“Even if you’re busy, you could’ve at least moved together... huh? Hello~!”
“...Ah, yes, hello.”
Pretending not to notice Min Jiheon’s twisted expression, I bowed a beat late and addressed the people who had also greeted me.
“...Are they your friends, hyung?”
I widened my eyes innocently on purpose as I asked, and Jiheon turned his head away slightly, as if it physically hurt him to respond.
It didn’t really matter whether he answered or not.
Friends or old theater colleagues—what difference did it make to me?
Tilting my head to the side, I continued brightly,
“So... are you hyung’s former theater colleagues? Sorry to interrupt, but would it be okay if I took Jiheon-hyung with me...??”
“Ah, uh, yes, of course! We were just about to head out too.”
“Wow~, thank you! Everyone’s been waiting forever for Jiheon-hyung to come back!!”
I made it very clear I had no intention of wasting time here. The men nodded slowly, glancing at Jiheon with lingering regret.
“Seo Hoyun-ssi, then, have a goo—...”
“—Hyung, not answering your phone? That’s too mean!”
“......”
“Do you know how long I ran around looking for you?!”
Cutting off their polite farewell, I clung to Jiheon’s arm and put on a full, dramatic performance until they finally disappeared down the street.
Once they were completely gone, I released him. Jiheon glanced at me briefly, sighed, then took a cigarette from his pocket, putting one between his lips and lighting it.
I snatched it out of his hand and threw it to the ground.
“Put that out. The smell’s gonna stick to me.”
“...Weren’t you a smoker, hyung?”
“When was I ever?”
He gave me an incredulous look—after all, based on Bring Me the Camera, he’d been sure I smoked. Then, with a frustrated expression, he crushed the cigarette pack in his hand.
“How did you even find me?”
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“...Because I didn’t want to.”
“You did earlier.”
“By accident.”
Yeah, right.
In three years, I’d never once seen Min Jiheon smoke. The acrid smell clinging to him now felt wrong—like a reflection of the turmoil inside him—and it made me uncomfortable.
“Terrible timing. Anyway, what did you want?”
Jiheon smiled faintly, his face calm.
For a moment, the image of him on the set of Before the Moon Tilts overlapped with that expression.
“Logically, it doesn’t make sense. How can someone who sees strange things be treated so normally by everyone around them?”
I couldn’t claim to know everything about Min Jiheon, but I did know his life was far more tangled than most.
Most of his problems came from people who couldn’t understand him. Humans aren’t built to truly accept what’s different from them.
Those guys earlier were probably the same type.
They’d found Jiheon’s otherworldly perception disturbing once, avoided him out of discomfort, and then, when his “difference” became useful, they’d conveniently rebranded it as “talent” and acted as though that was what they’d seen all along.
They hadn’t meant harm, but their actions had still carved deep scars into him.
“...If we’d met at the premiere, I wouldn’t have had to come all the way here.”
“I was going to attend the VIP premiere.”
Suppressing the unpleasant, stabbing feeling in my chest, I folded my arms and stared at him.
“But then I heard spoilers about the last scene from one of the Vile Trial staff I know, so I decided not to go.”
“What are you talking about?”
I raised a brow, but he hesitated, lips trembling slightly.
“They said in the scene where you kill yourself... I thought I wouldn’t be able to control my expression. So I watched it alone instead.”
“......”
“You were amazing, though. Even earlier—your acting lately’s been on another level. Feels completely real.”
All the while, Jiheon’s eyes kept avoiding mine.
“...Is this because I asked you to kill me back then?”
“I’m not blaming you. I know you didn’t have a choice. I just... still think you’re...”
He trailed off, exhaled deeply, and brushed a hand down his jaw.
“...I don’t even know anymore.”
He’d gone to see a play by the theater troupe he used to belong to, but left before it ended.
The troupe members ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) earlier had rambled about the early days, when he’d first started acting.
And I remembered the scrawled handwriting that dug into the pages of his Before the Moon Tilts script.
Lost in thought, I saw Jiheon sigh, then give a crooked laugh.
“It’s fine. It’s nothing serious. I’ll call you later, I’m just tired, so I’ll go first...”
As he turned away again, refusing to meet my eyes, I grabbed his arm. Looking straight into his pale, sunflower-like eyes, I said quietly,
“I won’t do it again.”
“......”
“Promise me.”
Then I took the crushed cigarette pack from his hand and threw it into a recycling bin in the corner of the alley.
“This stuff’s bad for you. Quit.”
I pushed the cap I’d been holding firmly onto his head, put my mask back on, and took his arm to lead him out of the alley.
He didn’t even resist or ask where we were going—just followed quietly.
Even though it was evening, Daehak-ro was crowded. The moment we stepped onto the main street, heads turned toward us.
People began swarming, phones raised, flashes bursting from all directions as they called out our names.
I nodded politely to the fans and hurried my pace, trying to escape the crowd, when Jiheon suddenly spoke.
“...You know, I’ve been thinking of making a map of the best restaurants in Korea.”
“Go ahead.”
“There are over three hundred spots on my list.”
“Good for you.”
“Wanna come with me?”
“I’m busy.”
We finally reached where I’d parked the SUV. I opened the passenger door and pushed him inside.
“...But hey, are you sure it’s fine for people to see you with me? Aren’t you going for that ‘idol with no friends’ image—ugh!”
Before he could finish, I grabbed the air freshener from the car and sprayed it right in his direction to kill the cigarette smell. Jiheon coughed violently and rolled the window down.
“Damn it! You just sprayed that on my face?!”
“Who told you to smoke?”
“I didn’t! I mean, not anymore! I quit ages ago! It was just... something I used to do back in the theater days.”
“How’d you quit?”
At my offhand question, he hesitated longer than expected before answering.
“...Uh, they said if I wanted to be a celebrity and be loved, image management was important, so...”
He trailed off awkwardly. I started the engine.
“Good thing you worked hard at it.”
“Huh?”
“You’re popular now.”
He was practically a national actor, after all.
There were countless directors and producers desperate to cast him.
I couldn’t see his expression clearly while driving, but I heard a soft thud as he leaned his head against the window, followed by a quieter voice.
“...Yeah, I guess I’m pretty popular.”
He murmured it faintly, then went silent.
An old song by a British singer-songwriter from the 1980s came on the radio. A moment later, he spoke again, barely above a whisper.
“...I like this song.”
I turned the volume up a little. He chuckled softly.
.
.
.
“Alright!! Focus up! No falling asleep!!”
By the time I dragged Min Jiheon back to the pension, dinner was already over. Everyone was sitting around, eating ice cream, while being forced to endure Jung Dajun’s lecture on “Masterpieces of Korean Drama.”
Judging by everyone’s faces—including Joo Woosung and Lim Hyunsu’s—it had gone on for quite a while.
“—So what embodies the ‘soul’ of us Korean people is exactly Before the Moon Tilts! The hand acting in Episode 8, Min Jiheon-sunbaenim’s hand acting, I swear, it’s the greatest I’ve ever seen—!”
As Jiheon removed his cap and looked around in confusion, I strode straight toward the table.
“—And in Episode 11! The trust! The love! The complex emotions expressed entirely through gestures without a single line of dialogue! That’s what makes him the best actor in Korea! A national treasure! A true maste—.”
“Here’s your masterpiece.”
“Hello—.”
“Aaagh!!!!”
Jung Dajun screamed and dropped his spoon when he suddenly found Min Jiheon standing right in front of him. The ice cream he’d been scooping went flying—only to be perfectly intercepted by Kim Sunghyun using the lid of a pot like a baseball glove.
Sung Jiwon and Kang Ichae, who had witnessed the entire scene, clapped in admiration.
“Sunghyun, that was like a pro baseball player!!”
“Reflexes are insane!”
“Sunbaenim!!!!”
Dajun scrambled to his feet and ran over, startling Jiheon so much that he blinked rapidly.
“Sunbaenim! Why are you here...? No, wait! Anyway! I have a question!!”
“Huh? Oh, sure?”
“I honestly thought you might make a cameo in Vile Trial! Ever since Before the Moon Tilts, you haven’t acted at all!!!”
Watching Dajun gush nonstop, I couldn’t help but be impressed. My own acting was still far from that level—that, right there, was the passion of a true fanboy.
I glanced sideways at the two of them while lighting the barbecue grill again. Joo Woosung quietly approached me.
“What the—so that’s where you went? You brought Min Jiheon here?”
“Is this all that’s left?”
“There’s more pork neck in the fridge.”
As he got up, Kim Sunghyun, who had been eavesdropping, jumped up and rushed off, saying he’d get it himself.
While waiting, I looked toward Jiheon—who’d finally escaped Dajun’s grip—and saw him talking awkwardly with Kang Ichae. Sensing his discomfort, I gestured for him to come over.
He shuffled closer, awkwardly, and greeted Lim Hyunsu and Joo Woosung.
“Uh... Lim Hyunsu-ssi, Joo Woosung-ssi. Hello.”
“Here, pig, grill this.”
“...Yes, ma’am.”
Just as Kim Sunghyun returned with the meat, I nudged Joo Woosung.
“Hey, Woosung-ssi, Min Jiheon-sunbaenim says he wants to join your ‘Bash Seo Hoyun Club.’”
“...Huh? Me? I do?”
“Huh? A new member~?”
Chewing on a cucumber dipped in gochujang, Lim Hyunsu responded lazily.
“The entry requirements are strict. How much did he suffer? Surely not more than me, right?”
“The name’s misleading. Every one of you has been lovingly cared for by me, hasn’t it?”
“......”
“......”
“Just look at the fact that I personally went out to bring back Min Jiheon-sunbaenim even while on schedule.”
At that, Joo Woosung and Lim Hyunsu exchanged looks—then stared at Jiheon with pity.
“...Damn, that’s rough. What the hell happened to you for Seo Hoyun to be the one taking care of you....”
“Min Jiheon-ssi, the Bash Seo Hoyun Club always welcomes new members....”
“There’s a membership fee, I’ll text you later. There’s also another member, Kim Heeyoung, we’ll introduce you at next week’s meeting... Oh, and we have regular fundraisers, so keep that in mind.”
“...What?”
Watching Joo Woosung enthusiastically tend the grill while “welcoming” the new member of Seokkamo made me want to punch something—but seeing Jiheon quietly accept the food and actually eat, I felt some of the tension in my chest ease.
Since I wasn’t really hungry, I popped a stray candy into my mouth and started heading inside the pension—only for Kang Ichae to suddenly step in front of me at the entrance, blocking my way.
“Move, bastard.”
He’d been unusually mild and cheerful lately, so I assumed he was just joking around and tried to shove him aside. But he didn’t budge.
“...?”
A chill ran down my spine.
When I finally looked up, his cold eyes met mine.
The image of him earlier, talking with Min Jiheon, flashed through my head.
His lips curved into a twisted grin.
“Hahahahaha....”
“......”
“Looks like we still have something to talk about.”
It was time for karma to strike.
