Chapter 43: The Upfront Payment and a Restless Search

“I—I’ll consider your offer if you pay upfront.”

“Upfront? There’s no reason not to.”

Han Tae-young reached for his phone, as if to transfer the money immediately.

However, his phone was nothing more than a black brick. Judging by the fact that it wouldn’t turn on even when he pressed the power button, the battery seemed to be completely dead.

“Where’s the charger?”

“…Huh? H-here.”

“Are you kidding me? The cable doesn’t fit. Don’t you have a Lightning cable?”

“Hold on. I’ll look for it.”

Seo Yeon-ho began to rummage through the house, his face flustered.

During his idol days, Seo Yeon-ho was known as “Stone Buddha” by his fans. It was a nickname given to him for his unwavering composure and steadfast heart, even when unexpected situations arose.

Yet, at this moment, Seo Yeon-ho was scrambling like a new employee on their first day, all because of a single charging cable.

‘The charger I used at the dorm must be somewhere, right? Did I perhaps throw it away when I moved?’

Han Tae-young squinted, clearly annoyed by Seo Yeon-ho pacing around the room like a hamster on a wheel. “Just go buy one at the convenience store. How much could it possibly cost?”

Despite Han Tae-young’s reprimand, Seo Yeon-ho continued his frantic search for a Lightning cable. Eventually, he succeeded in unearthing the coveted item from a box of miscellaneous junk.

The house looked as though a thief had ransacked it, but Seo Yeon-ho decided this was preferable to wasting money at a convenience store.

“Here.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

Han Tae-young shot Seo Yeon-ho a look of exasperated pity, as if he were an utterly inefficient person, before turning on his phone. A moment later, Seo Yeon-ho’s phone chimed, displaying the message: [Han Tae-young has transferred 2,000,000 won].

“Did you confirm it?”

“Yeah.”

Seo Yeon-ho clutched his phone with both hands, nodding repeatedly. Han Tae-young stared intently at Seo Yeon-ho’s flushed cheeks before turning over and lying on his side.

“I’m sleeping now. Don’t bother me.”

“Okay…”

‘Should I have just nodded instead of answering?’ But if he only nodded, Han Tae-young wouldn’t see it, rendering the thought meaningless.

‘Perhaps he wasn’t expecting an answer in the first place.’

The rooftop room, which had been buzzing with Seo Yeon-ho and Han Tae-young’s bickering, suddenly fell silent. Seo Yeon-ho, still hearing the frantic thumping of his own heart, checked his bank balance.

Seeing the account balance swell by precisely the amount Han Tae-young had transferred, a soft groan escaped his throat.

‘If I save just a little more here, I can send Chae-young to a private academy this winter.’

Seo Yeon-ho’s younger sister would be taking her college entrance exams next year. While there were academies in Gunsan, he wanted her to attend one in Seoul during the winter break, when she would be seriously preparing for her exams.

However, due to monthly interest payments and rent, he hadn’t been able to save any money. Now, suddenly, he had a surplus.

“Mmm.”

Han Tae-young stirred, as if something was bothering him. Seo Yeon-ho flinched, wondering if his earlier groan had disturbed him.

He held his breath, watching to see if Han Tae-young would wake up. Seo Yeon-ho’s nerves were entirely focused on Han Tae-young. If his own mistake caused Han Tae-young to lose sleep, he might demand his money back, so naturally, he couldn’t help but be anxious.

Seo Yeon-ho minimized his movements to avoid waking Han Tae-young. Fearing any accidental noise, he didn’t even look at his phone, simply staring at the wall. Yet, it was incredibly difficult to prevent his gaze from drifting towards Han Tae-young.

‘This is stifling.’

After about thirty minutes, Seo Yeon-ho reached his limit. Being so conscious of another person in his own home was incredibly uncomfortable. He couldn’t clean the room he’d just ransacked searching for the charger, and he couldn’t even swallow or breathe freely, making it worse than being confined to solitary.

Yet, lying down to sleep like Han Tae-young felt awkward when he was wide awake.

Seo Yeon-ho carefully got up, trying not to wake Han Tae-young, and stepped outside. He needed to inform the agency that he wouldn’t be able to work that day.

“I’m sorry. I’ll work without a single day off next month. Yes. This won’t happen again. Thank you for your understanding. Yes, of course. I’m absolutely not trying to switch to another agency.”

Not only had he been inexcusably late, but now he was requesting to be absent, so the agency’s reaction was far from pleased. Seo Yeon-ho only managed to end the call after a lengthy session of appeasing the manager.

“Haa.”

He hadn’t carried heavy loads; he had merely spent a few minutes on the phone, yet he felt utterly drained. Seo Yeon-ho sat on the bench and navigated to a drama replay channel. He lowered his phone’s volume to the lowest setting, as a loud sound might wake Han Tae-young if he played a video.

After deliberating over what to watch, he selected a clip featuring Han Tae-young and Park Chan-jong. Even without sound, he remembered the dialogue and could discern their conversation by reading their lips.

‘The higher-ups are suspicious of you. On the day the task force was supposed to raid the Seo-gwang gang’s joint operation with the Vietnamese syndicate, why did you extract Cha Woong-jae?’

‘I already told you. I never leaked information to Cha Woong-jae about Team 2 targeting the transaction site.’

‘Don’t lie! If you didn’t leak the information, how did Cha Moon-gyu’s father know the police were coming and escape beforehand?’

‘There must have been another source feeding him information about the task force, besides me. Either an undercover agent or a contact within the police.’

‘Undercover? What are you talking about? You and I are the only undercover agents who infiltrated the Seo-gwang gang.’

‘Why are you so certain?’

‘What are you trying to say…’

‘Detective Jang, do you really think the higher-ups only suspect me?’

‘W-what do you mean by that?! You’re speaking strangely!’

‘The higher-ups don’t trust either of us. If you assume there’s a turncoat, consider carefully who the higher-ups would suspect more. Would it be Detective Jang, who’s been embedded in the Seo-gwang gang for nearly ten years, or me, who’s less tainted by gang life?’

Watching the scene where Han Tae-young and Park Chan-jong engaged in a dangerous, clandestine conversation in a dimly lit parking garage, Seo Yeon-ho felt a strange sensation. The memory of him standing in for Baek Hwi-kyung and confronting Park Chan-jong as Cha Moon-gyu last night kept resurfacing.

“I overdid it. I should’ve held back and done just enough.”

Seo Yeon-ho put down his phone and buried his flushed, hot face in his palms. He hadn’t realized it during the rehearsal yesterday, but looking back at his actions objectively now, he felt he had gotten too deeply immersed.

If he felt that way, then to others, it must have been even more obvious, not less. He couldn’t help but feel utterly mortified.

When he had accepted Kim Jin-woo’s request to stand in for Baek Hwi-kyung during the rehearsal, Seo Yeon-ho hadn’t intended to act seriously. His sole aim was to maintain just enough tension so as not to hinder Park Chan-jong’s emotional performance.

Yet, before he knew it, he was acting with intense emotion, as if he were auditioning for a chemistry read.

“Why did I do that?”

Perhaps he was nervous, having been in front of a camera after such a long time. Although he had set foot on a drama set recently, that was merely for a delivery; he hadn’t been at the center of the scene as an actor.

Moreover, during that time, it was a break, and the staff had been completely relaxed. Yesterday, however, the director and all the staff were holding their breath, intently focused on Park Chan-jong’s acting.

Because he stood opposite Park Chan-jong, Seo Yeon-ho was also exposed to the production team’s gaze. He didn’t dislike that attention.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t nervous, but honestly, the excitement was greater. There was a sense of regret, wondering when he would ever experience such a set atmosphere again, and an exhilarating feeling that he could personally address the issues he, as a viewer, had often found frustrating.

Looking back, it was an environment where *not* getting deeply immersed would have been challenging. If it had been a different drama set, not a cold reading, he wouldn’t have been so genuine.

It was embarrassing, but he had no intention of regretting it. Even if the production team had secretly laughed at him, it didn’t matter. They were people he wouldn’t see again anyway. However, the fact that he hadn’t realized how excited he was made him feel awkward.

Seo Yeon-ho knew he reacted鈍ly to his own emotions. He was quick-witted, but he didn’t use that perceptiveness to understand his own feelings. He only gave himself the minimum attention necessary for survival, never feeling the need to reflect on his emotions.

Perhaps that was why it took him a long time to realize he liked something, even when he found it appealing. No, it was fortunate if he realized it later and tried to pursue it. In countless instances, Seo Yeon-ho would only realize he had liked something much later, after everything had passed and its colors had faded within him, leaving no more lingering impression.

“I should go to Owner Yang’s shop.”

Seo Yeon-ho, who had been idly sitting on the hot rooftop where not even a breeze stirred, rose from his spot. He figured it would be better to retrieve his scooter and Hyo-jun’s clothing samples than to simply waste time like this.

Leaving Han Tae-young alone in his house still made him uneasy, but a trip to Moonlight Flower wouldn’t take more than thirty minutes at most.

‘Surely, he won’t wake up in just that short time.’

As Seo Yeon-ho descended the stairs, he remembered something with a start and turned back to the rooftop. He had forgotten to grab his scooter key.

*Creak.*

Seo Yeon-ho cautiously opened the front door. He hadn’t noticed it when he left earlier, but Han Tae-young’s sneakers, massive like aircraft carriers, completely filled the narrow entryway. Seo Yeon-ho placed Han Tae-young’s sneakers on the small cabinet he used as a shoe rack, then took off his own shoes.

‘He’s sleeping like the dead.’

Seo Yeon-ho chuckled softly as he saw the back of Han Tae-young’s head, with a pillow tucked between his arm and ear. Earlier that morning, when Han Tae-young had fallen asleep first, Seo Yeon-ho had wondered if his neck was uncomfortable, bent so sharply to the side due to his broad shoulders. But seeing that Han Tae-young had fetched a pillow while he was gone, Seo Yeon-ho felt he didn’t need to ask to know the answer.