Chapter 53: The Place That Remained

Just then, his phone rang.

It was the group chat with the filming team.

Seon-hyeok had messaged that they would head out first and asked them to contact him when they arrived home.

From the perspective of people filming an observational variety show, saying they wanted to eat dinner comfortably without cameras could sound a little rude.

Even after suggesting it to Ji-tae, Woo-joo had expected possible refusal when informing Seon-hyeok.

But instead, Seon-hyeok had nodded readily and told them to go ahead.

He added casually that Woo-joo was doing well as a manager and there were plenty of usable scenes, and that Ji-tae must be exhausted from the pictorial, so they should enjoy some free time.

Seon-hyeok was someone who prioritized the cast above all else.

Even during filming, he regularly checked whether they were tired and constantly reminded them not to feel burdened.

Woo-joo vaguely thought that even without this program, that man would have shone someday.

“Hmm… somewhere quiet would be better, right?

If it’s quiet, maybe a hotel restaurant……”

While typing a thank-you message to Seon-hyeok, Woo-joo heard muttering from beside him.

“Are you crazy?

A hotel restaurant?

You want to advertise that we’re eating alone together?”

Ji-tae’s excited expression instantly turned sulky.

He didn’t like Woo-joo’s suggestion, yet couldn’t refute it either.

“We should go somewhere with as few people as possible.

Somewhere quiet.”

If rumors about sightings spread again, the internet would get noisy, and Woo-joo would feel slightly guilty toward the production team that had allowed this.

Though Seon-hyeok likely wouldn’t care.

“Quiet and not crowded… maybe that’s actually better……”

“What?

What did you say?”

“Nothing.

So where is a place like that?”

“Hmm……”

Woo-joo quickly ran through options in his head.

Finding a quiet, uncrowded place in Seoul itself felt like a challenge.

Usually, when he ate with teammates or met Park Hyun-jin, it was always the same handful of places.

For the first time, Woo-joo realized he only ever went to familiar spots.

And those were all famous restaurants—surely packed at this hour.

If he walked into one with Won Ji-tae, the clicking of cameras would erupt from every corner.

Fans would likely rush over for autographs every minute.

“Don’t you know any restaurants?”

So Woo-joo tossed the problem back.

“A restaurant?”

“Yeah.

Somewhere you go often.

A hidden gem only you know.”

On TV, celebrities always seemed to have a “secret spot” or lesser-known restaurant.

He assumed Ji-tae might too.

“I don’t really know places like that.

I don’t eat out much to begin with.”

After a short pause, Ji-tae shook his head.

“Well, with your face being known, eating out must be uncomfortable.”

“That too, but… I don’t have friends.”

Woo-joo turned his head from where he was leaning against the steering wheel.

“Then what do you do when you rest?”

Ji-tae’s eyes narrowed.

It looked like he was first contemplating the premise—when had he last truly rested?

“Nothing.

I just lie at home.”

That reminded Woo-joo of Ji-tae’s pre-interview clip.

He had said he mostly stayed home.

A homebody.

Woo-joo had sensed he wasn’t particularly sociable, but it seemed even more extreme than he thought.

“Still, you must have at least one friend.”

By now, their conversation had completely drifted from “choosing a restaurant.”

But Ji-tae only shook his head again.

“What about Writer Baek earlier?

You seemed close.”

Woo-joo unconsciously recalled Baek Su-hyeok from the set.

Seeing Ji-tae interact comfortably with someone else had felt strangely novel.

His gaze kept drifting toward them.

“He’s just someone I work well with professionally.

We’re not close enough to casually grab meals together.”

Judging by how firmly he said that, Ji-tae likely truly had no one he would call a “friend.”

But it wasn’t because he couldn’t make them.

If anything, Ji-tae seemed to choose that life himself.

He had been like that in high school too.

He never grew unnecessarily close with his volleyball teammates.

Since volleyball was a team sport, he didn’t act distant, but he wasn’t the type to bond enthusiastically like Woo-joo either.

Still, Ji-tae always drew attention wherever he went.

With his striking looks, tall frame, and talent, people constantly surrounded him.

There were even rumors that his family was incredibly wealthy, and plenty of guys tried desperately to get close to him.

Even Woo-joo, who attended a different school, had known all about it.

Though that was partly because Daehyeon High and Wonjang High were nearby and often competed.

Yet despite all that attention, Ji-tae never seemed to create “close” relationships.

Woo-joo remembered asking once.

“Hey, are you like a voluntary loner?

Is it cooler not having friends?”

“Kang Woo-joo, what nonsense did you hear this time?

Your ears are so thin they might fly off.”

“Your school kids said so.

Then why don’t you make friends?”

He remembered Ji-tae’s answer clearly.

After staring at him for a moment, Ji-tae had said—

“I don’t need that.”

At the time, Woo-joo hadn’t understood.

Why draw lines when everyone wanted to be close?

But Woo-joo himself wasn’t someone obsessed with friendships, and Ji-tae was always peculiar, so he had let it go.

“Why are you looking at me like that?

Is it weird that I don’t have friends?”

Then what would you call our relationship?

If he asked that, what would Ji-tae answer?

“No.

You’ve always been like that.”

Maybe just “temporary co-stars on the same program.”

“Oh, speaking of old times.”

“Old times?”

Woo-joo suddenly clapped his hands and started the engine.

“Let’s go there.”

His eyes sparkled as he drove off.

The scenery gradually changed with each turn of the wheel.

Skyscrapers faded into rows of quiet houses.

Instead of packed roads and crowds, there were empty alleys.

“Let’s park nearby and walk.

The car’s too big to go inside.”

Woo-joo had driven here without even using navigation, as if he had a set destination.

Whenever Ji-tae asked where they were going, Woo-joo only replied, “You’ll see.”

They both pulled their caps low.

Woo-joo had said he didn’t need one, but Ji-tae had insisted.

It was past 7 p.m.

Darkness settled into the alleys.

Streetlights flickered weakly.

Persimmon trees stood scattered along the road and in house yards.

This neighborhood had once even been called the “Persimmon Tree District.”

Ji-tae quietly followed behind Woo-joo.

By now, he no longer needed to ask where they were headed.

Nothing around him felt unfamiliar anymore.

“Oh, good.

They’re still open.”

Woo-joo stopped in front of a small shop.

Ji-tae lifted his head slowly and read the sign: “Matna Snack Bar.”

He wasn’t surprised.

Of course it was here.

Unlike Woo-joo, who went inside, Ji-tae lingered, scanning the surroundings.

Nothing had changed.

A small stationery shop sat beside it, with an old arcade machine and a claw machine in front.

A breeze passed briefly.

The air carried a faintly nostalgic scent.

As soon as his sense of smell stirred, all five senses seemed to awaken.

It felt like being pulled back to those days.

When Ji-tae stepped inside, loud chatter greeted him.

“Oh my, look at you!

How long has it been?

You became a star and never once came back?”

“Ah, come on, ma’am.

When did I never come?”

Right at the entrance, Woo-joo was being smacked on the back by a middle-aged woman wearing a bear-patterned apron.