Chapter 76: Interrupted Promises

“Hey, Cha Eu—”

“Shh.

Look forward.”

It felt like molten lava was boiling over.

His face burning red, Han-geon tried to pull away, but Eun-gyeol only shot a sly glance toward the camera.

Seoil, who had been staring blankly with his mouth slightly open at the two of them, snapped back to his senses and quickly raised the camera.

“Hahaha.

You two really seem close!

The chemistry’s totally real.”

“Is this enough now?”

“Yesss.

Thank you!”

Smiling brightly, Eun-gyeol waved toward the viewers, and the short vlog shoot ended there.

Watching Seoil’s back as he disappeared to film another actor, Han-geon let out a complicated sigh.

‘Hoo….!’

If only he could react as nonchalantly as Eun-gyeol did.

Blushing like this was practically advertising that something was going on between them.

Sure enough, Yujin came over, covered her face with one hand, and patted Han-geon’s back teasingly.

“Han-geon-ssi, your face could boil a pot right now.

Huh?

You like Cha-cha that much?”

“…Noona… it’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t.

It’s written all over your face.

Hehehe.”

“Hey, stop teasing him.

His face is about to explode.”

Yujin giggled, Eun-gyeol laughed along while half-heartedly stopping her.

Feeling like his face really might burst if he stayed any longer, Han-geon made an excuse about the restroom and hurried away.

Only after splashing his face with cold water several times did he barely manage to calm down.

He wiped his face roughly with a paper towel and was about to leave—
when he ran straight into a familiar figure at the entrance.

His expression stiffened coldly before he even realized it.

“…..”

The other man, however, seemed calm, as if he’d followed him in on purpose.

Han-geon tried to pass by with a rigid face, but suddenly his wrist was grabbed from behind.

Frowning, he immediately twisted his arm and shook the hand off.

“What is this about?”

“Han-geon-ssi.”

When he turned around, the man wore a deeply complicated expression.

Han-geon couldn’t tell what emotion he was supposed to read in those eyes.

Honestly, he didn’t want to know.

He gave a brief nod and tried to walk past again—only for the voice behind him to snag him by the collar.

“…I have something to say.”

The flat tone was still impossible to read.

Han-geon turned his head and replied coldly.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I know you don’t want to talk to me, but please—just listen once.”

“No.

I’ll be going now—”

“It’s something very important to you.”

A hollow laugh slipped out.

Turning fully to face him, Han-geon glared frostily.

“Actor Yoo Junseong.

To be honest, no matter what you say, I don’t think I can believe you.”

It was a stubborn refusal without a single crack.

At that point, Han-geon expected Junseong to give up and turn away.

But the man’s eyes remained fixed on him, still painfully complex.

Seeing that expression, the anger Han-geon had buried surged up.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop speaking to me privately like this.

We’re not on those terms anymore, are we?”

“…..”

“I didn’t even realize the intention you approached me with.

Thinking you were a good person makes me feel like a complete idiot.”

“Wait.

Han-geon-ssi, just let me say this one thing—”

It wasn’t worth hearing anymore.

Ignoring the hesitant voice calling after him, Han-geon turned sharply away.

His fingertips went icy cold.

His heart pounded unpleasantly in his chest.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he quickly scanned the area—worried Eun-gyeol might have seen him with Junseong.

He was done, truly done, with tiptoeing uselessly between Eun-gyeol and Junseong like this.

Fortunately, Eun-gyeol was still sitting comfortably with the team.

Han-geon slipped back into the group, smiling as if nothing were wrong—unaware that from afar, Junseong was watching him with a troubled expression.

***

All the way to Seoul, Han-geon tapped the steering wheel lightly with his fingernails.

Soft music played from the preset channel, and his head bobbed faintly in rhythm as he drove.

To anyone else he probably looked expressionless, but Eun-gyeol smiled.

“You that happy?”

Eun-gyeol asked with a soft snort from the passenger seat.

Feeling oddly embarrassed, Han-geon replied curtly, “About what?”—but Eun-gyeol was already completely relaxed.

“Don’t get your hopes up too much.

What if you’re disappointed?”

“When did I ever?

And I won’t be disappointed.”

“Your face right now looks like a kid right before getting a robot toy.”

Eun-gyeol’s amused laughter filled the car softly.

Unable to deny it, Han-geon eventually fell silent.

Normally, birthdays meant little to him.

But today was different.

Ever since becoming an adult, Eun-gyeol had always been too busy—at best, Han-geon would hear his voice or receive a gift.

Days like this, where they could spend quiet time together, were rare.

‘Is it a little hot… or cold?

That’s weird.’

Trying not to make it obvious, Han-geon glanced sideways at Eun-gyeol and rubbed one hand over his thigh to warm himself.

As it had been for days, his body felt faintly chilled, with a lingering heat inside—but he figured resting would fix it.

The car smoothly turned into the neighborhood where Eun-gyeol’s apartment was.

Just as Han-geon checked the rearview mirror and slowed down, Eun-gyeol’s phone rang.

Glancing over, he saw Eun-gyeol staring at the screen with a stiff expression.

Before he could ask who it was, Eun-gyeol answered.

“Yeah.”

–Oppa.

Eun-gyeol immediately lowered the volume.

But it was too late—Han-geon had already swallowed hard.

There was no mistaking it.

It was Juwon’s voice.

“What is it?”

Eun-gyeol’s face as he listened was indifferent, cold.

After that, Han-geon couldn’t hear Juwon anymore, but as Eun-gyeol’s expression gradually darkened, the buoyant mood drained away.

A bad premonition crept in.

“That’s going to be hard right now.”

The words were tossed into the phone carelessly.

After listening in silence for a while, Eun-gyeol sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, looking utterly fed up.

“Ha…

No, don’t just lead with your emotions.

Calm down.”

After that, he only gave a few halfhearted replies—”Yeah.” “Mm.”

Finally ending the call, Eun-gyeol raked a hand through his hair in irritation.

“Ha…

Han-geon.

Do you want to go upstairs first?”

“…Huh?”

A stupid-sounding voice slipped out.

The expression on his face was probably just as bad.

Eun-gyeol let out a short sigh.

“I’m sorry.

I’ll be right back.

Go up, shower, and rest.

I’ll be there in two hours—no, an hour and a half.”

“Ah… o-okay.”

There was nothing else he could say.

Like someone numb, Han-geon nodded mechanically.

The van pulled into the parking lot, and he got out as if being pushed away.

He stood there for a long while, watching Eun-gyeol drive out in another car after taking the keys from his pocket.

It felt like being dragged back to that night.

The night Eun-gyeol went into rut—
the day he’d dropped him off at the hotel, knowing Eun-gyeol would be with Juwon.

Thinking he was jumping to conclusions, Han-geon rubbed his dry face harshly.

Don’t do this.

That day and today are different….

……

Are they really different?

The fact that he couldn’t answer that question was miserable.

With a single phone call from her, Eun-gyeol had set aside their plans and rushed out without hesitation.

He hadn’t explained what it was about, so of course Han-geon didn’t know what he’d be doing with her.

And he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

But the truth was, he wanted to.

Why was Juwon calling you on a Friday night after filming?

What kind of promise makes you brush aside our plans so easily?

What are you going to do with her…?

“Haah….”

Han-geon squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to dispel the cloud of wild imaginings in his head.

No—stop.

Eun-gyeol promised.

Two hours—no, an hour and a half.

That was far too short for the worst-case scenarios he was imagining.

They’d probably just talk a bit, and Eun-gyeol would come back.

Even to Han-geon’s eyes, the relationship between Eun-gyeol and Juwon had seemed strange lately.

Maybe there were unresolved feelings between them.

Eun-gyeol would come back.

Nothing would happen.

Clinging to those thoughts, Han-geon rode the elevator up and opened Eun-gyeol’s front door with his registered fingerprint.

He stepped into the spotless, neatly arranged interior.

The first time he’d been here, it felt unfamiliar and strange—now, it felt oddly comfortable.

That realization brought him a small sense of comfort.

Right.

Just like Eun-gyeol said—shower, then watch a movie.

Eun-gyeol would be back within the promised time.

Then they could spend the rest of the evening the way Eun-gyeol had planned.

Feeling a bit lighter, Han-geon undressed and stepped under the shower, turning on warm water.

Strangely, it felt like fire was boiling inside him, so he immediately lowered the temperature.

Even then, the scorching sensation didn’t fade.

Switching it all the way to cold, he closed his eyes as freezing water poured over him from head to toe.