Chapter 19: Unexpected Reunions and Costly Debts

Tae-young let out a small laugh, as if a memory had just resurfaced. It wasn’t a scoff, but a chuckle born of fond recollection.

“Oh, I really enjoyed watching that. I used to like it quite a bit, but I’d forgotten all about it. Why are you telling me to watch it, though? It’s ancient.”

“You used to sleep so well whenever that was on. Maybe it’ll still work now? Why not give it a try?”

“Hyung, do you really think that’ll work?”

This time, a genuine scoff played across Tae-young’s face. Jin-woo was gravely mistaken. *Ping Pong Star* had indeed been a solace during the most agonizing period of his life. However, it was specific episodes that offered a sliver of psychological comfort, not the entire series inducing sleep, as Jin-woo seemed to misunderstand.

“What have you got to lose? I heard it was recently released on OTT.”

“I’ll try it later. Much later.”

Finally, the alcohol began to take hold, making his eyelids feel heavy. Tae-young closed his eyes, sensing a sensation akin to falling into the deep sea while wearing diving gear.

‘Yeon-ho.’

‘Seo Yeon-ho.’

Just before his consciousness faded, Tae-young murmured the impertinent delivery driver’s name. Perhaps because it was a name he’d only learned today, the way his tongue touched the roof of his mouth felt strangely unfamiliar.

‘That doesn’t feel like his name.’

It wasn’t that the name felt mismatched with Yeon-ho’s aura, but it didn’t quite ‘stick,’ as if it weren’t his real name. It felt awkward.

‘Did he give me a fake name?’

Since he’d overheard the cafe part-timer call him that, rather than being told directly, it shouldn’t be fake.

‘Perhaps the surname is fake.’

If that truly was his name, and he were to debut, Tae-young would strongly advise Yeon-ho to use a stage name.

‘Such meddling.’

Tae-young, despite having a multitude of pressing concerns, found himself dwelling on such trivial thoughts. He scorned his own idleness as he drifted into a light slumber.

****

Damn it.

“I got hit with a time-based penalty…”

Seo Yeon-ho squinted fiercely at his phone, the screen barely visible in the bright sunlight.

It had been four days since Han Tae-young last called, and while Tae-young’s harassment had ceased, Yeon-ho’s life remained arduous and demanding. Different kinds of difficult customers, like bears in a forest, continually emerged, gnawing away at Yeon-ho’s hourly wage and mental fortitude.

Incidents occurred two or three times a day: a complaint about a drink leaking even though Yeon-ho had informed the franchise to double-bag it; a recipient dropping a pizza box themselves but falsely claiming the food arrived damaged; and a wrong delivery where the store admitted their mistake but insisted the rider was more at fault for not double-checking the contents.

His streak of bad luck was so persistent and unreasonable that Yeon-ho couldn’t help but wonder if Tae-young had somehow cursed him.

‘I shouldn’t blame others just because life is hard.’

He could feel his mental state weakening. Was it simply due to the scorching weather?

Yeon-ho entered the restroom in the building housing the delivery agency and turned on the tap. Water trickled out sparingly, and he splashed it on his face.

“Snap out of it, Seo Yeon-ho. What will you do if you lose your grip?”

He muttered to himself, gazing into the water-stained mirror. Next year, his younger sister, Chae-young, would be preparing for her college entrance exams. He had only ever entered the SAT exam hall, never truly undergoing the college admission process himself. Still, he knew that supporting a test-taker required a significant amount of money. His aunt was a kind person, but she didn’t have the financial means to cover Chae-young’s academy fees and special lectures. Chae-young wasn’t particularly good at studying, so to get into a local national university or a university in the capital area, she would have to work twice as hard as others. In other words, it meant investing a proportionally large sum of money.

*Ding.*

As he was drying his face with the cooling towel wrapped around his neck, since there were no towels in the restroom, a dispatch notification popped up.

Yeon-ho picked up his phone, its screen shattered, to check the call. Despite receiving money for repairs from Tae-young, he hadn’t fixed the screen because he had used the money for something else.

The night he received the unexpected money, a call came from his father, who traveled the country doing day labor. It had been a long time since they last spoke, but Yeon-ho felt no joy upon seeing the three characters for ‘Father’ on the screen. Whenever his father initiated contact, it invariably involved money.

“How have you been?”

“Uh, so-so…”

His father’s voice lacked energy. Yeon-ho didn’t want to react, but he forced himself to ask, fulfilling his duty as a son.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s not so much that something’s wrong, but I went to the hospital…”

“The hospital?”

Yeon-ho, who had been speaking on speakerphone with his phone held away, immediately switched to a regular call.

“Why did you go to the hospital? Are you hurt? Which hospital?”

“I just went to the hospital. Could you perhaps send me about fifty?”

“Did the hospital tell you to get an MRI or something? Please tell me what’s hurting first. I’m worried.”

Yeon-ho opened his map app and express bus reservation app. If his father was hospitalized, he would have to go visit him.

“Well, I think I need to get some laminates.”

“Laminates?”

Remembering it was a regular call, Yeon-ho brought the phone back to his ear. He wanted to believe he had misheard ‘laminates’ because the phone had been far away.

“Yes, laminates. The kind celebrities get a lot.”

“You’re not saying the hospital you went to was a dental clinic, are you?”

All the strength drained from Yeon-ho’s limbs. He had been trembling, fearing his father had a serious illness. To hear that it wasn’t even a cavity, but an estimate for laminates, left him feeling utterly deflated.

“My tooth broke.”

“How did that happen?”

“I hit a glass door after eating. And it had to be my front tooth, so it’s not like I can hide it…”

His father complained about the discomfort, saying he had to keep his mouth shut so he wouldn’t look like a goofball. As if to prove he wasn’t lying, he even sent a photo of his front tooth.

‘He’ll need treatment.’

Yeon-ho sighed deeply after seeing the picture. While there was a bit of exaggeration, it did seem to be at a level requiring treatment.

“I’ll send the money. But I can’t send fifty. Look for a cheaper place.”

Saying ‘look for a cheaper place’ made him feel like the most unfilial son in the world. It was only because he had the money from Tae-young that he could send it immediately; otherwise, he might have told his father to get treatment later.

“I’m here for a pickup. K Archery Cafe, egg mayo and 30 other items.”

“It’s ready, please take it.”

Upon arriving at the establishment, the part-timer groaned as they placed the sandwiches, packed in plastic bags, onto the counter. One sandwich didn’t weigh much, but thirty of them was a different story.

‘Why did they order so much? Is there a group gathering at the archery cafe?’

Yeon-ho thought it was fortunate the customer hadn’t ordered many drinks as he placed the items into the scooter’s top box. If drinks had been ordered as a set with each sandwich, he might not have been able to fit everything in the top box.

*Ding, clink.*

Arriving at the building where the archery cafe was located, Yeon-ho stepped out of the narrow elevator, which seemed barely able to accommodate three adult men. Turning the corner to find the archery cafe, he saw thick cables strewn haphazardly across the corridor floor.

‘Is there construction? There are a lot of people.’

Yeon-ho looked curiously at the people crowding the corridor, obstructing passage. He didn’t recognize their faces, yet their appearances felt strangely familiar: comfortable attire, work gloves, hats, hip or cross bags, walkie-talkies, and cameras.

“Ah.”

‘They’re filming something on the fourth floor.’

Yeon-ho realized the people overflowing into the hallway from the archery cafe were actually a film crew. He had wondered who would order thirty servings of sandwiches from an archery cafe, but it seemed they were snacks for the staff.

“Hey, you there. This area is rented out. Outsiders aren’t allowed, so please leave quickly.”

A voice, mixing formal address with casual condescension, characteristic of those in the broadcasting industry, reached his ears.

“I’m here for a sandwich delivery.”

Yeon-ho gestured with his eyes to the plastic bags full in his hands, indicating them to the man who had grabbed his arm. Seeing the snacks, the previously annoyed staff member’s expression shifted.

“Oh, it’s a delivery? You should’ve said so sooner.”

The staff member reached into a bag, trying to pull out a sandwich. Yeon-ho quickly hid the bags behind him, preventing the staff member from taking one.

“It hasn’t been paid for yet.”

“It hasn’t been paid for? Ah, shit. What kind of work ethic is this? Wait a minute.”

The staff member mumbled an expletive and left to find someone to pay for the sandwiches. Although it seemed like a soliloquy, hearing a stranger curse to his face left a bad taste. Come to think of it, people working in this industry always seemed angry. Low pay, lack of sleep—it wasn’t an easy environment to remain calm in.

“Oh? Yeon-ho hyung.”

As Yeon-ho was lost in thought, observing the cameras, lights, and staff, someone called his name. Yeon-ho flinched and turned his head, seeing a familiar face.

“…Seon-jae?”

Yeon-ho murmured the name of the man who, like him, had widened his eyes in surprise.

Won Seon-jae was a member of the idol group Crypto, a junior who had debuted two years after Yeon-ho. Their comebacks had coincidentally overlapped a few times, so they often ran into each other on music shows. Seon-jae also had experience as a child actor.

Seon-jae grabbed Yeon-ho’s shoulder eagerly.

“Wow, Hyung, it’s really, really been a long time!”

“Uh… yeah, long time no see.”

Seon-jae’s face was full of delight. Yeon-ho swayed slightly under the weight of the sandwiches in both hands.

“Seon-jae, has it been paid for?”

The staff member’s voice grew louder.

“Yes, just a moment. I’m sorry. It’s an older brother I know, so I got a bit carried away.”

Seon-jae grinned, bowed to the staff member, and pulled out his card from his wallet.

“You’re paying?”

“Yeah, I made a bet with the camera directors of the web drama we’re filming now, and I lost.”

Yeon-ho inserted the card into the terminal and entered the amount.

“That’s a lot of money.”

“The company said they’d handle the expenses. That’s a relief, at least.”

He thought Seon-jae’s expression wasn’t as gloomy as it should be for spending his own money, so it seemed it was a company card after all.

“Seon-jae, can we eat now?”

“Yes! Please enjoy!”

No sooner had Seon-jae spoken than the staff members swarmed Yeon-ho like a school of piranhas discovering meat. Yeon-ho had come to deliver, but unexpectedly found himself in charge of serving as well.