“Ji-gyeong said he was craving sashimi.”
At Kang Hyeon’s wistful comment, Yoon Do-yeong’s grip on his chopsticks subtly tightened.
“I’m meeting him in a few days. I’ll treat him to something good then.”
“You’re meeting?”
“Yeah. For a photoshoot.”
“…Clothing?”
“You said Ji-gyeong was having a rough time, so I put in a few words. He’s got a good face, great proportions, and plenty of experience with catalogue shoots—he’ll do well.”
“…”
“Don’t act like you know him, though. I’m the main model, and it’s basically an online catalogue format.”
Do-yeong downed a shot of soju and continued casually,
“I just opened the door for him. He’ll probably be front and center by the end of the year.”
He smiled brightly, as if confident the drama Ji-gyeong was in would be a hit. Hyeon gave a faint nod and lifted his cup. The alcohol that slid down his throat tasted especially bitter. Everyone seemed to be moving forward while he felt stuck in place, growing smaller in his own eyes. He stabbed a piece of seafood in frustration—just as his phone rang.
An unknown number. He hesitated, then answered.
—Hello, this is SciPictures. We came across your profile and wanted to reach out.
At the word profile, Hyeon’s voice jumped in surprise.
“Yes, hello!”
They invited him to audition for a drama based on a webtoon. His heart began to race.
“Yes! Yes, tomorrow at 2 p.m.? Okay! Yes!”
While Hyeon was talking, Do-yeong calmly noted down the production name and time on his own phone.
“An audition?”
“Yeah.”
Hyeon mumbled as he searched for the webtoon online.
“Must be CEO Goo Seong-do.”
“You mean… from Hyun-sook noona’s agency? The one who called about the queer film earlier?”
“Yeah!”
Hyeon’s eyes lit up as he called CEO Goo to thank him profusely for circulating his profile. After listening for a while, he responded with a lively, “Yes, sir! Understood!” and hung up.
“What’d he say?”
“On the surface, it’s a webtoon drama audition, but CEO Goo said the casting’s already locked in. One of the directors from another project is helping with auditions. It’s more like a chance to make a good impression, so he suggested going with a grounded, everyday performance style.”
“Of course the leads are set. Are there any slice-of-life supporting characters in the webtoon?”
“I need to look right now.”
They both started combing through the webtoon, hunting for any relatable characters. Midway through, Do-yeong pointed one out.
“This guy—classmate of the main character. He exists to highlight the protagonist’s personality. Doesn’t show up all the time, but he recurs.”
“He’s got a fair bit of dialogue.”
“No idea how they’ll adapt it, but better to memorize the lines just in case.”
Hyeon nodded, munching on sashimi while reading through the character’s lines. Then Do-yeong suddenly read the lead’s lines aloud, and Hyeon instinctively replied with the supporting character’s lines. They volleyed back and forth, gradually syncing their flow until it felt natural. Once the rhythm was there, Hyeon began committing the lines to memory. Do-yeong kept scrolling through the webtoon, then pointed at another character.
“This one—the kid who kills himself over grades.”
They both looked down at the screen. Even bit parts were worth marking—anything that could land him a role. They spent the entire afternoon that way. When the sunset began to bleed through the windows, Hyeon finally spoke.
“Do-yeong.”
Do-yeong looked up from the screen. Together, they watched the sun sink into the sea, golden light fading into deep red. Do-yeong reached toward the window, tracing the sun with his fingers until it disappeared completely beneath the horizon.
“Did you make your wish?”
“Yeah.”
“What was it?”
“That the person I like… only looks at me. Only thinks of me. Only loves me.”
“Who?”
“The person I like.”
At his words, Hyeon’s gaze shifted to the sea that had swallowed the sun. The once-beautiful glow was gone, replaced by a dull, ash-colored sky. The sight matched the grey weight in his chest.
“…Hope you don’t get rejected this time.”
“Yeah.”
Do-yeong let out a soft, mischievous laugh. Hyeon huffed in disbelief and turned away—yet both of their smiles faded immediately after.
Do-yeong watched Hyeon walk toward the sofa with eyes full of aching affection. Meanwhile, Hyeon, staring at his script like nothing was wrong, held a sadness that was sharp and bitter.
“Hyeon-ah…”
He looked up at the low murmur of his name. Do-yeong gave him a faint smile, his tone serious.
“I’m going to wish for the same thing again at sunrise.”
Hyeon stared at him quietly before responding, voice detached.
“Go ahead.”
He kept it flat, then turned back to his phone. But the lines that had been crystal clear earlier now blurred. He could still see the text, but none of it registered.
Then he felt a head resting on his thigh—Do-yeong.
“You like whipped cream cake? Or chocolate?”
“…Fruit.”
“Strawberry shortcake?”
Hyeon didn’t reply. Do-yeong nudged his phone slightly and locked eyes with him. Hyeon looked down at him resting on his leg, his gaze unreadable. The nuance in his eyes made Do-yeong’s own waver with subtle panic.
Eventually, trying to break the tension, Do-yeong spoke.
“Hyeon-ah, what should we eat for dinner?”
“Eat what? We still have sashimi left.”
“But it’s your birthday. I want to treat you to something nice.”
“Focus on finding characters in the webtoon. Let’s prep two short freestyle monologues. That’s more important.”
At that, Do-yeong’s eyes flickered with tension. Maybe it was Hyeon’s indifferent tone. Maybe the disappointment leaked into his own. Flustered, he forced a smile and curved his eyes.
“Forget the rest. Just bring a cake.”
Hyeon turned back to his phone.
Later, Do-yeong returned with a beautiful cake, lit the candles, and watched Hyeon give a half-hearted smile as he took a single bite before retreating to bed. Noticing how closed-off Hyeon seemed, Do-yeong quietly moved to the other bed, lying down. He couldn’t sleep but pretended anyway.
Before dawn, Hyeon woke him, and they left the hotel. Hyeon drove, having picked up warm canned coffee from a convenience store. At the shore, they watched the horizon brighten. Hyeon spoke, flat and calm.
“Don’t make that same wish again.”
“…Why not?”
He rose on his toes briefly, then lowered his heels.
“Wishing won’t make it come true. You have to earn it.”
“How?”
“Do what the other person wants. That’s what matters.”
He said it like advice, then turned his back. To escape the cold wind, Hyeon climbed back into the car. They headed to Baek Ga-yeong’s café. Do-yeong insisted on going in with him, even helped clean the store despite Hyeon telling him he didn’t need to. After a while, Baek Ga-yeong arrived, greeted Do-yeong warmly, and for the first time that day, Hyeon smiled.
***
At the Edith shop, Do-yeong sat alone in the car after getting his makeup done, lightly tapping his thigh with his finger, lost in thought.
He was debating how and when to make his appearance on set.
Should he walk in mid-shoot to steal the spotlight? Or join the shoot directly so it was obvious he was the main model? Maybe he should stick to the schedule, wait for Ji-gyeong to finish his scenes, then go in for solo shots so the final ads were filled with his face—surprising Ji-gyeong after the fact?
“…God, why am I acting so childish?”
After long deliberation, he settled on his original plan: show up near the end and shoot only the main outfits. He told himself he was doing this to help a junior.
But then he remembered Ji-gyeong’s intense gaze when he said let’s play fair—and the moment he’d leaned in to kiss Hyeon. Something dark sparked in Do-yeong’s eyes.
Haa…
He bit his lip hard, only to be interrupted by a knock on the window. A man, likely a reporter, called out loudly.
“Hello! Mr. Yoon Do-yeong, I’m entertainment journalist Kim Dal-gu!”
Recognizing the face, Do-yeong calmly looked at him and texted Chief Choi, who had gone upstairs to retrieve his outfit, telling him to hurry back.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about the photos taken at the beach. Can we do a short interview?”
At the word beach, Do-yeong’s eyes glinted.
Photos of him with Hyeon had already spread across SNS. While Hyeon had no interest in using their connection for publicity, Do-yeong had no such reservations.
He wanted the world to know that Kang Hyeon’s closest bond was with him. So the reporter’s visit wasn’t unwelcome. He cracked the window slightly, and the journalist quickly held out a business card.
“Thank you so much! You’re known for turning interviews down, so I didn’t think you’d accept.”
He took the card, smiling faintly at the unique name—Kim Dal-gu.
“The beach video has already passed a million views. You’re aware, right?”
It was the clip of him catching Hyeon when he nearly tripped at the seafood market. Already a million?
“I saw it this morning. So?”
Do-yeong’s eyes curled into a charming smile.
“What’s your relationship with him?”
“We’re friends. The talented best friend I talked about at the award ceremony.”
“You mean Kang Hyeon? Same agency?”
Something in the reporter’s tone felt off. Do-yeong began rolling the window back up.
“You’re also friends with the actor from MiraeCom2, correct?”
That question made him pause. Slowly, he lowered the window again.
“…Can you show me the beach video you’re talking about?”
The reporter held out his phone. In the video, Ji-gyeong was escorting Do-yeong like a personal bodyguard. The comments below were filled with gushing admiration—how handsome they looked together, how well-matched they were, how heart-fluttering the moment was.
Do-yeong’s eyes turned cold. This wasn’t what he wanted. But he quickly masked it with a professional smile.
“He’s a junior from college. And we weren’t alone—another close friend was with us.”
“There are rumors a rookie actor from MiraeCom2 attempted suicide after being coerced into providing entertainment services.”
“…”
“Do you know anything about that?”
