Chapter 74
—Hello! We’re contacting you from DON Loan World to introduce a great new product. Do you need a loan?
A voice completely different from what he had been expecting flowed through the receiver.
A random loan advertisement call. Cheong-yeon swallowed a sigh as he pressed firmly on his furrowed brow with his hand in disappointment.
“I don’t need a loan.”
Without giving the other person a chance to respond, Cheong-yeon hung up and stuffed the phone into his pocket as if he couldn’t stand the sight of it.
“I’m sorry, senior. I thought it was the call I was waiting for, but it was spam.”
“That’s frustrating. But if it was a call you were waiting for, from whom? A lover?”
The man who noticed the disappointment shadowing Cheong-yeon’s face playfully winked.
“It’s not like that… it’s related to work.”
“Come on, you answered way too eagerly for it to be just work.”
“…”
Was I really acting that urgently? Cheong-yeon scratched the back of his neck, unable to find a suitable response.
“Alright. Let’s say it was for work.”
“Anyway, you even remembered my old songs… It’s really rare for people to recognize me since I charted out right after debuting.”
“I’m surprised too. When I first heard about your casting, I couldn’t believe it. As soon as I heard your name, I immediately thought, ‘Yoo Cheong-yeon from DEX?'”
The man hummed a DEX song and even showed a bit of the choreography. Only then did Cheong-yeon become convinced that the man wasn’t just pretending to know him after a quick internet search, and all his wariness disappeared.
First Min Hye-rin, and now this man—how did they remember a failed idol group that barely appeared on public broadcast a few times? This really shows the power of television.
“See? The choreography is exactly the same, right?”
“Wow, yes, yes.”
In truth, the movements and dance lines were all a mess, but Cheong-yeon was moved enough just by the fact that someone remembered him, so he liberally dispensed white lies without hesitation.
“It’s exactly the same… You’re amazing. Really.”
Min Hye-rin, who had been watching the two from a distance for some time, seemed to share the same sentiment as she spewed out flattering compliments. However, unlike her usual demeanor toward Cheong-yeon, her eyes were somewhat empty, as if her soul had left her body.
“Ah, actually, I didn’t mean to chat about this. When you were reading earlier, I noticed you have a habit of slightly prolonging the end of your lines.”
“Me?”
“Yes. But this director really hates that.”
“Really?”
Cheong-yeon’s relaxed expression stiffened at the unexpected comment.
“The director didn’t say anything…”
Cheong-yeon tried to concentrate on recalling the director’s face during the reading.
“It becomes more noticeable when you hear it recorded through the microphone on set. It’s not easy to distinguish just by listening normally.”
“Ah.”
“You might get called out on it several times once filming starts. So it’s better to pay attention to making the ends of your lines crisp and clear.”
The man quickly added, as if to avoid any misunderstanding:
“I know I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I was debating whether to mention it, but since I know your face, I thought I’d feel better telling you.”
“It’s not meddling. Not at all.”
“If you watch a few dramas this director has worked on, you’ll get a sense of it. He doesn’t give much direction in general, but he seems to pay particular attention to that. I naturally speak in a choppy way, so I haven’t been criticized much, but among rookies, some do get scolded on set occasionally.”
“Then… I should practice again when I get home.”
Without saying a word, the man suddenly placed his hand on Cheong-yeon’s Adam’s apple. Startled for a brief moment, Cheong-yeon soon looked at the man as if to ask why.
“It’s easier if you think of your lines ending here.”
“I’ll practice.”
Cheong-yeon touched the area the man had indicated.
“Actor, are you done with the reading?”
“Ah, Manager. I was just about to come down.”
Seeing that the manager, who had said he would wait in the parking lot, had come up, it seemed quite some time had passed.
“You were taking so long, I came to check if something was wrong.”
The manager smiled and squeezed between Cheong-yeon and the man, who were still standing close together. As if deliberately choosing this position to speak.
“You must be hungry, let’s go eat, Actor. I’ve made a restaurant reservation.”
The manager naturally separated the man from Cheong-yeon and even cleared the way, making it impossible to continue the conversation.
“Then, I’ll see you again, Senior.”
“It was nice meeting you, Cheong-yeon! See you later.”
After saying goodbye, Cheong-yeon, the manager, and Min Hye-rin went down to the parking lot together. The parking lot was bustling with large vans that other celebrities had arrived in, lined up densely.
Cheong-yeon felt once again that he had reentered the entertainment industry.
“It’s a bit crowded because the cars are so big, isn’t it?”
The manager smiled and opened the door.
After getting into the van and leaving the parking lot, the sky was overcast, unlike the morning. Just as Cheong-yeon thought it looked like it might rain, raindrops began to streak down the window.
“Oh, it’s raining outside.”
Cheong-yeon murmured unconsciously.
“There’s an umbrella in the back, so it’s fine, oppa.”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“Pardon?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
As soon as he saw the rain clouds covering the sky, Do-heon came to mind.
Secretary Shim had mentioned America yesterday, and now it was raining today, leaving him feeling unsettled.
America and rain. Whenever he heard these two seemingly unrelated words, he always remembered the day his uncle died. The scene of the car carrying his uncle and Do-heon slipping on some damp road in America during a downpour vividly unfolded in his mind. Even though he hadn’t witnessed the accident.
If even he felt down, he wondered how Do-heon, who was actually in the accident, would feel. He always felt concerned on days like this. Perhaps it was a habit left over from when he was married to him—Cheong-yeon still worried about him.
Additionally, the sense of loss from his uncle’s death hit particularly hard, quickly making him gloomy.
Suddenly, he wondered if Do-heon knew that he disliked days like this.
But without having to think too long, Cheong-yeon concluded that he probably didn’t. From the beginning, Do-heon was a man who couldn’t gauge others’ feelings unless told directly.
“…”
The raindrops were getting heavier. Cheong-yeon stared blankly at the increasingly wet scenery outside, then checked the phone in his hand.
There was still no contact from Do-heon.
Previously, whenever he reached out, Do-heon would always call back within two or three hours, no matter how busy he was. Did he now think that was no longer necessary?
“The rain is suddenly pouring down.”
As the sound of raindrops sweeping across the asphalt ground rang clearly, Min Hye-rin remarked with curiosity.
“Yeah…”
Cheong-yeon murmured, looking up at the gloomy sky.
For some reason, the fact that he had been in frequent contact with Do-heon lately felt like something from a very distant past.
*
Today, his schedule ended earlier than usual. As soon as he arrived home, Cheong-yeon showered and then sat at his desk to review the script.
Though it had lessened compared to when he saw it from the van during the day, a drizzle was still falling outside. To ignore the emotions that were becoming sluggish like the weather, Cheong-yeon opened the script and took out his writing tools.
He had already memorized everything, but just to be sure, he planned to read through the lines from the beginning.
“Hmm hmm.”
After marking pronunciations to pay attention to, just as he was clearing his throat, his phone vibrated.
The concentration he had gathered scattered in an instant. Cheong-yeon put down the pen he was holding and checked the caller.
—Moon Do-heon
He hadn’t even expected it, but Do-heon was calling.
“Director?”
Cheong-yeon quickly pressed the call button.
—You called.
His first words were as blunt as ever. Cheong-yeon thought it was remarkably quick for him to call back considering how long ago he had called.
“Why have you been so hard to reach?”
—I’ve been busy with work. Secretary Shim would have told you.
—Director. You need to board soon.
A stranger’s voice, not Do-heon’s, was faintly heard from a distance. Cheong-yeon blinked at this.
“Board? Where are you now?”
—The airport. I have a schedule in Busan, so I need to take a flight.
“At this late hour?”
Cheong-yeon turned to check the digital clock on his desk. It was past nine in the evening. Even if he went straight to Busan now, he would only arrive in the middle of the night. It would take even longer to get back home.
He found it strange—this was the first time a domestic business trip had extended so late. For international travel, perhaps, but not domestic.
—So.
“Pardon?”
—You called earlier. What did you want?
A rare hint of fatigue seeped through Do-heon’s voice. It also seemed strangely sharp.
“If you’re leaving for Busan now, when are you planning to get home? You’ve never pushed yourself this hard before.”
Forgetting to tell him to take back the car, Cheong-yeon nagged before belatedly closing his mouth. He realized he had spoken out of place. As if he were still his husband.
—In the past, I made time to come home because there was someone waiting for me at home. Now, is there any reason to do that?
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
