Yoon Do-yeong couldn’t pull the phone away from his ear, even though the signal had long been cut off. His trembling hand clutched his forehead.
“This isn’t right…”
He ran a hand through his hair, then grabbed it in frustration. Shaking his head in disbelief, he tried to reject the truth. There should’ve been some kind of warning sign before Kang Hyeon cut him off like this. The fact that there hadn’t been made no sense. As he replayed recent memories of Hyeon in his mind, he finally recalled the look in his eyes back in the hospital room.
Eyes that had stayed beside him, yet were filled with unease. A face that shifted constantly with every rise and fall of the media coverage.
He’d assumed that uneasiness was all because Hyeon was worried about Ji-gyeong. But thinking back now… maybe he had been completely lost. He hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he got dragged into rumors because of the people around him—and with no one to turn to, all he could do was take the hits in silence. Looking at it now, just like Ji-gyeong, this was Hyeon’s first scandal. Maybe he had been breaking too.
That realization made Do-yeong squeeze his forehead. He had been entangled in scandals ever since he was young. Just because he was a third-generation chaebol, the public held him to stricter moral standards. Even when he modeled for one of his grandfather’s affiliate brands and got paid a fair modeling fee, the media twisted it into another case of a chaebol grandson throwing his weight around. These days, he could brush off scandals like that—but back in his teens, every time an article came out, he’d file lawsuits with all kinds of charges attached. The first time it happens to you… it’s terrifying and humiliating.
“What the hell was I even doing…”
That’s when Chief Choi’s warning, laced with exasperation, came back to him.
“Be careful. Don’t go losing your only friend just because some actor’s been getting under your skin. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
Do-yeong hurriedly called Kang Hyeon again. Right now, more than anything, he needed to reassure him—calm him down. But instead of connecting, his desperation was shattered by the flat, automated message: the call couldn’t be completed.
He kept trying, over and over again, but this time, the phone was turned off. The plummeting sensation sent him spiraling—he could hardly keep his thoughts straight.
His hand, still gripping the smartphone, shook uncontrollably. At the same time, the light vanished from Do-yeong’s eyes. Letting out a pained groan, he clutched his chest and sank deep into thought. His furrowed brow twisted with anguish, his gaze flickered with an eerie blue light one moment, only to shake his head as if denying everything the next. Pressing both palms to his face, he released a long sigh—then turned the steering wheel.
***
On the screen of a smartphone, the name “Yoon Do-yeong” stood out starkly. Normally, a refined classical ringtone would accompany it, but with the phone on silent, only the screen glowed. No sooner had he pressed the red decline button than the phone rang again. Ignoring it, Kang Hyeon simply powered the device off.
The light blinked out, and darkness swallowed everything. Standing at the end of the alley leading to the fields, Kang Hyeon stared blankly at a streetlamp in the distance. He forced his legs to move, taking a single step forward. Unlike the scorching heat of the day, the early summer night air was cool. A breeze stirred the leaves, creating a crisp rustling sound.
He’d thought he’d finally let go—but his body kept clinging to the phone, rocking on his heels again and again. His hollow eyes slowly scanned the night around him. Eventually, he turned and began walking away from the streetlamp, his footsteps heavy. Inhaling deeply as he moved through the shadows, he buried his face in his hands and let out a long, painful sigh.
Kang Hyeon hid his cowardice in the dark. Just like Do-yeong had asked, he’d said what needed to be said—but over the phone. Because if they met face to face, he wouldn’t be able to say it. One look at Do-yeong’s struggling face, and he’d never be able to open his mouth.
Because he couldn’t take it anymore, because he was the only person Do-yeong had left to cling to—he pushed him away. But wasn’t he right?
They were never really friends to begin with.
While Do-yeong clung to him with masked intentions, he’d been enjoying it, hiding his true feelings. Indulging in his own pathetic delusion of a one-sided romance, mocking Do-yeong without even realizing it. The disgust he felt for himself was unbearable. Even now, squirming because he still wanted to remain friends—it was nothing but pitiful.
He had done it to make things easier for himself, but even his way of saying goodbye had been thoughtless and cruel. A garbage excuse for a man like him—he wasn’t worth keeping around, even as a friend.
With empty eyes, Kang Hyeon stared up at the sky. Stars filled the heavens—something you couldn’t see in Seoul. That’s when it hit him. Subconsciously, maybe that’s why he’d planned a one-night, two-day trip to some remote countryside.
He’d wanted to share a view like this. Maybe… if Do-yeong had responded to his feelings, they’d have shared a kiss under the starlight, like something out of a romance movie or drama.
The fantasy repulsed him now. He couldn’t stand himself.
Wandering in the dark for a long while, he eventually made it back to the main road where the bus passed. With a deep sigh, he turned around. The thought of Grandpa waiting for him made his steps quicken slightly.
***
The rich aroma of coffee filled the café. Standing in front of the cake display, Baek Ga-yeong picked up a slice and placed it on a tray. Just then, the sound of the door opening rang out.
“Welcome—”
“Noona, can you try calling Hyeon for me?”
Skipping the pleasantries, he got straight to the point. Ga-yeong, planting a hand on her hip, scolded him with a frown.
“That’s the first thing out of your mouth when you see me? Maybe ask how I’m doing first?”
“Please. I think he blocked me.”
The unexpected words made her expression turn serious. She reached for her phone, still looking incredulous.
“Out of the blue?”
“Please, noona—hurry.”
At Do-yeong’s urging, Ga-yeong dialed Hyeon.
“It says the phone’s turned off.”
Just then, something on the counter caught Do-yeong’s eye—the rose begonia plant. His stiff gaze scanned the pot, where only a few buds remained. Ga-yeong’s eyes followed his.
“Hyeon brought that by. Said you gave it to him?”
“…For his birthday.”
“Wow. Romantic—giving flowers and all.”
She smiled teasingly, but Do-yeong’s face looked hollow, steeped in despair. He gripped the flowerpot tightly, then released it and covered his face with both hands, his voice barely audible.
“Hyeon went down to the countryside.”
His demeanor finally alerted Ga-yeong that this was serious. Straightening up, she glanced around the café and motioned for him to head into the staff room. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed Do-yeong yet. The customers were seated far enough away. Relieved, she whispered to a nearby employee.
“Close the door. Don’t seat anyone else. Tell the folks in the back room to leave through the rear.”
She led Do-yeong into the staff room and turned on the light before speaking.
“Didn’t he say it was somewhere in Gyeongsang-do?”
“Where in Gyeongsang-do?”
“How would I know that?”
His anxious voice prompted her to sit down and ask,
“Did you two fight?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what’s with the panic? He’ll get back to you. Leave a message.”
“I think… Hyeon’s trying to cut ties with me.”
“…Why?”
Do-yeong couldn’t answer—he just let out a long sigh. Ga-yeong pressed gently.
“There has to be a reason.”
“There’s too much tangled up. I don’t even know where to start. Did you know Hyeon was originally cast in the role I took?”
“Yeah.”
Do-yeong’s eyes widened.
“You knew?”
“Sure. I told him not to get too comfortable until filming started. Even if it’s just a web drama, casting a rookie in the lead for a 12-episode show made no sense to me. Figured there’d be some variables.”
“I honestly thought he turned it down. You could’ve at least given me a heads-up.”
“Hyeon didn’t want me to. Seemed like he wanted to just move on.”
She gestured for him to sit.
“So that’s what exploded?”
“I think that was the start of it.”
“The start of what?”
“Of him not seeing me as a friend.”
“…Wow. That’s heavy.”
With a quiet sigh, she folded her arms and gave him a look that said: Go on.
“I was… all over him. Then the scandal hit, and I think that just pushed him over the edge.”
“Be specific. What do you mean, ‘all over him’?”
Her question made Do-yeong freeze in fear. Covering his mouth with a trembling hand, he buried his face. On his ring finger was the friendship ring. Ga-yeong blinked at it, then lowered her voice.
“Do you… like Hyeon?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
…
A jolt of shock hit Ga-yeong’s eyes. After sitting frozen, she suddenly stood and checked the door to make sure no staff were nearby. When she came back, her voice dropped even lower, her tone more careful.
“Are you listening to the questions I’m asking? Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
The unwavering look in his eyes made her expression tighten. With a hesitant smile, she asked,
“…Are you sure you want to be that honest with me?”
“Tell me I’m disgusting if I am. Creepy, shameful—whatever you want. But if someone sees me for who I really am, I want to be honest with them.”
Her eyes widened further. Looking at her, Do-yeong spoke with conviction.
“I love Hyeon. I only realized it recently, but… it’s been a long time.”
“Stop.”
Startled, Ga-yeong clamped a hand over his mouth. The sudden move made his shoulders stiffen in fear. The same woman who’d always welcomed him and accepted him as he was… now stared at him like she’d seen something horrifying.
