Chapter 37: The Unwanted Favor

“That looks tough to manage alone. Let me lend a hand.”

Park Chan-jong rose and slung Go Woo-seung PD’s other arm over his shoulder. Only after confirming Go Woo-seung PD had left the barbecue restaurant did Tae-young settle into Park Chan-jong’s seat.

“What are you doing?”

Yeon-ho’s gaze was icy, yet Tae-young appeared utterly oblivious to it. With a face brimming with smug satisfaction, he began to boast.

“You don’t need to thank me; I wasn’t helping you. Director Go actually has a nasty drinking habit. When he gets completely wasted…”

“You seem to be mistaken. I never asked for your help.”

“…What?”

“I’m not grateful for anything you just did.”

Tae-young initially displayed a flicker of bewilderment, but he swiftly regained his composure. He seemed to have unilaterally decided that Yeon-ho was simply embarrassed.

“Right, right. I get it. You’re ashamed of receiving help from me, aren’t you?”

“Don’t twist my words to hear what you want to hear. When did I ever ask you to drink in my place? Why are you meddling in other people’s business as you please, then acting like you’re doing me a favor?”

Realizing Yeon-ho was speaking with genuine sincerity, Tae-young’s face hardened with a chilling resolve.

“Seo Yeon-ho, let’s keep things reasonable, shall we? Are you saying you wanted to drink that alcohol just now, and I interfered?”

“Yes.”

At Yeon-ho’s blunt reply, Tae-young gasped in disbelief, as if utterly flabbergasted, and furrowed his brows. Feeling a surge of frustration, he gulped down the remaining cola before glaring at Yeon-ho.

“You weren’t even drinking a single drop of alcohol.”

‘How did Tae-young know I hadn’t touched any alcohol?’

Yeon-ho’s eyes widened in surprise, blinking rapidly.

‘I thought he wasn’t even looking this way, but was he secretly paying attention, pretending not to?’

Yeon-ho felt his heart quicken as he swallowed hard.

‘Ah.’

Then, he recalled what he had said when Go Woo-seung PD offered him a drink: that he couldn’t drink because he had to drive. Inverting that statement meant he had been abstaining from alcohol until now. Any person with common sense could have deduced that.

‘He must have overheard me talking to Director Go.’

His buoyant mood, which had soared like a hot air balloon, plummeted to the ground.

‘Why am I such an idiot?’

Whenever Yeon-ho found himself chasing after false hopes only to be disappointed by reality, he was reminded of his father.

His father was an incurable optimist who always saw things in the best possible light, no matter the situation. Yeon-ho had disliked his father’s reckless optimism since childhood.

Yet, as his father’s son, Yeon-ho sometimes saw his father’s flaws reflected in himself. This was one such moment, and an uncontrollable wave of melancholy washed over him.

Yeon-ho filled his glass until the alcohol nearly overflowed.

“That’s the glass I just drank from.”

As Yeon-ho brought the glass to his lips to drink, Tae-young grimaced, as if he had witnessed something utterly repulsive. Yeon-ho let out a faint sigh, then cast a look of utter pity at Tae-young.

“Are you a grade-schooler? Why, does it feel like an indirect kiss or something?”

“Don’t utter such disgusting nonsense. It’s about hygiene.”

Tae-young made a retching sound, feigning nausea.

“It seems a bit late to bring up hygiene. The cola glass you just used was also mine.”

Yeon-ho swallowed the soju in a single gulp, as if taking medicine. Today, the soju was neither sweet nor bitter. It felt odd, tasting like plain water, so Yeon-ho immediately poured himself another. Yet, this one also tasted of nothing. Wondering if someone had diluted the soju, Yeon-ho opened a new bottle.

“Isn’t that a bit too fast?”

As Yeon-ho finished his third glass and reached to fill a fourth, Tae-young seized his wrist.

“Why are you acting so recklessly when you can’t even hold your liquor?”

“How do you know whether I can or cannot hold my liquor?”

Yeon-ho tried to pull Tae-young’s hand away, but it clung to his palm as if it had suction cups like an octopus, refusing to budge.

“You get red-faced after two cans of beer; I highly doubt you can hold your liquor.”

“Back then…!”

As Tae-young brought up their encounter in front of the convenience store, Yeon-ho’s face flushed crimson.

‘Why is my face turning red? Nothing happened back then.’

Yeon-ho was flustered, unable to comprehend the reason for his sudden blush.

“Back then what? Your face is red right now, like someone who’s completely wasted.”

Tae-young finally snatched the soju bottle from Yeon-ho’s hand and retrieved his phone from their original table. Yeon-ho expected him to check messages, but instead, the sound of a camera shutter burst from Tae-young’s phone.

*Click, click!*

“What are you doing? Did you just secretly photograph me?”

“It’s not a secret photo; I took it to show you how pathetic you look.”

Tae-young, quite brazenly, displayed his phone screen. There, Yeon-ho’s cheeks were as red as a ripe tomato, his eyes wide and bulging in surprise, and his lips foolishly agape.

Yeon-ho bit his lip as he stared at the picture Tae-young had taken of him.

‘Was I really that unappealing?’

He looked so shabby that he wondered if he’d be ridiculed if he ever mentioned having been an idol. The fact that Tae-young, a celebrity, was holding the phone seemed to accentuate his disheveled appearance even more. It was unfair to compare an idol to an ordinary person like himself, yet the comparison naturally arose.

‘Is this how Han Tae-young sees me?’

He vaguely recalled hearing somewhere that a photographer’s thoughts and feelings about the subject were embedded in a photograph. Yeon-ho clenched his fist, then pushed Tae-young’s phone away from him.

“Get rid of it.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the reaction he had anticipated, for Tae-young’s eyebrows twitched. Then, as if an idea suddenly struck him, he hastily peered at his phone.

“Did you delete the photo? …What? It’s still there.”

Tae-young, who had been excitedly swiping the screen left and right with his index finger, sheepishly placed his phone back on the table.

‘If you look closely, that guy has some serious delusions.’

It was absurd that he thought the photo would be deleted when Yeon-ho hadn’t even touched his phone.

“Since you’re not telling me to delete it, I guess you’re not embarrassed by this photo?”

“Why would I be embarrassed? It’s just how I look.”

“How you…”

Tae-young seemed ready to retort, but then he simply closed his mouth and poured himself another drink into a fresh glass. Yeon-ho watched Tae-young’s Adam’s apple move, then ran a hand over his own face. He craved more alcohol, like a vampire consumed by thirst.

‘This is why I tried not to drink at all.’

Yeon-ho, filled with belated regret, took the soju bottle from Tae-young’s spot and refilled his glass.

“Hey, Seo Yeon-ho! I told you to stop drinking. Didn’t you see the picture? Your face is incredibly red. If you drink any more, you’ll really get drunk.”

Tae-young’s nagging flowed endlessly, but Yeon-ho, with a face that clearly conveyed he wasn’t listening, took a shot.

“I won’t get drunk. I have a high tolerance.”

“High tolerance?”

Tae-young adjusted his cap, his face contorted in a look of utter disdain.

“Yes, high.”

“How old are you, bragging about your alcohol tolerance? Shouldn’t you have graduated from showing off your drinking capacity in adolescence?”

“It’s the opposite. Shouldn’t it be adolescence when you *shouldn’t* be showing off your alcohol tolerance?”

“What?”

“Because that’s the age when you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Th-that’s true.”

Tae-young stammered, looking as if he’d been hit. Seeing Tae-young in such a predicament made Yeon-ho’s mood, which had plummeted to rock bottom, lift ever so slightly.

“I guess I really dislike you a lot.”

“…Is that so?”

Tae-young gritted his teeth, then filled Yeon-ho’s glass to the brim.

“Good. Me too.”

“You told me not to drink earlier, so why are you pouring me a drink now?”

“I never told you not to drink. I told you to pace yourself so you wouldn’t get drunk and cause a scene. If you cause a ruckus and it makes the news, my name will be dragged into it too.”

Indeed, if an incident occurred at a company dinner, Tae-young’s name would not merely be mentioned. It was obvious that reporters, eager for clicks, would create sensational headlines, making it seem as if Tae-young himself had caused trouble.

“I see. I thought…”

Yeon-ho inadvertently spoke his thoughts aloud, then flinched.

“You thought what? You thought there might be another reason?”

He had hoped Tae-young hadn’t heard, but Tae-young reacted immediately to his words. Tae-young’s eyes held a probing look, urging him to finish what he had started to say.

To buy himself time, Yeon-ho took a few sips of alcohol. Tae-young, his face reflecting indecision about whether to wait or not, tapped the table. Yeon-ho racked his brain, then remembered Tae-young had poured him a drink.

“I thought you disliked me pouring my own drink in front of you. They say if the person across from you pours their own drink, you’ll be single for three years.”

“I don’t believe in such ridiculous superstitions.”

Tae-young crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, looking utterly incredulous.

“Really? You’ve been acting so much like an old man, I thought you’d be quite superstitious.”

After saying that, Yeon-ho reached to pour his own drink, but Tae-young grabbed the back of his hand, which was holding the soju bottle.

“What is it?”

Yeon-ho flinched in surprise, but he didn’t show it, instead looking up at Tae-young askance. Tae-young met his gaze and then tilted Yeon-ho’s hand.

*Trickle, trickle, gulp.*

The sound of transparent soju flowing from the bottle’s mouth and filling the glass echoed through the air.

“Where did you throw your manners? You’re pouring your own drink again.”

Tae-young slammed the soju bottle onto the table with a *thud* before finally releasing Yeon-ho’s hand. Yeon-ho clenched and unclenched his fist, as if checking if there was anything wrong with his hand. The sensation was different from when his wrist or arm was grabbed. The heat that had rushed to his face now seemed to spread throughout his entire body.

“You said you don’t believe in superstitions.”

“I don’t believe in superstitions, but I do care about etiquette. I poured you a drink, didn’t I? If you had any sense, shouldn’t you think about not pouring your own?”

“I poured my own because I didn’t think you could keep up with my pace.”

Yeon-ho, once again, emptied his glass in one gulp, then placed the glass down on Tae-young’s side of the table with a *thud*.

“You told me not to pour my own, so I’ll do as you say. Pour. Or should I pour first?”

Since Tae-young’s glass was also empty, Yeon-ho gestured towards it with his chin.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Doing what on purpose?”

Yeon-ho retorted, his expression not one of provocation but genuine bewilderment. He had asked if Tae-young could keep up with his pace because he was told not to pour his own drink, so why was that cause for irritation?

“Ha!”

Tae-young glared at Yeon-ho, thinking, ‘What kind of guy is this?’, then picked up the soju bottle.

‘Fine, I’ll play along with whatever you want.’

Tae-young filled Yeon-ho’s glass, pouring generously, then slammed the bottle down, signaling that it was Yeon-ho’s turn.

Yeon-ho stared intently at Tae-young with his characteristic indifferent and cool gaze, then picked up the soju bottle and glass.

*Trickle, trickle, trickle.*

The sound of the pouring liquor was timid to an extreme.

‘That’s how you can tell he’s getting drunk.’

Tae-young accepted the glass Yeon-ho offered, delivering a final warning.

“You’re going to regret provoking me. What are you going to do then?”