“Huh?”
Kang Hyeon quickly responded to his manager, who was giving him a confused look.
“Let’s move on to the next interview.”
His chest swelled with anticipation as his phone kept vibrating with new messages. He couldn’t wait anymore—but at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin the moment by rushing through the photos Hyeon had sent. He wanted to savor them, slowly and alone, like reading a cherished novel. So he forced himself to bottle up the impatient excitement.
Feeling elated, Yoon Do-yeong tackled the rest of the otherwise tedious interviews with unusual enthusiasm. Determined to finish everything in one go, he plowed through them back-to-back, skipping breaks, and headed straight up to his hotel suite the moment his schedule wrapped. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he practically sprinted to the room, kicked off his shoes at the entryway without a second thought, and burst inside—only to come face-to-face with his father, who was casually sipping wine.
“Our superstar Actor Yoon—great job with all those interviews.”
“Huh? Weren’t you supposed to arrive this afternoon?”
Having flown in separately from his grandfather’s private jet with his mother, his father seemed to be enjoying a leisurely day in pajamas, despite it still being midday.
“We just got here a few hours ago. Your mom’s asleep now. Try not to make too much noise. Want something to eat?”
He headed toward the fridge, presumably to grab him a snack.
“No, I’m good. I’m really tired—I think I’ll just rest.”
Too impatient to sit still, Do-yeong’s legs were already moving him toward his room. His father craned his neck to call after him.
“How about seafood for dinner with Grandpa tonight?”
“Sounds good!”
He answered cheerfully and stepped into his room. Sunlight flooded through the massive window with a full view of the city skyline. He tossed off his coat and flopped down on the bed, immediately pulling out his phone.
He began going through the photos that had been trickling in since morning. The shot of him and Baek Ga-yeong standing side by side at her café, drinking their beverages, didn’t sit well with him. The way she warmly waved him off and how Hyeon waved enthusiastically in return made something twist unpleasantly in his gut.
His eyes narrowed in disapproval as he moved on to the next one. But when he saw the photo taken in the agency’s underground parking lot, his lips curled up on their own. On Hyeon’s wrist was the watch he’d bought while thinking of him.
“Knew it—it really suits him.”
The next photo was from the filming site. Most were taken from a distance since access was restricted, but thankfully, there were a few focused shots of his upper body. In most, he was smiling at the staff with his eyes curved like a gentle crescent—something that made Do-yeong find him even cuter. He reached out to gently trace the curve of Hyeon’s eye with his fingertip.
“I wish he’d smile like that just for me…”
Completely love-struck, even Hyeon’s polite, professional smile looked perfect in Yoon Do-yeong’s eyes. As he browsed through the photos one by one, his eyes suddenly widened at a particular shot. Unlike the previous ones filled with cheerful energy, this one captured Hyeon expressionless, lips pressed together, his hand brushing them lightly—the wristwatch clearly visible. The male actor next to him didn’t even register to Do-yeong. All he saw was Hyeon’s strikingly different mood.
His plump lips, slightly pressed by his index finger, looked soft and supple. Maybe it was the lip balm, or maybe it was the way the sun hit just right, but they looked fresh, full of color, and almost radiant. In contrast, his eyes, staring off into the distance with a calm but detached expression, held a sharpness that stirred something deep within Do-yeong.
His cheeks, now a soft shade of pink, puckered as his lips moved—pressing ever so slightly against the phone screen. Then he gently kissed it.
Clutching his phone to his chest with both hands, he rolled over on the bed with a giddy twist and let the words slip from his mouth.
“So sexy.”
As soon as he said it out loud, he got embarrassed and chuckled to himself in silence. Then, rushing to see if there were any more undiscovered photos, he opened Hyeon’s SNS. He didn’t use social media himself, but Hyeon rarely posted, so it wouldn’t be hard to check.
Sure enough, there was a new photo—likely taken by a staff member. Hyeon was giving a shy smile, his eyes crinkling cutely at the corners. It almost looked like he was smiling at him. Do-yeong’s own eyes softened into crescent moons as he saved the photo. Then he scrolled through his contact list and found the agency CEO’s number.
He was curious about the fusion sageuk the manager had mentioned and wanted to know how Hyeon’s filming was going. The call barely rang once before it connected.
—Oh! Do-yeong, what’s up?
Skipping any pleasantries, Do-yeong got straight to the point.
“I heard from the manager that you got a fusion sageuk script. What’s the title?”
—Return of the Moon. Why? Curious about how things are moving?
“What role is Hyeon taking?”
His blunt demand for a casting answer made the CEO let out an incredulous laugh.
—The lead’s already locked in. There’s a main supporting role and a bodyguard role left, but… sigh.
The small sigh gave him pause, but he focused on the role instead. He trusted the CEO’s eye for projects, so he asked.
“What’s the supporting role?”
—It’s a deposed crown prince. But that one’s going to an actor from MiraeCom2. Seems like they made a sizable investment in the production.
“Ah… MiraeCom2.”
—I already floated the idea of a dinner with Chairman Yoon. If Hyeon couldn’t get the crown prince role, I was planning to push for the bodyguard spot. But forget it.
“Why not?”
—Hyeon terminated his contract.
The CEO’s words hit like a brick wall, cutting through his thoughts in an instant.
—I dropped your name at the awards show, pushed him into trending rankings, said public interest was up—but nothing worked. I even told him this drama was being funded by Chairman Yoon and that it’d be a great opportunity. Still, he refused to renew. He’s ending the contract after this drama.
“You already told him about the investment?”
—Of course. Better to be direct than beat around the bush. I said the investment was guaranteed and let him choose any script he wanted—but he still said no. What can I do?
The CEO’s explanation faded into background noise. It all sounded like static.
“I still have a few months left…”
—Huh? Do-yeong, what are you saying?
“I’m sorry. I need to… talk to Hyeon.”
He hung up and immediately tried to call Hyeon. The line was busy. He tried again, but just as he was about to, the agency CEO called back. He hit reject and paused, gathering his thoughts. Then, anxiety flickering in his eyes, he dialed a different number.
***
Past midnight, the sports car rolled into the residential neighborhood. Hyeon drove a few laps searching for a parking spot near home, but with nothing available, he eventually parked in a paid lot farther away and walked the long distance back. Still in full makeup and costume, he looked like a model stepping out of a photo shoot. As the freezing wind blew, he pulled his coat collar up and passed by a real estate office. He paused in front of the listings on an A4 sheet—monthly rent, deposits, sale prices—and stared for a moment before continuing on.
As he turned into the alley, he spotted a sleek, imported luxury sedan that didn’t belong in this neighborhood. Just as he was wondering why a car like that was here—
“Hyeon!”
The back door flew open, and Yoon Do-yeong stepped out. He tried to get out before his long legs were even fully free, causing him to stumble.
“You ended your contract with the agency?!”
“…”
“Why?! Who said you could?!”
Do-yeong’s eyes were blazing, throwing accusations without pause. Without time to think, Hyeon answered plainly.
“I did.”
“Why?!”
“Forget that. Why are you here? Weren’t you on a month-long schedule?”
“I snuck out. I’ve got a flight to catch soon.”
“A flight? What the hell—why…?”
As he spoke, Hyeon noticed two men getting out of the car. One of them was Chief Choi, whom he’d seen a few times. The other two were clearly bodyguards—they formed a circle around them.
Still confused, Hyeon asked hesitantly,
“Did you come all this way just because I ended my contract?”
“Why would you do that without telling me?! Why didn’t you talk to me first?!”
“And this is what you flew over here in the middle of the night for?”
“What about it?”
“…”
Hyeon took a deep breath, temporarily speechless. For someone like him, flying was a rare, big-deal event. For Do-yeong, it was just another form of transportation. The gap between them felt vast—and the fact that he’d thrown his schedule aside just to confront him about this stirred a strange mix of feelings.
“You have a phone. You could’ve called.”
“How the hell is this a phone call kind of thing?! If I hadn’t found out now, when were you planning to tell me?”
“I was going to tell you when you came back.”
“Well, I’m back. So tell me.”
“You already know I ended the contract.”
Silence fell. Do-yeong bit his lip, visibly hurt, then inhaled deeply before speaking again.
“Why didn’t you tell me ahead of time? You could’ve dropped a hint. I joined that agency because of you. Don’t you feel even a little sorry about this?”
Kang Hyeon blinked a few times, clearly agitated. He bounced on his heels, trying to stay calm, and responded steadily.
“I didn’t know you joined the agency because of me. I didn’t tell you about ending the contract because… you were in the middle of filming, and I didn’t want to mess with your head. You’re doing well there.”
He paused, then met Do-yeong’s eyes. While Do-yeong’s gaze burned with frustration, Hyeon’s was cool and dry.
“To be honest… no, I’m not sorry.”
