Yoon Do-yeong cast a disapproving look at Kang Hoon, his voice clipped and dry.
“You should contact CEO Goo. He must be really worried.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Kang Hoon pulled out his phone and called CEO Goo Seong-do. As their conversation went on, Kang Hyeon, who had been quietly listening, turned to Do-yeong and asked cautiously,
“…Did CEO Goo call Kang Hoon first?”
“Yeah. And Chief Choi called me.”
At Do-yeong’s reply, Kang Hyeon let out a soft breath of relief and gave a small nod. CEO Goo was doing his best in his own way.
Do-yeong was right—he needed to be clear. It wasn’t enough to just endure the contract period; he had to show that he wanted to stay, that he was committed to going forward together.
As that thought finally settled in his once-scattered mind, a gentle voice reached his ears.
“We’ll be there soon. Just rest for a bit.”
Do-yeong handed him the herbal tonic pouch again and picked up his smartphone. Kang Hyeon accepted the drink without thinking. Do-yeong quickly typed out a message to Chief Choi.
[Taking Hyeon to a hotel.]
He watched as Do-yeong tapped the period at the end and sent it. Kang Hyeon fiddled with the pouch in his hands as Do-yeong exchanged a few more messages, then placed his phone in the organizer next to the cup holder. When Kang Hyeon moved to return the tonic, Do-yeong held up the empty pack with a smile.
“I already drank mine.”
“….”
“The aftertaste’s a little bitter. Have a candy.”
Do-yeong reached into the cup holder and handed him a piece of candy. His movements were casual, but the fingers that placed the candy in Kang Hyeon’s palm were trembling slightly. The friendship ring still on his index finger, which he’d once claimed was tight, now spun loosely, like it no longer fit.
Kang Hyeon brought the straw to his lips and drank the tonic in one go, then popped the candy into his mouth. The sour lemon flavor spread gently, softening the bitterness that lingered. He let out a quiet sigh, weighed down by unease, and Kang Hoon’s voice broke through with a serious tone.
“From now on, don’t go around alone. You could end up stuck inside a building, unable to leave.”
“It’s not that serious. I think people just recognized me because it’s the neighborhood.”
“Most fans know their boundaries and act with respect. They’re happy just to see you and want to show support. For those people, fan service is fine. But when someone crosses the line, when they get too invested—it’s okay to be cold. You don’t owe them kindness.”
Kang Hoon’s voice, calm at first, grew firmer.
“If anyone invades your privacy, don’t hesitate. Report them. File charges if you have to.”
“I think it’s just because I used to do deliveries in this area…”
Still not fully grasping the situation, Kang Hyeon trailed off. Yoon Do-yeong, who had been silently watching him, spoke in a level tone.
“Sometimes they’ll just suddenly hug you. Or stand next to you while you’re in the bathroom, blatantly staring.”
“….”
“They’ll grab your arm or stick their hands under your shirt from behind. Some even pick fights on purpose, just to get a reaction—to see you flustered or angry. I once got grabbed by the collar just for showing discomfort when a drunk kept hovering around me.”
Do-yeong added with a light, almost amused smile,
“They’ll ask for leniency, blame it on the alcohol. I didn’t give them any.”
“Good.”
“It’s not easy to respond to every incident, but if someone lays a hand on you, don’t let it slide. Sometimes they’ll suddenly kiss you, pat your arm or back—or even your ass. And filing complaints isn’t always straightforward. Older folks especially will claim it’s because they see you like a son or just find you adorable. But if you respond coldly, you end up looking like the uptight one. And if it gets picked up by the media, it becomes even more of a headache.”
At those words, Kang Hyeon’s brows furrowed.
By then, the van was pulling into the parking lot of a nearby business hotel.
“I’ll go get the room key. Just wait here.”
Kang Hoon got out, handling everything quickly and scanning the area as he returned. Kang Hyeon was about to step out too, but Do-yeong stopped him.
“Don’t get out until we give the all-clear.”
“That’s a bit much.”
Kang Hyeon stepped out anyway, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Kang Hoon clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
“You can’t just hop out like that. What if something happens?”
“…I don’t think it’s that serious.”
“If it weren’t, you wouldn’t have had to leave your apartment. What are you so fearless about? Do you even know any self-defense?”
“No.”
“Aigoo…”
Kang Hoon sighed in exasperation. Inside the van, Do-yeong’s eyes glinted as he quietly listened.
Once inside, as they waited for the elevator, a cleaning lady stared at Kang Hyeon.
“You’re that actor, right? From the drama…”
Her eyes sparkled as she asked carefully. Kang Hyeon smiled and bowed politely. Kang Hoon, sensing the attention, quickly ushered him into the elevator. Just before the doors closed, Yoon Do-yeong slipped in too.
“Why are you coming up?”
Kang Hoon opened his mouth to say something, but Do-yeong beat him to it.
“I want to show him a few self-defense moves.”
“…Sure.”
Did it really warrant all this? Kang Hyeon wasn’t sure. But when even Kang Hoon nodded in agreement, he felt slightly overwhelmed. He stared quietly at Do-yeong, who seemed to have lived through more than he let on. Sensing the unspoken thoughts, Do-yeong smiled reassuringly and stepped in front of him as the elevator came to a stop. Kang Hoon exited first, with the other two following behind.
The hotel room matched its business-class label—just a bed, a small table, and a TV. As soon as Kang Hyeon set his bag down, Do-yeong extended his arm.
“Grab my wrist and pull.”
Kang Hyeon hesitated, then took hold of it.
“Pull.”
At Do-yeong’s prompt, he yanked hard. Do-yeong instantly lowered the captured arm, twisted his wrist, and slipped out of the grip. The sudden pressure made Kang Hyeon flinch and lock eyes with him.
“That’s enough of a warning to say ‘don’t touch me.’”
“That kind of hurts, though.”
“You shouldn’t be touching someone’s body without permission in the first place. And if things ever escalate to the point where you need to defend yourself, it means you’re uncomfortable or in danger.”
They were still in the middle of practice when a call came in from CEO Goo Seong-do.
—You arrived safe?
“Yes, everything’s fine. Oh, by the way, sir.”
—Yeah?
“I want to extend my contract.”
—……
“So please don’t transfer me somewhere else.”
From the table, Kang Hoon looked up from his phone with a dumbfounded expression. Do-yeong leaned over and whispered,
“I’ll stay on to work with you until Hyeon finishes his time at Mpia.”
Kang Hoon, suddenly emotional, grabbed Do-yeong’s hand in gratitude. In return, Do-yeong gave a slight smile and nodded toward Kang Hyeon, still on the phone.
“Please take good care of him.”
Kang Hoon looked startled for a moment, but quickly nodded. Do-yeong had offered to stay with them voluntarily.
Kang Hyeon, still processing everything, left CEO Goo with a final note to draw up a new contract and ended the call. The screen showed his battery was low. He dug through his bag for a charger—nothing.
Noticing his hesitation, Kang Hoon asked,
“Forgot your charger?”
“Yeah.”
“Again?”
“…”
“What else do you need?”
Kang Hoon got up, checked the fridge, the bathroom, and then stepped out to get supplies. As soon as he left, the atmosphere in the room grew awkward. Alone with Do-yeong now, the air between them turned noticeably stiff. Do-yeong, who had been speaking freely just moments ago, now avoided his eyes and sat at the table, gazing out the window. Their reflections met in the glass. When their eyes locked, Do-yeong quickly looked away.
Feeling strangely tense, Kang Hyeon brewed two cups of instant coffee like he usually would, then paused—remembering Do-yeong’s insomnia. He tossed the coffee and brought over tea instead.
Then, finally, he spoke—because it was something he needed to say at least once.
“…I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not trusting the director… for accusing you of manipulating the casting.”
“…Well, I can’t blame you. If it wasn’t Director Yoo Ji-ha, most people would’ve thought the same.”
A faint smile crossed Do-yeong’s face, but it froze as the silence stretched on and Kang Hyeon didn’t say anything else.
“I got the role, and then you became an investor. That part’s true, right?”
“…I’m part of the cast too. It’s not like you’re benefiting from me—you’re benefiting from the work itself. If that bothers you, then just never do another project I’m in.”
“…Okay. I’ll give it my all.”
Kang Hyeon nodded and added again, softly,
“I won’t cause any trouble. Thank you.”
It was the word trouble that stuck with Do-yeong more than thank you. It felt like he was just saying the right thing to an investor. The sting of it lingered, but he didn’t bother correcting it—nothing good would come from adding more to that conversation.
Silence settled in again.
Kang Hyeon’s gaze lingered on the friendship ring and bracelet on Do-yeong’s fingers. They sat across from each other at the table, sipping tea slowly. Eventually, unable to bear the quiet, Do-yeong broke it with a calm voice.
“Don’t trust anyone.”
“…”
“People who approach you through business—those are the most dangerous. And if someone you used to be close to ever talks about someone else behind their back, be careful. Find things out for yourself. Only open your heart when you know you can control the situation.”
“How can you say that? How are you supposed to work with people if you can’t trust anyone?”
“Keep people around who only do as much as they’re paid for. If they go above and beyond, you need to question it. Maybe they really care about you… or maybe they’re just trying to isolate you and block your view. Either way, it’s safest to approach everything with a business mindset.”
“…Is that from experience?”
