[There’s nothing wrong, right?]
Sa-yoon stared at the chat window with a serious expression. The number “1” had disappeared, meaning the message had been read. But why wasn’t there a reply? Something really didn’t happen, did it? He shouldn’t have just left that day when the guy was burning up. At the very least, he should’ve bought some fever medicine before leaving.
“Cha Sa-yoon!”
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a loud voice rang in his ears, nearly deafening him. He looked up. Beyond the steam rising from the bubbling dakbokkeumtang, Yeon-hee belatedly added, “Sunbae-nim, hehe.”
“You might as well just talk to me like we’re equals.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve called you?”
“Ohhh.”
“Sunbae, are you really okay?”
“What do you mean?”
So what if someone zones out for a bit? People do that sometimes. When he said that, Yeon-hee made a strange expression.
“You’ve been acting weird lately…”
“Me?”
Sa-yoon tilted his head. He tried retracing his steps, but his days had been just as ordinary as ever. Attending classes, drowning in assignments, dodging birthday invitations.
“Professor Jung even called you out today for not paying attention in class.”
“I was just lost in thought for a second.”
“But it happened yesterday too. I’ve never seen you forget an assignment before. You’re acting like someone whose mind is completely elsewhere.”
“The assignment… I seriously just forgot.”
Actually, it wasn’t just a simple slip of the mind. He had completely blacked out on it until Yeon-hee brought it up after the deadline had already passed. His words trailed off as he blinked.
“You’re right. I really am out of it.”
Forgetting an assignment, getting called out in class for zoning out—this was completely unlike him. How did it come to this? It must have been last weekend. His mind wasn’t just elsewhere—it was still stuck in that house. Or rather, if Sa Shin-jae had at least answered his messages properly, things wouldn’t have gotten to this point… So why the hell wasn’t he replying?
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Yeon-hee, currently dismantling a chicken drumstick with her chopsticks, responded without missing a beat.
“These days, when kids get sick, they go to the hospital, right?”
“Eh?”
Anyone would think he was talking nonsense. This sunbae still hadn’t come to his senses. Yeon-hee, who had been diligently picking apart the chicken, put down her chopsticks and gave him a serious look.
“I mean, these days, parents even call the department office on behalf of their kids. They’ve been coddled so much they can’t do anything on their own, but at the very least, they’d go to the hospital if they’re sick, right?”
But what if they were sick? Yeon-hee narrowed her eyes at his vague wording. This was suspicious. Something was definitely up. She could feel it—her intuition was screaming relationship advice.
“Well, there are plenty of people who don’t go even when they’re sick. They just think, ‘I’ll sleep it off,’ and ignore it.”
At that, Sa-yoon’s expression turned grim.
“…They at least know to call 119, right?”
“Who the hell are you dealing with…? If you’re that worried, why don’t you just try calling them?”
Sa-yoon shook his head in response and refilled his own glass. The same guy who always whined about not being able to keep up with her drinking was now pouring shots for himself. Yeon-hee’s eyes widened.
“They’re not picking up.”
Ah. So it was doomed love. She thought it was a relationship consultation, but it turned out to be a heartbreak session. No wonder this normally put-together sunbae had been acting like he had a screw loose all week. Yeon-hee filled his empty glass in silent sympathy.
Sa-yoon immediately downed that one too. Is he seriously okay? This was bad. She needed to change the subject—fast. Yeon-hee racked her brain.
“Oh, right. Speaking of contact, I just remembered—sunbae, have you been able to reach Sa Shin-jae?”
“Huh? Why him?”
Had she misspoken? She blinked nervously, feeling strangely guilty. But when Sa-yoon just looked confused, she sighed.
“So you haven’t been able to reach him either.”
“Did something happen to Shin-jae?”
Judging by his reaction, he didn’t know anything. Is everyone around me getting possessed lately or what?
“It’s nothing. Hana just mentioned it. Her roommate is in the same department and class as Shin-jae, and apparently, he skipped every single one of his classes this week.”
“He skipped? Like, all of them? Every single one?”
“You remember that trash who posted on Eptar last time? Turns out, everyone in his department already knew Shin-jae got academic probation because of that guy. And now that he’s stopped attending class entirely, they’re saying he might just drop out from the sheer exhaustion of it all. If he gets two academic probations, he’s expelled, right? No one in his department has been able to contact him either.”
What the hell. Sa-yoon forgetting an assignment was nothing in comparison. Getting expelled over heartbreak? Maybe he should have done a better job keeping Shin-jae in check until finals were over.
“Ha…”
Sa-yoon let out a deep sigh and buried his face in his hands. He already had Shin-jae’s tomato-red crying face burned into his memory, and now, guilt was starting to creep in.
“If he’s not even answering you, he really might just be throwing his graduation project away. That’s… a bit worrying.”
Seeing the increasingly grave look on Sa-yoon’s face, Yeon-hee assumed he was just worried about Shin-jae’s graduation work and offered some idle consolation.
“But seriously, Sa Shin-jae is so ungrateful. You went as far as filing a lawsuit against that Eptar guy for him, even made multiple trips to the police station, and he repays you by ghosting?”
“No, he doesn’t even know I sued. I just did it because I was worried.”
“Still.”
“I was planning to scrap all the footage and reshoot anyway.”
Bringing up the breakup in the middle of the night had been impulsive. He didn’t regret it, but it was true that he hadn’t thought about what would come after—things like their graduation project. Only after he’d said it did he realize that if they broke up like this, filming wouldn’t be possible.
“Huh? Why? It turned out great.”
“I thought of something better.”
As he poured himself another drink, Yeon-hee accepted the reasoning. If they were short on time, that’d be one thing, but if a better idea came along, scrapping the old one was just part of the process.
“Now that I think about it, today’s your birthday, and all we’ve talked about is weird stuff.”
“It’s just a birthday. No big deal.”
“Still. Happy birthday, sunbae.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the meal.”
In the end, Yeon-hee picked up the bill, saying it was her way of repaying him for all the times he’d treated her.
“Ugh, it’s freezing! The moment college entrance exams are over, it’s like winter knows and the cold hits instantly.”
Stepping outside first, Yeon-hee hunched her shoulders against the chill. A sharp gust of air rushed in through the open door.
“Sunbae, do you have an umbrella? They said it might snow later.”
Even though it was still daytime, the sky was packed with thick clouds, heavy with the promise of something falling.
“No. But it’s fine.”
Sa-yoon, gazing at the darkened sky, shook his head.
***
“Hey, hey! Cha Sa-yoon, happy birthday!”
“Happy birthday!”
“Cheers! Come on, cheers!”
“Creation!”
“God, how long has it been since anyone used that slogan?”
“Oh, shut up and hurry up! Creation!”
“Video!”
Glasses clinked midair before returning to their owners.
“When was the last time we all saw each other?”
“Seriously. Ever since graduation, it’s been nearly impossible to meet up.”
“Seon-ah, I heard you’re looking for a new job? Didn’t you say you’d stick it out for at least two years?”
“Don’t even start. That place is an escape room where only the smartest get out.”
“The film industry is basically a mass funeral.”
“No Seok-jo, you look like you’ve lost half your face.”
“If you really want to see the abyss, comrades, grad school is waiting for you.”
Since it had been so long since they last gathered, updates on each other’s lives flowed nonstop across the table. The common theme, as expected, was employment—each person insisting that their own workplace was the absolute worst.
“So, how about the man of the hour? Still having fun in school?”
“School’s the same everywhere.”
“Man, I wanna go back to campus too. These days, I wake up swearing every morning.”
“Easy fix—just go to grad school and become a professor.”
“Are you insane?”
“I’ve been going to work with my resignation letter in my heart for a while now.”
At that, everyone burst into laughter, nodding in solidarity.
Sa-yoon took a slow sip of beer and leaned back in his chair. Something felt off. His friends had gone out of their way to gather for his birthday, but he wasn’t enjoying it at all.
“Hyung, I really want to celebrate your birthday with you.”
Again. That memory surfaced, making his throat feel like it had a thorn stuck in it.
“When’s Kim Min-gyu getting here? The guy in charge of the cake is the latest one—figures!”
“He said he’s almost here.”
“That means at least thirty more minutes.”
“Eh, he’ll show up eventually while we’re drinking.”
And so, the drinks kept flowing. Since it was his birthday, people were offering him alcohol at an unusually high rate. Wanting to drown out the discomfort clawing at his chest, Sa-yoon accepted every glass without hesitation.
“Cha Sa-yoon, are you going all out tonight?”
“Are we getting front-row seats to the Cha Sa-yoon concert again?”
“Hey, someone take his card. If he has any sense of guilt, he should be paying for karaoke.”
His excited friends kept filling his glass, cracking jokes. But his mind was elsewhere, and even the alcohol wasn’t hitting.
Just as he raised yet another glass—
“On the day the winter rain fell, you said goodbye, and I couldn’t let you goooo~ Cake delivery for the birthday boy!”
The door swung open, and in strolled Kim Min-gyu, humming as he carried a cake. Despite being stone sober, he seemed way more excited than the actual drunk people.
“Over here, Kim CEO, over here!”
“Latecomer tax! Pay up!”
“Do you guys even understand the struggles of small business owners? Anyway, Cha Sa-yoon, happy birthday!”
Min-gyu, the sandwich shop owner, shot back playfully as he set the cake box in front of Sa-yoon.
“Oh, is it raining outside?”
Someone pointed out the droplets clinging to the coated cake box. Min-gyu, still shaking out his damp hair, answered casually.
“Yeah, it’s raining.”
“What? I don’t have an umbrella! Is it bad?”
“Not too heavy… but it started in the early evening and hasn’t stopped. Looks like it’ll keep going till dawn.”
So it was raining after all.
Sa-yoon absentmindedly picked up his phone, just intending to check the time.
But the moment the screen lit up, an alert caught his eye.
He shot up from his seat so fast it was like a spring had launched him. His knee slammed into the table, sending utensils clattering to the floor.
“What the hell? What is it?”
“Cha Sa-yoon, are you drunk?”
Sa-yoon didn’t even feel the pain. Slowly, he lifted his head. All eyes were on him, drawn by his sudden outburst.
“I need a smoke.”
He stepped outside and, under the eaves, pulled out his phone again.
[Hyung, can we talk for a moment?]
[ I’ll be waiting in front of your place.]
A message from Shin-jae.
