Chapter 60: The Truth Behind the Misunderstanding

“Ah, sorry.

I didn’t realize I was still holding on.”

Wooju scratched the back of his head.

Ji-tae didn’t say anything about it.

He was such a strange guy.

One time he got mad just because someone touched his dimple, then another time he said patting his head was fine.

And now he reacted like that just because Wooju grabbed his hand.

The contrast between this and the way he had comforted Baek Yeon-ah on that bench earlier made irritation rise for no reason.

Was he upset because Wooju had interfered between them?

“We don’t have another schedule.”

“Why?

Did I interrupt you from giving her your number?”

“What kind of nonsense is that all of a sudden?”

“Well.

You were interested enough to call her aside and comfort her.

I guess I shouldn’t have stepped in.

Sorry.”

This wasn’t what he meant to say, yet petty words kept slipping out.

“Kang Wooju, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me.

I already noticed you like her.”

It had been a long time since his emotions ran this far out of his control—probably not since that recent friendly match.

He knew there was nothing good about saying this out loud, yet his mouth moved on its own.

But he was angry.

How could he not be irritated at someone who seemed to let him in, only to coldly push him away again?

“Should I go ask her manager again?”

“Ask what?”

“To exchange numbers.”

Ji-tae frowned deeply.

“Why would I need to exchange numbers with her?”

“…What?”

“I don’t know what you’ve been talking about, but who do you think I have feelings for?”

Ji-tae ran a hand through his carefully styled hair in frustration.

Only then did Wooju realize something was wrong.

“Who else?

Her, over there……”

He pointed at Baek Yeon-ah, who was still politely greeting staff before leaving.

Ji-tae’s gaze followed his finger—and then widened.

“W-When did I ever say that?

I never said that.

I don’t have feelings for her.

Not even the tiniest bit!”

Ji-tae grabbed Wooju’s shoulders and shook him repeatedly.

“Did it look like that?

Why?

Just in case, I’m telling you—I’m not interested in her.

I met her for the first time today.

Got it?”

Wooju’s head was spinning from the shaking.

Some nearby staff chuckled at the ridiculous sight.

“Okay, okay.

If you’re not, then you’re not.

Why are you overreacting…….”

“I’m not interested.

Not even a hair’s worth.”

“I said I got it.

My bad.”

It seemed being misunderstood really bothered him.

Ji-tae repeated himself more than five times before finally stopping.

Wooju stared at him oddly.

“Why do you jump to conclusions like that?”

“Hey, from my point of view, it was reasonable.

I saw what you did earlier.”

“Earlier?”

Ji-tae thought for a moment before snapping his fingers.

“You think I’m the type to go around giving advice?

You know my personality’s twisted.

So when I suddenly started a conversation, you assumed that?”

“Well… you did give her advice.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t because I was interested.”

“Then what?

Trying to play the senior?”

“I just didn’t want the shoot dragging on.”

Wooju’s mouth fell open.

“Her line wasn’t hard, but she kept messing it up.

That director’s the type who just yells, and that only makes things worse.

So I figured I’d comfort her a bit so she’d recover faster.”

In other words, every theory Wooju had constructed was wrong.

Ji-tae didn’t have feelings for Baek Yeon-ah.

He wasn’t even trying to act like a senior.

He had simply chosen the most efficient method to shorten filming time.

Thinking back, once filming resumed, Baek Yeon-ah had looked much brighter.

She didn’t make any more mistakes.

The shoot ended close to schedule.

Everything had gone exactly as Ji-tae intended.

“You… I don’t want to say this to your face, but you’re kind of heartless.”

“I’m smart.”

“Then why were you pulling out your phone when she asked for your number?

I thought that meant you were interested.”

“A text came in.”

Such an absurdly simple reason.

So what happened was this:

Ji-tae comforted someone purely to speed up filming.

Then he pulled out his phone just to check a message.

And Wooju misunderstood everything.

Once the full story settled in, relief washed over him—followed by a surge of indignation.

“Hey!”

Wooju smacked Ji-tae hard on the back.

“Why do you act in ways that make people misunderstand?”

“What did I do?

You’re the one who misunderstood.”

“No, the problem is how you behave in the first place.”

“Forget that—fix your habit of hitting people.

You’re a volleyball player.

That’s like swinging a weapon.”

“Want me to show you real strength?”

“…No.

Sorry.”

From afar, a writer watched them arguing again and snorted.

“They’re fighting again.”

Seon-hyeok, standing nearby, shook his head.

“They never get tired of it.

Ah, youth.”

“How did you even think of casting those two?”

“I just got lucky,” Seon-hyeok replied vaguely.

Soon, everything was wrapped up, and the two headed toward the car.

“Hey, Kang Wooju.”

“What.”

“Why did you stop me earlier?

Even if I had given her my number, what does it matter to you?”

Ji-tae glanced at him, something like expectation flickering in his eyes.

“Of course it matters.”

“Really?”

His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“If someone saw you exchanging numbers in the middle of the set and rumors spread, what then?

What if a scandal breaks?

We haven’t even aired yet.

We should avoid unnecessary gossip.”

“…Oh.

Right.”

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over a flame.

Whatever small spark of hope had existed vanished completely.

Of course.

It was Kang Wooju.

What had he been expecting?

“But I can’t believe you did all that just to finish filming faster.”

Wooju shook his head.

“I don’t usually go that far.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“It’s because you were there.”

“Why drag me into this?”

As they entered the parking lot, Ji-tae’s calm voice slowed Wooju’s steps.

“If filming ran long, you’d get tired.”

Ji-tae turned back to look at him.

The sunset painted the sky orange, tinged with creeping darkness.

Under that sky, Ji-tae’s figure was harder to look away from than any image captured on camera earlier.

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah.”

Wooju felt an ache somewhere in his chest as he walked again.

By the time they got home, it was already evening.

Traffic had delayed them more than expected.

Today had felt long.

“What should we eat?”

Ji-tae, still half-asleep, muttered.

“Cooking sounds like a hassle.”

“Sorry, but it’s my turn this week.”

“Then how about we order something?”

Ji-tae ignored that lightly and offered the suggestion.

After spending the whole day outside, exhaustion weighed heavier.

For Wooju, who was worn out from managing all day, the idea felt like an oasis in a desert.

His mind was already filling with images of delivery food.

“Not a bad idea.”

“Then……”

“Ji-tae.”