Chapter 30: Afraid of Ghosts

“You’re… not changing the channel?”

“I’m going to watch this.”

“Why……? You don’t even like movies.”

“I don’t, but I do like horror movies.

There wasn’t anything else to watch anyway, so this works out.”

When this movie had first been released, Woo-joo had planned to watch it with his teammates.

But between match schedules and training, he hadn’t been able to find the time.

Later, Choi Seok-hyun watched it on VOD and said he thought he’d die from how scary it was.

Since then, Woo-joo had been meaning to watch it someday.

And now, coincidentally, it was airing on a movie channel.

As Woo-joo happily thought about his luck, a large hand slowly crept in from the side.

The moment it tried to grab the remote, Woo-joo reacted instinctively and smacked the back of that hand.

“What are you doing.”

“……”

It felt like a child trying to snatch the remote from a dad who insisted on watching the news.

If Woo-joo hadn’t reacted as fast as a “I’m not asleep” dad, the remote would’ve been taken.

While he was at it, he even turned off the lights.

He wanted to create a proper movie-watching atmosphere.

The moment the lights went out, Won Ji-tae flinched slightly, but Woo-joo didn’t notice.

“It’s starting.”

The screen faded to black as eerie background music began to play.

Like most foreign horror films, it began with a family moving to a remote place for mysterious reasons.

“I seriously don’t get it.

Why would they move somewhere that creepy on purpose?”

Ji-tae muttered irritably.

It wasn’t exactly wrong, so Woo-joo just chuckled.

The movie continued.

True to its notorious reputation, both the storyline and the scare points were on a different level from typical horror films.

Every time a ghost suddenly popped up on screen, there was a rustling sound behind him, but Woo-joo was so absorbed that he didn’t notice.

It was around the climax.

Woo-joo casually turned his head.

There wasn’t any particular reason.

He just did.

“……”

And then he saw it.

Won Ji-tae sitting on the sofa, his face completely hidden behind a cushion.

Blinking slowly, Woo-joo reached out and lightly tapped his thigh.

“Hey.”

Won Ji-tae jolted violently in surprise.

“……”

“You… can’t watch scary stuff?”

Ji-tae lowered the cushion he’d been holding up.

His lips parted as if to say something, but right at that moment, a ghost’s face zoomed in on the screen.

Ji-tae quickly hid behind the cushion again.

“No. I can watch it fine.”

“Yeah, right.”

He was clutching that cushion like a lifeline, yet acting tough.

Woo-joo turned off the TV and even turned the lights back on.

The movie was practically at the end anyway, and the conclusion was predictable enough that he didn’t need to see it.

“Are you an idiot? If you can’t handle scary stuff, just say so.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I assumed you could handle it.”

What kind of grown man can’t watch a horror movie.

With a build like that, too.

It didn’t suit him at all.

“That’s an overgeneralization.

Just because someone’s an adult, they have to be good with horror movies?”

“Why are you getting annoyed?

If you couldn’t watch it, you could’ve at least gone to your room.

Why sit there suffering through it?”

At that, Ji-tae stared straight at Woo-joo.

As if he had something to say, he hesitated—then declared he was going to sleep and disappeared into his room.

On the sofa remained the cushion that had been his lifeline.

It was so wrinkled it showed just how tightly he’d been gripping it.

Seeing that, Woo-joo couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

He was trying hard to hold it in when, as if he somehow knew, Ji-tae suddenly flung his door open, told him not to laugh, and went back inside.

There were other new sides too.

He couldn’t cook to save his life, yet he peeled fruit beautifully.

He was surprisingly knowledgeable—answering every quiz question correctly on a variety show they happened to watch.

He dressed well.

All things Woo-joo only discovered by living with him.

Things he never could’ve known before.

Sometimes Ji-tae would blurt out something random and then stare off into the distance alone.

Or whenever Woo-joo unconsciously tried to touch him again, he would sense it instantly and dodge away like a ghost.

Woo-joo didn’t bother asking why.

It wasn’t like he’d get an answer anyway.

One thing was certain—Ji-tae’s real self was quite different from the one Woo-joo had known in the past, and also from the polished public image people knew him as an actor.

And most importantly, getting to know those new sides wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

There was a small thrill in storing new information about him in his mind.

Even today, after Ji-tae managed to burn a pot again at lunch and Woo-joo was cleaning up the mess, the doorbell rang.

When he opened the door, Kwon Sun-hyuk was standing there.

“I have something to discuss with you two.

May I come in for a moment?”

“Yes.”

The moment he stepped inside, Producer Kwon asked why it smelled burnt.

Without hesitation, Woo-joo reported Won Ji-tae’s crimes.

Kwon Sun-hyuk chimed in, joking that even the actor had things he couldn’t do.

“What brings you here?”

Ji-tae asked, his face slightly sulky.

“Ah, we need to do a poster shoot for you two, so I came to discuss the schedule.”

“Huh?”

Woo-joo tilted his head, not quite understanding.

“A poster shoot?”

He had never heard anything about that, so his eyes widened.

“Kang Woo-joo, have you ever watched our previous seasons?”

“Yes, of course.”

In truth, he hadn’t followed them regularly.

He had binge-watched after agreeing to film with Lee Gi-cheol, just to understand what kind of program it was.

To face your enemy, you have to know your enemy well.

“You’ve seen our program posters, right?”

“…Ah.”

Woo-joo clapped his hands as he remembered.

Each of the three previous seasons of Living Together as Two had different posters.

Since the cast changed each season, they shot posters featuring the current members.

Only after Producer Kwon mentioned it did Woo-joo recall.

“We create a separate poster for each season.”

“But I heard you usually just take a decent still from the footage and use that.”

Won Ji-tae finally spoke up.

Thinking back, Woo-joo realized he was right.

They hadn’t looked like professionally staged photoshoots—more like selected broadcast stills.

“Well, that’s true.

I never thought poster production was that important.”

Sun-hyuk scratched his head casually.

It made sense why people in the industry called him unconventional.

“So we were planning to do that again, but… the reaction to the pre-release clip was way better than we expected.

Just a second…….”

He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen several times before turning it toward them.

“This is……”

It was a comment on the newly uploaded pre-release video.

• Producer, I have something to say. Please immediately give us a close-up photoshoot of the two of them, or at least a properly shot poster. Otherwise, you might get sued for deceiving viewers or something.

It had over 20,000 likes.

“Look at this too.”

He scrolled down and showed the replies.

└ Wow… are you a genius?

└└ Exactly. Give us a poster right now.

└└└ But this producer is famous for having no aesthetic sense; just look at the previous season posters. Better to give up.

└└└└ Even just one photo, pleaseㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

└└└└└ Let’s boost this so Producer Kwon sees it quickly.

Won Ji-tae and Kang Woo-joo leaned in close together, bending slightly as they read the comments.

“You see?”

Producer Kwon smiled brightly as he turned off the screen.

“So because of this, you’re planning to properly shoot a poster……?”

“Yes, that’s right.

It’s true I don’t have much sense for this, but our writers recommended it.

They said if we give viewers what they want at times like this, we’ll be praised for doing a good job.”

When the tide comes in, you row hard.

At that, Woo-joo had no rebuttal.

It wasn’t wrong.

“You two don’t have to worry about much.

We’ll book the studio and handle the concept and everything.

Is that okay?”

“Yes, sure. If you tell us to do it, we’ll do it.”

Woo-joo nodded readily.

Won Ji-tae didn’t seem to object either.

“Then since editing is also on our minds, we’d like to schedule the shoot as soon as possible.

How about tomorrow?”

Fortunately, neither Woo-joo nor Ji-tae had any particular schedule.

As soon as the date was set, Kwon Sun-hyuk left without hesitation.

“Kang Woo-joo, aren’t you hungry?”

“Says the guy who burned the pot?”

“You always pinpoint exactly what someone did wrong.”

“I’ve only mentioned it twice.”

“Twice is a lot.”

Bickering as usual, the two headed back to the kitchen side by side.