Kang Hyeon naturally took a seat next to Baek Ga-yeong and briefly shared what had happened with Goo Seong-do, the CEO of Mpia.
“Can you watch me run through my lines?”
Without anyone noticing, Lee Ji-gyeong had slid into a seat beside them. His lips twisted as he alternated glances between a fish-shaped bun and a pair of earrings, but he quickly smoothed out his expression. At the mention of a script, Baek Ga-yeong bit into her bun and leaned in attentively. Ji-gyeong craned his neck to get a look, while Yoon Do-yeong casually pulled the bag of buns closer to himself, reading along silently. Kang Hyeon flipped a few pages and pointed to a scene, adding context.
“He’s the youngest son of a rich family, totally clueless about money. His dad cuts off his credit card, so he begs his older sister—the female lead—for some cash.”
“I’ll be the older sister.”
With a knowing glance, Baek Ga-yeong popped the tail of the bun into her mouth to cue the start. Kang Hyeon instantly shifted his expression, softening the corners of his eyes into an adorably childish look, then grinned sweetly as he began.
“Noona, just a million won. Please?”
His immature, cutesy tone made Baek Ga-yeong snort before she replied with her line. As she did, she was reminded of their college days, when they’d take turns acting out scenes in their own styles, debating interpretations. She tapped the table in front of Lee Ji-gyeong, who was sitting clockwise from her. Taking the hint, Ji-gyeong sipped his coffee and launched into the same line with a smug edge.
“Noona, just a million won.”
His take oozed arrogance and entitlement—no shame, no manners, full of cheek. Now all eyes turned to Yoon Do-yeong. He moved to block Baek Ga-yeong’s view with his torso, tapped on his phone screen, and flashed a bright smile.
“Noona~ Just a million won~.”
He even mimed a transfer gesture, like it was nothing. The way he said it, so naturally and cheerfully, made everyone freeze.
A million won would be a lot for them—but for a pampered character like that, or for Yoon Do-yeong himself, it probably meant very little. After staring at him for a moment, Baek Ga-yeong asked flatly:
“How much is in your main bank account, Mr. Yoon?”
“I’ll cover dinner tonight.”
“Nope. That’s my treat.”
“I’ve got enough to live comfortably without ever working again.”
At his honest answer, Baek Ga-yeong replied dryly.
“You were like that back in college, too.”
“Never really had anything to spend money on.”
“And now you’re raking it in with drama gigs and commercials, right?”
“Moderately. I still have money left over from my child actor days. The finance team invested it well—I heard it multiplied several dozen times over.”
He spoke like it was the most natural thing in the world. Baek Ga-yeong gave him a thumbs-up. Lee Ji-gyeong’s face, on the other hand, tightened. Kang Hyeon didn’t hold back.
“You know you sound like a smug prick, right?”
“…Yeah.”
He nodded like it was obvious and added:
“Even back when I was a kid actor, just walking down the hallway at school, people hated me. For being good-looking, polite, rich. People found my mere existence annoying, so I just accepted it. And let’s be real, me pretending I’m broke wouldn’t make sense. Then people would say I’m fake. If I just brush it off, they’d say I’m looking down on them. If I’m going to be hated either way, might as well be honest.”
His nonchalant tone made the room go cold. That’s when Kang Hyeon casually dropped a line.
“That’s why I like you.”
“I like you too, Do-yeong—you’re always toeing the line between charming and unbearable.”
Baek Ga-yeong followed up with a teasing grin. Do-yeong let out a chuckle, but Ji-gyeong forced a stiff smile and changed the subject.
“Hyung, have you picked your next project?”
Mouth full of bun and guarding the last one like treasure, Do-yeong mumbled his answer.
“No. I’m thinking of taking a break.”
“Oh… Makes sense. Between commercials and overseas tours, your schedule must be brutal. That’s gotta be rough.”
The last comment had a faint ring of envy, but Do-yeong didn’t catch it and replied cheerfully.
“Not really. I just do it for fun—nothing too demanding.”
That comment made Ji-gyeong visibly stiffen, and Kang Hyeon’s grip on the script tightened. The air turned heavy. Kang Hyeon stood, making eye contact with Do-yeong as he picked up the script.
“Let’s go.”
“Huh?”
“It’s almost closing time. The rush is coming.”
Baek Ga-yeong waved her hand to stop him.
“It’s fine. I’ll just take the day off. Let’s all order dinner together.”
“That’s most of the day’s revenue. Skipping the evening shift doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s fine.”
When Baek Ga-yeong added a little hand gesture to signal “don’t worry,” Do-yeong quickly echoed her sentiment.
“When I’m feeling better and free again, I’ll come by and help. That should cover, like, a month’s worth of revenue, right?”
“Shut your mouth.”
“…”
“What about the people who have to adjust their entire schedules just to accommodate you? You’re not in the same position you were last year. You’re not just an actor anymore. From the agency’s point of view, this is a PR disaster.”
Kang Hyeon’s voice was firm as he extended his hand.
“Keys. Now.”
Do-yeong glanced at the time on his phone. It was about 20 minutes before 6 p.m.
“Can’t I stay a bit longer?”
“You crashed into a hotel not long ago, and now you’re lounging in a café? Get up before the reporters get here.”
Kang Hyeon scanned the crowd gathering near the entrance and turned to Ji-gyeong.
“When I call, bring him to the front door.”
“He’s a guest today, Hyeon.”
Ignoring Baek Ga-yeong’s attempt to stop him, Kang Hyeon let out a light sigh.
“He’s got a flight at dawn. First shoot is a cosmetics ad. He told the agency he’d be home all day.”
Even within the same agency, top-star schedules were tightly guarded. But Kang Hyeon had a good relationship with Do-yeong’s manager—getting this kind of intel wasn’t hard. He’d just dropped by the office earlier and heard about it while chatting with the CEO.
“He can sleep on the plane.”
“Want to say that to your grandfather?”
“…”
“You said you’re doing it because you can handle the workload, right?”
“…”
“Answer me.”
“…Yeah. It’s not that packed, and it’s linked with businesses under Seongjin Group…”
He didn’t want to let his grandfather down—that’s why he was sticking to the schedule. And since most of it involved Seongjin Group subsidiaries, he wasn’t skipping any of his commitments. His CF schedule was never crammed to begin with—it was all just for fun, anyway.
Unlike Kang Hyeon, who understood the situation, Baek Ga-yeong sighed and rubbed her forehead, guilt washing over her.
“This is my fault. I guilt-tripped someone as responsible as Yoon Do-yeong, and now he’s here just to keep a promise.”
“You should go. Get some good rest if you want to avoid a skin breakout.”
Lee Ji-gyeong, fed up with Do-yeong’s presence, flashed a customer-service smile and pushed him toward the exit under the guise of concern. With the atmosphere making it clear he should leave, Do-yeong hurried to speak.
“But it’s been so long since I saw you, Noona. Just a little longer—”
“Keys.”
Kang Hyeon cut him off coldly, eyes sharp. That look pulled Do-yeong’s gaze toward the front door. Right on cue, cheers and camera shutters exploded from outside. There were far more people peeking through the blinds now, and their excitement was palpable—no longer idle curiosity.
Do-yeong instinctively shoved his hand into his pocket. As he pulled out his keys, Kang Hyeon snatched them and slipped out through the back. But even that exit was now blocked by fans.
“Ready?”
At Baek Ga-yeong’s cue, Ji-gyeong begrudgingly stood. As she led Do-yeong to the back door, she muttered quietly.
“He said front door.”
Sure enough, Kang Hyeon was up front, parting the crowd with both arms. At Baek Ga-yeong’s signal, a staff member opened the door while she and Ji-gyeong blocked people from approaching. Do-yeong quickly climbed into the back seat of the parked car.
Hesitating for a beat, Kang Hyeon opened the driver’s side door. Swarmed by the crowd, he couldn’t get it open properly until Ji-gyeong shielded him, letting him slip inside and drive off.
“Why are you in the back seat?”
Kang Hyeon glared at the rearview mirror, having automatically assumed he wasn’t the chauffeur. Do-yeong, catching that look, quickly clutched his chest.
“I’m hurt…”
With a sigh, Kang Hyeon pulled out onto the main road. Meanwhile, Do-yeong silently switched his phone to vibrate and stared at the dashboard clock. As the time ticked past 6:00, he leaned toward the driver’s seat.
“Hey, Hyeon. I think I left my phone behind.”
Kang Hyeon picked up his own phone and dialed as he turned at the next signal.
“Hey, Ji-gyeong. Do-yeong says he left his phone. Is it there?”
—Nope.
“Can you check again?”
—I told you, it’s not here. I saw him put it in his pocket before we left.
Guiltily, Do-yeong whispered,
“Maybe I dropped it in front of the café…”
“Ji-gyeong, can you check the sidewalk out front?”
—Fine.
A resigned sigh came through the line. Moments later:
—Nothing.
“Got it.”
They arrived shortly after. Kang Hyeon got out and scanned the sidewalk before heading back inside the café. Do-yeong pressed up against the window, trying to see in. There was a young guy at the counter—someone he hadn’t noticed earlier. Early twenties, definitely a college student. He stared intently at the new staffer until Kang Hyeon returned to the car.
“Not there.”
Do-yeong didn’t even register the words as he tapped on the window and asked,
“Hey… are you dating a guy?”
“Are you out of your damn mind?!”
At Kang Hyeon’s sharp retort, Do-yeong gave an awkward laugh. The strained chuckle made Hyeon’s brow twitch. Locking eyes, he spoke clearly.
“I said, your phone’s not there.”
“Oh… it’s in my pocket. Sorry. It was on silent, I didn’t notice.”
At that sheepish confession, Kang Hyeon’s expression turned icy. Watching him, Do-yeong asked innocently:
“What?”
“You didn’t know it was in your pocket, but you knew it was on silent?”
“…”
