“…Yeah.”
“You must really have been doing well.”
Kang Hyeon hesitated before nodding. Do-yeong was probably referring to the state of his body—it was obvious he’d been working out. Kang Hyeon couldn’t bring himself to look directly at the man standing so close. After a brief pause, he managed to speak.
“…And you?”
“Do-yeong!!”
Before Yoon Do-yeong could answer, a booming voice drowned out Kang Hyeon’s question. A veteran actor and Lee Hyun-sook, who had been waiting near the door, approached. Do-yeong greeted them with a smile and quickly replied,
“I’ve been swamped. Haven’t had a second to breathe.”
Hardly had he finished speaking when the senior actor smacked him on the back with loud slaps, full of admiration.
“You brat, I only found out you were in this when I got here. If I’d known, we could’ve run lines together. Hyeon didn’t say anything?”
The question made Kang Hyeon visibly stiffen with discomfort. Sensing it, Do-yeong stepped in quickly.
“My phone number got leaked, so I changed it. Things were rough for a while, so I didn’t give the new one to anyone.”
“Ah… right. Hyeon told me he didn’t have your number anymore either.”
The senior actor, recalling the media storm over Do-yeong’s scandal, nodded.
“I actually tried calling you once, but it said the number didn’t exist, so I figured something was up. Everything settled now?”
“Yes.”
“Well, good job getting through it.”
Listening to their exchange, Kang Hyeon absentmindedly fiddled with his phone in his pocket, lips pressed tightly together. That senior actor had casually asked about Do-yeong during script rehearsals once. Kang Hyeon had answered without much thought at the time.
“I’m sure he’ll reach out if I wait.”
As if it were no big deal.
As if nothing had happened.
That’s how he’d played it off—like it was no different from how they’d always been. Even though he’d received that text from Do-yeong: “I’ll wait.”
Lee Hyun-sook, who hadn’t been in the habit of keeping in touch with either of them, said nothing. But the veteran actor, thrilled to see Do-yeong again, chatted nonstop as they headed to the restaurant.
“I saw some pretty wild articles, but none mentioned me. Guess the reporters don’t know I invested in your troupe, huh? I was a sponsor too, technically.”
He chuckled at his own joke. Lee Hyun-sook turned to Do-yeong with a curious gleam in her eyes.
“Did you invest in it?”
“Even covered the rental fees. The rest, Hye—”
“Sunbae.”
Do-yeong lightly placed a hand on the senior’s shoulder, clearly signaling to stop. But the man’s voice was loud enough that the whole room had likely heard.
“So what’ve you been up to lately?”
“…I just got back to Korea a few days ago.”
“Still living the busy life, huh.”
The senior actor gave him another couple of hearty slaps on the back.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight. Looks good on you—makes you look sharp, suits the role!”
“What a shame… That boyish charm is gone. Such a waste,” Lee Hyun-sook added.
Do-yeong just smiled gently. Kang Hyeon silently followed them, listening.
Do-yeong couldn’t take his eyes off him. His anxious gaze flickered restlessly. Just then, his phone buzzed in his hand.
[Don’t join us for the meal.]
He frowned and began typing a reply when a second message arrived.
[Think you can watch your mouth?]
Do-yeong turned slightly and looked over his shoulder. Chief Choi was chatting with some film staff while glancing at his phone.
[If you don’t want me around, I’ll sit elsewhere.]
After sending the message, Do-yeong followed the group, pretending to continue his conversation with the senior actor.
The restaurant behind the building had only four-person tables, so the four of them naturally ended up sitting together. Kang Hyeon found himself seated diagonally across from Do-yeong.
He exchanged nods and subtle greetings with the actors he hadn’t yet spoken to.
Soon, samgyetang began arriving at the tables in order of arrival, which meant Kang Hyeon’s table, one of the last to arrive, had to wait. In the meantime, he got up and approached Kim Min, the female lead.
“Sorry for the late introduction. I’m Kang Hyeon.”
“Nice to meet you! I actually watched your film a few days ago. I was so excited to see you here.”
With a bright personality, she even offered a handshake.
“I was shocked to find out that serial killer was you. I couldn’t believe you were the same person. Weren’t you also in Shall We Get Married? as a background character?”
“Ah, yes.”
“I had a small role in that too! Though we weren’t in the same scene.”
Her comment reminded him of that minor part he did under his previous agency. Her upbeat demeanor helped ease his nerves, and he found himself smiling.
After greeting a few more people nearby, he returned to his seat—only to find the seating arrangement had changed. The veteran actor had stepped away to chat with others, and in that time, Do-yeong had taken the seat next to Kang Hyeon.
Kang Hyeon’s eyes trembled slightly. Before he could decide whether to sit opposite or beside him, the senior actor came back and took the opposite seat, placing Kang Hyeon right next to Do-yeong.
“You’ve worked with Director Ji before, haven’t you?”
Lee Hyun-sook asked while wiping her hands with a wet napkin.
“Yes, I did a cameo for his project when I was in Japan.”
“Spill some info.”
“Director Ji Seok-woo has an eye for the exact nuances actors are trying to convey. He may seem intimidating, but he’s surprisingly collaborative, so don’t be afraid to share your thoughts.”
While he spoke, their bubbling hot stone pots arrived. The staff recognized Do-yeong and placed his first. Seizing the moment, he pushed it in front of Kang Hyeon and struck up conversation.
“I was super comfortable working with Director Ji.”
He emphasized his words as he accepted the utensils Kang Hyeon passed to him.
“If your take on a character doesn’t align with his, he’ll film both versions. He remembers what you discussed during filming and tries to reflect that in the edit. But he hates when actors don’t have an opinion on their characters. Thinks it means they didn’t do their homework.”
He spoke calmly, eyes on the pot. A whole, tiny chicken floated inside, barely garnished with a limp ginseng root.
Do-yeong, who had once prepared samgyetang with wild ginseng for Kang Hyeon at home, looked unimpressed. The chick-sized bird didn’t satisfy him in the least. He glanced sideways, subtly gauging Kang Hyeon’s reaction.
“Want my drumstick?”
“….”
“I’m on a diet. Trade me—my leg for your chicken breast.”
Kang Hyeon stared at the pathetic chicken for a moment before silently pushing his bowl toward Do-yeong. As he watched Do-yeong start to pick the meat off the bones, his mouth opened.
“You’ve lost too much weight.”
The urge to tell him to stop hovered on his tongue. The idea of trying to harvest breast meat from such a tiny bird was absurd, but it also hinted at just how strict his diet had been for the role.
“…I’ve been moving non-stop. Guess it helped.”
Do-yeong pulled the dish of radish kimchi toward himself, then set it in front of Kang Hyeon. He poured him a cup of water and placed it beside him. When his eyes met Lee Hyun-sook’s, he poured water for the two senior actors as well, cut up the communal kimchi, and set it all in place.
Watching him fuss over the table, Kang Hyeon muttered quietly.
“Eat.”
Only then did Do-yeong pick up his chopsticks. The two senior actors paid no attention to them. Kang Hyeon had always been quiet, and he tended to be even more curt with Do-yeong—but they were used to the two taking care of each other.
Kang Hyeon glanced at the way Do-yeong picked at nothing but the breast meat and silently placed the dish of green chili peppers near him. At least vegetables should be fine.
That’s when he noticed the friendship ring on Do-yeong’s finger, and the bracelet on his wrist.
That tangled feeling started rising again. Finishing his meal with a bitter taste, Kang Hyeon deliberately walked over to the coffee machine by the register. He wanted some space from Do-yeong—and also, he needed to gain weight, so he was trying to squeeze in snacks whenever he could.
“One for me too, Hyeon.”
At the veteran actor’s request, Kang Hyeon nodded and started making another cup.
A staff member stepped up to the counter to pay. While greeting them, Kang Hyeon caught sight of their card—unlimited spending. What caught his eye next was when the staff flipped the card over.
The signature in the corner was instantly recognizable. He’d once sent that very card—along with a sports car key—to Chief Choi through CEO Goo Seong-do.
He turned his head.
Kang Hyeon had used that card countless times. He’d never forget that signature.
Now, he knew exactly whose card had paid for today’s meal.
His eyes instinctively sought out Do-yeong across the restaurant.
He was speaking with Chief Choi. Kang Hyeon abruptly left the restaurant.
Seeing this, Do-yeong whispered urgently to Chief Choi.
“This place sucks.”
“What? It’s perfect for one bowl each.”
“It’s too skimpy. He works out, too.”
Hearing the pouty complaint, Chief Choi let out a sigh.
“Should I have booked a hotel buffet? Or steak? Seafood place?”
“….”
“You’re being obvious. Stop following him around. Stay in your lane.”
With a heavy-lidded warning, he added dryly,
“Dessert’s ice cream?”
“Yes.”
Chuckling, Chief Choi returned to CEO Goo Seong-do, who was deep in conversation with the drama team.
Do-yeong, meanwhile, kept up polite chatter with the other actors who seemed curious about him as they exited the restaurant together.
Among the crowd of actors and staff walking ahead, Kang Hyeon was nowhere in sight.
Had he already gone back inside?
Just as Do-yeong picked up the pace to catch up—
He spotted Kang Hyeon behind the building, standing in the smoking area.
The unexpected location made him lean forward for a better look.
Director Choi Jin-hyuk was there, cigarette dangling from his lips, wearing that leering expression.
He wasn’t content with just patting Kang Hyeon’s shoulder and arm—his hand now slid lower, stroking down the small of his back.
A faint, cold glint flickered across Do-yeong’s brown eyes.
