who had been lost in thought, finally turned his gaze to the manager with his kind smile.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
