The article dropped quickly, but Hyeon didn’t have much to say about it. Even when Yoon Do-yeong told him not to worry about the dating rumors, Hyeon hadn’t reacted much. He had clearly said he wasn’t bothered, so Do-yeong had focused on wrapping up his work and powering through his packed schedule. He had also avoided contacting Hyeon, afraid he might slip up and admit to the mess he’d made while trying to fix things. Hyeon was busy too—with his movie and drama shoots. But now, looking back, Do-yeong realized he’d been neglecting him, using those excuses as a shield. Just thinking about Hyeon made the corners of his lips twitch—he missed him.
A glance at his wristwatch told him lunchtime had come and gone. Hyeon’s delivery side job should have been winding down by now.
“Should I call Hyeon over?”
“Why? Leave him be.”
At Goo Seong-do’s words, Do-yeong forced a smile, but the remark grated on him.
Leave him be?
He finished his kimchi jjigae and rice in silence, made his excuses about a prior engagement, and left. In the parking lot, he got into his car and dialed Hyeon’s number. It rang, but Hyeon didn’t pick up. He opened his messenger app—Hyeon’s name wasn’t even in his contacts. Hadn’t he saved Do-yeong’s number yet? A flicker of unease passed through him as he sent a text:
[Hyeon, where are you?]
There was no way to tell if the message had been read. The uncertainty gnawed at him. After waiting a moment, he started driving toward Hyeon’s place, trying the call again. Still no answer. He sent another text:
[I’m coming over.]
He drove, his pulse quickening as he neared Hyeon’s neighborhood, circling the alleyways in case he caught sight of him making deliveries. But Hyeon was nowhere to be seen. Do-yeong, who didn’t even know the delivery routes, wandered the side streets and between buildings before finally parking outside Hyeon’s officetel. He stood in front of the door and pressed the doorbell, calling again. No response. He tried twice more, ringing the bell repeatedly, but still nothing. After waiting outside for what felt like forever, he called one last time. Still no answer. Frustration crept in, and his gaze drifted to the digital door lock.
“021…”
He murmured the first three digits of the password he’d glimpsed before, scanning his surroundings furtively. No one was around—just like earlier. His eyes returned to the keypad. He pressed the doorbell again, knocked, and made one final call. Still nothing. His hand hovered over the lock.
His nervous eyes darted around. Hyeon might have changed the password, but on impulse, he started punching in the numbers. He’d seen the first three—021—so if he could just figure out the last digit, it would be easy. Then Baek Ga-yeong’s birthday flashed through his mind, but she wasn’t his lover. He tried his own birthday instead. As he entered the final digit, ‘3,’ the lock clicked open as if by magic.
“Ah—!”
A small gasp escaped him. Joy surged through him, lifting the corners of his mouth, his cheeks rising with an uncontrollable grin. He clenched his hands together, overwhelmed. A memory surfaced—Hyeon’s voice, quiet but clear:
“Did you… set the password to your lover’s birthday?”
“…Yeah.”
If Hyeon had set the password to his lover’s birthday, but Do-yeong’s birthday was the one that worked… then Hyeon must really feel something for him. There had never been a lover. Hyeon had probably said there was out of frustration when Do-yeong won the Grand Prize for his role—just to create some distance. But Hyeon had always been consistent, always steady.
The thought of Hyeon’s quiet acceptance, his gentle way of handling everything Do-yeong threw at him, made him smile. Overflowing with confidence, he couldn’t just stand there. He turned on his heel, got back in his car, and headed straight for his favorite department store. At the wine shop he frequented with his father, he carefully selected a bottle of fine red wine, his movements deliberate, his expression serious.
“Red wine, then…”
A clerk nearby, noticing his murmur, approached. She was middle-aged, someone he’d seen often, and her familiar presence put him slightly at ease. She walked over with her usual warm smile.
“Something good must have happened.”
“You could say that.”
Do-yeong’s face lit up with unmistakable excitement. His eyes crinkled, his cheeks flushed. His bright, unguarded smile seemed to lift her spirits too, and she smiled back. He pointed to the friendship ring on his left ring finger, suddenly self-conscious.
“Let’s just say today might be the day things change with the real owner of this ring.”
The clerk’s eyes sparkled as she lowered her voice conspiratorially.
“Oh! Congratulations.”
Do-yeong matched her hushed tone, a flicker of vulnerability in his voice.
“What if he turns me down?”
“Why would you think that?”
“There was that dating rumor. We haven’t really talked since.”
“Oh… that must have been tough.”
“It was. I just don’t know how to make things right.”
Caught up in the moment, he found himself confiding in her, someone he’d known for years.
“He’s not into luxury, he’s frugal, doesn’t wear accessories… I don’t even know what to give him.”
She recommended a wine, and he took it, then subtly sought her advice.
“Have you given him flowers?”
“I gave him a potted rose begonia.”
“Not roses?”
“The rose begonia symbolizes unrequited love. He liked that.”
“Ah~”
She clapped her hands softly and pulled out her phone, searching quickly.
“Red tulips mean a confession of love. Lisianthus would be perfect—it symbolizes unwavering love. It’s often used in wedding bouquets with ranunculus.”
“Ranunculus can also mean criticism, though.”
She blinked in surprise at his knowledge.
“You really know your flowers.”
“I gave him a pot because cut flowers die too fast. Mini roses and tulips come in pots too.”
“Oh~ You’re so thoughtful.”
“But flowers alone might not be enough.”
“It’s the thought that counts. You’ve got the wine and flowers—just add a nice dinner reservation.”
Do-yeong hesitated.
“Somewhere private.”
“You’re so considerate. Your girlfriend is lucky.”
“…”
The word girlfriend sent a chill through his exhilaration. He realized he’d let his guard down, said too much. But he kept smiling, his voice smooth, almost warning.
“I’ve only ever talked about him here. If anything leaks, my legal team will handle it.”
She blinked in understanding, her professional smile never wavering.
“No employee here would ever betray a VIP’s confidence.”
She handed him a business card, her tone shifting seamlessly to sales.
“Our wines are perfect for engagements, weddings—any special occasion.”
He paid for the wine, his mind already racing ahead. With a spring in his step, he browsed the department store, then picked up cheese and snacks before heading to a nearby florist.
The florist’s eyes widened when he walked in. Do-yeong nodded politely, used to the reaction.
“Do you have red tulips? And roses?”
“Of course!”
The florist, assuming he wanted a bouquet, led him to the refrigerated display.
“I’d prefer pots.”
“Ah… we don’t have potted tulips, only mini roses. But if you get a bouquet, I can add baby’s breath—make it really special.”
Do-yeong glanced at the pink tulips, then shook his head with an apologetic smile.
“Pots last longer.”
He scanned the shop, then, though not entirely satisfied, picked up a mini rose pot and handed over his card. The florist beamed.
“This one’s on the house.”
“No, I can’t—”
“Please, my wife and daughter love your drama. If you could just—”
“A video call? For them?”
“Really? Thank you!”
The florist quickly dialed his wife, and Do-yeong spent a minute chatting with the delighted woman and her daughter, signing off with a selfie. As the florist wrapped the pot in pretty paper, Do-yeong’s phone rang.
He answered immediately, stepping outside.
“Why haven’t you been answering?”
—I’m home.
“Yeah? What do you want for dinner? I’ll bring something.”
—Not the officetel.
Do-yeong paused. Home, but not the officetel? Then it clicked—Hyeon’s real home was his grandfather’s house in the countryside.
“You’re in the village?”
—Yeah.
“Why’d you go there?”
—It’s my home. Why are you asking?
“…”
—You called a lot.
Hyeon’s voice made his own sound unintentionally plaintive.
“Why haven’t you been answering? You didn’t even save my number. You weren’t in my contacts.”
