YouTube Stardom is a Bitch #4
“Hey, you fucking asshole. Did you sleep all fucking day again after saying you were going out to drive, you piece of shit?”
The moment Han Dae-jin picked up Kim Ji-ho's call, he was hit with a barrage of curses right off the bat. Come to think of it, there were records of her calling every thirty minutes or so starting from 5 p.m.
“Ah… sorry…”
“You fucking bastard… so where the hell are you?”
Han Dae-jin told Kim Ji-ho he was in Osan. She went quiet for a moment, then said she'd grab some pizza and head over.
A little later, Kim Ji-ho showed up in a tank top that fully exposed her tattoo and hot pants. To Han Dae-jin, she suddenly looked like one of those big sisters working the rooms in some sketchy officetel brothel.
“Pizza here.”
Kim Ji-ho said that as she set the pizza box and drinks down on the officetel floor. Han Dae-jin silently unfolded a folding table and put the food on it.
While they ate the pizza, Kim Ji-ho rambled on about how her husband had taken the kid to his parents' place, asking what they should do tonight.
“What should we do?”
Han Dae-jin asked.
“You’re always hanging out at that car meet spot or whatever, Carpen. Take me with you.”
Han Dae-jin froze for a second. What the hell was he supposed to say if he actually brought this woman along? How would he explain their relationship? He agonized over it for a while, then decided to just brute-force it. “Finish the pizza and let’s head out,” he told her.
Kim Ji-ho said okay, then proceeded to wolf down the pizza she'd bought for him to eat.
Down in the underground parking lot, Han Dae-jin and Kim Ji-ho. He put her in the passenger seat of the Avante 3 (Science 3rd Unit) and slid into the driver's seat himself.
Han Dae-jin fired up the Avante 3, switched it straight to sport mode to wake it up, and peeled out of the parking lot.
He hit the Buk-Osan IC and merged onto the highway, flooring it the second he joined the main lanes. As the four-cylinder naturally aspirated Smartstream engine screamed at its limits, Kim Ji-ho's irritation kept building.
“Ah, you fucking idiot, slow the hell down.”
“Why? Road’s empty. You won’t die.”
“If I crash and die riding with you, what the fuck will my in-laws think?”
At that, Han Dae-jin sighed, eased off the gas, and shifted back to the second lane. The moment he did, a BMW F8X M3 F-body and an M2 that seemed to come flying from behind blew past.
Han Dae-jin arrived at Gimpo Coffee Special. He got out with Kim Ji-ho and walked into the cafe.
But right then, what caught Han Dae-jin's eye was a seriously bad omen.
Yoon Ha-rin chatting with the cafe owner and his wife. She gave Han Dae-jin a fake-friendly wave, but her eyes were scanning Kim Ji-ho up and down.
“Hey! Kiwi punk! Who's that next to you?”
The owner's wife said.
“Uh… well…”
While Han Dae-jin hesitated, Kim Ji-ho jumped in first. “I'm his girlfriend.”
The owner and his wife welcomed Kim Ji-ho warmly and told them to grab seats at the counter.
Han Dae-jin and Kim Ji-ho awkwardly sat down and ordered coffee. Yoon Ha-rin was sipping an iced Americano through a straw while tapping away on her phone.
“Kiwi punk, didn't you say you didn't have a girlfriend?”
The owner said.
“We've just started dating recently.”
Kim Ji-ho replied.
“Oh yeah? But damn, Kiwi punk, this is something worth bragging about.”
Han Dae-jin's heart sank. He'd been yapping around the cafe about being a lifelong singleton dying for a car-girl girlfriend, and now that alibi was shattered in an instant.
Having heard it, Kim Ji-ho knuckle-rapped Han Dae-jin on the head and glared at him.
“Hey. Did you really say that shit? Fuck, and I exist?”
“Ah, uh, sorry. We haven't been dating long, right?”
Han Dae-jin's awkward excuse. Total blatant lie, of course. This adulterous pair had been filming their trashy drama for a full two years now.
A bit later, Kim Ji-ho said she was stepping out for a smoke, and Han Dae-jin followed right after. Yoon Ha-rin, who'd just smoked, seemed to still be inside.
While Han Dae-jin and Kim Ji-ho talked in the smoking area, her phone rang from her in-laws.
Kim Ji-ho picked up with a suddenly serious face. Han Dae-jin kept watch meanwhile.
But Yoon Ha-rin, eavesdropping on their call, was hiding behind the cafe building wall near the smoking area.
“Ah, yes, mother-in-law. Yeah, yeah. Oh, your schedule changed so you're coming back soon? Yeah… got it, mother-in-law. Thank you so much for watching Miso. Yeah.”
Kim Ji-ho hung up, and a stream of thick curses followed immediately.
“What's up?”
Han Dae-jin asked.
“Fuck if I know, shit. Hubby and the in-laws changed plans, coming back soon. Fucking insane, I was gonna fuck you senseless and just slap something together for Sunday.”
“Gotta go home?”
Han Dae-jin asked at her words.
“Of course I fucking do.”
“Hey, we still got time for a quick one, right?”
“Fuck off, you psycho. If your dick gets me caught, I'll be fucking divorced. Let's go, shit, this fucking sucks, goddamn it.”
Kim Ji-ho stormed off toward the car. Han Dae-jin started to follow.
But just then, he spotted Yoon Ha-rin, who'd overheard everything.
He froze for a second, but when Kim Ji-ho called again, he had no choice but to hurry after her.
Yoon Ha-rin smirked oddly, then headed back into the cafe building.
Back at the Osan Officetel, Han Dae-jin watched Kim Ji-ho speed off in her own car before he could finally breathe and head inside.
He sat down, opened Messenger, and checked the new chat.
It was Yoon Ha-rin.
The chat ended abruptly and shortly. Han Dae-jin let out a roar and slammed his fist on the desk.
He sighed deeply and collapsed onto the bed, drained.
Jack off and crash? The thought crossed his mind, but exhaustion hit hard, dragging him back into dreams of repossessions and BMWs swirling together.
Weekday.
“Hey, Han Dae-jin. You forgot to exclude VAT on the form again.”
The team leader called over Han Dae-jin, who was working on something else, pointing out the approval document he'd just submitted.
“And Kim Ji-ho, check these damn forms properly before approving them, please. What the hell are you two doing?”
The team leader vented his near-resigned frustration at Han Dae-jin and Kim Ji-ho.
Kim Ji-ho mumbled some vague reply, Han Dae-jin gave a crisp “Got it,” and fixed the problematic document.
That evening after work, Han Dae-jin—instead of imagining Kim Ji-ho playing dutiful wife and mom—pictured the HR department head, Min Hee-yeon, straddling him and grinding her hips as he jerked off.
The harder Min Hee-yeon rocked her hips in his mind, the more frantic his hand moved.
Finally, as he came, Min Hee-yeon seemed to vanish from his head, leaving a wave of post-nut clarity in its wake.
Glamorous. Cute, innocent face. A different kind of possessiveness surged compared to the sharp-edged Kim Ji-ho, but Han Dae-jin had zero ability to claim even Min Hee-yeon.
For him, just maintaining things with Kim Ji-ho was like car noobs barely handling a BMW.
He roughly cleaned up with tissue, went back to his desk, and surfed the web while chatting with ChatGPT.
Soon, a message came from the Avante 3 Sport car girl he'd scheduled a shoot with.
Han Dae-jin said that, closed Messenger, and focused back on web surfing.
Saturday evening.
The incompetent Han Dae-jin on weekdays looked just as lame at Pada Parking.
Amid the supercars and JDMs parked under Wonhyo Bridge, his completely stock Avante 3 looked like some normie's everyday ride that wandered in by mistake.
Han Dae-jin got out, checked his YouTube action cam and batteries for the shoot, and waited for the crew.
Soon, right at midnight when the lot went free, his club buddies and the Avante 3 Sport owner girl showed up.
The Avante 3 Sport car girl had brought her buff boyfriend—probably on purpose, looking all jacked like some judo guy from her bio.
Han Dae-jin awkwardly greeted the car girl and her boyfriend first, then the club members.
“Hyung, who's that girlfriend really?”
The kid with the mapped Avante N asked.
“Ah, we just started dating.”
Han Dae-jin bullshitted.
“Heard she's married?”
Another club kid with a Veloster N chimed in.
“What? Hyung, you really dating a married woman?”
The Avante 3 Sport car girl's boyfriend asked, pretending to be all worldly, but his eyes were full of suspicion.
“Ah, seriously, it's not like that.”
Han Dae-jin said, a bit annoyed.
The mood started to freeze.
“A-anyway, we'll talk later, hyung. How're we shooting?”
The Avante N mapping kid broke the ice, and Han Dae-jin cleared his throat.
“Fuck… anyway, like we said in the group chat earlier, I'll crash the meet like randomly, chat with this red Avante 3 girl here, then film us driving together after.”
As Han Dae-jin kept briefing the shoot, the club members exchanged uneasy glances.
Is this for real?