When Yeonrok looked up Choi Hwan’s interviews, he mentioned that his favorite work was the film The Day 3.14159265359 Moons Fell from the Sky, which he debuted in as an actor.
‘What kind of weird title is that?’
Yeonrok first searched for and watched the movie. It had been a while since he’d watched a film. He’d been too busy working to watch anything recently. After all, his daily routine was coming home from work exhausted and collapsing into sleep.
First, he grabbed the comfort doll he’d brought from the orphanage and kept with him always. Then he sat on the sofa in a comfortable position, chin propped up, and watched the movie. Seeing Choi Hwan’s youthful face on screen was fascinating.
“He is handsome, though.”
As expected of an actor, his looks had been no joke even from a young age. From his forehead to the bridge of his nose to his jawline—everything was sharp without a single rough spot. His gaze staring straight ahead was intensely burning, and the ardor of youth wafted from him.
However, perhaps because he was young, even to Yeonrok’s eyes the acting had some slightly rough aspects. Though it was kind of fresh and cute? Maybe? Suddenly curious, Yeonrok searched for his age and was a bit surprised. Unexpectedly, they were the same age. Hope arose that perhaps they might get along better than he thought. However, the movie wasn’t to his taste, so he dozed off halfway through.
Just as he finished watching the movie and was coming out of his room, Choi Hwan happened to be passing by after returning from his schedule. Thinking it was an opportunity, Yeonrok called out.
“I watched your movie!”
Choi Hwan, who had been walking with tired, dragging feet, stopped and turned around. He turned his head smoothly like a scene from a movie and scrunched up his face severely.
“You’re speaking casually to me?”
“When I looked it up, we’re the same age, right? And you spoke casually to me first.”
At the rather logical rebuttal, the furrow between Choi Hwan’s brows deepened even more. He pressed his shapely lips together tightly, then crossed his arms defensively and asked.
“What movie did you watch?”
Huh? Having just dozed off until a moment ago, Yeonrok hesitated. What was it, something about moons? As if he’d expected as much, Choi Hwan snorted and turned to leave, so Yeonrok hurriedly spoke in a somewhat uncertain voice.
“The Day 3.14… Something Moons Fell from the Sky…?”
“It’s The Day 3.14159265359 Moons Fell from the Sky. How do you get that wrong? It’s pi!”
Learning the identity of the strange number, Yeonrok closed his mouth in disbelief. I mean, if moons are falling, they’re falling—why attach pi to it!
Getting the title wrong must have been quite irritating, as Choi Hwan’s face twisted severely. His expression roughly said ‘ignorant fool who doesn’t even memorize pi.’ Then, even though someone had watched his favorite movie, without showing even the slightest bit of happiness, he snapped.
“Of all things to watch, you had to watch the movie I hate the most because my acting was shitty. I’m already tired, and now you’re killing my mood…”
Then he whipped around and went into his room. Only then did Yeonrok, now fully awake, twist his face as well. People can get movie titles a bit wrong—besides, he’d memorized up to 3.14, hadn’t he? Feeling both wronged and quite disappointed, he sulked back to his room. And the next day when he ran into manager Jo Junho, he asked.
“Isn’t Choi Hwan’s favorite work of his Sky Three Moons?”
Feeling wronged, Yeonrok looked it up and found that even Choi Hwan’s fans didn’t all memorize the full title. Everyone shortened it to ‘Sky Three Moons.’
“Sky Three Moons? No, Hwan doesn’t really like that movie. He pretends for the fans, saying his first work was the most impressive and good, but he actually hates it because it’s when his acting was the worst, haha. It wasn’t even a role he wanted—the company just tossed it to him carelessly. The director chewed him out so much for not being able to memorize the title properly.”
He couldn’t memorize it himself either…! The director’s ongoing scolding had clearly extended to Yeonrok as well.
He should have asked the manager directly instead of looking it up online. While he was at it, Yeonrok exchanged phone numbers with the manager and asked about Choi Hwan’s preferences too. He apparently liked luxury brands mainly, but those were amounts Yeonrok absolutely couldn’t afford with his own money, so he bought and gave him some spotted dinosaur doll he supposedly liked.
“What’s this?”
“I heard you like this. So I bought it specially.”
Without much gratitude, Choi Hwan listlessly replied “uh-huh” and took it carelessly. The doll was found abandoned in a corner of the living room the next day, so Yeonrok retrieved it. His comfort doll suddenly gained a friend…
He couldn’t even try anything with Moon Gyeonwoo. Unlike Choi Hwan, he responded to every attempt with complete indifference. Perhaps he should be grateful that it wasn’t just him—Gyeonwoo had the same attitude toward Choi Hwan too. Yeonrok sighed.
‘What more am I supposed to do better here anyway?’
The biggest problem was that the gender of the Name Partner Yeonrok had long imagined was female. Even looking at his Name Partners, perhaps because they were men or because the first impression was so bad, he didn’t particularly develop any feelings.
Even if they became close, he wondered what was supposed to happen after that. Were they just supposed to be lifelong roommates? So right now, his mindset was nothing more or less than trying to make close friends.
The biggest problem was that Name Manifestors absolutely required physical contact after encountering their partners. Yeonrok was already feeling his condition declining. His body felt heavy and the fatigue didn’t fade each morning when he woke up. He wondered if the other three people were also experiencing poor condition like him.
There was another problem. Though not to the degree of Yeom Cheonho, who hadn’t even shown his face for over a week already, the two were often not at home. Moon Gyeonwoo, who commuted to the research institute, left early in the morning and returned at dinner time, while Choi Hwan sometimes stayed home all day but spent nights away like eating meals because of filming.
This made Yeonrok feel somewhat wronged. Hadn’t he quit his job because the secretary told him to quit, leaving only him spending his days as unemployed at home? The other three people were doing their work just fine, weren’t they? When he confronted secretary Kim Jeongseong about this, he answered with an apologetic expression.
“Of course you may engage in professional activities. However, we ask that you choose a safe profession with low risk of injury. Aren’t you a precious person with Hwamyeong? Also, like the others, whatever work you do, a dedicated security team will always accompany you.”
Though he detected no intention to belittle his occupation in the other’s words, Yeonrok inwardly felt somewhat intimidated. His words were even reasonable. If something happens to a partner, Name Manifestors live significantly shorter lives than ordinary people. Even if they’re lucky enough to live a bit longer without a partner, they suffer all kinds of mental and physical ailments their entire lives, so taking care of one’s body was correct.
At the time of his Name Manifestation, Yeonrok’s work had been carrying cargo at a distribution center. There, conveyor belts turned ceaselessly and heavy loads poured out. Naturally, backs and ligaments were prone to giving out and safety accidents occurred easily.
‘Should I be grateful they’re even looking after me when there are already three Name Partners?’
Maybe it’s similar to keeping spare batteries? Thinking such thoughts, Yeonrok browsed job search sites. He didn’t want to become a thorn in Yeom Cheonho’s side by defying him unnecessarily. It was somewhat miserable.
Though he looked around job search sites this way, it was daunting. He’d started earning money right after graduating high school. Not only were his school grades mediocre, but university didn’t particularly appeal to him and he didn’t have the financial means either. Therefore, office work, which was usually treated as a “normal and decent job,” was far from Yeonrok himself. But that was exactly the kind of work Yeom Cheonho would want.
He imagined going to convenience store, cafe, or restaurant part-time jobs with a security team attached and sighed as he closed the internet window.
***
Even though he’d found the Name Partners he’d waited for so long, in this daily disappointing and gloomy situation, the only joy was food.
“Ma’am, what’s for breakfast today?”
Yeonrok appeared in the kitchen rubbing his sleepy eyes. The middle-aged woman whose real name was Park Yeoin, called Mrs. Park, had very good cooking skills. Thanks to that, even Yeonrok, who had a constitution that didn’t gain weight easily, could feel he’d gained some weight recently.
“Oh my, Young Master, you don’t look well. You got up later than usual too—are you feeling unwell somewhere?”
“No, I’m completely fine.”
Mrs. Park strangely called Yeonrok, Moon Gyeonwoo, and Choi Hwan “Young Master.” However, only Yeom Cheonho, like Kim Jeongseong, she respectfully called “Yeom Cheonho-nim.”
“Fine, my foot! Oh, hold on. I also boiled duck to nourish the Young Masters’ health.”
Before Yeonrok, who was sitting obediently and swallowing his saliva, a bowl of carefully prepared duck baeksuk was placed. When he scooped up the rich broth and ate it, his mind cleared and his sleepiness fled. Mrs. Park looked pleased watching Yeonrok eat so deliciously.
