Rough voices echoed through the room, which could’ve passed for the living room of a luxury home if not for the scattered and mounted medical equipment.
“No, seriously. Are you out of your mind? Why the hell would you crash into a hotel lobby!?”
Kim Hoon, the agency CEO who had gotten completely plastered celebrating at the afterparty, shook his throbbing head side to side as he stared at Yoon Do-yeong before him.
The young man leaning back on the medical bed looked deathly pale, almost bluish. He sat there blankly staring out the window, as if he hadn’t heard a word. Either from the shock of the accident or from outright denial, he just kept slowly shaking his head.
Watching this, Kim Hoon let out a long sigh. Whatever alcohol had still been lingering in his body had long since evaporated. The more he thought about it, the dizzier he felt—his vision going white and a chill crawling down his spine.
Do-yeong had won the Grand Prize, then snuck out without his manager, saying he was stepping out for a bit, taking the company car. He’d only left a brief message saying he’d be right back. But he hadn’t returned to the agency’s own afterparty, nor had he gone to the party being hosted by the drama production team.
Instead, completely out of the blue, he drove into a business hotel—and crashed straight into the lobby.
Was Yoon Do-yeong drunk? Absolutely not. His alcohol tolerance barely allowed for a single can of beer. He didn’t even drink that night. And even when he did drink, the most he ever did was doze off with his head on someone’s shoulder. That, too, was rare. Usually, he’d just climb into the backseat and call his family or friends until he sobered up.
So why would someone who hadn’t had a single drop do something like that? It made no sense. The impact from crashing into the lobby had triggered the airbag. He passed out from the shock and was rushed to a general hospital by ambulance. When he woke up in a VIP suite, he was just lying there, blankly staring at the ceiling, as if he had no idea what had even happened.
“Yoon Do-yeong. Hey. Hey!”
Alarmed by the vacant look on his face, Kim Hoon tapped his cheeks rapidly with his hand.
“……I’m okay.”
A weak voice finally slipped from his tightly shut lips.
“Why did you do it? Was it a sudden acceleration? More importantly, why did you go to that hotel?”
“……I don’t know.”
“What?”
“That hotel……”
It was the place he used to go often when rehearsing scripts with Hyeon. The hotel, run by a friend of his mother’s, was where he used to rent a room to practice. His house was too far from Hyeon’s, but the hotel was within walking distance from Hyeon’s place—a good workout, even. The city nightscape seen from the windows wasn’t half-bad either, making it a great place to sip on a beer and get lost in thought. It had become an instinctive destination whenever someone mentioned a hotel.
Do-yeong trailed off and let out a long sigh, rubbing his face with both hands.
“We used to rehearse scripts there all the time. I must’ve gotten confused and thought that was the place for the drama team’s afterparty. I’m sorry.”
Kim Hoon let out a breath of relief at Do-yeong’s polite apology. Encouraged, he continued speaking.
“……I think I pressed the accelerator instead of the brake. It’s been so long since I drove the company car. I really am sorry. Were the people in the lobby okay? No one got hurt?”
“Thankfully, everyone got out of the way in time, so they’re all fine. But seriously, where was your mind at? From now on, you’re not going anywhere unless your manager is with you!”
“……But the people in the lobby must’ve been really shaken up. Maybe they should at least get some counseling—”
“You idiot! I’ll handle that, so worry about yourself! You should count your blessings. You walked away from this with just a hairline fracture in your ribs thanks to the airbag. You could’ve ended up with your face shredded by glass shards!”
Flinching at Kim Hoon’s furious tone, Yoon Do-yeong took deep, steady breaths, then covered his face with both hands. He bit down on his lip and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Seeing him suddenly this shaken, Kim Hoon softened. The accident alone had been traumatic enough—he regretted coming down on him so hard.
“Don’t stress too much. They say a hairline rib fracture heals in about a month or two. You’ll be able to go about your day normally.”
“……But what about today’s schedule? I’m so sorry.”
They were already overwhelmed with interview bookings after the acting award, not to mention a slew of commercial shoots lined up. The priority was for Do-yeong to recover quickly and get back to work in shooting condition.
“I’ll handle it. You just focus on healing.”
Kim Hoon pressed his throbbing temples with his thumb and let out another sigh. He needed to organize his thoughts and make calls to reporters and the companies they had CF contracts with. Picking up his smartphone, he hesitated before pressing the call button and stood up.
Yoon Do-yeong was the responsible type. He was probably beating himself up over the disruption to the schedule. It would be better to step outside and make the calls rather than do it in front of him. Just as he reached the door, a thought struck him. He turned around and said:
“Oh right. Hyeon stopped by.”
Do-yeong’s eyes widened from where he slumped weakly against the bed.
“He’s waiting in the lobby. I’ll bring him up.”
“W-wait a sec.”
“Hm?”
Kim Hoon looked at him curiously. The two of them were best friends. Kang Hyeon had joined the agency first, and Do-yeong had followed soon after. Though both had started as child actors, Do-yeong had the stronger filmography. Still, Kang Hyeon’s acting—especially his flawless portrayal of a child psychopath—was solid and seasoned.
Do-yeong had gentler, more approachable eyes compared to Hyeon’s sharp, intense gaze, which made him more popular with the general public. Even knowing they were close, the agency couldn’t help but push Do-yeong more. Kang Hyeon never said anything, but the disappointment must’ve been there. Still, they always looked out for each other, and seeing that, Kim Hoon had always felt proud.
“He came by at dawn. Said he saw the article about you.”
“As early as dawn?”
Do-yeong’s question came the moment Kim Hoon finished speaking. The curiosity in his eyes was obvious, and Kim Hoon nodded.
“Yeah. He didn’t even throw on a coat. The kid was completely pale when he showed up. Must’ve been really shaken.”
Clicking his tongue with his hands on his hips, Kim Hoon caught a glimpse of Do-yeong. The once-blank eyes had sharpened into focus, and his index and middle fingers were restlessly tapping the bedsheet. A nervous tic of his.
Do-yeong tried to act composed in front of Kim Hoon, but the tension in his expression was hard to miss. He opened his mouth, wanting to see Hyeon as soon as possible, but closed it again just as quickly. The last message Hyeon had sent before Do-yeong headed to the business hotel had resurfaced in his mind.
[At a hotel with my lover.]
The message burned vividly behind his eyes, sinking like a stone in his chest. His mood plummeted, but his voice remained even.
“I must’ve worried him a lot. He’s probably been waiting a while. Please call him in.”
Kim Hoon nodded, raised his phone to his ear, and stepped out.
As the door clicked shut, Do-yeong kept tapping the blanket with his fingers, then took a deep breath and laced his hands together. The five minutes it would take for Hyeon to come up from the first-floor waiting room to the VIP suite felt like an eternity. Even his quiet breathing felt stifled, like the air itself had turned too thick to inhale. When the pressure in his chest became too much to bear, the hospital room door finally opened.
Do-yeong instinctively inhaled deeply—a trained reflex he’d developed to shake off nerves before a shoot. As his chest expanded, a dull ache bloomed across his ribs.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he looked toward the person stepping into the room. Wearing only sweatpants and a black knit sweater in the dead of winter, Hyeon’s face was pale to the point of looking blue. His monolid eyes—usually sharp and piercing—were now clouded with concern, giving him a rare gentleness. Rushing forward, he checked Do-yeong’s condition, his eyes widening as they fell on the IV lines trailing from his arm.
“You okay?”
“Were you crying?”
“Y-Yeah… I was just shocked when I heard you were hurt.”
“Did you come straight from the hotel?”
Do-yeong fired the question before the slight tremor in Hyeon’s voice had even finished reaching his ears.
“Y-Yeah…”
The vague answer made Do-yeong’s gaze sharpen. A heat surged up from behind his eyes, and something hot and heavy rose in his chest like a flash fire.
‘Which hotel? Which girl? What were you doing?’
The questions had circled in his mind as he’d gripped the steering wheel and headed toward that hotel. They still swirled on the tip of his tongue. But he swallowed them down—he knew better. Now wasn’t the time, and those weren’t questions he had the right to ask. The fact that Hyeon had left his girlfriend in the middle of the night and come to him… that alone had to be enough for now.
Trying to sit up to greet him, a sharp pain pierced his side where the fractured rib was. He let out an involuntary “Ugh.” Startled, Hyeon rushed over to help, adjusting the bed so that Do-yeong could recline at a more comfortable angle.
“You okay?”
At Hyeon’s repeated question, Do-yeong forced a small smile.
“Yeah. They said it’s a hairline fracture in the rib.”
“I heard from the CEO. But why? Why did you crash into the hotel lobby?”
“……I don’t know. I can’t remember anything from that moment.”
He’d been so furious, everything had gone black. He’d driven to the first hotel that came to mind and floored the accelerator without thinking.
Do-yeong placed a hand over his tightening chest. Trying to keep calm, he took a slow breath and asked in the most composed voice he could manage:
“Your girlfriend? Did she come with you?”
“Huh? Ah… I sent her home in a cab.”
“How long have you two been dating?”
“Uh… About a month.”
“Who is she? Someone I know? An actress? A singer?”
“No. She’s not in the business.”
“How’d you meet her?”
“…While I was working part-time.”
“What kind of job? A café? A restaurant?”
