“How many years do we have left, really? When you’re sick, you need someone beside you.”
“I’ve lived just fine on my own.”
Grandma Eun-young trailed off, flustered. In contrast, Grandpa’s voice only grew louder.
“The kids would feel better if we got together. That way they wouldn’t be worrying about old folks dying alone.”
“Oh, you’re embarrassing me.”
Blushing, she grabbed two slices of pizza and stood up.
“Please sit and eat.”
Kang Hyeon tried to stop her, sensing she was trying to make an escape, but she shook her head with her face still red.
“I need to take some to Cheol-ung’s place too. Gotta check if he’s dead or alive.”
“My grandson brought that pizza, and you’re giving it to that bastard? Besides, I saw that punk earlier—he came back from the field with a shovel!”
Jealousy flaring, Grandpa shouted and handed two slices to Kang Hyeon before grabbing the whole pizza box and chasing after Grandma Eun-young like a man on a mission. It seemed they were planning to eat together over at Cheol-ung’s.
Those two had lived in this village their entire lives. Though he knew they’d been looking out for each other since they were widowed, they seemed much closer now, and the warmth of it quietly filled Kang Hyeon’s chest.
Watching the rosy-hued scene unfold, he smiled before a sudden thought of Yoon Do-yeong caused his gaze to darken. Maybe it was because he hadn’t eaten properly, but the rice went down too easily—it felt almost pitiful.
Kang Hyeon exhaled softly, blowing away the rush of tangled thoughts and emotions. He bit into a fresh chili pepper dipped in gochujang and quietly finished his meal. After clearing the table, he glanced around the kitchen-living room hybrid—dust in the corners, a worn-out linoleum floor, and an old sink. He peeked into Grandpa’s room to the left. The blanket he’d bought last year had already faded. It looked like he used only that one. The image of Grandpa lying under that blanket, watching the small TV on the nightstand until he fell asleep, came vividly to mind.
After quietly observing the room, he crossed to the other side—to his own. The desk and super single bed were just as he’d left them. It looked like it had been kept clean too—no dust in sight.
He unpacked his things, placing the shirts and drawstring pants he’d bought at the terminal in Grandpa’s room. Then he took a long, relaxing shower.
When he stepped out, Grandpa was already in the living room with a plate of young radish kimchi and a bottle of makgeolli—clearly from Grandma Eun-young.
“Come have a drink.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll head to Cheol-ung’s greenhouse early tomorrow to harvest zucchinis.”
“Okay.”
Grandpa tilted the bottle, and Kang Hyeon held out the bowl with both hands. The makgeolli poured in with a soft gurgle, filling the bowl to the brim.
“I’m glad you came.”
Those casually spoken words made his fingers tighten around the bowl. That single sentence—delivered as if Grandpa understood everything he was feeling—melted the lump in his chest.
He thought he’d cried it all out earlier on set under the excuse of filming, but hearing those simple, welcoming words made his eyes sting again. His hands trembled faintly as he held the drink.
After that brief exchange, Grandpa said nothing more. A flicker of fear ran through Kang Hyeon—had he seen the online articles? But none had explicitly mentioned him, and if Grandpa had seen anything, he’d have called right away, shocked. He was especially worried about the audio file, but it had been scrubbed quickly—chances were high Grandpa had missed it altogether.
Following Grandpa’s lead, he drank deeply and quietly ate kimchi. They sat in silence, staring out at the bug-filled front yard as insects chirped loudly into the night.
Once they’d emptied the bottle, Grandpa went into his room to watch TV, as always. Kang Hyeon cleaned up, then entered his room, placed his phone face-down and muted on the desk, and opened a book.
He read, but nothing stuck. The words didn’t make sense, and the meaning escaped him entirely. Still, he kept reading—slowly, again and again. Eventually, the words began to sink in, and after barely passing ten pages, he turned off the light and tried to sleep.
Somewhere in the distance, a bird let out a low cry, and the sound of insects brushing the grass tickled his ears. Immersed in the endless rhythm of nature, Kang Hyeon slowly closed his eyes.
***
“It’s from stress, apparently.”
Yoon Do-yeong sounded like he was talking about someone else as he spoke on the phone, glancing around his new office—a modest space no larger than thirty pyeong. It held only three desks and a meeting table.
After brewing a coffee at the sink-side machine, he headed for the loft.
“I’m more worried about Mom’s health. Since the test results came back clear, I hope she stops worrying so much.”
He casually checked out the home theater setup upstairs, flopped halfway onto a massive sofa, and fired up the projector. A screen lit up on the wall, transforming the space into a cozy private theater.
“My schedule’s all cleared, so I’m taking a break for a while. Let’s meet for dinner, okay?”
After hanging up, he adjusted the sound settings, lowered the subwoofer, calibrated the display, and put on a music video.
“Not bad.”
Humming along, he started browsing for houseplants to decorate the loft.
“I won’t be here forever—might as well go with pots.”
He’d considered turning the wall into a vertical garden, but figured he’d move again once a better office opened up. This was just a temporary space, meant to be close to Kang Hyeon when he visited Mpia.
“Still, the atmosphere should be nice.”
Even if the lower floor was an office, the loft was a resting space—for eating with Hyeon, drinking, watching movies… leaning on his shoulder, kissing him, maybe more…
As his thoughts drifted, Yoon Do-yeong’s cheeks turned a soft peach. He rested one arm on the sofa back, tilted slightly, picked up his coffee cup, and gazed fondly at the invisible Kang Hyeon. He leaned his head to the side, imagining resting it on his shoulder, then angled his chin ever so slightly. His eyes fluttered shut, and he puckered his lips gently.
“Pffft~!”
The fantasy was so delightful he couldn’t help bursting into laughter. Covering his flushed face with one hand, he giggled.
Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the space.
Startled, he peeked over the loft railing. No one was supposed to come—Chief Choi was on leave.
Goo Seong-do entered, holding heavy shopping bags in both hands. He set them on the table and began unpacking. Seeing the various supplies coming out, Yoon Do-yeong leaned further over the railing and called out.
“President Goo, hello.”
“Oh, you’re here, Do-yeong?”
Yoon Do-yeong came down the stairs slowly, asking,
“What’s all that?”
“Supplies. I was shopping for us and grabbed some extra.”
Smiling warmly, President Goo continued unpacking. Sticky notes and pens were placed on the table, while tea bags, instant coffee, and paper cups were arranged in the kitchenette.
Do-yeong helped him sort the rest. President Goo had even brought hand sanitizer and tissue boxes—meticulously prepared.
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. But… did everything get resolved?”
“…You mean the scandal?”
“The whole sponsor rumor about Hyeon.”
President Goo’s calm tone made Do-yeong stiffen, his voice revealing a hint of unease.
“It absolutely wasn’t like that. I just gave a few gifts. I have no idea how things got so twisted.”
“You and Lee Ji-gyeong… you’re just senior and junior, right?”
“Of course. I think Ji-gyeong misunderstood something. Because I backed her as a model, she ended up with a penalty fee issue. I helped sort it out.”
“Then why don’t you do the same for Hyeon?”
“Hyeon doesn’t like that kind of thing. And honestly, I don’t want to, either. He wants to be recognized for his talent. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for him, President Goo. Please keep looking after him.”
“All I did was pass along a few audition tips. It was dumb luck.”
Do-yeong chuckled softly, voice full of charm.
“Oh, don’t be so modest. He landed that role because you told him exactly what to prepare for.”
“You know I can’t keep managing Hyeon, right? Like I said before, just dealing with Hyun-sook is enough for me.”
At those words, Do-yeong’s smile faltered slightly.
President Goo noticed the change but continued without pause.
“Thank you for arranging to delay the loan repayment through Chief Choi. And for covering the support costs. But…”
He pulled two envelopes from his coat.
Do-yeong’s eyes widened in surprise.
“I don’t think I did enough to deserve all that, so I’m returning everything aside from what I actually earned. And since you said you’re taking a break, I don’t expect there’ll be anything else for me to do. Frankly, you don’t need my help. You’re not on bad terms with your old agency, either.”
“That’s not true. Chief Choi can’t do it alone. And that money—it was just a thank-you for being good to Hyeon.”
“Then why are you the one thanking me?”
