The Universe That’s Too Kind to Me 17

# Chapter 17

Je Wooseung was more surprised at seeing the flustered Hwiseo, who stared back with his already large eyes wide open. He tilted his head and examined Hwiseo searchingly. A moment of contemplation passed as he tried to interpret the situation. Wooseung smiled self-deprecatingly and said:

“I understand perfectly that you had no interest in me before or now.”

“No, it’s not about you, Je Wooseung-ssi. I don’t know how things were before, but now I have no memories. So I don’t have any prejudices—whether someone’s a man, an Alpha, or an Omega. I believe that when you love someone, those things don’t matter.”

He had only meant to say that he wouldn’t view Wooseung in a sexual way, but things seemed to have gotten tangled. The more Hwiseo tried to explain in his flustered state, the more he rambled incoherently. Je Wooseung picked up the baby who had apparently finished eating, as he was pushing the bottle away with his tongue. As Wooseung stood up, Manager Oh reached out her arms to take Woojoo and patted his back. Wooseung put on his jacket and said:

“The doctor told me that you might not remember things that were difficult or unpleasant. Perhaps that’s true. Maybe your memories of me and Woojoo fall into that category.”

“No, that’s not it. I—”

“There’s no need to explain so desperately. Since we have no interest in each other, let’s just agree not to misunderstand one another and leave it at that.”

Wooseung wrapped a deep teal cashmere scarf around his neck and walked out the front door. Before leaving, he turned to Hwiseo, who had inadvertently followed him to the entrance, and said he wanted to ask one last thing.

“Let me ask you one thing, you who have no memories now. What is Woojoo to you?”

Hwiseo was genuinely flustered. The usual Hwiseo couldn’t understand people who gave ambiguous answers. Either yes or no—he didn’t know the subtle in-between. But right now, he truly didn’t know how to answer. Watching Hwiseo’s inability to respond immediately, Je Wooseung unconsciously clenched his jaw.

“My son is not your neighbor’s puppy. Stay away from him.”

Hwiseo stood silently, staring at the door Wooseung had just exited through. ‘Don’t make things more complicated,’ is what he meant. Hwiseo was hurt by Wooseung’s parting words, and he was surprised that those words had hurt him.

With heavy steps, he went up to his second-floor room. Sitting at the desk, he stared at his reflection in the black monitor screen.

He had only wanted to see his father. But there was a husband and a child. The existence of a husband was something he’d never imagined, so it didn’t feel real. But the baby was different. He had once thought about getting married someday and becoming a father. That child had seemed cute and kept appearing in his mind. You know how when you see something adorable, you just want to look at it and touch it? It was even more so because the baby resembled him. But this was only from Hwiseo’s perspective. What if he considered Je Wooseung’s position, or the baby’s?

No, there’s no need to think further. Should I have answered that he was my son? He’s not my son! If I had said, “He’s your son,” he would’ve told me to back off anyway. How can it be disrespectful when he looks exactly like me? Get it together, Lee Hwiseo! Don’t worry about someone else’s child and just live your own life.

Shaking his head vigorously to clear his conflicted thoughts, Hwiseo sat at the computer and opened a blog he had bookmarked. Determined to meet Lee Sunwoo, he had been searching online communities that posted audition information. He had considered asking his manager but quickly dismissed the idea after remembering the CEO. The blog he’d found filtered out useless content like adult material, academic advertisements, and unpaid gigs. When he entered the board, there were two new posts today. One compiled information on open positions, and the other contained newly updated recruitment information.

These were the same recruitment posts he’d seen over the past few days. The number had decreased, meaning some had been taken down. When he clicked on the next post, an entry with “NEW” appeared.

<4-part mini-series [The Four Seasons of a Boy] Audition/Profile Tour Information>

-Title: The Four Seasons of a Boy

-Broadcasting: WEBFLEX, 20** year * month ** day~

-Production team: Director – Lee Sunwoo / Writer – Lee Sunwoo, Jang Kyeongwon

-Lead (planned):

-Production company: Sodam Entertainment

-Casting agency: Jerom Agent

-Content: A healing drama depicting a boy’s growth as he waits for his father who has gone out to sea, set against the backdrop of the four seasons in a fishing village

-Address: Seoul City **District **Road 45 Media Center (**Dong 0162) 9th floor

-Note: Profile box available.

Hwiseo blinked several times, then stared intently at the screen. There was a possibility that the director named Lee Sunwoo was just someone with the same name. Calming his racing heart, he opened another internet window and searched for “Director Lee Sunwoo.” Several articles that seemed to have been uploaded two months ago appeared.

Dispact reported, “Popular actor Lee Sunwoo will challenge himself as a new director for the 4-part mini-series ‘The Four Seasons of a Boy,’ scheduled to air on WEBFLEX.” Set in a fishing village and capturing Korea’s four seasons, it will not only showcase beautiful scenery but also tell the story of a boy who must grow up on his own.

Perhaps there was something like fate that draws fathers and sons together like the north and south poles of a magnet. Maybe such a thing could happen to Lee Hwiseo, an Omega, becoming entangled with Lee Sunwoo as his father.

* * *

Looking out at the early morning traffic, Wooseung turned on his tablet to check his inbox. A video file titled “Song” appeared on the screen. He recalled what Hwiseo had said that morning. He had momentarily felt upset when he learned that Hwiseo remembered Ko Sangwoo. He had wanted his words to cut deep. But now he regretted it.

“People don’t really like me.”

That’s how Hwiseo had described himself when he first met Wooseung. Honestly, it was difficult to understand. Wooseung didn’t care much about what others thought of him. Having become a company president at a young age, why wouldn’t there be people who criticized him? But so what? That’s genuinely how Wooseung felt. Age would come regardless, and skills would accumulate over time. There was no need to worry about what others said.

But Lee Hwiseo was trapped within others’ judgments of him. Once, finding it frustrating, Wooseung had offered advice, uncharacteristically:

“If you were as worthless as the haters say, you wouldn’t have become as successful as you are.”

“Even my family doesn’t like me, so it’s natural for strangers to feel that way.”

His inadequate advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Instead of opening the email, Wooseung clicked on the “Song” file. On the screen, Lee Hwiseo played the guitar and sang. His refreshing voice and atmosphere made him look like an innocent boy. Perhaps the doctor was right when he suggested that losing his memories might be better for him—Wooseung completely agreed.

* * *

The manager, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at Hwiseo who was checking his profile. A few days ago, Hwiseo had suddenly asked him to bring his profile, which he hadn’t forgotten to do. Hwiseo had sounded enthusiastic, as if he was going to do something right away, but he sighed with each page he turned.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

“Isn’t the makeup too heavy for a profile picture? And the outfit is too flashy. All these frills and fishnet.”

“That’s because we took it during the album photoshoot. Why, are you submitting your profile somewhere?”

Hwiseo looked at the manager’s face as if measuring something, then shook his head. He’s not someone I can trust. Today again, the first thing he mentioned was about the contract.

“Did you look at the contract? It’s the one from your debut, so it’s not great, right? I’ve already mentioned to the CEO about reconsidering it.”

“Reconsidering the contract?”

“Yes, honestly, from your marriage until now, the company has been very accommodating, which wasn’t easy. But we think of you as family, so we waited. And Hwiseo, you need to get back to work. The public forgets quickly. If you wait any longer, they’ll start asking, ‘Who was that again?'”

In simple terms, he was saying Hwiseo was on unpaid leave as a courtesy. Je Wooseung had told Hwiseo through his secretary that the contract Hwiseo had signed was practically a slave contract, and that he would file a lawsuit to invalidate it. He said to wait about a month, and he would let Hwiseo know once a new agency was decided. Although Hwiseo had said he didn’t need a new agency, the secretary had been firm:

“Once the lawsuit begins, they’ll start playing the media. They’ll create baseless, sensational rumors, and the public will be influenced regardless of whether they’re true. The process will be longer and harder than you think. Not because the work is difficult, but because it’s low-level and dirty. We’re the JG legal team. In the long run, it makes sense for a dedicated agency to handle your affairs.”

Looking away from the manager—whom he had thought was timid but who might be more socially adept than anyone—Hwiseo turned his gaze to the window. In place of fallen leaves, only bare branches swayed starkly in the wind.