Chapter 32: A Manager’s Job

“W-Why… why are you like this?”

Eun-gyeol’s face was blank.

When his anger boiled over completely, he tended to look like that.

It was an expression Han-geon had seen often since they were kids.

The difference was that the force he was giving off now was far more savage and ominous than anything back then.

To say he was taking his anger over Junseong out on him felt excessive.

But no matter how much he thought about it, that was the only possible reason Eun-gyeol could be this furious right now.

Why.

Why on earth was he going this far?

His thoughts raced wildly for a brief moment.

Before he could find any kind of answer, Eun-gyeol spoke.

“You, with that bastard I hate that much.”

A heavy weight settled onto his thighs.

Eun-gyeol slowly climbed onto Han-geon’s waist, pouring a blazing gaze straight down at him.

“You wanna flirt with him right in front of me, huh?”

Sunlight streamed in through the window, dust motes floating in the air—and Eun-gyeol pinning him down on the bed.

The scene was so unreal that Han-geon could only stare blankly, his mouth slightly open, unable to say a word.

The glare Eun-gyeol shot at him was sharp yet thick, almost sticky.

The gaze pressing down on his trembling eyes, the weight covering his body, the atmosphere so dense it was suffocating—everything felt overwhelmingly heavy to Han-geon.

It was as if some current in his mind had abruptly stopped.

He couldn’t think at all.

“You’re not answering?”

The wrist that had been briefly released tightened again—this time both wrists.

His brow furrowed automatically as a cry slipped through clenched teeth.

“It hurts—let go.”

Eun-gyeol merely flicked his eyebrow up, keeping the pressure exactly the same.

Han-geon forced his voice out again.

“It hurts, you asshole… let go and let’s talk.”

“f*ck, stay still.

Don’t piss me off.”

His lowered eyes slithered over Han-geon like a snake.

He looked completely absorbed in something.

His gaze, fixed on Han-geon’s distorted expression, didn’t waver even slightly.

Seeing that face, Han-geon felt an inexplicable chill crawl up his spine.

“W-What the hell are you even doing right now…?”

“….”

“Eun-gyeol.

We still have filming, and we don’t have time to—”

“We’re on standby after lunch.

Stay still.”

The vicious reply shut Han-geon up.

As Eun-gyeol said, after lunch the scenes were focused on Junseong and Juwon, so a long standby was expected.

And lunch hadn’t even been over for long.

“…It hurts.

Please let go.

My wrists… they really hurt.”

Getting angry or snapping back in moments like this only made things worse.

It always had.

Han-geon met Eun-gyeol’s gaze with a pleading tone.

He was flustered, but first he had to calm things down and talk it through.

Maybe the emotional appeal worked—at last, the grip on his wrists loosened a little.

He twisted free and forced himself upright, but even then, Eun-gyeol showed no sign of getting off his lap.

“…Get down and let’s talk.

You’re heavy, you bastard.”

He tried to lighten the tone on purpose, but Eun-gyeol’s expression didn’t change.

Han-geon let out a deep sigh and called him gently.

“Eun-gyeol.

Talk to me too.

I need to know why you hate that guy so much if I’m supposed to deal with it.”

“I f*cking hate that bastard.

He’s a rat.”

“So why.

Why, exactly?”

Eun-gyeol bit down on his lip.

Seeing his pretty lip caught between his teeth, Han-geon reached out without thinking.

The handprint he’d left on Eun-gyeol’s wrist yesterday flashed through his mind.

What if he split his lip too?

“…Don’t.

Don’t bite it like that.”

Thick fingers gently pressed against Eun-gyeol’s lip, easing it free.

As his mouth parted slightly, Eun-gyeol’s brows lifted as well.

He probably hadn’t expected his face to be touched.

Seeing the surprise on his face, Han-geon hurriedly pulled his hand back.

Even he thought he’d gone too far.

“I—I mean… you have filming soon.

I was worried your lip might split…”

Eun-gyeol said nothing.

The awkwardness slowly turned into anxiety.

Why was he looking at him like that?

It was impossible to read the intent behind his eyes.

“…It’s hard to say for sure yet.

It’s just a suspicion.

I’ll tell you when I’m certain.”

After a long silence, Eun-gyeol finally spoke.

“Huh?”

“That bastard.”

Han-geon nodded slowly.

He didn’t understand everything, but it was clear Eun-gyeol’s anger had eased.

For now, that was enough.

“Okay.

I don’t know what it is, but… tell me when you’re sure.”

“But until then, just because you hate him doesn’t mean I can treat him the same way.”

Eun-gyeol’s handsome brow twitched.

Han-geon slowly reached out and took hold of his wrist.

He had to persuade him before he could snap back.

The pulse pounding beneath his fingers felt like it was accusing him.

Still, Han-geon pressed on.

“Listen.

I’m your manager.

I can’t put up walls and tell him to f*ck off.

Then who’s going to manage your reputation?”

“…”

“If your image gets completely wrecked, then I… what am I supposed to do?”

His voice trembled slightly.

Even imagining that made his skin crawl.

That guy himself meant nothing.

If Eun-gyeol told him to ignore him, he could.

If he was someone who’d hurt Eun-gyeol in the past, Han-geon would do everything possible to minimize contact outside filming.

But like it or not, they had to stay together here until the project ended, and there were hundreds—thousands—of eyes on set.

Eun-gyeol’s image absolutely could not fall apart.

That was the most important thing to Han-geon right now.

Then Eun-gyeol tossed out a question.

“Is that because you’re my manager?”

“…What?”

“Telling me not to bite my lip.

Caring that much about my reputation.”

“…”

“Is it all just because you’re my manager?”

This time, Han-geon fell silent.

What was he supposed to say?

Because we’re friends?

Because I’m your manager?

Or…

Sometimes, when Eun-gyeol spoke like this, it felt like he saw straight through Han-geon’s feelings.

Like he was saying, You think I wouldn’t know your heart, after all these years of you being terrible at lying?

He couldn’t say anything.

He couldn’t say it was just because he was his manager.

It wasn’t true—and it wasn’t the answer Eun-gyeol wanted.

For some reason, he was sure of that.

Then was it because he was a friend who cared about him?

That would be the right answer—yet strangely, the words wouldn’t come.

It felt hypocritical.

As if lying so calmly in front of Eun-gyeol, who might already know everything, would make him look disgusting.

“Fine.

I get it.”

It seemed Eun-gyeol took Han-geon’s hesitation as his answer.

Han-geon tried to read his face, but it was harder than ever.

“Then I guess, Han-geon… you’ll have to be my manager for the rest of your life.”

Leaving behind words whose meaning was unclear, Eun-gyeol slowly pulled away.

Only then did Han-geon realize how close he was to running out of breath.

He let out a deep sigh.

Eun-gyeol’s weight still lingered vividly on his knees and thighs.

His breathing was ragged.

His legs tingled, his wrists throbbed where they’d been held.

Most of all, his heart pounded as if it might burst.

Every one of these reactions was proof of the unbelievable moment that had just passed.

“…”
“…”

As the uncomfortable silence stretched on, Han-geon simply sat beside Eun-gyeol.

Eun-gyeol did the same.

After some time, Eun-gyeol broke the silence first.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

The expression he wore was the usual one.

That alone was incredibly reassuring.

Han-geon glared at him deliberately, grumbling.

“Of course I am, you asshole.

Someone made me miss my meal.”

“Sorry.

Let’s eat.

You choose.”

Thankfully, Eun-gyeol acted like nothing had happened.

He handed over the room-service menu from the bedside table and flopped back onto the bed.

It felt awkward staying on the narrow single bed together, but moving now would probably earn him a comment, so Han-geon stayed put and opened the menu.

With the tension gone, his hunger returned instantly.

He slid his finger from top to bottom and said casually,

“From here to here.”

Even though it was a joke, Eun-gyeol nodded without protest.

“Order it.”

“Bullshit, you idiot.

What do you think I am, a pig?”

“You do eat a lot.

Want me to call you a pig?”

He snorted despite himself.

Then suddenly Eun-gyeol sat up and flopped down onto Han-geon’s thighs, reaching out.

His palm freely kneaded his stomach.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Let me touch our Choi-Pig’s belly.”

“D-Don’t touch it like that…”

“The jjambbong here is good.

Order that too.”

He shot him a glare, but Eun-gyeol just laughed, making some weird heh sound.

Han-geon shoved his hand away a couple of times, but when he wouldn’t stop, he gave up and let him be.

Trying hard not to let his attention drift downward, Han-geon ordered room service.

“I don’t know if we’ll have time.”

“We’re on standby till at least three or four anyway.”

Eun-gyeol let out a long yawn.

He’d said he’d buy food, yet he looked sleepy himself.

After anxiously checking the time, he texted the manager, just in case.

[Eun-gyeol is with me.

I’ll calm him down, feed him lunch, and we’ll return right away.]

As if they’d been waiting, the reply came immediately.

[Okay.

Thanks, Han-geon.

The standby should be long anyway, but call me right away if anything urgent comes up.]

[Yes, understood.]

The food arrived.

Sitting across from him, Eun-gyeol ate quietly, as if he’d never thrown a fit at all.

The jjambbong really was delicious, just as he’d said.

Trying to sort through his tangled thoughts, Han-geon swallowed the hot broth.