Picking Up the Phone
“Yeonjae!”
A laugh escaped me before I even opened my eyes at the sound of that voice. The corners of my mouth lifted, and I opened them.
“Hey, An-gae.”
The black space that now felt as familiar as my own home spread out before me. An-gae came running up with a beaming smile.
“―Oof.”
“I missed you so, so much!”
An-gae clung to me like a cicada — adorable, but a little heavy. I hauled him up with practiced ease and, for no particular reason, gave him a scolding.
“You're getting heavier and heavier. What have you been eating while I was gone?”
An-gae scrunched up his nose and laughed. “Yeonjae's love?”
“Honestly.”
“Hee hee!”
He was more worked up than usual today. Not that I couldn't understand why — he must have heard every word of my conversation with Jang Junseok. Sure enough, An-gae nuzzled his face against my cheek and asked,
“Do you like me that much, Yeonjae?”
Well, well. Getting a little cocky, are we? When I gave his forehead a light bump with mine, he giggled, and I smiled brightly back at him. Wow, he really is heavy, though.
Why did they have to reflect his actual weight?
It seemed to mirror Han Haram's real body weight, because the heft of him in my arms was genuinely substantial. If I told him to get down, he'd probably be hurt. I was still hesitating over what to do when, mercifully, An-gae changed his form. Shifting from Han Haram into Seong Ijun, he took my hand and led me to the sofa.
“What you said today was so good, Yeonjae! You wrote it thinking about me, right? You're a total genius!”
“Thank you.”
“Wouldn't it be nice if we could talk like that script does!”
Tell me about it. That really would be nice. I stroked the cheek of An-gae, who was making a disappointed face.
“But I'm happy with things the way they are now. I get to see you every day, after all.”
Just like the script I'd written today — how nice would it be to talk with An-gae directly, out in the real world. But even just being able to see him every night felt like enough.
He hasn't suddenly vanished like that since that time, anyway.
The Black Stone was still lodged inside my body, and one of An-gae's hands was still black. But just as that suspicious figure I'd encountered back then had said, nothing unusual happened as long as I didn't go poking at it.
I hope it stays exactly like this.
A life of meeting An-gae every day, living with Jinbae hyung, having Euntaek and Bihyeok drop by to hang out. A day brimming with simple joys. That alone was enough to make me content.
Maybe my sincerity reached him, because An-gae giggled too. “Me too! I love getting to see Yeonjae every day!”
His sparkling eyes reminded me of pebbles at the bottom of a stream — little stones that gleamed like glass beads when the sunlight touched them. As I brushed gently over the corners of his eyes, a question occurred to me.
“Come to think of it, why do you only take Haram's and Ijun hyung's forms these days?”
He used to take Bihyeok's appearance much more often. At my question, An-gae tilted his head, then answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Because you like this face better, Yeonjae!”
“…Is it really that obvious?”
“Yep!”
The instant answer left me embarrassed. If even An-gae could tell, then everyone around me probably knew, too.
Is Bihyeok feeling hurt about it?
He did seem to have a lot on his mind lately, what with the Euntaek situation. Just in case, I'd told him again last week that he was my 'best friend,' but judging by the way he'd stuck his lips out in a pout, it didn't look like the message had quite landed.
Honestly, even his jealousy is like a little kid's.
For all his height, Noh Bihyeok was genuinely childlike. His jealousy ran surprisingly deep, and he had a possessive streak to match. Considering what he'd shown at the sports festival, it wasn't exactly incomprehensible — but lately he'd been acting in ways that couldn't be brushed off as simple 'jealousy over a friend being taken away.' As if he wanted something even closer than 'best friend.' Almost like…
Like brothers.
It had only gotten worse since things were patched up between me and Euntaek. He'd even come right out and asked whether we couldn't hang out just the two of us, without Euntaek. That should tell you something.
I did understand, though. Bihyeok had grown up as an only child, neglected by his parents. On the surface he seemed outgoing, but underneath he was quietly defensive, and he drew a firm line around anyone tied to him through work. In other words, he still hadn't let his guard down with the members he'd be debuting with.
The only friends he truly opened his heart to were me and Park Haeun. And since distance kept him from seeing Haeun often, it was only natural he'd lean all the more on me.
It's a strange feeling.
I'd only ever imagined a scenario where I was the one jealous of Bihyeok's debut group members. Who could have guessed it would turn out to be the exact opposite? It was awkward, but honestly, it didn't feel bad.
Is this what raising a kid feels like?
It was practically a textbook symptom — every parenting book mentioned children who shadowed their parents everywhere. He was hardly the only clingy kid in the world.
I suppose I should count myself lucky he doesn't have separation anxiety.
Either way, time would fix it. Once he started living with his group members in the same dorm, he'd inevitably open up to them. Someday there'd come a time when he was too busy to even think of me. And when that happened, *I'd* be the one feeling lonely.
Wow.
Just imagining it made my chest tighten with longing already. I even caught myself picturing a mother bird staring blankly at an empty nest.
…Enjoy the present, then.
Bihyeok would find other people eventually anyway. Until then, I'd savor this. Still, I resolved not to dote on An-gae and Seong Ijun's forms too much in front of him.
“Yeonjae! What are you thinking about!”
“Just spacing out for a second.”
An-gae grumbled — why would I zone out when I was with him? I patted the sulking boy's back naturally and thought, Everywhere I turn, it's nothing but kids.
The people I had to look after were far more than one or two. I even felt a bit like a babysitter.
Well, still.
The warmth of An-gae pressed against me was cozy. In the nest of my imagination, the baby birds were crowded shoulder to shoulder — and the smallest, whitest chick of them all wriggled closer.
“Yeonjae. I really, really like you…”
A soft laugh slipped out at An-gae's murmur. I whispered into his ear that I felt the same.
Turns out I'm pretty well suited for this.
The absurd thought that I'd stumbled into a second career — something other than acting — pulled an exasperated chuckle out of me.
“…You really wrote this yourself?”
Team Leader Woo's eyes were on me, gleaming with disbelief. That look — like she was staring at a con artist — drew a sigh out of me.
“I told you, I didn't write it alone. Writer Jang Junseok helped. You can tell just by looking at it.”
“No, that's exactly the point. Writer Jang *helped* — which means you still wrote it. When did you even come up with all this?”
Did it just pop into your head during the meeting with Director Choi Jimin? Or had you been mulling it over all along? Do you want to be a writer, too? Want to take some screenwriting classes?
She fired off questions without a pause, and I had to wave her down and tell her to breathe first. It was me, ironically, who was flustered by an excitement so unlike Team Leader Woo. I had no idea what had gotten into her, but there was something I was more curious about, so I asked that first.
“So — is it unusable?”
An-gae's face lit up with a smile as he'd listened to the script flashed through my mind. If it was unusable, that would be a shame. Too much to fix, even?
At my words, Team Leader Woo stared at me like I was some bizarre specimen. “…No.”
The moment she said it, I swallowed a sigh of relief.
“Then we can use it.”
“….”
Thank goodness. Then what was all that fuss about? For a second there I'd wondered if the whole thing was headed for the trash. I sighed inwardly and looked up to find Team Leader Woo wearing a sour expression.
“…? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You… ah, forget it. Talking to you would just be a waste of breath.”
Team Leader Woo avoided my gaze and shook her head. The reaction was odd, but she immediately moved on to the drama, leaving me no window to press her.
“At your script's length, we'll get five episodes out of about ten minutes. The script looks solid enough as it is, but just in case, I'll check with Writer Jang Junseok again — whether we can bring in another writer for consultation.”
“Okay.”
“We'll hand the directing to someone on our side. Let's discuss shooting after your fan meeting wraps up. I need to sit down with Director Choi Jimin first anyway.”
“Sounds good. Don't overwork yourself.”
“I won't. Anything else you want to request?”
“Nothing, rea—”
I stopped mid-sentence, catching myself on autopilot. Team Leader Woo looked up at me, surprised. “What is it?”
“It's just my own thinking, but… you could just pass it along to the PD as an idea of mine. They don't have to do it exactly the way I say.”
“Understood. Now — what is it?”
Under her prodding, I scratched the back of my neck. “There's an actor I'd like to recommend for the ghost role. He's a friend of mine…”
“Your friend? Who?”
The words wouldn't come easily. Even as I tried to speak, I kept wondering if this was the right call.
He'd do a good job, sure. It's him, after all.
But coming in through a proper audition was a different thing from coming in on my recommendation. I was the one who'd told him there was nothing to gain from staying by my side — so was it really right for me to do this?
But he really is the perfect fit, that's the problem.
Having watched his acting during the Killing Horn shoot only made me greedier. It would've been easier if he weren't my friend — then I could have recommended him without a second thought.
When I kept hemming and hawing, Team Leader Woo let out a soft laugh. “Yeonjae, I have a rough idea what you're agonizing over, but… friend or not, if the production staff look at him and see a dud, they won't cast him. So relax.”
“Still, it's not like my word carries zero weight.”
“True enough. But we're not even holding an official audition for this role in the first place. That's just how this industry works — most casting happens through connections. Practically everyone gets in on somebody's recommendation.”
And besides, it's not like that friend of yours got close to you *because* of the connections, right?
Her teasing remark left me sheepish. Because that's exactly why he did.
I thought of Seo Jio, who had approached me openly declaring he wanted to profit off my company. How would he react if he heard I'd personally recommended him with my own mouth? Would he be pleased that he'd finally gained something thanks to me, just like he'd wanted?
So this day actually came.
It stung my pride a little that things had worked out exactly as Seo Jio had predicted — but I didn't want to give up an actor so well suited to the role over something like that. It wasn't just any drama. It was a script I had written myself.
Ugh. I let out a sigh, then gave Team Leader Woo Seo Jio's name. I made sure to add a warning: this was a recommendation and nothing more — they were absolutely not to cast him without verifying his skills first.
Team Leader Woo nodded along once or twice, but when it became clear my lecture had no intention of ending, she shooed me out, claiming she was busy.
“Shall we head straight home, sir?”
“Yes.”
I climbed into the car with Jinbae hyung and pulled out my phone. It was while I was searching Seo Jio's name that the realization hit me.
Come to think of it, I had never once been the one to contact him first.
This guy really is something else.
Seo Jio was a genuinely strange kid. The loose smile, the pale eyes, the prickly edge he never bothered to hide. I thought back to our first meeting, when he'd marched up and announced to my face that he wanted to benefit from being near me — to the conversations where he'd talked, without a trace of embarrassment, about the mother who had abandoned him.
And to the dazed look on his face as he watched me act during the Killing Horn shoot.
I don't know if this is the right move or not.
I had no certainty. But regret was already too late — Team Leader Woo, efficient as ever, would already be in motion. The board was set, and he'd wanted the opportunity.
Picking up the scraps is your job, after all.
Let's see how ready you are, then.
I stared for a long while at the three syllables glowing on my phone — Seo Jio — and pressed the call button.