Chapter 52: Just the Two of Us

After talking a little longer, Ji-tae headed back into the waiting room first to prepare for his next schedule.

Amid the bustling set, Baek absentmindedly skimmed through the photos and recalled the expression and gaze Ji-tae had shown earlier.

“I’m sure he was smiling.”

When he had followed Ji-tae’s line of sight, there had been a crowd of staff members gathered there.

And right at the center of them stood Kang Woo-joo.

“The interview’s been canceled.”

Woo-joo relayed the message he had received from the production team.

Originally, Won Ji-tae’s schedule for the day had included both the pictorial shoot and an interview, but the journalist who was supposed to conduct it had an urgent matter come up and postponed it.

“Really?

That’s good.

I was tired.”

Now fully changed, Ji-tae rolled his shoulders lightly.

Even though a confirmed schedule had been canceled at the last minute, he showed little reaction.

To Woo-joo—who would get thoroughly annoyed if Hyun-jin canceled plans the day before—it felt a little strange.

He had once heard that in this industry, new schedules could appear out of nowhere, and existing ones could be canceled ten minutes before.

It seemed that was true.

“Oppa, great job today.”

Seol-ah looked thrilled at the unexpected early wrap-up and busily packed her things.

Just before leaving the waiting room, she raised her hand brightly toward Woo-joo.

“Woo-joo oppa, head home safe!”

“You too.”

As Woo-joo naturally waved back, Ji-tae’s gaze flicked between the two of them.

His eyes were sharp and alert, just like during the shoot.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

Before they realized it, the waiting room had emptied, leaving only the two of them behind.

Since Ji-tae’s schedule had changed, the team was bustling outside preparing to wrap up.

The two stayed back, waiting.

“You and Seol-ah… when did you get so close?”

“We exchanged a few words while waiting during your shoot.

She’s really sociable.”

Ji-tae knew that better than anyone.

When he first started working with Seol-ah, he had struggled more than a few times.

He didn’t particularly want to chat or joke around, but she kept approaching him as if they were close.

Now, fortunately, they worked together without issues.

They had built enough rapport, and Ji-tae had mostly surrendered to her personality.

Even so, he couldn’t quite comprehend how Seol-ah had managed to grow close to Kang Woo-joo so quickly—or how Woo-joo had accepted it so easily that they were already speaking casually and calling each other “oppa.”

“Kang Woo-joo… you seem to get close to anyone pretty easily.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“……”

Ji-tae didn’t answer.

Which meant it leaned more toward an insult.

“Seol-ah’s your staff, so she’s not just anyone.

And she reminded me of my younger sister, so I felt comfortable.”

“Your sister… Kang Saet-byeol?”

Saet-byeol was three years younger than Woo-joo.

That would make her the same age as Seol-ah.

“Oh, you remember.”

Ji-tae pressed his lips together.

For a split second, he had almost blurted out that he remembered everything about him.

“Saet-byeol’s about that age.”

Woo-joo’s lips curved faintly, as if thinking of his sister.

Ji-tae didn’t miss it.

A space that had always felt noisy suddenly became pleasant with that one small smile.

If earlier this place had felt like a dry desert, now it was like a meadow with a cool river flowing through it.

“What, are you jealous because I got close to your staff?”

“As if.”

Jealous?

Of course he was.

But if anything, it wasn’t Woo-joo he envied—it was the opposite.

Just knowing Woo-joo was watching made what usually felt like exhausting work become enjoyable.

Yet throughout the shoot, his gaze kept drifting toward Woo-joo, and that had been troublesome.

Every time he looked, Woo-joo was laughing and chatting with the staff.

Of course, Woo-joo was just trying to fulfill his role as manager properly.

Still, it was impossible not to notice.

And as he tried harder, people naturally began to see Woo-joo in a good light.

Even the makeup director—who had worried about working with a rookie manager—had ended up praising Woo-joo’s polite personality endlessly.

Other staff were the same.

They excitedly talked about how unreal he looked in person, how kind he was compared to articles.

Listening to it all, Ji-tae had swallowed a bitter feeling.

He had come to realize that what looked beautiful in his eyes would look beautiful to others too.

“Won Ji-tae.”

“…Yeah?”

Woo-joo was suddenly standing right in front of him.

Everyone had been saying how hard he worked today.

Which meant the shoot had indeed been grueling.

Normally, by this point, Ji-tae should have been utterly drained, eyes half-closed.

But he wasn’t.

Perhaps it was because of the person standing in front of him now.

Ji-tae had once seen his manager Su-han agonize over how to lift his energy during shoots.

He almost wanted to tell him.

Just bring Kang Woo-joo to the set.

That alone would solve everything.

“What were you thinking about?

I called you.”

“Oh, nothing……”

He must have been so caught up in foolish jealousy that he hadn’t even noticed.

It was pointless anyway.

Kang Woo-joo wasn’t his to begin with.

In the end, the only one twisting in knots was himself.

After all, when he had tried to tease Woo-joo about Seol-ah, the answer he got back hadn’t even earned partial credit.

He hadn’t done anything expecting a reward.

Just having Woo-joo here, hearing his gentle voice and talking together like this, felt like enough.

He had no right to be greedy in the first place.

“Want to grab something to eat before heading back?”

Woo-joo, who had been studying his face, suddenly suggested.

“Sure.

I’ll tell the PD……”

Ji-tae pulled out his phone.

But Woo-joo suddenly reached out and covered the screen.

“Not for filming.”

“Huh?”

“Just the two of us.

Let’s go eat comfortably.”

All the petty jealousy and tangled emotions that had been raining down inside him suddenly cleared at that one sentence.

The sky brightened.

The harsh land sprouted green shoots.

The gloomy clouds dissolved into a beautiful blue sky.

A cool breeze swept across a wide meadow.

“Well, I mean… if you don’t want to, forget it.

Since your schedule got canceled anyway……”

When Ji-tae didn’t answer immediately, Woo-joo scratched his cheek awkwardly.

“Yeah.

Let’s go.”

Let’s go, just the two of us.

Ji-tae barely swallowed the rest of the words.

His lips lifted, and this time he didn’t bother hiding it.

Kang Woo-joo had always been like this.

He made people hope, then inevitably let them fall.

That was why Ji-tae never intended to desire him.

Even now, that hadn’t changed much.

Just being by his side was enough.

Even if Woo-joo lifted him up and dropped him again and again, it didn’t matter.

If everything came from Woo-joo, he would accept it willingly.

He liked him that much.

Very much.

A small whim sometimes led to unexpected results.

All that had happened was that Woo-joo felt bothered seeing how tired Ji-tae looked after filming all day.

And Seon-hyeok’s comment that they had already secured enough footage for today had nudged him slightly.

But more than anything, it was the thought of Ji-tae standing in front of the camera all day that occupied his mind.

It was dinnertime, and if they drove all the way home—an hour straight—it would be too late.

So Woo-joo came up with a simple alternative to solve it all.

And perhaps the reason he kept attaching logic to what was basically an impulsive decision was this—

‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

The smile Ji-tae had shown when accepting the sudden invitation.

It wasn’t the polite smile he wore for others.

And it wasn’t quite the same as the one he had shown Baek earlier either.

The moment Woo-joo saw it, his heart had jolted sharply.

What was that?

Was something wrong with his health?

But the team conducted regular medical checkups, and there had never been an issue.

‘It’s not arrhythmia or something, is it?’

With an oddly serious face, Woo-joo got into the driver’s seat.

Ji-tae quickly slid into the passenger seat.

“We’re not filming right now, so I can sit in the front, right?”

“Who said you couldn’t?”

Ji-tae defended himself like a guilty thief.

The car belonged to Ji-tae’s company anyway.

It didn’t matter where he sat.

“So where are we going to eat?”

“Ah… good point.

I didn’t think that far.”