Chapter 23: A Day of Disappointment and Unexpected Encounters

If Won Seon-jae had only brought up buying drinks as a means to arrange a meeting with the Director…

‘That was a truly calculated and base thought.’

“I’m in no position to call Seon-jae childish,” Seo Yeon-ho muttered, consumed by self-reproach.

Just then, another message from Won Seon-jae arrived.

[Are you ghosting me, Hyung?]

[No.]

Seo Yeon-ho sent his reply instantly this time. Yet, a single ‘No’ felt too abrupt, so he hastily appended an excuse.

[I’m eating right now, so I couldn’t reply immediately.]

A fresh wave of self-reproach washed over him. Why was he resorting to such lies, constantly fretting over Won Seon-jae’s reactions? Was it purely for a role in the web drama? After all, it hadn’t been Seo Yeon-ho who first requested an opportunity to appear in it.

[Okay, got it. Enjoy your meal.]

Won Seon-jae’s message effectively ended their conversation. Had he genuinely accepted Seo Yeon-ho’s excuse and moved on? It was impossible to gauge Won Seon-jae’s mood from a single, terse line.

“My ramen’s all soggy,” Seo Yeon-ho murmured, opening the lid of his cup. He sighed, then picked up his chopsticks.

Its appearance was utterly unappetizing, yet hunger, as they said, was the best condiment. He knew it would be edible, and the bloated noodles would certainly fill him up more.

Seo Yeon-ho tried to cling to positive thoughts, methodically swallowing the ramen.

There were days when an inexplicable desire for rest consumed him. Not physically weary, nor had anything unpleasant occurred, but an overwhelming urge to retreat home and burrow deep beneath his blankets. Today, for Seo Yeon-ho, was precisely one of those days.

Despite his longing for respite, he wasn’t ill, so shortening his work hours was out of the question. Seo Yeon-ho forced himself to open the rider app and accept a delivery.

Perhaps it was his lack of enthusiasm, but he repeatedly missed out on lucrative calls by the narrowest margins. His routes became convoluted and inefficient, reminiscent of his earliest days as a rider. Ultimately, Seo Yeon-ho only pressed the ‘end operation’ button after completing a significantly lower number of deliveries than his usual quota.

His footsteps, as he pushed his scooter toward the rooftop room, felt as heavy as a condemned man’s. Yesterday’s earnings had been dismal, and today’s were even worse, leaving him with an inescapable sense of culpability.

Ding.

A notification, signaling an incoming message, chimed through the narrow, dim alleyway.

Seo Yeon-ho felt too drained to remove his hands from the scooter’s handlebars and check his phone. His apartment was just a bit further, he reasoned; he could attend to the message then.

Ding.

Ding.

Yet, a minute or two after the initial message, his phone began to chime relentlessly with notifications, as though subjected to a message bombardment. Only then did Seo Yeon-ho pause, wondering what could be happening, and reached for the phone mounted on his scooter.

[Hyung] 2:06 AM

[You must be busy] 2:08 AM

[It’s not that I’m busy]

[Are you just ignoring my texts?]

[Fine then]

[It means you weren’t exactly waiting for my call, doesn’t it?] 2:09 AM

The messages were from Won Seon-jae. He sounded furious, but this time, Seo Yeon-ho was utterly at a loss as to why.

[Just finished work, heading home]

[I told the Director I had someone to recommend] 2:10 AM

Even as Seo Yeon-ho typed, another message from Won Seon-jae arrived. Seo Yeon-ho’s breath hitched, and he reread the message, his mind reeling slightly from a rush of tension and confusion.

Once he confirmed he’d read it correctly, Seo Yeon-ho swiftly edited his reply and sent it.

[What did he say?]

[Haha] 2:11 AM

[This gets an immediate reaction] 2:11 AM

Seo Yeon-ho saw Won Seon-jae’s reply and instantly knew he’d made a blunder.

[Don’t misunderstand. It’s not like that.]

Immobile, rooted to the alley, Seo Yeon-ho waited for Won Seon-jae’s response, even though his small apartment was now just steps away.

[What? Haha] 2:16 AM

Just as Seo Yeon-ho decided it was time to go home, another reply arrived.

[Seon-jae, I—]

[The Director has already decided who to give the role to] 2:17 AM

[Too bad it’s not the result you wanted, Hyung] 2:17 AM

Seo Yeon-ho read Won Seon-jae’s messages three times, then scrubbed his face roughly with one hand.

‘Why were his body’s reactions always a beat slower than his mind’s?’

Seo Yeon-ho found his rapidly thrumming heart a nuisance as he composed his reply.

[I see. It’s a shame, but what can you do? Thank you for asking the Director.]

His trembling hands kept causing typos, which delayed his response. Seo Yeon-ho gazed at his phone, bracing himself for another unpleasant remark from Won Seon-jae. Fortunately, no further messages arrived.

“Haa…”

His hands weren’t the only things trembling; his legs had now given out. Seo Yeon-ho slumped into a crouch before his scooter. As he stared at the ground, his face was a portrait of deep gloom and disappointment.

“No, it’s better this way.”

Seo Yeon-ho slapped his cheeks sharply with both hands, then forced himself to stand. He had known, deep down, that this was the inevitable outcome. While it would be a lie to claim he’d held no expectations, Seo Yeon-ho was adept at discerning between hope and stark reality. Even if the entertainment industry was prone to granting or revoking audition opportunities on the slightest whim of decision-makers, his realistic chances of securing such an opportunity were always slim.

Moreover, a swift resolution was preferable to prolonged torment by false hope. Enduring an interview with the Director, or even an audition, only to be rejected, would have been infinitely more arduous and painful than this current disappointment.

‘Now I can simply focus on work without any other thoughts.’

Seo Yeon-ho reflected on his meager earnings for the day, sinking into another period of self-reproach. Won Seon-jae wasn’t inherently a bad person, but he had unintentionally disrupted Seo Yeon-ho’s routine significantly. He probably wouldn’t contact him again now, thoroughly annoyed.

He arrived at the old villa building housing his rooftop apartment. Climbing the stairs, Seo Yeon-ho spotted the mailbox, overflowing with bills. He extracted them, scrutinizing each company name, then unceremoniously shoved them back inside.

Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to flee from reality seized him. He had only just managed to compose himself, but the sight of those bills made everything feel impossibly bleak and burdensome, far beyond his ability to cope.

‘Snap out of it. Nothing terribly sad or difficult has even happened.’

Yet, self-flagellation proved useless. Something different was required.

“Should I get a drink…?” Seo Yeon-ho’s voice drifted softly through the dim building entrance, the sensor light long since broken.

Since becoming a rider, Seo Yeon-ho had all but abstained from alcohol. Primarily, he lacked the funds, but he also feared that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to rein himself in, leading to excessive drinking. It was akin to how a strict diet could completely unravel if one gave in to a single craving.

However, on a day like this, he felt utterly incapable of enduring without a drink.

‘Just three cans of beer.’

With that firm resolve, Seo Yeon-ho made his way to the convenience store. He opted for beer instead of soju because he wished to avoid getting truly drunk. In his current state of mind, downing soju would undoubtedly result in a full-blown binge.

“Are you paying?”

Seo Yeon-ho placed the cheapest beer available into his basket and carried it to the counter. Technically, it was a ‘sparkling alcoholic beverage’ rather than true beer, but Seo Yeon-ho barely registered a difference in taste.

Clutching a can in each hand, Seo Yeon-ho exited the convenience store and settled at a parasol table. He was just about to crack open a can when a strangely familiar SUV pulled to a stop in front of the store.

‘That’s Han Tae-young’s car,’ he thought.

He took a long, deep gulp of beer, musing on the sheer number of people who drove imported cars these days. He hadn’t realized his thirst until the very moment the cold liquid slid down his throat, a sudden awareness of his parched state. His body welcomed the hydration with such intensity that his hands began to tremble.

Seo Yeon-ho squeezed his eyes shut, pouring the beer down his throat without a breath. He finished the entire can without once pulling his lips away.

“Drinking with such gusto. You’d be a hit doing a mukbang.”

Seo Yeon-ho’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up toward the source of the voice. A tall man, his face obscured by a mask, was gazing down at him.

“…Han Tae-young?”

“I’m wearing a mask; how did you recognize me?”

The man lowered his mask to his chin, revealing his face.

“Mr. Seo Yeon-ho, you seem to have a profound interest in me, wouldn’t you say?”

Seo Yeon-ho was utterly flustered by Han Tae-young’s casual admission of identity. He had only blurted out the name because their voices sounded alike; the sheer absurdity of actually being right was baffling.

“It’s not that I’m interested in you; I recognized you by your car and the way you’re presenting yourself.”

“What was wrong with the way I was presenting myself?” Han Tae-young asked, spreading his arms and scrutinizing his own body as if undergoing a physical examination. He was impeccably dressed in a luxurious suit, as though proclaiming he had just come from a photoshoot.

“Even in the dead of night, your celebrity aura can’t be concealed, is that what you mean?”

“…Your narcissism truly knows no bounds.”

*Scrape.*

Seo Yeon-ho, a look of profound distaste etched on his face, pushed his chair back. It was an immediate attempt to create more distance between himself and Han Tae-young.

“Why are you even here? Are you still stalking me?”

“Watch your words. Stalking, really?”

Han Tae-young’s expression soured as he approached the parasol table.

‘Is he going to hit me?’

It was too late to evade him. Seo Yeon-ho squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the armrests of the blue chair. Yet, as the seconds ticked by, the anticipated impact never materialized.

*Jingle.*

The sound of the convenience store door opening and closing echoed from behind him. Seo Yeon-ho, left alone on the night street, wore a sheepish expression. All that Han Tae-young had left behind was the faint scent of his perfume.

‘Did I overreact for nothing? …Then again, he is a celebrity.’

He might be rude and eccentric, but he didn’t seem foolish enough to resort to violence on the street.

‘He’ll definitely start something again when he comes out, won’t he?’

Seo Yeon-ho didn’t know why Han Tae-young had gone into the convenience store, but he wouldn’t stay in there forever.

‘Should I leave before Han Tae-young comes out?’

Thinking that his luck was truly foul, Seo Yeon-ho tucked the remaining beers into his jacket pockets one by one. But as he prepared to stand, a feeling of injustice welled up. Why should he, because of that one troublesome person, be unable to enjoy his beer in peace?