Chapter 8: A Bowl of Jjamppong

Or maybe Jungwon sometimes dropped by to see Black hyung and listen to songs?
But when would he even have the time for that?
Either way, it only made things more confusing.

Jungwon rolled up his sleeve, checked the watch on his wrist, and then asked me,

“Hyung, where are you going after you’re done?”

“Why?”

“Let’s eat before you go.”

I was about to say, I already have plans, but before I could, Jungwon abruptly stood up, opened the door, and walked out first.

On his way out, he glanced at the jacket hanging on the rack as if he might put it on, but instead just grabbed it in his hand and left.

I stared after him for a moment, then, almost without thinking, got up as well.

Whatever.
We’re just eating—what could possibly happen?

Still, I suddenly felt like smoking, so on my way out, I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside the building.

Right then, my phone rang.
It was Seungwoo—ever since I’d said I was retiring, he’d apparently taken that to mean I already had and started calling whenever it suited him.

I pushed open the back door, stepped into the parking lot, and leaned against the wall.

“What.”

—What are you doing today?

“I’ve got plans.”

—What kind of plans?

Do I really have to explain what kind of plans too?

I took a drag from the cigarette filter and changed the subject.

“Hey.”

—Yeah?

“Someone keeps asking me to meet them.”

—A girl?

“Uh… well. Yeah.”

—Do you even have the time for that?

His voice carried complete confidence that I wouldn’t meet them anyway.

But honestly… what even is dating?
You just meet up, do this and that.

Ah—of course, I hadn’t even gone so far as to imagine doing those kinds of things with Jungwon.

The fact that he’s a guy is also… an issue.
I don’t know.
What do I even know about myself?

“If I don’t meet them, they said it’ll affect group activities, so I’m just leaving it.”

—A sponsor?

“I’m not doing that.”

—Then who is it?

“They like me.”

The smoke I exhaled blended into the cold air and faded into a pale haze.

A sponsor, huh.
Would things have been different if I’d accepted offers like that?

Then again, it’s not like doing that guarantees success.
I probably wouldn’t have done it anyway.

That vague desire for success had always been the problem.
If I was going to do it, I should’ve thrown myself into it completely.

And I don’t just mean practice or effort.
In this industry, if you want to succeed, you have to go all in—without holding anything back.
Without lines you won’t cross.
Without conscience.
Without sanity.

…Would I have had no regrets if I did?

Maybe sensing my hesitation, Seungwoo pressed again.

—So who is it?

“Forget it. We’re breaking up after promotions anyway.”

—You said they’re clinging to you.

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Did I say it like that?”

I might’ve exaggerated a little, but still.
Clingy Jungwon?

The thought was so ridiculous I let out a weak laugh to myself.
The laughter mixed with the smoke and scattered emptily into the air.

Ah… the song. What am I going to do?
My thoughts suddenly jumped back to the title track.

Are they really going to use my song?
Do I have to revise it again and send another guide recording?

I don’t even want to get my hopes up anymore.

—Anyway.

“Maybe I’ll just send a message and disappear.”

—That’s trashy.

“Hey.”

—Yeah, I’ve got a shoot.

“Ah, damn. This—”

The call cut off abruptly.

Trashy, huh.
Seriously…

With nowhere to direct my irritation, I exhaled it along with the smoke.

As I slipped my jacket on properly and headed back inside, I found myself hesitating again.
Should I really go eat with him?

But my hesitation turned out to be pointless—Jungwon had already pulled his car up right in front of the main entrance.

It was that sleek new sedan I’d seen last time.
Its smooth curves wrapped around a solid body, the shine flowing over it without looking flashy.

Well, Jungwon had never been someone who did this job because he needed money.
He probably made plenty of it too.

By the time I thought about sneaking back out the rear entrance, it was already too late—we’d made eye contact.

Just like before, he was in the driver’s seat, with no manager in sight.

…Fine.
We’re just eating. What could happen?

I quietly got into the passenger seat.

I hadn’t even realized I was still holding onto the sheet music and lyrics in my left hand.
I folded the paper neatly along the edges and slipped it into my jacket pocket.

If I record the guide a few more times, things should settle one way or another.
Which means I should get home soon and at least try it out on the keyboard.

Even though I could hear the engine, the car barely vibrated.
It felt like the body of the car was smoothly gliding along the road.

I sat with my arms crossed, then paused when I noticed us merging into the central lane.
Before I knew it, we were heading toward the Han River.

Only after we’d already started crossing the bridge did I ask,

“Jungwon. Where are we going?”

“To eat.”

“How far are we going?”

“You said you wanted Chinese food earlier.”

…When did I say that?

Jungwon glanced at me briefly before focusing back on the road.

His profile looked so sharply defined it was almost sculpted.
I didn’t want to distract someone who was driving, so I leaned back into the seat and tried to think it through myself.

Sunlight spilled over the rippling water along the riverside road.
As traffic slowed where the lanes merged again, it suddenly came back to me.

Ah.

I’d said it absentmindedly earlier at the office while looking over the music video schedule.
That I wanted jjamppong.

Of course it wasn’t allowed, so the manager had handed me a diet meal and scolded me, telling me not to sneak off and eat things like that where they couldn’t see.

I’d just nodded along back then.

…Did we really come all this way just to eat jjamppong?

Since I didn’t say anything, the car kept going—until it turned into a hotel near the foot of Jangchung-dong’s hills.

Lost in thought, I only snapped back when a uniformed employee lifted the parking barrier for us.

“Yoo Jungwon. Where exactly are we going?”

“I told you—we’re here to eat Chinese food.”

“No, I mean—why all the way here?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Oh… really?”

“I’ve wanted to come here for a while.”

That shut me up again.

If he wanted to come… well.
Sure, it’d be expensive, but jjamppong should be fine, right?

After parking, we took the elevator up.
It must’ve been a quiet hour—the soft lighting filled each square frame of the elevator, and no one else got on.

I found myself staring at the keypad, and for some reason, memories of that day crept back in, making my fingertips stiffen.

Before I could move, Jungwon reached over and pressed the second floor.

When we stepped out, I realized I’d heard of this place before—some cooking program, maybe.
They’d said the Chinese cuisine here was excellent.

It was one of those many places I’d thought, I should go someday, and never did.
I was always busy in a meaningless way.

Of all the places I’d planned to go, I’d barely visited any.
Of all the things I’d meant to do, it was a miracle if I even remembered them.

And now, of all people, I was here—with Jungwon.

When they asked if we wanted a private room, I shook my head.
Something about enclosed spaces felt burdensome.

So we were led to a table by the window instead.

Outside, an overly elegant garden stretched out along the hillside.
A couple dressed neatly in hanbok walked across the lawn with a group of people toward another building.

Some kind of gathering?

Then it clicked—
It looked just like that distant relative’s first-birthday party my agency CEO had dragged me to once.

Standing under the blazing sun, singing to people who didn’t even know my songs…
I still hadn’t forgotten how miserable that was.

And now, here I was, sitting face-to-face with Jungwon in a place like this.

As I unfolded the oddly folded napkin and placed it on my lap, Jungwon had already ordered—jjamppong, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, and who knows what else.

I almost tried to stop him, but figured maybe it was just what he wanted to eat.

Before long, a steaming bowl of jjamppong was set in front of me.
I just stared at it blankly.

Seeing that, Jungwon stopped the staff member who was about to serve the other dishes.
Once the staff left, it was just the two of us.

The atmosphere turned awkward.

Jungwon, who had been serving the food for me, spoke up.

“Why are you just looking at it?”

“It’s just… surprising.”

“What is?”

That you’d go this far just because I mentioned jjamppong once.

As he was serving the food, Jungwon rubbed at the corner of his eyes with his fingers.
His lashes were so thick I’d thought he might be wearing makeup, but apparently not.

He looked a little tired.

Then again, judging by his outfit—training pants and a hoodie—he must’ve been busy too.
Even if the fit was clean and wrinkle-free.

If he was tired, he should’ve just gone home and rested…
Instead, he remembered something like that.

I couldn’t just ignore that kind of effort.

I scooped up some noodles and broth with a white porcelain spoon and took a bite.

Jungwon, who had been breaking apart some expensive sea cucumber with black chopsticks, watched me closely and asked,

“Is it good?”

“Yeah.”

“Eat a lot.”

He gave a small smile before looking away, and I couldn’t even bring myself to joke around.

To be honest, it was a bit bland.
People like me, who didn’t grow up eating fancy food, are always like this.

We prefer the salty, cheap jjamppong from those 20,000-won combo sets near the practice rooms over something refined like this.

Still, the warmth spread through me, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I could breathe.

Maybe I’d been miserable from eating nothing but cold salads all this time.

Trying to hide the strange swell of emotion, I quietly ate the abalone and other dishes he kept placing in front of me.

The plate he carefully filled for me didn’t have a single vegetable on it.

Of course, maybe this restaurant—famous enough to be inside a hotel—just didn’t include vegetables…

No. That didn’t make sense.
Even Buddha Jumps Over the Wall should have vegetables in it, at least for flavor.

Which meant—

This was a very serious problem.

Especially for someone like me, who had been planning to brush off his confession and quietly disappear.