Chapter 15: The Price of a Broken Phone

The latter part of Tae-young’s comment was a mumble to himself, but Yeon-ho found himself more attuned to those whispered words.

“Was it your ankle that got injured on set?”

“You know everything, don’t you?”

Leaning his head against the car seat’s headrest, Tae-young removed his sunglasses. Having apparently taken out his colored contact lenses after leaving the set, both his eyes were a striking amber.

“Mr. Delivery, why are you so interested in me?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t want to know.”

Yeon-ho’s brows furrowed sharply.

“It was simply information that happened to catch my eye, nothing more—like glancing at a medicine bag.”

“Hmm. ‘Happened to know,’ you say.”

Tae-young narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Yeon-ho from head to toe as if searching for a hidden truth. It was clear he didn’t believe a word Yeon-ho had said.

‘This is driving me absolutely mad,’ Yeon-ho thought.

A throbbing ache pulsed in his temples. Feeling his head grow unbearably hot, Yeon-ho decided he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled off his helmet.

‘What a relief,’ he thought.

Yeon-ho instinctively closed his eyes, relishing the air conditioning as it seeped down to his scalp. It was, perhaps, an exaggeration, but a sense of liberation washed over him, akin to Sun Wukong finally freed from the Golden Fillet.

“Mr. Delivery, you seem to be sensitive to the heat, don’t you?”

Yeon-ho, who had been blissfully soaking in the air conditioning, startled and opened his eyes. His cheeks burned with embarrassment at the realization that he had let his guard down inside the car of a man he considered nothing short of an enemy.

“It’s not that I’m sensitive to the heat; it’s that you say things that infuriate me, giving me a headache. And can you please stop calling me ‘Mr. Delivery’?”

“Why, does it bother you?”

“Is that even a question? Of course, it bothers me.”

Yeon-ho glared at Tae-young, his gaze conveying a clear message: not only did the man lack basic decency, but his social skills were utterly nonexistent.

“So, what should I call you then? Rider-nim, Mr. Rider, or Mr. Yeon-ho? Choose the one you prefer from these three.”

When his own name flowed from Tae-young’s lips, Yeon-ho’s eyes widened in surprise.

“…How did you know my name? You said you didn’t investigate me.”

“There you go again, overreacting.”

Tae-young peeled off his mask and tossed it into the cup holder.

“I heard the part-timer calling your name earlier. I have ears, so how could I not hear?”

Thinking back, Jung-eun had indeed called his name when she went to buy ice cream. Yeon-ho felt a momentary flush of awkwardness, wondering if he had been overly defensive, before hardening his expression once more.

“So, you knew my name all along and still kept calling me ‘Mr. Delivery’?”

“Frankly, we weren’t exactly in a ‘calling each other by name’ kind of mood, were we? From now on, I’ll make sure to call you by your name instead of ‘Mr. Delivery.'”

“From now on? What ‘from now on’?”

He was about to declare that he never wanted to see Tae-young again when a call from Owner Yang interrupted him.

“Yeon-ho, Jung-eun brought the ice cream. Where did you go?”

“I just stepped out for a moment to take a call. I’ll be right back in.”

‘Jung-eun is back? How much time has passed already?’

Flustered, Yeon-ho pressed the end call button and pulled the door handle. A click echoed, yet the door remained stubbornly shut. It appeared Tae-young had engaged the lock without his notice.

“Hey, open the door.”

Yeon-ho’s face contorted into a menacing scowl. Yet, despite his fierce expression, his hand carefully, almost gingerly, tugged at the door handle. He feared that scratching such an expensive car would only further entangle his already complicated life.

Tae-young observed Yeon-ho with a calm, steady gaze, much like a director monitoring a camera feed.

‘That insufferable jerk,’ Yeon-ho fumed inwardly.

His stomach churned at the sight of Tae-young calmly observing him, having cornered him in such a frustrating situation.

“Open the door! Han Tae-young, are you deaf?”

Tae-young regarded Yeon-ho with a sly, knowing gaze before finally opening his mouth.

“I’ll let you go if you promise not to ignore my calls or delivery orders.”

“You lunatic.”

“Just like a gangster, you jump straight to vulgar insults. Didn’t you say you hated being called ‘Mr. Delivery’? Then you should behave better in the first place.”

Tae-young launched into a lecture, sounding like an exasperated old man. From Yeon-ho’s perspective, it was utterly preposterous. How could the very person who’d instantly resorted to violence just for a glance in an elevator dare to call him a gangster?

“Judging by your expression, you look ready to hit someone.”

“Do I look like I’m in a mood not to swear right now? Why do you think I started rejecting your calls?”

Yeon-ho paused, taking a deliberate breath to prevent Tae-young from seeing his mounting agitation.

“You asked if I’m sensitive to the heat earlier, didn’t you? I don’t really know; I’ve never thought about it. But it does get hot. The reason I stopped delivering to your place is because of the heat. It’s because you kept pulling those obnoxious stunts, making me wait outside, that I refused to go anymore.”

Yeon-ho unleashed a torrent of pent-up words onto the man who had tormented him. He hadn’t wanted to appear emotionally vulnerable, yet with each word, a wave of sorrow threatened to overwhelm him.

“If you don’t open the door right now, I’m calling the police and reporting false imprisonment.”

Yeon-ho dialed 112 on his phone, then poised his thumb over the call button.

“I’ll also tip off the reporters about all the obnoxious things you did to me when you ordered deliveries.”

News of the lead actor of a trending drama engaging in power abuse would undoubtedly cause significant repercussions. The drama itself could falter. Yet, Yeon-ho found he no longer cared about cold reading or anything else. Tae-young had crossed the line, and then some. Why should he endure this man coming to his regular workplace and causing such a ruckus?

Tae-young observed Yeon-ho with glittering, unreadable eyes, before finally leaning his head back against the car seat.

“To think I’m getting inspiration from a regular person. I wish ‘parachute’ had felt like this too.”

With a face that betrayed a simultaneous mix of regret and intense frustration, Tae-young let out a deep sigh.

“What are you talking about? Who’s ‘Parachute’?”

“It’s nothing. It was a story unrelated to you.”

Tae-young drew a line under the conversation, then pulled out 50,000 won bills and a check from his wallet. Yeon-ho’s brows furrowed at the sight of the folded currency.

“What’s this money for?”

“Fix your broken phone. It looks like you dropped it while talking to me earlier.”

Tae-young gestured with his chin towards the phone Yeon-ho held in his hand.

“It was an accident due to your carelessness, but since it happened while you were on the phone with me, I’ll take moral responsibility.”

The furrow between Yeon-ho’s brows deepened considerably.

It was utterly preposterous to hear such an obnoxious lunatic speak of morals. But…

‘I do need to get it fixed.’

Yeon-ho’s phone was in a dire state, both objectively and subjectively. Though he had temporarily covered the cracked screen with a protective film, there was no telling when shards of broken glass might pierce through it. The fact that his phone had frozen earlier also weighed on his mind. However, Yeon-ho was not in a financial position to spend money on phone repairs.

Yet, why was he unable to simply accept the money offered?

“Don’t you need it?”

As Yeon-ho merely stared at the money, Tae-young asked, a puzzled expression on his face. Hugging his helmet tightly, as if warding off temptation, Yeon-ho replied.

“I’m debating whether taking that money will cause me trouble later.”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

A look of genuine bewilderment appeared on Tae-young’s face. It didn’t seem like an act, though Yeon-ho couldn’t be entirely certain, given the man’s exceptional acting abilities.

“If you change your mind later, I’ll be the only one stuck with the blame.”

“What would I change my words to?”

“You could report that I stole or snatched the money from you, rather than saying you gave it to me voluntarily.”

Seemingly shocked by Yeon-ho’s words, Tae-young rested his arm on the steering wheel and let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh.

“Do I really seem like such trash to you?”

“Think about everything you’ve done so far. It would be stranger not to see you as trash.”

“No, that’s…”

With an aggrieved expression, Tae-young ruffled his hair before letting out a sigh.

“Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

Tae-young let out another heavy sigh, gazing at Yeon-ho, who was clearly radiating suspicion.

“You’re worried I’ll stab you in the back later, aren’t you? I’m doing this to give you insurance, so you won’t be solely blamed even if I change my story.”

Tae-young took the phone from Yeon-ho’s hand without asking and opened the recording application.

“I, Han Tae-young, ‘Mr. Delivery’—no, wait. What’s your last name?”

Tae-young looked at Yeon-ho, apparently recalling his promise not to call him ‘Mr. Delivery’.

“…Seo.”

Yeon-ho uttered his surname with clear reluctance.

Yeon-ho still found it hard to believe that Tae-young was genuinely doing him a favor. It was always wiser to assume some sinister ulterior motive when a person who had relentlessly tormented him suddenly changed their attitude as if flipping a switch.

“I, Han Tae-young, hereby agree to pay Seo Yeon-ho for his phone repair costs entirely of my own free will. Should I later retract this statement, I guarantee that I would be lying. Are you reassured now?”

Yeon-ho snatched the phone back from Tae-young’s hand.

“That probably won’t hold any legal weight. Stop trying to make a big deal out of nothing and just open the door.”

“Yes, yes, as you command.”

Finally, Tae-young unlocked the passenger door. Yeon-ho swiftly opened the car door and exited, much like a cat bolting from its carrier.

****

The sound of the door closing was as rough as thunder, mirroring Yeon-ho’s agitated state.

“That gangster bastard, look at his terrible manners. Doesn’t that jerk know how to drive? Slamming the door shut feels absolutely awful.”

Tae-young, left alone in the car, criticized Yeon-ho’s actions. The thought that Yeon-ho might have deliberately slammed the door to spite him, rather than out of ignorance of manners, never crossed his mind.

*Ding!*

A notification popped up on his phone. Tae-young, convinced by the timing that it must be a message from Yeon-ho, checked his device.

Tae-young’s thick brows furrowed. The screen showed not a message from Yeon-ho, but a delivery app notification indicating it was searching for another rider.

“He’s being so unyielding. Why won’t he give me even an inch?”

Tae-young stared at the cafe building Yeon-ho had entered, a look of frustration on his face. He’d heard there were penalties for accepting and then canceling a delivery, and it seemed Yeon-ho was willing to incur them rather than get entangled with him.

He was contemplating whether to provoke Yeon-ho one more time or retreat for the day when a call came in from his nagging supervisor.