Chapter 55: Collapsed

The moment Eun-gyeol took in Han-geon’s disheveled state through the photo, it felt as though his vision went stark white.
He actually staggered slightly.

A deafening roar rang in his ears.
It was the sound of a tower he had built up until now collapsing all at once.

That tower, crumbling helplessly, was one Han-geon had secretly built all by himself.
Like a child playing peekaboo, convinced Eun-gyeol wouldn’t see it if he covered his eyes.

While Han-geon diligently laid its foundations and reinforced it piece by piece, Eun-gyeol had merely watched.
He’d never wanted that tower to be built.
But, to be honest, he’d never wanted it to collapse either.

It was true that he’d been somewhat taken aback at first by what Han-geon was doing.
Yet as time passed, the existence of that tower gradually became something natural to him.
More than that, it even felt welcome.

Because it was visible, it was easy to gauge how focused Han-geon was.
As long as he was stacking up the byproducts of futile emotion one by one, he’d never be able to take his eyes off Eun-gyeol.
Like a mangy mutt that wagged its tail as long as it only looked at its owner, no matter how neglected it was, Choi Han-geon would prioritize him on his own, without Eun-gyeol having to force or ask.

And yet.

The tower he’d believed to be solid all this time turned out to be nothing more than a hollow illusion.

Made of nothing but empty shells, the shoddy tower collapsed with a raucous clatter.
It was loud and irritating beyond endurance.
Watching it crumble before his eyes made him feel like he was going to lose his mind with rage.

He couldn’t tell.
Why his head was boiling so fiercely, yet his hands—always hot—were now ice-cold.
Why his clenched fist was trembling so unpleasantly.

Was it because Han-geon had brazenly disobeyed his instructions,
or because he’d rolled around with Yoo Junseong, the man Eun-gyeol hated most,
or because, after acting like he’d do anything as a manager, he’d collapsed over something as trivial as Eun-gyeol’s rut,
or was it because…

He’d confirmed that Han-geon’s feelings for him were only this much.

A hollow laugh escaped him.
He’d liked the way Han-geon always stole shy glances at him, the affection disguised as friendship and loyalty, the way he tried so hard to act nonchalant.
He’d tossed kindling onto that fire at regular intervals, enjoying the sight of Han-geon’s heart burning beautifully.
He couldn’t deny that he’d secretly savored that scenery as a small pleasure in an otherwise dull routine.

But this was all it amounted to.
This was all there was.
In the place where that tower—always firmly settled in one corner of his heart—had collapsed, only ruins remained.
Ugly, filthy debris lay scattered, grating on his nerves.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Eun-gyeol walked toward Han-geon’s desk with numb steps.
He opened the drawer without hesitation.
He’d known about Han-geon doing this for a long time.
He’d just laughed it off, joking that it was surprisingly cute for someone his size.

But now—
The more he looked at the photos spilling out, the more his rage only intensified.
The smiling face in the pictures felt like it was mocking him for being so thoroughly deluded, and the anger made him nauseous.
He dragged out every photocard Han-geon had hidden away as tightly as acorns buried deep underground.
He gathered every single one.
The more there were, the better they’d serve to humiliate him.

He rushed straight to the address Yoo Junseong had sent.
The moment he got out of the taxi, he sprinted into the hotel.
Through the narrowed field of vision beneath his pulled-down cap, the line of doors stretching down the hallway wavered and burned with rage.
At last, he reached the door behind which Choi Han-geon was supposed to be.

He pounded on it as if to smash it down.
The few seconds before it opened felt like an eternity.
Ridiculously enough, in that moment, Eun-gyeol felt afraid.
Afraid of facing Han-geon waiting for him inside.

Whether Han-geon was awake, asleep like in the photo, or… engaged in something else, no matter what state he was in, Eun-gyeol felt like he’d be unable to contain his fury.

He would drive Han-geon to the edge of a cliff and interrogate him.
He would stab mercilessly at his chest with painful words.
He would drag out that endlessly light and shallow heart Han-geon had harbored, slam it down, and trample it underfoot.
He would abuse him cruelly and harshly, and make him pay dearly for daring to disobey his orders and roll around here with the likes of Yoo Junseong.

“You came really fa—”

The moment the door opened, Eun-gyeol threw a punch.
He knocked the sneering bastard flying, pinned him to the floor, and smashed his face in.
As soon as blood burst from his nose, the crazy bastard bared bloodstained teeth and grinned.

“Senior. You like Han-geon, don’t you?”

“Shut your mouth, you f*cking piece of shit.”

The voice ringing in his ears sounded unfamiliar, as if it weren’t his own.
As he raised his fist again, Yoo Junseong went limp.
Even as blood poured from his nose, the look on his face—as though he were waiting for the beating—made it immediately clear what he wanted.

Like hell I’ll give you that, you snake.

Grinding his teeth, Eun-gyeol drove his fist into Yoo Junseong’s solar plexus.
Apparently expecting another blow to the face, Junseong doubled over with a choking gasp the instant it hit.
The smile vanished from his face.
He writhed, gasping and struggling in pain.

Truthfully, continuing to punch him here would mean falling straight into the cheap, filthy scenario that bastard had set up.
But Eun-gyeol deliberately chose that option.
Of all the scenarios Junseong could have wanted, this one was by far the most crude and sloppy.
Still, he didn’t care and kept beating him.

If he didn’t pummel Yoo Junseong right now, he felt like he’d never calm down.
If he didn’t vent this rage on Junseong, he’d end up doing something—anything—to Han-geon.

Only after a long while did Eun-gyeol finally pull himself away.
Because he’d first crushed Junseong’s carotid artery and knocked him out—his limpness too ugly to look at—Junseong lay there quietly, a complete wreck.

Eun-gyeol swept an indifferent gaze over the sprawled body.
It would be hard for him to resume filming in a week, but it wasn’t bad enough to leave him bedridden for months.

“…..”

Eun-gyeol steadied his ragged breathing and turned his gaze toward Han-geon.
A face sleeping peacefully.
Looking down at that serene face, unaware of what had just happened in front of him, Eun-gyeol reached out and brushed a hand over Han-geon’s forehead once.
It was a blunt touch, devoid of consideration or tenderness.

He called the chief manager.
He explained the situation plainly and hung up.
At the same time, he ordered the staff member he’d been using all along to bring the materials they’d been gathering.
The chief manager and the staff arrived almost simultaneously.

The lawyer Eun-gyeol had secretly kept on hand for a long time was exceptionally skilled.
Seeing that even the legal groundwork had already been prepared, the chief manager looked like he was about to pass out.
Asking what on earth was going on, he sat there trembling, his face close to tears, listening to the explanation.

The lawyer calmly laid out the materials he’d collected.
Inside the neatly organized documents were records of the atrocities Yoo Junseong had committed behind the scenes.

Evidence showed how he’d approached Eun-gyeol’s current and former managers to squeeze information out of them or sow discord, forcing them to quit, and how he’d hired people to spread malicious rumors online.
As he looked through them, the chief manager’s face grew steadily more rigid.

“…I understand. But at this level, wouldn’t it only count as obstruction of business and defamation? At best, wouldn’t this just lead to a fine or maybe a suspended sentence…?”

At some point, the chief manager had calmed down.
Though he’d lost his composure earlier at the sight of Junseong unconscious, he was now coolly considering how to respond.
But when he saw the final set of documents the lawyer pulled out, his face froze beyond recovery.

“…If this blows up like this—!”

“We don’t intend to take that risk and expose it right away. This is purely for silencing him.”

The lawyer lowered his voice as he set the papers down.

A drug scandal.
Material that could send him straight to ruin in one blow.
While Junseong had been steadily slandering Eun-gyeol for years, Eun-gyeol hadn’t been sitting idle either.
While tailing him and digging into his background, he’d stumbled upon an unexpected Achilles’ heel.

Traces of consistent marijuana use over several years.
Though Junseong had been laying low recently, he’d frequented a certain club and smoked marijuana right up until just before filming Heart for Love.
The club was extremely closed-off, making it difficult to dig into, but after persistent effort over a long period, they’d finally secured evidence.
It seemed Junseong had narrowly escaped being caught up in the celebrity drug scandal that had dominated the news a few months back.

Until now, Eun-gyeol had simply held onto that material.
Junseong’s presence alone wasn’t enough reason to unleash something of that magnitude.
But in the current situation, as the lawyer said, it was perfect for silencing him over the assault—
enough to make him bitterly regret charging in without thinking.

The chief manager contacted Junseong’s manager and had him taken away.
After tidying things up to some extent, the chief manager begged Eun-gyeol one last time not to cause any more trouble before leaving the room.
Once everyone was gone, the only sound left in the room was the occasional breath of Choi Han-geon, sleeping peacefully.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Eun-gyeol silently stared down at Han-geon’s face.

All that remained now was to face Choi Han-geon himself.