The cold edge in Do-yeong’s voice made Kang Hyeon’s heart plummet. He must’ve seen Ji-gyeong hugging him through the glass. That would explain the sharp tension radiating off him since he got out of the car. Was it disgust?
“…What’s so wrong about two guys hugging?”
Kang Hyeon’s voice came a beat late, tinged with disbelief. At that, Do-yeong turned his head fully toward him and raised his voice.
“You are clueless.”
“What about?”
Kang Hyeon’s tone turned stiff with irritation. All he’d done was say he admired Ji-gyeong’s courage in confessing his feelings. He was also just acknowledging his own obliviousness—too focused on Do-yeong to notice Ji-gyeong’s emotions.
But Do-yeong had picked that moment—when Ji-gyeong hugged him—to single out, eyes full of something that looked suspiciously like contempt.
Do-yeong, oblivious to how much that stung, let his irritation show freely.
“What if someone took a photo of two guys hugging in public? What if it turns into a rumor? A tabloid story? Stuff like that always comes out after you’ve made it big.”
“…Fine. I screwed up. I was careless.”
Kang Hyeon admitted it quickly, which did calm Do-yeong a little. But then he added—
“I should’ve done it inside, before we came out.”
“Why the hell inside?”
When Do-yeong snapped, Kang Hyeon’s voice sharpened too.
“God, just drive.”
“They’re already steering clear of me.”
“You bump this car and it’s you who has to pay. Watch the damn road.”
“Why are you avoiding the question? Why’d you hug him?”
Do-yeong pressed again, and this time Kang Hyeon raised his voice, clearly annoyed.
“Yeah, I hugged him. Out of support. I comforted a junior who was having a hard time. Since when is that worth rumors or articles? And it’s not like it wasn’t between guys.”
“I never got a hug.”
The moment those words left his mouth, Do-yeong flinched. He rushed to add:
“You never once hugged me. Never supported me.”
“You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I try my best, too.”
“I helped you run lines, worked on character analysis with you.”
“You did that with Ji-gyeong too!”
“I’ve never even seen his script.”
Sensing the conversation taking a weird turn, Kang Hyeon blinked—then Do-yeong, as if the floodgates had opened, started pouring out complaints.
“You never send me emojis, but you send them to Ji-gyeong all the time, don’t you?”
“I don’t.”
“Liar. Not even to someone you’re dating?”
“I don’t send them. Period.”
“Then send me one. Practice.”
A strange flutter stirred in Kang Hyeon’s chest at how this whole thing was unfolding. He turned to the window and muttered,
“Send them to someone who actually likes you.”
Silence fell.
Do-yeong kept his eyes fixed ahead, tense. Kang Hyeon stared out the window, looking utterly defeated.
Out of all the people on the street, whenever he saw two men walking together, his eyes always lingered. Just seeing close male friends made something inside him ache, even though he knew they weren’t couples. The envy felt irrational and bitter.
Suddenly, the car stopped in front of a convenience store.
“Get me a bottle of cold water.”
Without replying, Kang Hyeon opened the door and headed inside. Do-yeong stared after him, then reached for his phone and made a call.
“Dad. It’s me.”
He didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
“The thing we discussed over lunch today—did you find someone to support Reporter Kim Dal-gu? Didn’t you say there’s trouble with that first-term assemblyman that needs covering up?”
Even though barely a few hours had passed since their conversation, he pressed the matter with a smooth voice.
“Have the Yongsan Semiconductor executive meet with the reporter. Apparently, he’s been spotted multiple times with an actor from MiraeCom2.”
He smiled softly as he listened to the response.
“If the victims’ families file a report at the station, make sure Reporter Kim Dal-gu is there to cover it. Also, I think that MiraeCom2 building’s been illegally modified into an officetel. We’ll need city hall or the district mayor to investigate.”
After listening in silence, he nodded.
“Ah… then I’ll call Mom about that part.”
He hung up and dialed again.
“Mom, remember the celebrity hospitality case we discussed over lunch? Ah… I knew it. That prosecutor really did bury it.”
Still picturing Ji-gyeong hugging Kang Hyeon, Do-yeong continued with icy calm.
“Please ask a different prosecutor to handle it. There’s a good chance it’s drug-related. I visited MiraeCom2 to pick up Hyeon, and they’ve hidden a private access point leading from the underground parking lot.”
He listened to his mother’s voice, then replied coldly.
“Why are you bringing up arranged marriage meetings again? What do we need hospital connections for?”
He sighed, irritated, then added,
“Of course, we need to look into their taxes too.”
Do-yeong’s eyes turned toward Kang Hyeon, who was exiting the convenience store.
“You’ve always told me—know the difference between someone to step on and someone to face head-on. I let this go because it wasn’t even worth the fight.”
He pulled his gaze away and smiled faintly.
“Just like you said, Mom—vermin always chew on the tastiest things first. Time to exterminate.”
Right as he said it, the passenger door opened.
“Love you, Mom.”
He ended the call with sudden sweetness and took the water bottle Kang Hyeon handed him. He cracked it open and chugged half of it down in one go, trying to calm the storm in his chest.
Then Kang Hyeon passed him a straw-pierced coffee—his favorite milk coffee brand. Do-yeong paused mid-sip, accepted the drink, and sucked down a mouthful. The creamy sweetness spread through his mouth, taking some of the edge off his mood.
Kang Hyeon took a few gulps of water himself, then pulled Do-yeong’s card from behind his phone and handed it back.
“Here’s your card.”
“Just use it when you need to pay for something.”
“You pay.”
“I can’t always run errands. It’s annoying to keep handing it over. Just use it.”
“What if I lose it?”
“I’ll get it reissued.”
“This doesn’t have a limit, does it?”
“What’s the worst that could happen? A few hundred million? You think they don’t have CCTV in stores selling stuff that expensive?”
At Do-yeong’s bored tone, Kang Hyeon went quiet. This whole back-and-forth was draining.
“You buy the BBQ stuff yet?”
“I was about to.”
The slight anticipation in Do-yeong’s voice made Kang Hyeon sigh as he leaned back in his seat, exhausted.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
“…You’re not even going to stop me?”
“Do what you want. I’ll agree to everything today—just for today.”
Do-yeong’s lips twitched, then slowly curled into a smile.
“We met late today. Can’t you extend it? Say, until this time tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
Kang Hyeon’s offhand reply sent Do-yeong’s smile soaring, all the way up to his cheekbones. His eyes gleamed as he stole a glance at him.
But Kang Hyeon’s face was blank.
Arms crossed, lost in thought, his whole posture looked guarded. After a while, he glanced down at the bracelet, bit his lower lip gently, and let out a silent sigh.
Do-yeong, watching this, slowly dropped his smile. His jaw clenched tight, muscles in his cheeks twitching as he ground his molars.
The silence grew heavy until Kang Hyeon turned on the music. It wasn’t until a while later that he spoke again.
“How did the meeting with Writer Chae Ju-ah go? Did you get a role?”
“Ah… I really wanted the genius psychopath role, but nope.”
“……”
“Getting rejected at auditions happens all the time. Why are you so surprised?”
“Just hard to believe someone at your level didn’t make it.”
“Level? That writer only casts real actors. I heard even the supporting cast is full of veteran stars. Go Woo-jin sunbae, who’d gone to Hollywood, came back to Korea after just one call from her. I even got on my knees, but she said I wasn’t right for the role.”
Though Do-yeong smiled like it didn’t bother him, a trace of resentment lingered in his eyes.
“Why do you think she turned you down?”
“She wanted someone older. I begged her to let me play the younger version of the character, but she didn’t seem keen. You hear back from any of your auditions?”
“No.”
“How many did you go to?”
“Three.”
Kang Hyeon hesitated before adding,
“I’m doing background work.”
“Background?”
“CEO Goo Seong-do got me a part. It has a few lines and a couple of shots.”
“Oh yeah? All those auditions you went to—he introduced you to them, right?”
“Yeah. He’s been helping a lot. I should really thank him properly.”
“You should. It’s rare to find someone that dedicated.”
“Right? Sunbae Lee Hyun-sook told me he’s had actors snatched away by bigger agencies after training them. Even so, he stays in touch with them.”
Kang Hyeon, usually so concise, was suddenly talking a lot. Do-yeong casually dropped bits of information he’d picked up and watched his reaction.
“He raised actors like Choi Jun-hyuk and Lee Ji-hyeong.”
“…You mean the guy from that revenge drama on OTT?”
“Yeah. You knew CEO Goo used to run an acting school, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess he still goes around giving lessons. I hear he’s great at teaching the basics.”
“Tell me more.”
“Word is, he’s so kind that he gets scammed a lot. Now he pulls out the moment something feels off. Some say that’s why he hasn’t made much progress. Others say people just use him and toss him aside.”
“…Where’d you hear all this?”
“Agency heads. And Director Ji.”
As Kang Hyeon nodded thoughtfully, Do-yeong’s lips curved again.
“His finances aren’t great. I hear his officetel’s mortgaged and the payment deadline’s close.”
“So you’ve been digging around.”
