Chapter 20: A Name I Buried, A Name I’ll Take Back

Surprisingly, a sharp sting bloomed in his chest.

He had thought he’d left every last feeling for that person behind, spilled out onto the blood-soaked asphalt the moment he died.
But here he was, still alive as Yoon Sayoung.

And the pitch-black words thrown out carelessly by nobodies—people who were nothing, who meant nothing—jabbed straight into the heart of the Sayoung who still breathed.

It wasn’t because of Han Jaewoo.
It wasn’t that remembering him hurt.
Sayoung was thinking of the other Yoon Sayoung—the one he had left behind.

The pitiful, foolish person who had endured all of that alone in silence, and then died with no one on his side.

Back then, in a life where Han Jaewoo had been everything—where Sayoung truly believed Jaewoo was his whole world—he hadn’t cared how rotten his reputation became.

He may have even felt relieved.
Because the lower he fell, the more pathetic he seemed, the lighter Jaewoo’s heart would become.
He convinced himself that if he just shrank enough, one day Jaewoo’s sharp, cold attitude would soften.

So even as he watched his name being dragged through the mud, he never defended himself. Never explained. Never fought back.

But now it was different.
Now there was no reason left for him to lower his own name.
No—if anything, Sayoung had to reclaim every single thing he’d lost.

Not because he wanted wealth or fame, but because that was the only way to throw a spectacular, well-aimed blow at Han Jaewoo’s smug face.

Sayoung only sought that moment.

And if the project that would serve as his platform happened to be the very movie Jaewoo was excited to film with Yoojun, then nothing could be more perfect.

‘If the hateful comment sections now overflowing with venom were someday filled with praise for him, what kind of face would Han Jaewoo make?’

‘If the tower he’d painstakingly built over the years collapsed in an instant—what then?’

Thinking that far, Sayoung felt his mind settle. He flipped through article after article, muttering:

“I should’ve provided a photo while I was at it….”

“Sorry? What was that?”

The caregiver, carrying a fresh set of patient clothes, paused at his voice. Sayoung shook his head as if it were nothing—then paused, a thought sparking across his face.

“Actually… could I ask you for a favor?”

‘What would it feel like if the descriptors attached to his name were completely reversed from what they were now?’

‘How long would it take to make that happen?’

‘And when it did, what expression would Han Jaewoo wear?’

Oddly enough, his heart thumped.

He had never once imagined this in his previous life, but revenge apparently could be exhilarating.

****

“Is that really true?”

Yoojun repeated, and Jeongmin answered immediately on the other end of the phone:

—Yes. According to the caregiver, they said he could probably be discharged as early as tomorrow.

“…All right. Then start the discharge paperwork for tomorrow.”

—Yes, hyung. Oh, and….

Jeongmin hesitated, stretching out the sentence. But Yoojun already knew what he was trying to say.

“Don’t worry. I already talked everything over with the CEO.”

—Ah….

“It’s not like he did anything wrong. Why should we tiptoe around or hide anything?”

—That’s true, but still… it’s not exactly good for you to get involved in this, is it?

At Jeongmin’s worried tone, Yoojun went silent.

Hearing that reaction made him realize all over again just how low Sayoung’s public standing had sunk.

In truth, nothing about this situation was a problem.

If Sayoung had been an ordinary citizen, the story would’ve been spun into a heartwarming anecdote.

If he were a celebrity, it would’ve been a mutually beneficial PR win.

Sure, if the other celebrity happened to be an omega, you’d have to be extra careful about scandal potential—but even that wasn’t a huge deal.

And yet… just because the person in question was Yoon Sayoung, the company CEO and even Jeongmin were this anxious.

Yoojun deliberately avoided thinking about all the countless days and events that must have piled up to drag the name of someone once called a “national actor” this low.

“Anyway, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

—Okay… then rest well, hyung.

After ending the call with the still uneasy Jeongmin, Yoojun slumped deep into the sofa.

Even though he’d been resting at home since returning from the hospital yesterday, exhaustion pressed down on him more heavily than expected.

To be honest, he wasn’t enjoying his rare short break at all.

Whether he lay in bed, watched TV, or tried anything else, nothing felt satisfying.
Because there was one thought he simply couldn’t shake.

No matter how he tried to ignore it—no matter how he tried to look away—he had no choice but to acknowledge it.

His mind was filled entirely with Yoon Sayoung.

Not in a good way. It wasn’t that he missed him or anything ridiculous like that.

He was just… curious.

‘Was Sayoung truly capable of winning such an important audition role?’

‘Was there any real basis behind the confidence he’d shown when he declared he would land Seo Danwoo?’

He wanted to see it with his own eyes soon.

Staring at the ceiling, Yoojun picked up his phone again and looked at the article he’d been reading.

Names he never imagined would appear together—Kim Yoojun and Yoon Sayoung—were plastered everywhere.

The uproar was so great that Han Jaewoo must’ve heard by now. Yoojun had never once cared about that man in a personal sense, but at this moment, he couldn’t help but imagine:

‘What face did he make?’

‘What thoughts ran through his head?’

‘How did the man who’d supposedly cornered Sayoung to the brink of death feel, reading that Sayoung had saved Yoojun?’

‘And if Sayoung really ended up joining the film, then how would Han Jaewoo react?’

Countless questions born from Sayoung swirled chaotically in Yoojun’s mind.

“…….”

And then, suddenly, Yoojun realized something he had completely overlooked.

At some point, he had begun accepting Sayoung’s claims as if they were all true—

That Sayoung had died once.
That he had returned by rewinding time.
That he had endured years of every kind of abuse from Han Jaewoo.

Everything he’d heard from Sayoung’s own mouth, he had started treating it as fact.

“…Listen to enough crazy talk and you start going crazy, too.”

Yoojun muttered dryly, as if trying to laugh at himself.

As if he still dismissed it all as nonsense.
As if he were only entertaining it because it was absurd—and amusing.

A faint trace of winter’s chill brushed past his nose, though no window or door was open.

This winter must be especially cold, he decided—and attributed the feeling to nothing more than the season.

****

“So… that’s really true?”

At Jaewoo’s raised voice, his manager, Eunseong, shrank slightly.

Eunseong was considered a veteran in the entertainment industry—experienced enough to handle almost any celebrity’s mood swings. Yet strangely, Han Jaewoo was someone he could never grow fully comfortable around.

It wasn’t that Jaewoo had terrible manners or treated staff cruelly.
Working with him wasn’t bad.
Occasionally he snapped when stressed, but that was no different from others in the field.

And yet—even after years together—Eunseong still felt an indescribable discomfort around him.

Maybe it was because he had witnessed firsthand just how meticulously Jaewoo used someone, betrayed them, and ultimately drove them into ruin.
That was his guess, though only a guess.

He tried not to think too deeply about it. After all, it wasn’t his problem.

Wiping his sweaty palms against his pants out of habit, Eunseong answered

“Yes. And apparently Yoon… Sayoung visited the hospital room several times after the incident….”

Even though none of this was his fault, Eunseong’s voice grew smaller and smaller. Because he knew all too well both names involved in this report were ones that irritated Jaewoo more than anyone else.

Why did these two people have to be tangled together of all things—and make his job this exhausting?

As Eunseong grumbled internally, Jaewoo raked his fingers tensely through his hair.

“That makes no sense….”

And he meant it.
It truly made no sense at all.

Kim Yoojun and Yoon Sayoung.

Those two names should never—ever—appear side by side.