Goddamn it— I was working hard for my precious Noeul, and this shit happens!
“Feels nice seeing you again...!”
I barely managed to keep my face from crumpling as I looked at that perfectly groomed face that didn’t look like he’d been on hiatus for a second.
“Malang, come here.”
Even though his owner had arrived, the dog kept licking only me. Min Jiheon carefully scooped Malang into his arms, his cheeks faintly red as he smiled.
“How have you been lately...?”
“......”
“Have you... been eating well?”
Not as well as you, that’s for sure.
What the hell was with this sudden casual tone in front of cameras? The way he talked— it was exactly like reading some sappy 2 A.M. text from an ex.
I knew I should keep my image clean during filming, but—
“—That’s a wrap, thank you everyone!”
“Ahhh, wait, wait!”
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Even if he was a senior in the industry, fans already thought Min Jiheon and I were friendly—thanks to shows like Bring Me the Camera and Before the Moon Sets—so maybe I could get away with treating this as a joke.
I genuinely tried to walk off set to head home, but Jiheon grabbed my arm.
“Ahaha... You’re really just gonna leave like that? It’s been so long~.”
“I came here to meet Noeul.”
“I am Noeul.”
They seriously need to put a lock on those open applications....
I swallowed a sigh.
He wasn’t here as a real fan, obviously. He must’ve gotten an offer to appear for some promotional synergy since Vile Trial, the movie I’d filmed, was slated to premiere next quarter.
After piecing that together, I scrunched my nose exaggeratedly for the camera, pretending to be playful.
“You didn’t even apply yourself. Other fans write letters.”
“Oh, that thing....”
Jiheon smoothly wound up the leash dragging on the floor and slipped it into his pocket, chuckling.
“I did write one.”
I wanted to dismiss it as a dumb joke, but every staff member behind the camera was beaming like they were watching a romance drama.
Then, rustling in his back pocket, Jiheon pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper.
“Hello, I’m actor Min Jiheon, a dream-filled man in his thirties—”
Apparently, this was his “proof.”
Reading it aloud in that precise actor diction of his, Jiheon made the staff’s eyes turn into hearts. Even the main camera director—an older man with a son in college—looked like he’d fallen in love.
“...—Hoyun always adds one last word even after eating plenty, and when we argue, instead of comforting me, he just goes home coldly... but I like that quiet kindness he only shows to people close to him. It’s hard to get over him.”
What the fuck. What did this bastard watch during his hiatus?!
Oblivious to shame, Jiheon continued reading, voice thick with emotion. Then he lifted his gaze from the page and looked straight at me.
“...—That man with the angelic smile... is he happy now? I hope he meets someone who loves him even more than I do....”
“......”
“...P.S., I miss him.”
And then, as if holding back tears, Jiheon tilted his head up toward the sky. In that short instant, his eyes genuinely glistened.
Passersby who’d gathered to watch—realizing it was being filmed—gasped audibly.
I wanted to go home. Now.
“Ah, what’s wrong with me today? Sorry...”
Jiheon wiped at his soft cheeks with the back of his hand. I forced a crooked smile and shoved him lightly by the back.
“Let’s just... go, Min Jiheon sunbaenim. Let’s do everything you want.”
I hurried my steps. Jiheon tilted his chin so that the camera caught his left profile at a 45-degree angle and muttered, “Still weak to tears, huh...” like a line from a cheap drama.
It had been barely ten minutes, and I already felt a migraine coming on.
“Let’s eat and part ways.”
“Don’t say the word ‘part’ again...”
Ignoring that, I hailed a taxi and got in. Of course, he followed me in without hesitation. We headed to the restaurant the staff had picked—pet-friendly, naturally.
With those slick, greasy eyes darting around the place, Jiheon finally fixed his glimmering gaze on me.
“...What.”
“......Here.”
“.......”
“This is the restaurant I said I loved most—where I wanted to go with you... I only mentioned it in passing, but you still remembered....”
Persistent bastard.
I racked my brain but couldn’t recall him ever saying that.
I simply pushed the menu toward him, my tone flat.
“Min Jiheon sunbaenim, what are you talking about? You like gamjatang.”
“...Huh?”
Jiheon blinked, suddenly snapping out of his melodramatic trance.
“...Well, yeah, I do. Did I ever say that before?”
“......”
Oh, right. That must’ve been from his Actor Tycoon interview.
“You said gamjatang was your favorite back when we did that variety show together.”
“...Hmm, did I?”
After thinking a moment, Jiheon scanned the menu and ordered only one dish. Knowing his usual appetite, that was bizarre—but since he’d always cultivated this mysterious aura, I didn’t comment.
“So... that person treats you well?”
“......”
No idea what kind of roleplay he was attempting, but he was seriously getting on my nerves while the staff practically squealed over the views this would bring.
Some even looked genuinely touched, as if they hadn’t planned this entire setup themselves.
Can’t you just eat quietly for once...
My appetite was dead.
Keeping my expression neutral, I focused on the crème brûlée served for dessert—until the main PD, completely absorbed in the atmosphere, threw out a question.
“So, how was your first impression of each other?!”
“Ah... hmm, honestly, Hoyun wasn’t exactly my type at first.”
Was... was this some new variety show trend—having a “heart-to-heart confession” in front of the person themselves?
“I like people who really understand me on a deeper level. I’m sure Hoyun didn’t like me much at first either, right?”
“I did. You were my type.”
“...Huh?”
Silence fell.
For the first time all day, Jiheon lost his audio.
“Just—physically.”
To be fair, my first impression of him had been awful. A brat the CEO flaunted around like a trophy—it pissed me off so much.
“...Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not just saying that for the cameras?”
“Why keep asking if I already said yes.”
Annoying.
I poked at my crème brûlée with my spoon and looked up. Jiheon stared at me, eyes wide in disbelief.
Probably because for the last three years every time we’d met, I’d called him “Pig Jiheon,” “Get lost,” or “Crazy bastard.”
As I studied his baffled face—part indignant, part surprised—I realized this was the only moment during filming where he looked genuinely thrown off.
“...Ah.”
A slow, angelic smile spread across my lips. Jiheon sensed danger and quickly turned his head away.
But his ears were still wide open.
“...If I wasn’t your type at first, that means I became your type later.”
I let my voice drip with honey.
“Still true?”
***
“Ah, I feel nauseous, can’t eat much...”
Says the guy who then ordered four servings of gamjatang, two of pork cutlet, and four patties of tteokgalbi.
Despite whining that I’d “bullied him for two hours straight,” Jiheon looked radiant as he wrapped up Meeting Your Favorite. He handed Malang to his manager and then clung to me again, begging to go eat.
“Our Jiheon, still a pig. Nice to see you haven’t changed...”
“Please, I’m gonna cry. Stop.”
Dragged unwillingly to a gamjatang restaurant, I sat down while Jiheon gleefully slurped the broth.
He looked healthy, at least.
After Before the Moon Sets, he’d vanished for over six months. When I’d seen him during a cameo visit, he’d been gaunt—he must’ve gone through hell.
Since then, he’d only surfaced through the occasional CF.
WH Entertainment clearly left him alone—he was already a top-tier actor.
“You unemployed?”
“No, I’m a home protector. I protect my home.”
“So, unemployed.”
The man who once claimed he’d die without acting looked surprisingly peaceful now.
“You’ve been busy, right? Honestly, at the awards show I thought you were done for, but you’re flying higher than ever.”
“You watched Song Camp?”
“Who didn’t? The articles said you’re Korea’s finest youth idol group.”
Jiheon grinned like an idiot as he spoke.
“And I heard you’re heading to the U.S. soon? Gonna be hectic.”
“Not just for a while—probably for good.”
“For good?”
Mid-bite of radish kimchi, he tilted his head.
“What, you’re just gonna wrap up everything here and never come back?”
When I only stared at him, his brows slowly drew together at the silence.
“What... what’s with that look?”
“......”
“Wait—no way. You’re not planning to stay there, are you?!”
This bastard, always quick to catch the smallest slip.
Clicking my tongue, I took a sip of water. Jiheon gaped, then burst out.
“Why?! The guy who fought tooth and nail to come back here?! I’m so shocked I lost my appetite.”
“Shut up.”
He dropped his chopsticks onto the table with a clatter and let out a sigh.
“...Can people really change this much....”
I haven’t changed at all.
But instead of saying that, I just looked him over and said quietly,
“You’ve gotten to a point where it’s okay even if you’re not acting.”
“......”
The man who once said he couldn’t rest or the darkness would swallow him whole—now looked... stable. Maybe he’d found a way to cope.
Caught off guard, Jiheon muttered softly,
“...I hate perceptive people.”
“Me too.”
He smiled faintly and fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist.
“...Yeah, guess you do mellow out with age....”
“......”
“Well, if you’re staying, that’s good for me. I’d miss you if you suddenly disappeared again.”
“Get attached twice, and you’ll be screwed.”
“Exactly. I’m already dying of it.”
Laughing, Jiheon drained the rest of the broth straight from the pot, then stood. As we stepped outside, a wave of glances followed.
“You look good these days.”
I rubbed my ear, pretending not to hear. Jiheon slipped a black cap onto my head and murmured quietly,
“Don’t mean to jinx it... but don’t let your guard down.”
“......”
“Not everything goes smoothly forever. You know that better than anyone.”
I do.
That’s why I’m being careful.
I shrugged and gestured for him to get lost. Jiheon grinned.
“See ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) you in the States, then.”
“States? Why?”
“You didn’t know? I’m flying out too.”
I watched his lively retreating back for a second, then headed straight for the company. There was a scheduled meeting with the management team to discuss Music TV Awards Live with the members.
During the briefing, someone mentioned Jiheon’s own U.S. schedule—he was going as a luxury brand ambassador.
Since The Dawn would be there around the same time, they suggested maybe asking him for a short Vile Trial support video if we happened to meet.
“Hahaha! Wouldn’t that be great?”
“......”
Stop. Please stop talking.
That old Actor Tycoon trauma was starting to resurface in Kang Ichae again. His expression froze over, icy cold.
When the meeting finally ended and we stepped into the hall, I glanced at Ichae—his jaw tilted slightly, lips curling.
“...Funny.”
“......”
“Let’s see them try.”
...Fuck.
No. Absolutely not. I had to make sure those two never met.
