Yoon Do-yeong paused for a moment before speaking again, lost in thought.
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since I was hospitalized. I know it’s not the most moral thing to do, but since I literally can’t move a muscle right now, there’s no reason not to use what I’ve got.”
As he spoke, the image of Lee Ji-gyeong popped into his mind—sitting in his usual spot at Baek Ga-yeong’s café, syncing seamlessly with Kang Hyeon like they were in perfect rhythm.
“I don’t fit into that tight-knit group. Once again, I’m the one left out.”
He added the last part with a hollow voice. Chief Choi, who had been silently mulling things over, finally responded with measured care.
“Do you want me to look into the people he meets regularly?”
“Thank you. Just for a month, please.”
Yoon Do-yeong gave a bright smile and, without warning, wired the fee directly to Chief Choi’s account.
“I’ve deposited 30% as a retainer.”
The amount equaled a corporate employee’s annual salary, and Chief Choi’s expression shifted. Though he handled all of Chairman Yoon’s errands and was technically no different from a salaried worker, this was different. He was well-compensated and occasionally received special bonuses, but Yoon Do-yeong’s payment made him reassess the situation.
“Send me your friend’s details.”
“Oh, and! Make sure to take photos where their face is clearly visible.”
Not wanting to assume anything, Yoon Do-yeong didn’t even specify the gender of the person to be watched. A month of surveillance would reveal who they were dating. Whoever it was, they clearly didn’t want to go public—just as Do-yeong hadn’t told even his closest friends. First, he needed to know who it was. That was the only way to figure out his next move.
A mix of uneasy anticipation and bitter resentment welled up in him as Lee Ji-gyeong came to mind. He picked up his smartphone and typed “Lee Ji-gyeong” into the search bar. Several profiles popped up, and toward the bottom, a familiar face appeared.
“Future ComTwo…”
The corner of his mouth twitched as he stared at the agency name. Future ComTwo didn’t have a great reputation. His father, a National Assembly member, once attended a corporate event hosted by the company and discreetly left after noticing entertainers being seated next to him during a follow-up drinking session. That kind of thing happened often enough that neither he nor his father made a fuss. Still, to find out that Lee Ji-gyeong belonged to that agency—
“No wonder things are tough for him.”
He felt a flicker of admiration at how Ji-gyeong had avoided the sleazy side of the industry and was genuinely working hard on his acting.
“His delivery and articulation are a bit weak… He’d be perfect for commercials or as a fitting model.”
Even though Ji-gyeong had once said he hated catalog shoots, it seemed to Do-yeong that Future ComTwo had actually lined up some decent gigs for him. As the pre-flight announcement echoed through the cabin, he sat back in thought.
Then, suddenly, he smiled.
He turned to Chief Choi, who was still nearby, and gave him a warm smile.
“Could you get me a list of all the affiliates, partner companies, and subcontractors under Seongjin Group?”
He said it with a smile. Chief Choi immediately brought out his tablet. After disembarking the plane, Do-yeong reviewed all the commercials and campaigns produced by those companies.
“Grandpa will invest in Hyeon regardless. But Ji-gyeong… seems like he’s struggling. Guess I’ll send him a little gift.”
He left a message offering to become the main model for a well-known casual clothing brand—if they hired Lee Ji-gyeong as their exclusive sub-model. The offer wasn’t sent through Ji-gyeong’s agency, but rather through his grandfather’s personal secretary.
***
A damp mop swept powerfully across the floor. Despite the early hour, before dawn had even broken, Kang Hyeon moved briskly through the café, cleaning every corner with energy and precision. He was wiping down the large glass wall with a dry cloth when the door opened, and Baek Ga-yeong’s drowsy voice echoed through the space.
“What are you doing here so early?”
“You’re here early too.”
“Yeah…”
Dragging out her words, she stifled a yawn and headed to the storage room to get more coffee beans.
By then, Kang Hyeon had already finished wiping down the tables. He stepped behind the counter and started arranging the cake display. He took the beans from Ga-yeong, brewed a cup of coffee, and handed it to her.
“Thanks~”
She took a hurried sip, trying to shake off her drowsiness, but flinched at the heat of the freshly brewed coffee.
“Don’t you have a shoot today?”
“I’m heading to the agency first. Need to grab my outfit and get makeup done.”
“You’re busy. Better get moving, then.”
At her gentle dismissal, Kang Hyeon swirled his milk cup slightly, signaling that he’d drink it first before leaving. Then he spoke seriously.
“You should hire someone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You planning to ditch me?”
“Yes.”
“Oooh~ Kang Hyeon-ssi. Sounds like you landed a bigger role?”
“That’s the plan. This year, I want to be more aggressive—not just auditioning but meeting casting directors in person and touring agencies with my profile.”
He took a sip of his warm milk and continued.
“Given how busy the café gets, it makes sense to hire someone. If just one person is missing during rush hour, it puts a lot of pressure on the rest.”
His earnest tone made Ga-yeong’s voice shift into something more serious too.
“What about your living expenses?”
“I can make enough to support myself.”
“If you’re paying rent, daily expenses, and activity fees, you need a stable income.”
“I’m not renting—I got a one-room on a lump-sum lease. It’s all I’ve got, bought with part of my parents’ life insurance.”
After his parents died in a car accident, he’d received a sizable payout. His grandfather hadn’t touched a cent of it—instead, he sought out high-interest savings accounts to grow the funds. Thanks to him, Hyeon had been able to cover his college tuition and still had some money left over.
“It’ll be tight, but even without making a dime, I can last at least a year. I want to give it my all for two years. I don’t feel right having you go out of your way for me anymore.”
Taking time off for filming, replacing his shifts—it could easily become a burden for her. Even if he was technically just a part-timer, his pay matched that of a full-time staff member. He’d agonized over his decision before speaking, but she simply let out a soft laugh like he was being dramatic.
“I’m investing in you.”
“……”
“If you land a decent role, your face will get out there. And when that happens, if you occasionally come back to work here—even just part-time—it’ll double our foot traffic. That’s what I’m banking on. Life’s about taking big swings. Let’s open a second location thanks to you.”
“If I don’t get results in two years, I’ll find a regular job.”
“In that case, I’ll go travel, and you can run the café. But, since I’ve invested in you, your salary will be frozen for two years.”
“Why would you go through the trouble of investing in me? It’s hard on you.”
“If I ever feel it’s too much, I’ll hire someone. I’m not that soft, and I know how to make smart calls.”
She suddenly leaned forward, locking eyes with him in a sharp, firm gaze.
“A real investor is prepared to never get their money back. But I believe your stock will pay off. If you make it big, promise me you’ll do a café commercial for me—for free—whenever I want.”
“If my stock turns to junk, you’ll just hire me, right? Wow, I’m guaranteed employment now.”
“Yup. Dirt cheap.”
She grinned, emphasizing every syllable of “dirt cheap.”
“Won’t my market value be higher by then? Salary freeze for two years, huh.”
“Still feels like I’m the one getting the short end of the stick. Don’t push yourself too hard on my account.”
“If you’ve got the time to say that, take out the trash.”
Her words—grounded, realistic, and full of warmth—moved him. Kang Hyeon nodded and drank his now lukewarm milk, gazing out at the slowly brightening street. Despite the winter chill, the cozy warmth between them lingered. As they stood side by side, sipping their drinks, Ga-yeong broke the silence.
“By the way, hasn’t Ji-gyeong been MIA lately?”
“Ah… he’s probably a little pissed at me.”
“Why?”
“The day Do-yeong showed up—I was supposed to have drinks with Ji-gyeong. But I ended up walking Do-yeong home and stayed too long. Ji-gyeong just went home on his own. Guess he was really upset. He hasn’t replied to my messages.”
“That one’s on you. If you make a promise, you keep it. Still, Ji-gyeong’s the type to get annoyed, not sulk…”
“I’ll go find him and apologize.”
He spoke with a light, joking tone, and Ga-yeong chuckled.
“Yeah, grovel real good. He seemed really stressed lately, probably because work’s not going well.”
“…Yeah.”
The guy was seriously contemplating ending his contract with his agency. Hyeon felt like he’d been too indifferent toward someone going through such a rough patch.
“Go on now. If you need to get your makeup done, you should be there early.”
She nudged his shoulder. He glanced at the clock—more time had passed than he’d realized. He hurried to take out the trash, but she stepped in and pushed him toward the door.
“Go on, go! If your styling’s fire, take some selfies and send them to me. If they’re too good to keep to myself, I’ll show them off. If you’re proud, I’ll print one out and tape it to the counter.”
Her upbeat farewell made Kang Hyeon swing his arm in a big wave. His steps were light as he headed to the subway. Moving against the tide of exiting passengers, he boarded the train and pulled out his phone. He instinctively started typing a message to Yoon Do-yeong to say he was headed to the shoot—but then hesitated and took his fingers off the keypad.
He stared blankly at the screen. His gaze drifted aimlessly across the subway’s interior. After a long moment, he found Lee Ji-gyeong in his contacts.
[Going to shoot. Wraps the day after tomorrow.]
He sent the message, then reached into his bag for his earphones. As he was about to turn on some music, a message notification pinged.
He casually plugged in his earphones, started the music, and then checked the reply. His pupils quivered slightly.
[Hyeon-ah, your shoot starts today, right? Did you dress warm enough? Don’t get nervous—just do it the way you practiced. I know, like always, you’ll do great.]
The message from Yoon Do-yeong landed like a quiet weight in his chest. But just as the tenderness settled in, another message arrived, shattering the mood.
[So what?]
Ji-gyeong’s curt reply made him let out a soft chuckle.
