Suddenly, Yoon Do-yeong signaled Chief Choi to drive past without stopping. When Choi looked ahead, he saw a tall man staggering up the hill. He slowly drove past the man.
Lee Ji-gyeong, wiping his face repeatedly with dry hands, tried to collect himself and took a deep breath. He leaned against a wall, staring blankly at the night sky. Chief Choi’s car turned around the corner and came to a stop again, now in full view of Ji-gyeong.
Ji-gyeong had slumped down in front of Kang Hyeon’s officetel, hands cradling his forehead in defeat. He stared into the void, breathing heavily, his head eventually dropping forward. Do-yeong watched him with piercing eyes. Then, Ji-gyeong drew in a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and took out his phone to make a call.
“It’s too hard.”
Do-yeong couldn’t actually hear the voice, but he could clearly read his lips. The words might as well have been whispered directly into his ear.
“Hyung, I’m in front of your place.”
Reading the lip movement, Do-yeong’s eyes turned ice cold. Moments later, Kang Hyeon came outside and helped the collapsed Ji-gyeong to his feet. Then Ji-gyeong clung to his arm and broke down in tears. Startled, Kang Hyeon patted his back and guided him into the building. Do-yeong spoke without hesitation.
“Push the ad.”
“……”
Do-yeong held up one of the photos he had—Ji-gyeong giving Director Choi Jin-hyuk a blowjob in the hallway.
“Pay ten million won. Make sure his face is clearly visible in future placements.”
“…Might as well assign someone to tail him.”
“No. It’s more fun when multiple articles explode. Actually…”
Do-yeong paused, biting his lower lip, then turned to Chief Choi.
“Once the tax investigation hits Yeongsan Semiconductor, find a few names to link to the bribery scandal. Get them planted in MiraeCom2. Pin Ji-gyeong as the one who made the introductions. Make sure at least one of the people present is a reporter.”
The cold edge in his voice was mirrored by the icy smile in his eyes.
***
The rose begonia was in full bloom. During the day, it sat by the window; in the evening, it was moved to the table. One by one, its buds had opened until the whole pot glowed red. Kang Hyeon stared at the flowers with soft eyes, his lips betraying a clear trace of excitement as he held his phone to his ear.
–Hyeon, sleep well. Dream of me.
As Do-yeong’s sweet voice reached him, Hyeon gently touched a begonia petal.
–Why aren’t you answering?
That careful question tickled something inside him. The corners of his mouth curled up with a faint smile. The fluttering in his heart slipped out.
“You too.”
Blushing, he ended the call and continued to caress the petals. Then he stood to tidy up the shirt he had left on the bed. He’d just returned from being an extra on set. All he did was hand over a smoothie and serve coffee in two separate shots, but since the scenes were set in different seasons, he had to bring two full outfits.
He had chosen from clothes gifted by Do-yeong—a white dress shirt and an oatmeal-toned knit. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently brushed the soft fabric, remembering the shoot. Just then, his phone rang.
“Hey, Ji-gyeong.”
He answered like always. A deep sigh came through the line.
–It’s too hard.
The fading voice made Hyeon’s chest tighten. The excitement from Do-yeong’s earlier call settled down into a quiet unease. Ji-gyeong could very well be a glimpse of his own future. That raw despair yanked him out of his happy delusion.
“…Where are you?”
–Hyung, I’m outside.
“You’ve been drinking?”
–Yeah.
“Come inside first.”
–I can’t move.
Sighing, Hyeon stepped out. Ji-gyeong was sitting just outside the officetel door, tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at him. The tears fell, trickling down his pale cheeks. The sight made Hyeon’s chest ache and twist.
After telling him not to show any interest, seeing him like this—collapsed and broken—cut deeply. Hyeon briefly wondered if he should’ve waited until after the drama shoot to reject him. He hadn’t expected Ji-gyeong to fall apart like this. It suddenly felt like a preview of his own future.
He helped Ji-gyeong to his feet. Ji-gyeong clung to him, sniffling, and Hyeon guided him inside.
He sat him down at the table and brought a cold drink. But behind him came a sharp voice.
“Hyung…”
“Yeah?”
“Who gave you those designer clothes?”
Hyeon placed the drink in front of him, noticing his gaze fixed on the clothes laid out on the bed.
“Do-yeong.”
“The ones from before, the coat… and the watch—he gave you more?”
Seeing Ji-gyeong looking half-incredulous, Hyeon just stared at him. Then it hit him—he must not have seen the clothes packed in the trunk of the sports car.
“They were in the trunk.”
“Wow… he really gave you a lot.”
His muttering was weirdly clear. Hyeon pushed the glass toward him and hurried to put the clothes away in the closet. Ji-gyeong’s eyes scanned the labels and he deliberately pronounced each designer brand.
When Hyeon turned to look at him, Ji-gyeong smirked.
“What else did Do-yeong give you, besides designer clothes and that limited-edition watch?”
“……”
“He’s not buying you a place too? This place is too small. Did you tell him I offered to move in? Maybe he’d get you a house.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Why not? Didn’t you say you’d live together?”
That teasing tone instantly reminded Hyeon of when Do-yeong had said just that. He chuckled faintly.
“Aha, so he did ask you to live with him.”
“He’s planning to move out on his own.”
“Makes sense. Living with your parents at his age is kind of…”
‘He should buy you a place…’ Ji-gyeong muttered and stood. He staggered over to a bouquet of roses on the dresser and picked it up.
“They’re all dried up.”
He spun the withered bouquet—the one he had given Hyeon—and petals crumbled off. His gaze shifted to the flowerpot on the table. The fresh blooms caught his attention, and he stared for a moment before speaking.
“I should’ve gotten you something nicer…”
He picked up the fallen petals and tossed them in the trash. Then he slumped down.
“Do you wear the clothes I gave you?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s not because they’re not designer, right?”
“No.”
“Then don’t just let them sit there. If you save things too long, they turn to shit.”
“Yeah.”
Hyeon quietly watched Ji-gyeong ramble, then fetched a glass of cold water from the fridge and handed it to him. Ji-gyeong took it and spoke clearly.
“Wear the designer watch and clothes Do-yeong gave you. Drive that sports car around.”
“……”
“No matter who gave it to you, if you just leave it lying around, it becomes trash. Who the hell gives someone stuff worth millions? It’s support, that’s what it is.”
The way he emphasized the amount and the word support rubbed Hyeon the wrong way, but he didn’t argue. It was true that Do-yeong had helped him under the label of “sponsorship.”
“Yeah… I’m grateful.”
Murmuring low, Ji-gyeong exhaled and asked,
“What role did Do-yeong get you?”
Hyeon remembered hearing that Director Yoo Ji-ha held auditions even for minor parts. If he’d been cast by a director like that, the role was probably legit. But Ji-gyeong didn’t correct himself. Instead, he kept playing dumb and asked again with a sly smile.
“What role?”
Hyeon studied him for a moment and then answered.
“…A murderer.”
Ji-gyeong nodded and leaned his head against the wall. Eyes hollow, he stared into space.
“Can I sleep here?”
“I’ll call you a taxi.”
Hyeon answered without hesitation, and Ji-gyeong gave a faint smile.
“Yeah, guess we can’t share a bed anymore.”
He spoke with vague meaning, then stood. He picked up the dried rose bouquet, walked past Hyeon, slipped on his shoes, and let out a long sigh. Then he turned and held out a hand like he wanted a handshake.
“I’ll go back to being your junior.”
Staring at the tired hand, Hyeon eventually nodded and shook it. Ji-gyeong gave a firm shake, opened the door, and left.
Once outside, he stood in the corner of the alley and pulled out his phone. He stared at the screen still recording audio… then hit stop. As he walked out toward the main road, he played back the recording.
“You can’t pretend we’re just friends after taking all that. You think sponsorship is some fancy thing? Getting stuff that expensive is sponsorship…”
Muttering to himself, Ji-gyeong clenched his jaw, thinking of Yoon Do-yeong.
“Just try fucking with me. Do you even know what I went through to get here? Fuck… You only have me to deal with, but I’ve got both of you.”
Eyes glinting with malice, he reviewed the recording again. In it, Hyeon practically admitted to being sponsored with his “Yeah… I’m grateful,” and when asked if Do-yeong gave him the role, he hadn’t even corrected it by naming the director—just responded with, “…a murderer.”
Ji-gyeong narrowed his eyes and let out a faint, twisted smile.
