***
The set was bustling. As the shoot neared its end, everyone moved faster, eager to finish and go home. Amid the chaos, Euntae stood unnaturally still. He only shifted slightly when people passed, his gaze fixed on the actors. His mind raced, though no one else could tell.
Work was hectic, and his thoughts of Yeojun grew more intrusive. On top of that, Huiseung had asked him to write lyrics—a task he usually accepted without complaint. But this time, it felt overwhelming. It had been a while since he’d written anything, and Huiseung hadn’t given him any context—no explanation of the song’s inspiration or what he wanted the lyrics to convey. It was either a vote of confidence in Euntae’s interpretation or a death wish for an amateur. The melody was deceptively simple—calm yet intricately delicate. Should he write something cold and detached, or something fragile and hopeful, like a sprout breaking through spring soil? He wavered between extremes, unable to find middle ground.
Tap. Tap. Lost in thought, Euntae sat in the driver’s seat of the van when a knock on the window startled him. He turned to see a figure outside the passenger window—Joo-kyung, one of the actors. Euntae hurried out, rushing to his side.
“You zoned out. Don’t you care if your talent shows up or not? Just sitting in the warm car by yourself?”
Joo-kyung scolded him as Euntae opened the back door. Joo-kyung wasn’t Euntae’s primary manager—he had his own dedicated team—but Euntae was assisting as a secondary road manager. And not even the first, but the second.
“Sorry, hyung. I turned the heater on early so it’d be warm for you.”
“You did it for yourself, didn’t you?”
“You wound me, hyung. Don’t you know how I feel about you?”
“If you want me to notice, come work under me.”
Euntae just laughed. He handed Joo-kyung a snack he’d prepared earlier. Joo-kyung grumbled—”You want me to eat this and drop dead?”—but didn’t refuse. His possessive “my talent” and “come work for me” were telltale signs of his interest in Euntae. The reasons were simple: Euntae was good-looking and had sharp instincts. Joo-kyung, perceptive as he was, knew Euntae wasn’t in this for the long haul. He’d advised his colleagues, Jaehyun and Hyunho, not to waste their energy recruiting him, but he couldn’t resist testing the waters himself.
“Then give me one more month.”
“You think you can win me over in a month?”
“Wow. You’re really something. How do you say that so casually?”
“I’m joking. Why would a top star like you need to chase me? Managers are lining up to work with you.”
It wasn’t a joke. Joo-kyung knew Euntae was aware of his interest but played ignorant. It was infuriating, but Joo-kyung wasn’t one to back down easily.
“How about ramen tonight? I’ll have you wrapped around my finger by morning.”
Their eyes met in the rearview mirror as the car stopped at a light. Joo-kyung’s gaze was serious, but Euntae assumed it was just pride talking. He’d heard rumors—Joo-kyung had recently broken up with someone. No official confirmation, but the industry treated it as fact. Their relationship had been intense, a long, tangled affair of breaking up and making up. Euntae assumed Joo-kyung’s advances were half-joking, half-out of habit. He didn’t take it seriously.
“I’m busy.”
He rejected him outright and drove off. Joo-kyung’s expression had been earnest, but Euntae figured it was just stubbornness. He’d heard Joo-kyung had been in a serious relationship until recently. Even if they weren’t together now, old feelings didn’t vanish overnight. Euntae assumed Joo-kyung’s flirtation was just for fun, a distraction. He didn’t dwell on it—his thoughts were already back on Yeojun.
Would Yeojun find it as hard to let go of Dogyeong? Their marriage was already in ruins, their emotions long dried up, but Yeojun had once loved her enough to risk his career for marriage. Even if the love was gone, affection lingered, and sometimes, affection was stickier than love.
“Why the deep sigh?”
Euntae, who had been driving in silence, blinked at the sudden question. Joo-kyung repeated himself, and Euntae realized he’d been lost in thought—again—about Yeojun. It was becoming a habit.
“Take care of yourself, hyung. Don’t overdo it.”
Before Euntae could respond, the van pulled into Joo-kyung’s apartment parking lot. Euntae handed over the keys, mentioning the morning manager’s name. Joo-kyung grabbed the keys and threw a fit—”You’re really leaving me? I’ll go to a club and sleep with anyone!”—but Euntae didn’t react. Joo-kyung was all bark. He knew Euntae understood that.
“Get some sleep, but be here tomorrow morning. You’ve got a schedule. Gotta make that money you love.”
Joo-kyung might be reckless, but he was meticulous about his image. Euntae knew he wouldn’t do anything extreme. And Joo-kyung knew Euntae knew. It was a battle Joo-kyung couldn’t win—his livelihood was at stake. If Euntae had any feelings for him, the rules of romance might have applied, but unfortunately for Joo-kyung, Euntae’s heart was occupied by someone else.
“What’s so important that you’re this cold?”
“Heaven’s calling me. Even if kindergarten teachers take care of kids, they need someone to pick them up on time.”
Joo-kyung blinked at the unexpected answer. Haneul? The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. A child? At twenty-six, it wasn’t impossible for Euntae to have a kid. He’d had his share of admirers, and accidents happened. But before his imagination could run wild, Euntae clarified:
“Haneul is Yeojun-hyung’s son.”
It was complicated. “You’ve never met him? He’s adorable. Looks just like Yeojun-hyung but without the grumpy face. Thank god. Oh, and don’t tell Yeojun-hyung I said he looks grumpy.” Euntae rambled, but Joo-kyung just stared, processing. It was odd. Euntae not having his own child was a relief, but why was he picking up Yeojun’s son? Yeojun was established enough to have a manager handle his child, but Euntae wasn’t his primary manager. And Yeojun wasn’t so busy he couldn’t pick up his own kid. Unless something urgent had come up. Still, it was odd—understandable yet not.
“Hyung, take care of yourself.”
Before Joo-kyung could ask more, Euntae left. There was no time to linger.
***
“Hello, Teacher.”
“Ah, yes. Hello, Manager.”
Euntae greeted the teacher at the kindergarten entrance. He’d picked up Haneul a few times before, so the teacher recognized him. As they exchanged greetings, Haneul appeared, putting on his shoes and cheerfully saying, “Goodbye, Teacher!” He waved energetically, holding Euntae’s hand as they left, skipping with excitement. He was thrilled to see Euntae, but even more excited about the aquarium trip with his dad.
Yeojun had been busy with schedules and script readings, so Euntae had been picking up Haneul. Tomorrow, he’d have to take Haneul to Dogyeong. Yeojun barely had time for Haneul now—what would happen after the divorce? If Dogyeong got custody, Yeojun would see even less of him.
“Haneul, did you practice a lot for the school festival?”
Before heading to the kindergarten, Euntae had stopped by Yeojun’s house and was now driving with Haneul in the backseat, fastening his seatbelt. Since Yeojun’s script reading wasn’t over yet, Euntae decided to take Haneul home and wait there.
“Yeah! A lot! My teacher said I act really well because I take after my mom and dad.”
“Really? You must have done amazing. I can’t wait to see it.”
“I’ll show you later when Dad gets here. Just a little bit.”
Haneul kicked his legs excitedly, saying, “I’ll show you just a little bit!” It was adorable, but it also made Euntae’s heart ache. This sweet, innocent child would soon have to choose between living with his mom or dad. Euntae gently ruffled Haneul’s hair before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat.
***
The car had been driving for a while in silence, so Euntae thought Haneul had fallen asleep. But then, a voice came from the backseat.
“Euntae, Uncle.”
Euntae glanced at the rearview mirror and saw Haneul staring blankly out the window. The child, who had been so excited earlier, now looked strangely calm.
“Yeah, Haneul. What’s up?”
“If Mom and Dad get divorced, will I not see Dad anymore?”
The sudden question caught Euntae off guard. He stammered, “Huh? What?” But Haneul didn’t seem to expect an answer—he just kept staring out the window, lost in thought.
“Dorothy said she can’t see her dad because her parents got divorced.”
Dorothy was a classmate from Haneul’s musical group. Euntae didn’t know how the kids had ended up talking about such things, but hearing Haneul repeat these words made the distant worry feel suddenly real. Euntae wasn’t Haneul’s father or mother, so why did he feel this way? Someone else might have felt resentful or uncomfortable in this awkward situation, but Euntae just felt sorry. He wasn’t responsible for Haneul, but he still wished he could give a wise answer. He remembered feeling the same anxiety at Haneul’s age, but even with that experience, he didn’t know what to say.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
