Burying the Past
Euntaek having been my brother—Jinbae would know that too.
It would have come up when he dug into my background.
Angae had once told me that Jinbae was quietly looking into my past. And sure enough, Jinbae gave a silent nod.
“I'll step into the other room. Take your time talking.”
Jinbae gathered a book and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the living room to us. I gestured toward the sofa.
“Sit wherever you like.”
“Just say what you want and get out.”
His voice was even colder than it had been over the phone. I swallowed a sigh and held out my hand.
“Fine. But first, can I have your phone?”
“Why do you want my phone?”
“Because you're recording this right now.”
“…….”
Euntaek's expression darkened. He glared at me, clicked his tongue, and pulled the phone out of his pocket.
“How did you know I was recording?”
“Just a hunch.”
Actually, I'd guessed.
He'd stopped swearing the moment he walked in, so I had my suspicions.
And to think he really was recording. Terrifying, honestly. I only exhaled once I'd confirmed he'd deleted the recording for good.
“Was the reason you told me to come to your place just so you could stop me from recording? What, did you think I'd hide a tape recorder in a café or something?”
“You never know.”
When I shrugged, Euntaek made a disgusted face.
“So? What's this profound topic you had to drive all the way here for and kill my recording to discuss?”
It wasn't profound at all. What I wanted to say was simple.
“Hyung, don't hold anything against Bihyeok. He's genuinely a good kid.”
“You drag me all the way to your apartment, and that's what you wanted to talk about? Noh Bihyeok?”
I answered flatly, watching the deep furrow between his brows.
“You didn't start training to be an idol on a whim either. Since you're debuting with the same members anyway, getting along with them works out in your favor too.”
“I didn't realize you'd popped out a son while I wasn't looking. When exactly did you start playing his mother? Playing house together, having a grand old time, the two of you.”
“I'm not planning to butt in where I'm not wanted. All I'm saying is—because of me, at the very least, don't treat him carelessly.”
“Hmm, let's see? Knowing you already disqualifies him. Birds of a feather, after all.”
Ha.
This conversation is going nowhere.
Every sentence he spoke twisted into a jab, and it was exhausting. The eyes glaring at me were sharper than the ones from the practice room, needling me again and again.
Maybe I should just apologize.
It wasn't a difficult thing to do. Jiheon-hyung's death had been my fault too, after all. The problem was that an apology would never land with Euntaek.
It would start with “What exactly are you sorry for?” and end with “So killing someone, and 'sorry' is all you've got?” I could see the whole script coming.
I'd like to stop talking about Jiheon-hyung too.
I wanted to leave the past alone—the part I couldn't change, no matter how much we dragged it into the light.
I wiped my face dry and opened my mouth slowly.
“Hyung, good people don't only attract good people, you know. Sometimes in life, the wrong ones get tangled up with you instead.”
“Are you giving me a life lesson right now? I'm older than y—”
“You already know it's true.”
I cut cleanly through the provocation Euntaek kept reaching for.
“Just like how someone who becomes your new family isn't necessarily a good person.”
“…….”
“And that doesn't change whether they're good or not, either.”
I met eyes brimming over with old resentment.
“It's the same with friends. Me being beside him doesn't make Bihyeok any less of a good person.”
Euntaek didn't argue back.
Figured.
This had never really been about Noh Bihyeok and Lee Euntaek in the first place. If he pushed back here, he'd be slandering Jiheon-hyung too. Euntaek, who had adored Jiheon-hyung since they were children, would never do that.
“Bihyeok has nothing to do with me. Don't take things out on him because of me.”
“……And what if I want to?”
The answer that came back was pure spite. I studied Euntaek for a moment, then rose from the sofa.
He'd been standing this entire time, so as I stepped closer, his gaze had to tilt upward.
He's tall.
He'd grown a lot since I'd last seen him. About Bihyeok's height now, maybe taller.
“What are you doing?”
As I closed the distance, Euntaek frowned in open displeasure. I quietly held my breath and met his eyes.
“Be smart about this, hyung.”
“What?”
“The person in trouble right now isn't me. It's you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to—”
“If word gets out that you were adopted and then un-adopted, who do you think ends up in the worse position?”
The words came out soft as breathing, and his pupils blew wide. I watched that change unfold, unhurried.
“The fact that I was adopted and then given back—no one knows yet. So tell me, is it really that the reporters don't know, and that's why there's no article?”
“…….”
“They don't write it because there's nothing in it for them. Touching a private citizen just makes a mess of things.”
I deliberately kept my tone indifferent. When I flicked a finger against one of the buttons on Euntaek's jacket, he flinched hard.
“The moment you debut, you stop being a private citizen. If that article drops then, who does it hurt more—a Baeksang Best Actor winner, or a rookie idol who just debuted? Think about it.”
“You….”
I knew. I knew the dissolution of the adoption hadn't been Euntaek's or his parents' fault. And I had no interest in tormenting the member debuting alongside Bihyeok, either.
That's enough of the threat.
Once I confirmed he understood, I smiled.
“So let's get along, hyung.”
“…….”
“And don't vent your feelings on Bihyeok over anything to do with me. Understood?”
Euntaek ground his teeth. I heard the creak of his jaw, but in the end, he didn't argue.
“I'll take that as an understanding.”
I hadn't expected the words got it to actually come out of his mouth, so I stepped back. The moment I put distance between us, Euntaek let out the breath he'd been holding.
“Ha… You've turned into a full-blown psycho since I last saw you.”
“You're welcome.” I shrugged.
Ignoring the glare that had grown even more intense, I handed his phone back.
“Let's have dinner together sometime next week. The three of us, me and Bihyeok and you.”
“Do I look like someone who eats meals with you?”
“Believe me, I'm not thrilled either, so calm down.”
I'd rather starve than share a meal with Euntaek. I watched him rant about having no time to waste on me with what I hoped was an air of innocent cluelessness.
“This is all your fault, you know.”
“What? What did I do?”
“The things you've said about me—did you only ever tell them to Ijun-hyung?”
“…….”
Euntaek, who had been frothing at the mouth a second ago, snapped his mouth shut. I knew it.
I made an effort not to look at him with contempt.
“Everything you've ever said about me is publishable material, hyung. The moment you debut, an article is a matter of time.”
Through Angae, I'd learned that Euntaek had been running his mouth about me to his elementary school friends.
The crack is already there.
There are no permanent secrets in this industry. If one article came out the wrong way, it would become a nightmare to untangle. Euntaek could deal with his own mess, but the group Bihyeok was about to debut in could not afford a scandal.
“Before you debut, we need photos on file.”
“……What photos?”
“Photos proving we're close.”
If the dissolution of my adoption ever surfaced, Euntaek and his family would very likely come under fire. Most people wouldn't care about the reason behind it—only that it happened. Which was exactly why it needed to be known in advance: that regardless of the past, Lee Euntaek and Lee Yeonjae were, right now, very close.
Only then, even if the article dropped, would there be some way to manage the fallout.
“Let's pick somewhere crowded. I'll go out wearing just a cap so people can take pictures.”
“…….”
“When we're out in public, don't ignore what I say. You can curse me out all you want, but when people are watching, smile a little. Just enough.”
“Ha…. Fine.”
Euntaek answered through gritted teeth.
I doubt he'll act it well.
Anyway, my business was finished there. Having confirmed I had nothing more to say, Euntaek turned his back. With an irritation-soaked flurry of movement, he shoved his feet halfway into his sneakers—then hesitated.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“So, do you… have anything else to say? Did you seriously call me here just to talk about Noh Bihyeok?”
Something else to say?
I looked at Euntaek's back for a moment, then said it simply.
“I'm sorry.”
Before the word had even finished leaving my mouth, Euntaek whipped around.
“Sorry for what? What could you possibly be sorry for.”
His eyes, seething and boiling over, were shockingly blue.
Just like they'd been seven years ago, when we'd said our last goodbye.
I looked into those eyes, which seemed to hold everything at once.
“Killing Jiheon-hyung. Hurting you. Coming back out of nowhere and making a nuisance of myself. All of it—I'm sorry for all of it.”
“……Ha.”
The corner of Euntaek's mouth curled upward.
At that angle, I could have imagined he was smiling—if I'd only kept my eyes off his gaze.
“You really are… a son of a b—”
Euntaek glared at me like he wanted to tear me apart with his teeth, then shoved the door open and walked out. With the click of the door lock, I stood dazed in the empty entryway.
How strange.
Euntaek's face, his expression, his voice—everything I'd seen for the first time in years felt unfamiliar.
Anyone watching would think…
…he was the one who'd been wronged.
The way he'd glared at me, like a wounded animal backed into a corner, was still vivid behind my eyes. I stared at the closed front door for a while, then spoke up.
“Hyung, you can come out now.”
“……Was I that obvious?”
I laughed at the sheepish voice.
“I'm just amazed you thought a frame like yours could hide.”
When I turned around, Jinbae was standing there, frozen mid-step. The instant our eyes met, he spread his arms open, and I laughed again.
Good grief.
I'd seen what he was capable of when he dug into my past—hardly a docile man—so why did he look so utterly harmless? Shaking my head, I walked over and let myself be held. The hands settling against my back were big and warm.
“Yeonjae-ssi.”
“Yes?”
“Shall I go buy you a rice cake?”
That damned rice cake.
Where did he even get that formula?
Did he think a bad mood could be fixed simply by producing rice cake? Honestly.
“I'm all right. This is better—just staying like this.”
Jinbae stroked my back in silence for a long while. And as I quietly soaked in the warmth of it, the words slipped out of me before I knew it.
“I think I'm a little depressed.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. Honestly? Maybe more than a little.”
Saying it out loud somehow made the gloom feel heavier. I worried, briefly, that I was needlessly passing my negative feelings on to someone else—but the body wrapped around me was so solid, so robotically unshakable, that I felt myself loosening up anyway.
That's Jinbae's fault, this is.
I stuck my lip out in a childish sulk and buried my face squarely in his chest. Even at my petty tantrum, Jinbae calmly went on patting my back.
“May I ask why you're feeling down?”
“I think it's helplessness.”
“Helplessness?”
I nodded.
“I like my life right now. Really. Because there are things I can do. When I do them well, everything's fine. The people around me won't get hurt anymore, and hyung will keep staying by my side.”
Meeting Angae had let me breathe again—not just because I'd learned the cause of my misfortune, but because I'd learned the cure along with it. And a cure I could shake off with my own two hands, no less.
New misfortune—I can block that now.
But the past was different. There was nothing I could do about it. Just like there was nothing I could do, even when Angae wept and begged for a body of its own.
“It was all my fault, so I just want to leave the old days buried where they are. Digging any deeper won't change anything anyway…. But of all the groups in the world, Euntaek had to end up in Bihyeok's.”
Like it or not, we'd be crossing paths a handful of times. And what if I ever ran into Euntaek's parents? The thought alone blacked out the horizon.
As I strangled a sigh, Jinbae murmured softly beside me.
“Mm… I'd love to help with that, but I don't know any way to go back to the past, I'm afraid.”
He sounded genuinely regretful, and a laugh escaped me. I was actually about to joke—can't you dig that up too, with your background checks?
“Well then, Yeonjae-ssi. How about we go do something fun? Blow off a little steam.”
“Something… fun?”
I looked up at the non sequitur, and Jinbae was smiling down at me. Those mild, gentle eyes were absolutely brimming with mischief.
“How about we….”
Everyone go watch it right now