Chapter 13: The Stalker’s Obsession

Seo Yeon-ho’s hair bristled when he saw a celebrity news thumbnail appear in his algorithm recommendations. ‘Park Se-yeon hinting at a breakup? “I’ll abandon any guy who trifles with me.” Who’s the target of her attack?’ The thumbnail prominently displayed a capture of Park Se-yeon’s social media post, emblazoned with large yellow text designed to trigger a dopamine rush.

“They say algorithms are scarier than ghosts these days…”

Seo Yeon-ho felt bewildered, wondering if this was the infamous surveillance of Big Brother. He rarely clicked on celebrity news or even popular videos. His usual viewing consisted solely of videos introducing famous mountains from around the world, diary decorating tutorials, and cute prop shop tours.

He had, of course, never searched for Park Se-yeon. Not even after their encounter in front of Han Tae-young’s apartment.

‘It must be a simple coincidence, right?’

Logically, there was no reason for the platform to show him a clip about Park Se-yeon’s recent activities other than pure chance.

‘Perhaps I accidentally clicked on a Park Se-yeon video once.’

Just in case, Seo Yeon-ho rummaged through his video watch history and discovered the *Cold Reading* production presentation and teaser videos. He had briefly watched them when the show first aired, then switched them off, completely forgetting he had ever seen them.

‘Could Park Se-yeon’s video have popped up because of *Cold Reading*? Because Han Tae-young is in *Cold Reading*?’

If his conjecture was correct, then Han Tae-young and Park Se-yeon’s relationship might be an open secret. After all, even Jung-eun, a mere civilian, was thoroughly familiar with Han Tae-young’s dating history, so broadcasting companies and platforms would surely know even more.

‘Did someone say his girlfriends change with every project?’

Seo Yeon-ho flinched as he typed ‘Han Tae-young girlfriend’ into the search bar.

“What are you doing, Seo Yeon-ho?”

A wave of mortification and stark self-awareness washed over Seo Yeon-ho, causing him to cover his eyes with his palm. He had never once paid attention to celebrity gossip in his life, and he couldn’t fathom why he was suddenly acting so out of character.

‘This is all Han Tae-young’s fault. That damned bastard.’

Seo Yeon-ho pressed his temples, thinking of the troublesome presence that seemed to be staging an occupation protest inside his head. The last time he delivered to Elysium, Seo Yeon-ho had vowed to sever all ties of interest with Han Tae-young and *Cold Reading*.

However, that vow remained entirely unfulfilled. This was because Han Tae-young was hell-bent on catching him. Han Tae-young was a pursuer consumed by madness.

In some ways, he felt like an unavoidable disaster, one that couldn’t be escaped no matter how desperately one ran. At first, Seo Yeon-ho believed that if he simply stopped delivering to Elysium, he would never have to encounter Han Tae-young again.

How naive that misconception had been…

When Seo Yeon-ho ceased deliveries to Elysium, Han Tae-young began calling his phone number.

– “Delivery punk, where are you? Why aren’t you accepting delivery orders? Are you trying to avoid me?”

Seo Yeon-ho was so startled when he first received Han Tae-young’s call that he dropped his phone.

– “What was that sound just now? Did you fall?”

The phone, having fallen onto the pavement, now sported a spiderweb of cracks across its screen. Unable to believe that the tragedy before him was real, Seo Yeon-ho stared blankly at his phone.

– “Aren’t you going to answer?”

It was a small mercy that only the screen was shattered, with no issues affecting its functionality. However, it was no mercy at all that the call hadn’t disconnected, allowing Han Tae-young’s incessant ranting to continue pouring from the speaker.

“How did you get my number?”

– “Finally, you speak. What were you doing that made you answer so slowly? Are you driving?”

“No.”

– “Then what were you doing?”

“I have no reason to tell you what I was doing. Just tell me how you got my number. Did you investigate me?”

A scoff of derision echoed from beyond the speaker.

– “Such an inflated ego.”

“Inflated ego? Then how do you know a number I never gave you?”

– “You gave me the number.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. When did I ever?”

– “Don’t you remember passionately texting and calling me to open the door?”

Seo Yeon-ho gasped, pressing a hand to his forehead. Yes, there had been such a time. On the day of his very first delivery to Apartment 2104, Han Tae-young had been so unresponsive to the intercom that Seo Yeon-ho had called him using a secure number.

The system was designed so that riders couldn’t know the customer’s number, but the rider’s number would be saved on the customer’s phone.

‘But that was ages ago…’

He must have dug through his call history to find it, a truly terrifying display of obsession. Regretting that he would never have called if he’d known this would happen, Seo Yeon-ho finally spoke.

“You called to silence me, didn’t you? I haven’t told anyone about what I saw that day, and I won’t in the future, so don’t ever contact me again.”

– “It’s not about that…”

Seo Yeon-ho pressed the call end button, then blocked the number. He went to the trouble of blocking the number because he knew Han Tae-young wasn’t the kind of person who would simply stop calling just because he was told to.

However, just as his belief that avoiding calls would allow him to escape Han Tae-young proved false, blocking Han Tae-young’s number couldn’t stop his barrage of calls. It seemed Han Tae-young had bought a stack of SIM cards and activated multiple numbers, as he would call from a new number every time Seo Yeon-ho blocked him.

“Does he have money to burn? What a truly revolting psychopath.”

He was so utterly exasperated that he felt like committing an act of terror on Han Tae-young’s home, just as Han Tae-young had mistakenly accused him of. But knowing that such an action would only benefit Han Tae-young, Seo Yeon-ho clung tightly to his reason.

The reason Han Tae-young would benefit was simple: he would undoubtedly find some evidence to prove Seo Yeon-ho was the perpetrator. If decisive proof of his guilt fell into that man’s hands, Seo Yeon-ho was certain he would sink into an even more horrific quagmire than his current situation.

He could guarantee it would be so terrible that he might as well have signed a s*ave contract with Satan.

‘The touch isn’t working well.’

He tried to press the ‘Do not recommend’ button on Park Se-yeon’s video, but the screen was unresponsive. He had thought only the outer screen was damaged, but sensing an issue with the inner display as well, Seo Yeon-ho’s heart sank.

‘This can’t be happening. Please, just work. I don’t have money for a new phone.’

Tensely tapping the screen repeatedly, he accidentally clicked a linked address in the ‘More’ section. The homepage of an online newspaper appeared on his screen. The advertisements plastered across the newspaper’s webpage were so garish they hurt his eyes.

Seo Yeon-ho felt as disheartened as if he’d been hijacked by an unwanted ad site, yet he found relief in the fact that his phone was still functioning.

‘Why did it freeze? Is it a data issue? Or just lag?’

As Seo Yeon-ho scrolled down, his eyes widened at a headline in the list of new articles.

‘Han Tae-young: Accident Occurs During Filming of *Cold Reading* Action Scene’

An accident? Had something like this happened before? Seo Yeon-ho hastily clicked the headline. He usually preferred not to pay attention to Han Tae-young, but since this was different from what he remembered, he couldn’t help but check.

Han Tae-young, the lead actor in STBC’s Friday-Saturday drama *Cold Reading*, sustained a minor injury earlier this morning during the filming of an action scene. FireWorks, Han Tae-young’s agency, reported, “The actor’s injury is merely a light bruise, and it will not affect his filming schedule.”

“Seems like nothing serious.”

Seo Yeon-ho felt relieved after reading the article. Given that the filming schedule remained unchanged, it appeared to be more of a mere happening than an actual accident. At most, he probably just got a scratch or a bruise?

It was obvious that the reporter had used sensational words, making it seem like a big deal just to boost views. Actors and works that garnered intense public interest often had even trivial matters greatly exaggerated.

‘He must not have been seriously hurt, which is why I didn’t know about it. I got scared for nothing.’

If the injury had been severe enough to delay or halt filming, the news would have been much bigger. However, with no mention of him going to the hospital, it seemed to have remained just a minor incident. Such an event would typically lose its buzz in less than half a day.

For Seo Yeon-ho, who rarely checked portals and wasn’t one to eagerly search for articles, it was inevitable he wouldn’t know about a story that had been buried in half a day.

‘That Han Tae-young, I bet he made a huge fuss, thinking he was seriously hurt. He definitely seems like the type to overreact.’

He wondered how ridiculous it would be to see such a large man, with that physique, making such a fuss.

Ding.

As he imagined Han Tae-young making a racket over a tiny scratch, a new call popped up.

“Moonlight Flower again.”

Seo Yeon-ho tilted his head, checking the delivery destination and the affiliated store. Delivery orders for drink pickups from Moonlight were coming in almost every five to ten minutes.

While it wouldn’t be unusual for a single establishment to receive calls every five minutes during peak hours, this was a so-called ‘dead zone’ for calls, a time when delivery users were scarce.

‘Did someone post a recommendation for Moonlight Flower on a community forum or social media?’

When a recommendation post appeared online, sales would surge that day, regardless of the time. Seo Yeon-ho accepted the call, thinking, ‘Owner Yang will be pleased.’ Earlier, he had been on a long-distance delivery, unable to accept the calls coming from Moonlight Flower.

Screech.

As he parked his scooter in front of Moonlight Flower, he encountered Jung-eun, who was coming out to dispose of trash.

“Oppa, Oppa!”

“Oh, hello. Is something wrong?”

Jung-eun, her face unusually excited, nodded her head. Seeing the girl, who usually wore a perpetually indifferent expression, so agitated, suggested something significant had happened.

“That person who came before, he finally revisited the store!”

“That person who came before?”

“Yes. The guy who ordered the Hop Lemon Tea.”

He had been thinking, ‘Did a recommendation post for Moonlight Flower go up online again?’ but his guess was completely off. “The guy who ordered Hop Lemon Tea? Who is that?”

“Oppa, please pay more attention to your surroundings. Why are you so indifferent? Manager Kim and I have talked about that customer so many times.”

‘Could she be talking about the young curmudgeon?’

Seo Yeon-ho desperately hoped not as he entered the building.

Ding-a-ling.

A comfortable atmosphere, one that air purifiers alone couldn’t create, enveloped Seo Yeon-ho. However, unlike usual, Seo Yeon-ho couldn’t enjoy the harmless air of Moonlight, generated by the plants.

Seo Yeon-ho’s expression hardened as he saw the man occupying a seat inside the store. Why did his ominous premonitions never miss their mark? The returning customer Jung-eun had mentioned was, as Seo Yeon-ho had feared, indeed the young curmudgeon.