“Do-yeong.”
“Yeah?”
“I feel like I’m always getting dragged around by you.”
“……”
“From now on, let’s talk things out and make plans ahead of time. Even having dinner like this wasn’t scheduled.”
“You’re eating because you came to my place. Why would we need to schedule that? Are you really so busy you can’t even spare the time to sit down at a table that’s already been set?”
“……”
“Ever since you started dating, it’s like you can’t even find time to have a single meal with me. You’ve got to eat dinner anyway, don’t you?”
Yoon Do-yeong slumped his shoulders, picking at a piece of meat with his chopsticks, his lips twitching faintly.
“But you still bought drinks for Ji-gyeong even though that wasn’t in your schedule. That stings…”
At Do-yeong’s openly sulky tone and actions, Kang Hyeon’s previously rigid gaze instantly softened. Do-yeong, who wasn’t even eating the chicken, was meticulously stripping it and piling it high in his own bowl like a little mountain. Feeling guilty for using the word “schedule” like it was some kind of excuse, Kang Hyeon picked up a bit of that now mountain-shaped chicken.
“Ji-gyeong’s covering for me at the café. It’s only right to buy him a drink.”
“Then buy him a meal.”
“I’m having a meal with you right now.”
“……”
“Ji-gyeong’s been stressed lately. That’s why we drank.”
At the mention of “stress,” Do-yeong’s voice calmed a little.
“What’s going on?”
“He’s frustrated because things aren’t going well.”
“I’m not gonna know what that means if you keep it vague like that.”
“It’s personal.”
He didn’t intend to elaborate, but as he scooped up some sticky rice, he started speaking again.
“I vent with Ji-gyeong over a drink too.”
“What’s got you so stressed?”
“I’m getting older and haven’t accomplished anything. That eats at me. We just vent over drinks.”
“……Is your stress about your love life too?”
“……”
Kang Hyeon’s brow crumpled at how, no matter what, it always came back to his love life. He didn’t bother hiding his irritation, and Do-yeong averted his eyes.
“Filming starts soon, right? Let me see the script.”
Changing the subject completely, Do-yeong took the script from Kang Hyeon and started quietly eating his samgyetang. His eyes were serious as he scanned the parts Kang Hyeon had marked. Watching him, Kang Hyeon spoke again.
“Let’s grab a meal when you get back from Japan.”
“Sure. What should we eat? Korean? Chinese? Or… should I cook for you?”
There was a hint of excitement in his slightly perky tone, and the last option even carried a bit of shyness.
“I’ll ask Ga-yeong noona and Ji-gyeong, since they had to hold down the fort without me today.”
“……Okay.”
Do-yeong’s voice deflated at Kang Hyeon’s indifferent response. But since he knew he’d made things tough for them when he showed up at the café earlier, he accepted it and smiled faintly.
“Since I messed up the café’s sales today, maybe I should pick a day to work the counter and take orders. I mean, I mentioned your name at the awards ceremony and got you trending in real-time searches. We could even take a two-shot photo and post it on social media—wouldn’t that be good promo for you? Once the web drama airs, people are gonna start recognizing you more.”
Hinting at wanting to spend more time together and casually suggesting that Kang Hyeon use him for PR, he was met with a firm reply.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t handle unexpected situations.”
“Just hire security.”
“What, is this a fan signing? We’d have to control the crowd, map out the routes, set up barriers in advance. Why make it a big production? Do that when your popularity’s waning and people say you’re washed up.”
“Haa… I just want to go back to before the drama. There are too many restrictions on what I can do now.”
As Do-yeong said that, Kang Hyeon quietly chewed his food. He forced down the rising heat in his chest. Even if time rewound and he had been cast in the drama instead, he knew he wouldn’t have played the role with the same lovable charm as Do-yeong. He understood that rationally, but the bubbling emotions still left him cold inside.
“Stop whining like you’re full and bored.”
Kang Hyeon moved his chopsticks again and continued.
“If an aspiring actor heard you say that—someone working their ass off just to land a single role—they’d think you’re a spoiled brat.”
“……I know.”
“Well, you sounded like one just now.”
“……”
“If you’re sorry, go get some kimchi.”
Do-yeong shot up from his seat and quickly brought out several types of kimchi from the fridge. As Kang Hyeon munched on some ponytail radish kimchi, he added,
“Even before this drama, you weren’t exactly living freely. You were already well-known. People recognized you on the street even when you were just a supporting actor in a historical drama.”
“Still, it wasn’t this bad.”
“You only ever go to your agency or the movie theater anyway.”
“We used to go on drives all the time. You were the one who said I shouldn’t just stay cooped up at home.”
“Let’s stop talking and just eat.”
Making it clear he didn’t want to continue, Do-yeong picked out a sliver of ginseng from inside the chicken—something he hadn’t even noticed was there—and placed it in Kang Hyeon’s bowl. As he bit into it, Do-yeong beamed with a wide grin. Though he tried to hide it by pursing his lips, Kang Hyeon got a strange hunch that what he was chewing wasn’t ginseng at all. He subtly pulled out his phone and searched the price of wild ginseng.
“Why the hell are you looking that up in the middle of a meal?”
Do-yeong flipped his phone face down and tore off a chicken leg, shoving it toward him. Without saying a word, he grinned ear to ear. Kang Hyeon just stared at him blankly, then quietly resumed eating. The warmth spreading through his chest—he chalked it up to the hot, nourishing food.
After finishing the meal Do-yeong had insisted on, they stepped out into the spacious living room where silence hung heavy. When he was twelve and active as a child actor, Kang Hyeon had visited this house a few times after seeing Do-yeong on set. Even then, the place had felt cold and empty. Probably because it was too big.
Back when his parents were alive, they lived in a small two-bedroom apartment. When his acting started to take off, at his mother’s suggestion, she quit her job to manage him full-time. But that only led to constant fighting between his parents. Arguments about commercials, child actor pay, who deserved what—it never stopped. Back then, he hated acting.
He dreaded every script he had to memorize and felt suffocated whenever a new project came in. But because the income was good, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. As a kid, he thought that if he kept earning money, maybe his parents would stop fighting.
It was when he went to audition for a new children’s drama called Little Science Explorers. While waiting for the kid before him to finish, he was reading through the designated script when someone sat down beside him.
“Hi.”
The cheerful greeting made him look up. The kid had a bright, friendly smile.
“Uh… ice cream.”
The word slipped out, and sure enough, it was the kid from an ice cream commercial who was about the same age. There wasn’t much of a first impression. He just looked exactly like he did in the ad—cute, radiant. Seeing him in person, his smile felt even more refreshing.
“Kang Hyeon.”
Before they could properly exchange greetings, his name was called, and he had to head inside. Originally, he’d wanted the role of Seon-woo in Little Science Explorers. Seon-woo was the class president type—kind and smart, just like the name implied. But the moment he came face to face with the ice cream commercial kid, he had a gut feeling that the role wouldn’t go to him. He switched to the mischievous kid role, Chan, in the assigned script. Right after he came out of the audition room, the ice cream kid was called in.
“Yoon Do-yeong.”
“You got the role I wanted, didn’t you?”
That’s what he said as he walked past. He didn’t know what he meant, so he tilted his head in confusion. That evening, he got a call saying he’d been cast as a child psychopath.
“A kid who looks that cheerful wanted to play a role like that? It doesn’t suit him at all.”
His mother had said, and he agreed. Back then, his hollow eyes and ever-present discontent came naturally. His monolids gave him a sharp look that helped sell the role. So filming began, and about halfway through, he landed the role of Chan in Little Science Explorers.
The next day, he went to the production company for contract signing. After a tiring kids’ clothing shoot that morning, he was drained and just being dragged along by his mother when he heard a disgruntled voice in the hallway.
“Then who’s playing Chan?”
“Not sure. I heard it was a unanimous decision.”
It sounded like it was Yoon Do-yeong’s mother speaking, and Do-yeong bit his lip in frustration. After a moment, he seemed to lose interest and replied flatly,
“I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“Do-yeong, Seon-woo is a good role too. Everyone wants that part. As soon as you walked into the audition, everyone thought you were perfect for it.”
His mother tried to soothe him calmly. Kang Hyeon had wanted that role too. But the moment he saw Do-yeong, he’d given up on it. He started to wonder if he’d made a mistake by doing that—just because Do-yeong hadn’t wanted it.
“It’s boring.”
Do-yeong firmly refused and turned to walk toward him. Their eyes met, and then he suddenly rushed over.
“What role did you get?”
“……”
“You’re playing Chan, aren’t you?”
Caught off guard, he nodded.
Do-yeong looked at him with curious eyes and asked,
“What kind of acting did you do to get a unanimous vote? I mean, you don’t really look the part. You look super cute.”
“……”
“I heard it was a unanimous decision?”
The way he pressed the question rubbed him the wrong way, so he snapped.
“Why do I have to pass your acting test too?”
