Sugar-Free Lemonade and Honest Words
"It's cold, so don't drink too much at once."
"Okay. Thank you."
The moment my glass was set down in front of me, ice clinked against it. I took a sip and tasted a cool, unsweetened lemonade. Manager Ahn Jinbae waited until he'd confirmed I was drinking before touching his own americano.
"Isn't it too sour?"
"It's perfect. It's less sweet than the store-bought stuff, so I like it even better. It must have been a hassle to make, though..."
"It was easier than I expected. I'm just glad it suits your taste."
Manager Ahn Jinbae, who had said he had something to tell me, had insisted we go up to the apartment first—and then, the moment we arrived, told me to go wash up. With that stern look on his face, I couldn't think of a way to respond, so I'd gone and washed up obediently, only to come back and find a scene I never could have imagined.
He was pulling something out of a huge container, one as big as his own forearm.
My body recoiled before my mind could catch up. It wasn't a rational decision—I simply moved. It didn't help that I'd been in a posture where I couldn't see what he was holding, which made the whole thing look far more sinister.
Actor-nim?
If Manager Ahn Jinbae hadn't called out to me, I might have walked straight out the front door. I came to my senses belatedly, approached, and looked—only to find lemon syrup. Lemon syrup with lemons painstakingly stacked into a tower, at that.
There was, of course, no red flash or ominous lump passing before my eyes. I felt silly for being sorry. I guess you really can't underestimate the power of imagery.
"I'll enjoy it. But next time, just rest. Or I'll make it myself."
"......"
It turned out he'd made it by hand over the two days he'd been away visiting his family home. He barely had enough time to rest as it was, and knowing he'd done all that work on my account sat poorly with me, so I'd brought it up—but he gave no particular reply.
Just as I was starting to wonder at his reaction being exactly the same as before, Manager Ahn Jinbae, who had been keeping his gaze lowered the whole time, suddenly lifted his head.
"Actor-nim. I'm quite hurt."
"...I'm sorry?"
At the unexpected words, I could feel my own eyes wavering.
"Honestly, I was already hurt in the car earlier."
"Ah... so that's what it was."
"......"
"...I'm sorry. Was it—"
I was about to ask if he could tell me what exactly had hurt him, but before I could even finish, he smacked his own forehead.
"Actor-nim, why are you always apologizing?"
"...Because you said you were hurt, hyung."
"Me saying I'm hurt doesn't mean you did something wrong. Hurt feelings are an emotion, Actor-nim. They don't only arise when someone is at fault."
He wasn't scolding me, but my slumped shoulders refused to straighten. So what was I supposed to say, if not an apology? That I'd never do it again?
I was racking my brain when Manager Ahn Jinbae, watching me struggle, spoke quietly.
"The reason I was hurt in the car earlier is that it sounded as though you were telling me never to interfere with anything in your life, no matter what problems arise—as long as it isn't work-related."
"......"
"That's not a separate matter. That, too, is something I need to look after. As your manager."
A bead of condensation slid down the side of the glass. Following its path with my eyes, I heard his voice come out with less force.
"I can't speak for other professions, but for an actor, it can never be a separate matter. If your health is poor or something personal is weighing on you, it naturally affects your work. So as your manager, I have no choice but to pay attention, if only to do my job properly."
"I understand."
I nodded at an explanation that finally made sense to me.
"And this lemon syrup... some people might wonder why anyone would go to such lengths. I imagine your discomfort just now comes from the same place."
"......"
"But I consider this part of my job. It's not that I'm trying to win favor with you—it's simply that creating the optimal environment for my actor to immerse himself in his acting is a manager's duty, so that's what I do."
I see. I was starting to understand what he was trying to say. So all of this was simply a manager's proper work, and I shouldn't feel burdened or uncomfortable about it.
But then what did that have to do with being hurt?
As the feeling of missing something crucial pressed in on me, the answer arrived on its own, as if to tell me not to suffer through it alone.
"Of course, that's not why I'm hurt. What I'm hurt by isn't you, Actor-nim—it's this situation. This situation where I have so many questions I can't ask."
"......"
"Forget the manager title and the job—*I* am curious about you. I'm worried about whether you're all right, and I wonder what's on your mind."
I had nothing to say. My throat had closed up completely, and I could only stare at the face in front of me.
"I have no intention of pressing you until you choose to tell me. I'm not about to casually toss out talk of counseling or treatment, either. But I'm still curious. I'm human too, after all. Being curious isn't something I need to apologize for."
"...That's true."
"Put another way—your not telling me things doesn't make you wrong, either."
His serious eyes held mine, as if to say I absolutely had to understand this part.
"I debated whether it might burden you... but it seemed you didn't realize I was genuinely curious, so I said something. If there's some reason you can't talk about things, that's fine. But if you're hesitating because you think I don't want to hear it or would find it tiresome, then you don't need to. Understood?"
"Yes. I understand."
"And when I said I was hurt, I meant it about the situation—not about anything I feel toward you. So there's no need to apologize."
The question that had finally fallen into place, like gears clicking together, earned a nod from me. Manager Ahn Jinbae, who had been watching me for a moment, smiled too.
After he threw out my fully melted lemonade and made me a second glass, the conversation flowed a little more comfortably.
"Actor-nim, that rapid breathing earlier—was that the first time it's happened?"
"No. It happened once before."
"I see... Have you considered getting a checkup?"
"A checkup? Do you mean psychiatric counseling?"
Hadn't he just said he wouldn't bring up counseling? Before the thought could even finish forming, Manager Ahn Jinbae was already shaking his head.
"No. I meant a physical examination. I've heard that hyperventilation can be caused by underlying conditions."
"Ah, I don't really have anything you'd call a condition."
"Conditions can develop at any time, though. As a precaution, I think you should get checked once—and if something like that turns out to be the cause, it's better to treat it before it's too late."
"All right. I'll get one done sometime, then."
"I'll make the appointment. And as for counseling... whenever you feel comfortable, Actor-nim."
His gentle eyes moved slowly, as if tiptoeing around even in the easy atmosphere.
"Both I and the other people around you thought at first that you should try counseling... but I suspect you wouldn't want to. And being forced into it wouldn't do much good anyway."
True enough. Since I couldn't mention An-gae, whatever I could actually say in counseling would be limited. Still, if Manager Ahn Jinbae recommended it, I'd been planning to go once or twice out of respect for his sincerity.
Thank goodness. A memory flashed past of searching the fees once, being shocked, and putting my phone right back down.
"I'll do that. Thank you for looking out for me."
"Of course. You worked hard at your training today. Now go in and get some rest."
"Okay—. Um, hyung?"
Manager Ahn Jinbae, who was standing up with his glass in hand, froze in an awkward half-crouch.
I felt a little sheepish, but... the person who'd been honest with me first deserved the same from me, at least this much.
"What you talked about today didn't feel that burdensome, so don't worry about it. But... I'm not entirely sure what it is you're curious about. I probably won't be able to tell you everything."
"I see."
Watching him nod calmly, I went on slowly.
"Still... I'll answer what I can. I'll answer most things, so, um, feel free to ask me anything. No—actually, I'll try to talk more, first."
Aside from An-gae, there wasn't really anything I wanted to hide. I simply hadn't had a reason to bring things up—not because they were meaningful enough to lock away.
Truthfully, I was still a bit dazed. I couldn't even get a sense of what he might be curious about. But I wanted to tell him that if he had questions, he could ask freely—and since I couldn't organize my thoughts, my words came out in a clumsy tangle.
The one saving grace was that, despite my awkwardness, the face in front of me looked thoroughly pleased.
"Yes. I will, Actor-nim."
It was still that formal, deferential speech—but the softening of his face felt easy and warm.
"Noona, it's been a while."
"It has, hasn't it—oh my?"
At my words, Han Seyeong turned around, and her eyes went wide. They were already big eyes, and the fact that they could get even bigger surprised me more than anything.
"What's with you? Why did you get all dressed up? You're throwing me off."
"Why? You don't like it?"
"Are you asking on purpose? Fishing for a compliment about how handsome you look?"
The moment she laughed and lightly smacked my shoulder, the tension that had crept into my body melted away in an instant. That scared me. I'd already been thinking the look was a bit much, and I'd very nearly regretted it for real.
Today was the production press conference—a formal introduction of the drama ahead of its premiere. After firing off a half-hearted reply to No Bihyuk's clingy texts—Must be nice ditching school. You don't miss me at all?—I'd entered the hotel.
The waiting room was one floor above the conference room where the event was being held. The hairstyle done at the salon felt so unfamiliar that I had a hard time fighting down the urge to keep running my hand through it.
"Waves like that give your hair a completely different feel. It really suits you."
"Thanks. You look beautiful too, noona."
"Look at you. You're going to wear my ears out."
I wondered if wear my ears out was what that expression was actually for, but I just laughed.
There was a faint scent of soap about Han Seyeong. It might just be personal taste, but it suited her far better than the heavy perfume she used to wear.
"That scent really suits you, noona."
"A scent? I didn't put on any perfume?"
"Really?"
So it was actually just soap? It was fascinating that a person could smell this pleasant without wearing anything at all. Without thinking, I leaned my head in close—then caught the slight stiffening of her face and pulled back in a hurry.
"Sorry. Startled you."
"...Keep it in moderation, will you? You're cute, but if you keep doing that it'll have the opposite effect."
"Huh?"
Opposite effect? When I asked what she meant, she just shook her head dismissively, saying it was nothing.
I watched her sit back down to have her remaining makeup touched up, but the thought kept nagging at me until I finally approached her again. When I told her I was really sorry, she gave me a look of sheer disbelief. What do I do? She really was bothered by it, huh.
"You really are..."
"I'm sorry. I'll be careful from now on. It wasn't on purpose."
When I apologized a second time, she stared at me for a moment, then said fine—just be very careful. I swallowed dryly at her slightly brusque expression.
I'd better not get anywhere near her at all. I must have gotten too comfortable with how at ease I felt. I resolved to make sure nothing like that happened again.