Chapter 47: A Cat on the Stove and a Provocative Banner

“What is it?”

Yeon-ho, who had been silently spooning eel soup, finally looked up. Tae-young, belatedly realizing where his feet were, adjusted his posture.

“My apologies. I’m not used to sitting cross-legged.”

Yeon-ho had initially thought Tae-young kicked him on purpose, but seeing his embarrassed expression, it seemed to have been an accident.

‘Were his legs cramping?’

Perhaps the table was too low for Tae-young’s build.

As Yeon-ho resumed eating, Tae-young again poked his thigh with his foot. This time, it was no mistake. Having successfully captured Yeon-ho’s attention, Tae-young immediately spoke.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m not used to sitting cross-legged?”

Yeon-ho tilted his head.

“Am I supposed to ask?”

“Other people usually do.”

“I don’t know about others, but I’m not particularly curious about that.”

Yeon-ho couldn’t comprehend Tae-young.

‘Why would he specifically want someone else to ask? If he wants to tell me why he’s not used to sitting cross-legged, couldn’t he just say it?’

Tae-young bowed his head deeply, as if he had met a formidable opponent, and let out a heavy sigh.

“When you’re dating, do you often hear that you drive people crazy?”

Yeon-ho stirred his eel soup a little roughly with his spoon.

“Not really? On the contrary, I’ve been told my quietness is a virtue.”

“Your quietness is a virtue?”

Tae-young let out a hollow laugh, a ‘Ha!’, then propped his chin on his hand.

“The person who told you that, they were older than you, weren’t they?”

‘How did he know?’

When Yeon-ho looked surprised, Tae-young merely shrugged as if it were nothing.

“There are only two types of people who would put up with a blunt guy like you: a living saint, or a seasoned older person with extensive dating experience. But you, you’re clearly not the type to attract a pure-hearted contemporary.”

“The people I’ve dated weren’t that much older.”

Yeon-ho grumbled resentfully. If Tae-young’s analysis had been completely off, he would have just laughed it off as a ridiculous comment. But because there was some truth to it, the words stung.

“How many years older were they?”

“Four years.”

The composed expression on Tae-young’s face, which had been observing Yeon-ho with leisure, cracked.

“Now I see, this one’s a cat that climbed onto the stove.”

“Me? Why?”

“To say that a four-year age gap isn’t a big deal implies you usually date people with an even larger age difference.”

Only then did Yeon-ho understand Tae-young’s meaning. Reconsidering, his own words did seem prone to misinterpretation.

“No. I’ve never dated anyone with more than a four-year age gap.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should’ve said so from the start.”

Yeon-ho was dumbfounded. Tae-young was the one who misunderstood, so why was Yeon-ho getting scolded?

“Are you the type who only dates older people?”

“……I didn’t intentionally seek them out.”

Yeon-ho hesitated for a moment, then mumbled evasively. He didn’t want Tae-young to discover that he had only been in one relationship. Despite appearing like someone who didn’t think much, Tae-young was surprisingly perceptive.

‘But why do I not want to reveal my lack of dating experience? It’s not like having more dating experience makes one superior.’ Men often competed over who had more dating or sexual experience, and Yeon-ho had always found such boastful culture pathetic.

Yet, for some reason, in front of Tae-young, he was acting just as pathetic as those other men. This was despite the fact that Tae-young was a heterosexual who only liked women, so there was no reason for them to compete over men.

“So, by chance, everyone you’ve dated just happened to be older? What a remarkable coincidence.”

Tae-young sneered, pushing up the flesh of his face with the hand propping his chin.

‘I’ve only dated one person.’

Yeon-ho shoved grilled octopus into his mouth to suppress the urge to explain. Tae-young watched Yeon-ho munching on the octopus quietly, then spoke.

“I had a hunch, and it turns out I was right: you prefer seafood over four-legged meat.”

Unsure what he meant, Yeon-ho stared intently at Tae-young. He couldn’t tell if Tae-young was talking to him or to himself.

“It’s nice to see you eat so well.”

Tae-young said dismissively, then pushed all the seafood dishes towards Yeon-ho. Yeon-ho was flustered by Tae-young’s sudden swapping of dishes but assumed it was because Tae-young disliked seafood and let it go. Han Tae-young and picky eating – it seemed like a perfectly fitting combination.

‘But why did he come to eat eel soup if he doesn’t like seafood? Is eel an exception? He really is a difficult person to understand.’

Yeon-ho crunched on the abalone sashimi that Tae-young had moved in front of him. At some point, Tae-young’s foot touched Yeon-ho’s leg again.

“Move your foot.”

“My leg’s cramped right now, I can’t move. I think I got a charley horse from sitting cross-legged for so long.”

‘That sounds like a lie.’

Yeon-ho narrowed his eyes like a suspicious cat. Tae-young’s face was far from looking pained.

Ultimately, Yeon-ho firmly pushed Tae-young’s foot away with his knee.

“That’s your problem. Just stretch it in another direction.”

“This direction is the most comfortable.”

Tae-young shamelessly placed his foot back. As expected, the cramping was a lie.

“You selfish jerk, is it enough if only you’re comfortable? I’m uncomfortable too.”

“How uncomfortable could it be? You’re uncomfortable because you’re paying attention to it. If you don’t pay attention, there’s nothing to be uncomfortable about.”

“What kind of nonsensical logic is that?”

A fierce tug-of-war ensued, with Yeon-ho pushing away and Tae-young stubbornly pressing closer. It was hardly different from two elementary school children having a foot wrestling match.

*knock, knock*

The sound of the attendant knocking on the sliding door was heard. Tae-young and Yeon-ho, as if on cue, simultaneously froze.

“Yes. How may I help you?”

Tae-young asked in a refined voice. It was hard to believe this was the same person who had just been childishly foot wrestling with him; his voice carried an unexpected gravitas.

Yeon-ho typed a message on his phone and showed it to Tae-young, who was now maintaining his social facade.

[You’re so fake.]

Tae-young’s eyebrow twitched. But just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, the attendant asked.

“When would you like your dessert served?”

“We haven’t finished our meal yet. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

After sending the attendant away, Tae-young seemed to be experiencing a moment of self-reflection. He held his forehead for a long time before straightening his posture. Surprisingly, simply by correcting his posture, the entire atmosphere shifted. It felt as if a childish chaebol scion had transformed into a dignified crown prince. Seeing how quickly his demeanor changed, acting truly seemed to be Tae-young’s calling.

“Now, let’s eat quietly.”

‘Who is he to say that first?’

Yeon-ho was flabbergasted by Tae-young’s brazenness but chose not to say anything. Although Tae-young hadn’t spoken kindly, he had been the first to wave the white flag, and Yeon-ho knew that if he argued over who was right or wrong, a second round would surely begin.

Yeon-ho wanted to enjoy his meal at a leisurely pace. Earlier, he had been eager to finish quickly and leave, but upon reflection, rushing through a meal in such a place felt like a waste.

With Tae-young remaining quiet, everything felt peaceful. Yeon-ho glanced at Tae-young, who was now eating obediently. Despite not being able to sit cross-legged, he handled his chopsticks quite neatly. Was it because his hands were large and beautiful that his movements appeared so refined?

Yeon-ho’s gaze was captivated by his long, unknotted fingers and neatly trimmed nails, so much so that he didn’t even realize Tae-young was staring at him.

****

Yeon-ho parked his car in the filming complex parking lot and followed Tae-young. However, every staff member they encountered was drinking a beverage with Baek Hwi-kyung’s photo emblazoned on the cup holder.

‘What is this?’

The mystery was quickly solved. A coffee truck was parked at the entrance to the set.

‘Scene Stealer of the Drama Cold Reading? Heart Stealer! We support Baek Hwi-kyung, the actor who will become the lead!’

Yeon-ho frowned at the banner’s wording.

“Is there a parachute filming today?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Then why did a support come in today?”

“How would I know?”

The staff members were merely flocking to the coffee truck for coffee and churros; they seemed oblivious as to who had organized the event or why. Though ‘From the Fans’ was written in a corner of the signboard, hardly anyone believed it was genuinely sent by fans.

Putting aside the question of whether Baek Hwi-kyung had garnered enough fans to warrant such support, the banner was far too provocative to have been prepared by fans.

‘Actor who will become the lead.’ The phrasing felt awkward, and the character for ‘will’ was noticeably smaller. If one glanced at it quickly, only ‘Lead Actor Baek Hwi-kyung’ would stick in their mind.

Moreover, ‘of the drama Cold Reading’ was placed directly on the line above it. Reading the top and bottom lines together formed the suspicious sentence: ‘Lead Actor Baek Hwi-kyung of the drama Cold Reading.’ It was a design that could only be interpreted as 100% intentional.

From Tae-young’s perspective as the lead actor, this was certainly upsetting. Yet, it was awkward to formally protest to Baek Hwi-kyung’s side about why the banner text was chosen as it was. This was because, regardless of who actually funded it, it was ostensibly an act by fans.

Furthermore, if they started to argue, claiming, ‘What intention are you talking about? There’s no such intention. It means an actor who will someday become a lead. Are you saying our actor should be a supporting role forever?’, there would be no good answer. Baek Hwi-kyung’s side had acted disrespectfully, but pointing it out would only frame the lead actor as persecuting a supporting actor.

‘This person is truly despicable. Inconsiderate, out of touch, and even insidious.’

Unconsciously, Yeon-ho clenched his fists. Until now, he had felt no particular emotion towards Baek Hwi-kyung. He hadn’t actually met him, and perhaps because Baek Hwi-kyung was someone who would soon be replaced, Yeon-ho hadn’t cared much whether he acted poorly or missed filming. However, seeing his blatant ambition for the lead role, a strong dislike surged within him.

‘I need to prevent Han Tae-young from seeing this.’

Yeon-ho pretended to look around the filming complex, using his body to block Tae-young’s line of sight. Even as a mere viewer, he felt disgusted by the banner and nearly cursed. Given Tae-young’s personality, if he saw it, he would not only fly into a rage but might even confront Baek Hwi-kyung and grab him by the collar.