Chapter 9: An Unwanted Reunion

‘Let’s keep FrMon only until I get my first paycheck.’

For now, he couldn’t take down his FrMon listings because he had no steady income.
Fortunately, after BraveSeal777 left a five-star review, inquiries began trickling in.

Over the course of a week, Seon-yul completed two additional commissions, and his rating rose into the four-star range.
Of course, one of those was BraveSeal777’s second request.

[BraveSeal777: Hello, Voice Actor. About the last recordi—]

[BraveSeal777: I hit enter wrong….ㅜㅜ…]

[BraveSeal777: Hello, Voice Actor. Thanks to the recording you did last time, I was able to sleep soundly. I’m contacting you because I’d like to commission you again. This time, the volume isn’t large. Please take your time recording and mind your throat health.]

Now that he’d started a part-time job, it would’ve been troublesome if he had to pour in as much time as before, but thankfully, the script was short.

Once again, BraveSeal777 said it was for sleep.
No matter how severe his insomnia was, Seon-yul was glad that his voice could help.

Seon-yul created two files—one spoken softly in his natural voice, and another whispered like ASMR—and sent both.
When he told him to listen to whichever he preferred, BraveSeal777 replied with another typo-filled message, insisting he couldn’t accept this as-is and that he’d pay extra.

The enthusiasm was almost excessive, making Seon-yul a little embarrassed, but it didn’t feel bad.
Of course, since it was goodwill, he didn’t accept the money.

[★★★★★ (5 stars)

I commissioned you again because I loved the previous recording.

Once again, you delivered more than I asked for.

Your warm, heart-stirring voice—your skill speaks for itself. It’s unquestionably top-tier.

I honestly don’t know if it’s okay to receive this level of quality at this price.

Thank you so much. Please take good care of your health, and I hope to work with you again.]

“Kh.”

Seon-yul’s cheek twitched as he recalled BraveSeal777’s review.
The self-esteem that had been worn down countless times cautiously lifted its head.

Yeah, I am pretty good.
A good voice, solid skills….
His shoulders naturally straightened.

“Seon-yul~ One of the floor staff didn’t show up today, and we’ve got a lot of customers. Could you help out on the floor just for today?”

“Serving? What about the dishes?”

“We can do dishes later. Serving’s urgent right now… I’ll pay you time-and-a-half.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Seon-yul immediately took off his rubber gloves and tied on a server’s apron.

In terms of physical labor, serving was much easier than dishwashing.
The only reason he’d applied as a kitchen assistant was to avoid dealing with customers, but after days of nonstop dishwashing, his back and shoulders were starting to ache.

And with higher pay on top of that, it was hard to refuse.
It’s just one day—what could happen?
Thinking lightly, Seon-yul headed out to the floor.

“Hey? Kang Seon-yul!”

The moment he pushed the serving cart into Room No. 2, where a group was seated, he regretted it.

“Wow, it’s been ages. You disappeared—no word whether you were dead or alive—and you’re working here now?”

“…Yeah. Long time no see.”

Among casually dressed men and women, a man in a navy suit alone greeted Seon-yul familiarly.

Hiding his discomfort, Seon-yul greeted him back and began serving.
The man scanned Seon-yul up and down as he moved briskly.

“Tsk. You should’ve just gone into modeling. If I had a face like that, I wouldn’t have wasted it.”

“Modeling, my ass….”

“Well, I guess that field’s pretty strict too. Might’ve been tough for you. What about voice acting? You quit altogether, right?”

At his words, the people around them brightened with interest, clearly curious who Seon-yul was.
Before Seon-yul could answer, the man clicked his tongue sympathetically and continued.

“Yeah. Clinging to something that won’t work just eats away at you mentally. You guys too—if you think it’s not your calling, quit early. This industry’s not easy. Getting in as a voice actor isn’t the end—you’ve got endless competition just to survive. Got it?”

“Yeees….”

As the man looked around, prompting a response, the others answered softly, glancing at Seon-yul.
Nodding gravely, the man then pulled out his wallet.

“Hey, Kang Seon-yul. Take this. A tip.”

He handed over a ten-thousand-won bill.
When Seon-yul shook his head, the man shoved it into the pocket of his apron.

“Come on. What’s friendship for? Take it.”

“Nam Dong-gi.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t think we’re close enough to talk casually. Stop pretending, eat your food, and leave.”

At Seon-yul’s annoyed tone, cracks appeared in the man’s gentle smile.
He glanced sideways, becoming conscious of the others’ gazes.
It seemed he’d intended to show his superiority in front of the aspiring voice actors he taught, but things hadn’t gone as planned.

“H-ha ha. Calling it pretending hurts. We’re YBS 14th class—golden cohort, remember?”

At the word cohort, Seon-yul let out a hollow laugh.
Hearing words like friend or cohort from this man of all people was absurd.

‘We were close once.’

Nam Dong-gi, Seon-yul’s peer and classmate, had drawn considerable attention from the moment he joined.
His parents were mid-career actors, and he himself had been a child actor who voiced the young protagonist in imported animation.
Among clueless newcomers, he stood out.
But that attention didn’t last long.
Before long, evaluation was based on skill—not background or looks.

Even among peers who’d survived brutal competition to get in, Seon-yul stood out undeniably.
As the younger Seon-yul received high praise, his peers grew close to him while revealing their inferiority complexes.

Nam Dong-gi was one of them.
The difference between him and the others was that while most acknowledged it honestly and improved, Nam Dong-gi didn’t.

He pretended to be kind, pretended to look after others, pretended to be different—then turned his back the moment Seon-yul fell.
There was no way Seon-yul could feel good about him.

“Let’s forget the past. You’re a grown man—still sulking over that? Oh, and Yejin noona contacted you, but you didn’t answer? Hey, you should at least pick up when she calls. After that incident, she still looked out for you so much. She even got a bad rep because of it—”

“Hey. I’m busy. Keep it short.”

Standing with his arms crossed in front of the empty serving cart, Seon-yul cut him off.

At the firm boundary, Nam Dong-gi’s face gradually reddened.

When he finally fell silent, Seon-yul slid open the door.
Just as he was about to push the cart out, he paused, as if remembering something.

“You gave a tip, so I’ll take it. Thanks.”

After tossing that out, Seon-yul closed the door and dragged a hand down his face.
He’d acted confident, but honestly… it was humiliating.
Of all people, why did it have to be Nam Dong-gi who saw him like this?

“Geez, Seon-yul. Smile a bit. If you look like that, customers’ll be too scared to talk to you. Use that handsome face of yours~.”

Already not blessed with a gentle expression, and now stiff on top of it, he drew the manager’s nagging as he passed by.
Forcing the corners of his mouth up, Seon-yul went around the tables.

Thankfully, Room No. 2 never pressed the call button again.
When the group finally finished and came out, they glanced at him, but Seon-yul didn’t look their way.
Nam Dong-gi paid and left without saying another word.

“Haa.”

His shoulders sagged as the tension drained away.
Now that Nam Dong-gi knew, it was only a matter of time before word spread among their peers that he worked here.
But he couldn’t quit a job he’d only just secured.

“You’re great at dishwashing, Seon-yul, but you’re hopeless at serving. Didn’t you say on your résumé that you’d done a lot of it? Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone mistake jajangmyeon for yangjangpi. Normally I’d deduct it from your pay, but I’ll let it slide this once. Don’t tell the others~.”

After making a basic mistake on the job, he got scolded again.
He hadn’t been able to focus since Nam Dong-gi left.

The manager wrapped an arm around Seon-yul’s waist and kneaded it casually.

Feeling uncomfortable, Seon-yul shoved him away.
The man just shrugged as if to ask what the problem was and brushed past.

‘Was I imagining it?’

They were both men—it had to be his imagination.
Only after finishing the piled-up dishes once the floor was cleaned could Seon-yul clock out.

On the way home, he searched Nam Dong-gi’s name on a portal site.
A heavily edited photo—almost unrecognizable—appeared with his profile.

Scrolling down, Seon-yul found a blog post titled, [“Sun and Moon Voice Academy—With Instructor Nam Dong-gi of YBS’s Golden Cohort!”]
He searched for the academy where Nam Dong-gi taught.

It was only two blocks away from the Chinese restaurant.
If the academy was next door, it wasn’t just Nam Dong-gi—other voice actors were likely to come eat there too.