Didn't You Know?
“Didn’t you know?”
Idiot. Total moron.
He only knew the Brulem brand name—nothing about their BG line. Moo-young tapped his forehead rapidly, groaning in frustration.
The model watched him curiously.
“Did you maybe live abroad?”
“No, I’m pure Korean blood through and through……”
Aha. She paused for a moment, then nodded as if it made sense. He was still young, after all. Totally possible, right? Probably……?
“Anyway, stay the hell away from the back rooms. Better to just mingle in the crowded spots and slip out quick.”
It felt like something had smacked the back of his head with a thwack.
Jen had hinted at it, and now this woman too…… Both gave off the vibe that they vaguely knew what went down in those inner rooms.
“You knew?”
“……No way. This industry’s rotten with it more than you’d think. Rumors fly like crazy, like tabloid trash. You avoid shit because it’s scary? Nah, you steer clear because it’s filthy.”
“If there’s shit on the street, shouldn’t you clean it up?”
Moo-young rummaged in his pocket for his phone.
“Call the cops……”
The woman lightly grabbed his hand and shook her head.
“The cops? They couldn’t even get in here.”
This was a party hosted by a chaebol heir from a massive conglomerate. The guests weren’t exactly average Joes. It was like an invisible force field—no way anyone could approach.
In Korea, chaebols lived above the law.
“Count yourself lucky. If you’d gotten tangled up, you’d be in real trouble.”
Even scumbags who acted out in places like this would think twice with a solid witness. Especially someone with so much to protect. It’d surely backfire on Moo-young too.
“Keep your mouth shut. Eyes closed. Ears plugged. Got it?”
……Not really.
Moo-young scowled and glanced back down the hallway they’d escaped from. Still swirling with thick black smog. If he weren’t drunker than he was, he’d swear the place was on fire.
What the hell are they thinking, pulling that shit in a spot like this?
Joo Jeong-dan’s misfortune was strong enough to swallow him whole.
Moo-young sighed and lowered his gaze. Her ankle caught his eye. At least no cast—her sneaker peeked out under her pant leg, bandage wrapped tight around the swollen bone.
“How’s the leg?”
“Better than I thought. But no shows for a while. I was gonna push for Brulem at least, but they said it could mean limping forever.”
So that spot on the runway had been hers originally. She bit her lip, staring bitterly at the floor.
She waved and smiled at Moo-young from behind, her colleagues calling from afar.
“Gotta go. You head out too, Moo-young-ssi. Remember only the good parts of tonight’s party.”
“Ah. Wait—”
“Thanks again for back then.”
Did she know? How Joo Jeong-dan’s foot had shot out right in front of her outstretched leg.
From their chat just now, she might suspect. But like she’d advised Moo-young—no evidence, so bury it.
“Ah. No way.”
Moo-young ruffled his hair and glared back down the hall. Past those guards at the end of the long corridor, he could confront Joo Jeong-dan’s crime again. Should’ve snapped a photo. That’d be proof.
“Ugh……”
He groaned, then checked a text from Go Kyung-min on his phone.
Moo-young pushed through the crowd toward the exit. Perfume and booze assaulted his nose with every brush past someone. He scowled, firing off a reply.
Ding.
* * *
“Why’s he acting like that?”
Bora muttered to Go Kyung-min over her lunch box on set. For days now, he’d seemed totally spaced out, vacant.
“No clue. Doesn’t look sick or anything.”
“Hey. Ha Moo-young. Snap out of it.”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah? What?”
“What do you mean, what? You’re holding your chopsticks backward.”
At Bora’s words, Moo-young glanced discreetly at his hand. Then casually gripped them right and picked at his side dishes.
“Something up?”
“Nah.”
“Then get your head in the game.”
“……Yessir.”
Voice flat as day-old soda. Diet crash? Nah, didn’t seem like it.
Something was definitely off…… But he wouldn’t spill, so who knew.
At least he’s focused on shoots, no issues there. But wandering around all loosey-goosey like this? Tsk tsk. Look at those dazed eyes.
Bora clucked her tongue inwardly, scrutinizing him.
He was lost in thought, then turned to his manager.
“Hyung.”
“Yeah. Shoot.”
“What happens if a chaebol gets pissed?”
21 years old. Adult, sure, but only two years out in the real world. The weight of “chaebol” didn’t hit hard yet. Just common sense: pinnacle of power and prestige.
Go Kyung-min paused mid-bite of his egg roll.
“Why? Yoo Sa-ha say something to you?”
“Yoo Sa-ha? Why him?”
Bora, clueless on the details, whipped her head around in shock.
“Huh? Why him? He seemed super chill.”
“So why bring him up? What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“You’re asking that?”
“No! Hey! Let’s all chat!”
The company knew Yoo Sa-ha, but zilch on Joo Jeong-dan. Moo-young hadn’t mentioned the charity party encounter. No need.
Clack.
“Moo-young-ssi. Over here a sec!”
“Yeees—”
A staffer opened the waiting room door, calling him. He set down his spoon without regret and stood—looking utterly drained.
Bora eyed him sharply.
“Not like him at all. That’s not his character.”
“Yeah. I’ll watch a few more days. If it doesn’t clear up, I’ll corner him.”
No appetite lately—weight down a bit. Moo-young undid his shirt buttons, asking the director,
“This good?”
“Yeah. Nice and lean.”
Prep for the upcoming upper-body reveal scene. First time in 21 years adjusting weight for it.
Director’s OK given, Moo-young nodded blankly.
Won’t cut it with this nagging.
That phrase looped as he buttoned up. Loose ends felt wrong. Couldn’t move forward without tying them off.
Creak.
“Hyung. After this wraps……”
Moo-young opened the waiting room door. A man in the makeup chair spun around.
Bora kept munching, annoyed; manager had set down his chopsticks.
“Joo Jeong-dan-ssi?”
“Hey! Moo-young!”
“What brings you here?”
Joo Jeong-dan. Gone was the sloppy drunk from his last memory—hair and suit impeccable.
Bora and the manager gawked at Moo-young.
What the hell?
But Moo-young wondered too. He finished buttoning and introduced,
“This is Baekgoon Enter’s Executive Director Joo Jeong-dan.”
They flinched—“rep’s son!” dawning on them.
“Sorry to drop in. Called the company—they said you don’t hit the office much, shoots end who-knows-when. So I swung by. Don’t overthink it. We’re investors, after all.”
Who knows? Might toss extra cash like SJ if he liked what he saw.
Go Kyung-min laughed awkwardly at the half-joke.
“Mind stepping out a bit?”
“Uh? Oh, sure.”
At Moo-young’s request, they left. A weasel-faced guy—secretary?—nodded from nearby.
Slam!
Door shut, Moo-young sank onto the sofa. Mirror faced him—his own reflection dead-on.
“What’s up?”
“Aw, don’t be cold. We’ve met twice now. Or three?”
OK. Message received loud and clear.
Instincts screamed.
He knows I saw him that night at the private party.
Jesus. What now?
“Twice, right?”
“Nah, think not?”
Dodged, but no dice. They locked eyes.
Moo-young sighed, hands up in surrender. Fine. Might as well. It’d been wrecking his daily life.
“Yeah. Saw you that night. Came all this way to confirm? Could’ve just called.”
“I blacked out, but my buddy next to me? Eagle eyes. Haha. You know who.”
“How would I know your girlfriend?”
“Huh?”
That easy laugh hid a snake’s gaze—sharp enough to draw blood, hunting any lie.
But truth was truth. What’d he care about her girl?
“Why?”
“Ah, got it. Good. Was pretty ugly—blackout drunk.”
“Seemed like it.”
“Man, your image is…… different up close?”
“Seen all kinds in life. Was off my game lately. Why’d you even—”
Bit back the lecture. Not friends—live your own damn life.
“Whatever.”
His girl’s vague “someone came in” while he was wasted nagged. Checked every club CCTV just in case—spotted Moo-young and the model in the hall. Here he was.
Dad finds out? Three strikes.
“Heard you’re at Seoyeondae? I like smart folks. They calculate gains and losses quick—no dumb moves.”
Warning wrapped in velvet: Spill, and zero upside. Massive downside.
“Keep that mouth sealed tight.”
God, what a pain.
Moo-young just smacked his lips. As if. Solo since forever—what walls? Worst case, bolt to the States. Acting gigs everywhere.
“I’m smart, but not that quick. You trying to scare me now?”
Yeah. Fix that thickening smog coiling your arms. Look ready for hell any second.
Joo Jeong-dan burst out laughing.
“Puhaha! Kid stuff? Can’t read the room?”
“Yeeah…… seems like.”
You can’t see it either, or you’d get it…… Wanted to warn him: watch the road home.
“Yoo Sa-ha backing you?”
“Yoo Sa-ha-ssi? Why bring him up—”
Joo Jeong-dan dropped the name. Moo-young echoed it.
Shimmer.
“Huh?”
Flower pollen settled around his reflection. First time surrounded by sparkles—Moo-young grinned in wonder.
“Ahh. Yoo Sa-ha.”
Info unlocked like a rollback. Baekgoon, SJ’s mortal enemies. Clashing movie releases. Theirs had big budget……
Know who?
Joo Jeong-dan probing the girl’s ID. Celeb maybe? That one?
He called Moo-young’s name.
“Ha Moo-young-ssi?”
“Yes, Executive Director.”
“Listen up.”
Tapped his temple.
“Yoo Sa-ha? My lunch since we were kids. No match. Now he’s CEO, struts like hot shit—”
But crushable anytime he wanted.
Serious vibe, then—black smoke crept from his nostrils.
“……!”
Not a mustache—what?! First-time smog form. Moo-young clapped a hand over his mouth.
No. Don’t laugh.
“Laughing?”
“Uwaa. Sorry.”
“Crazy. For real. You on drugs too?”
“What? I can’t even stomach cold meds!”
Joo Jeong-dan shot up, glaring like he’d seen every freak.
Moo-young schooled his face, killed the grin. But cheeks twitched.
“Pour cement in that—”
“How can you say that?!”
“Mouth and seal it, fuck! Freaks everywhere. Talk loose, you’re gone. Shape up. Got it?”
Moo-young nodded furiously.
“Yes sir. Loud and clear.”
Said it, but inwardly tsked. Smog thickening—lucky not to drop dead.
Bang!
He stormed out. Moo-young casually pulled his phone.
Chaebols weren’t one-man shows in Korea. Eh, tsk tsk.
“Yoo Sa-ha, Yoo Sa-ha CEO’s number……”
Time for a taste of flower pollen!
“Found it~.”