Chapter 57
“Should we start when Tae Igyeol arrives, or should we just start now?”
Ban Hajun, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, gave Mo Eunje a choice. Normally, he would have listened first out of curiosity, but today Mo Eunje wasn’t relaxed enough to hear the same story twice while offering sympathetic responses. So, with an ice eye mask on, he only moved his mouth to reply.
“Let’s start when Tae Igyeol gets here. I’ll try to reduce the swelling around my eyes in the meantime.”
“…I want an iced Americano.”
“Order delivery.”
“Not delivery. I want one made by barista Mo Eunje.”
“Hey…”
“You don’t want to? Too bothersome? I’m not asking for an einspänner or latte art with steamed milk. Is it really that difficult?”
Ban Hajun criticized him with a voice full of hurt. When Mo Eunje slightly lifted the ice eye mask to glance at him, he could see Ban Hajun’s eyes glistening with tears.
“Hey, why are you about to cry again… Stop, stop it right now!”
Mo Eunje removed the ice eye mask and got up, pretending to comfort him, but having cried himself to exhaustion earlier, he was emotionally drained despite his genuine concern for Ban Hajun. After diving onto the sofa, silently screaming while pounding and kicking the air in a tantrum, Mo Eunje reluctantly got up.
“Fine, I’ll make it. Happy now? What’s so hard about putting in a capsule and adding ice and water? Just wait. I’ll make you a damn good one. But you have to stop crying after you drink it.”
He went to the kitchen, inserted a capsule into the coffee machine, and filled three tumblers with ice and water. Wanting to lie down as soon as possible, he moved with mechanical but practiced hand movements, and soon completed one iced tea with an extra shot and two iced Americanos. As he returned to the living room to hand Ban Hajun his Americano, Tae Igyeol emerged from the bathroom after a shower.
“I made yours too. Come and drink it.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Tae Igyeol approached, took the tumbler, and sat on the sofa. Mo Eunje gulped down about half of his iced tea, then climbed onto the sofa and laid his head on Tae Igyeol’s thigh. Ban Hajun, with puffy fish-like eyes, frowned, making his already unattractive face even more so.
“Now that Tae Igyeol’s here, let’s start.”
“Hey, do you two really have to be in that position? This is serious! Or should I just let loose a flood of curses first before starting?”
“…You, go away.”
Mo Eunje ordered him out with a hurt expression. Apparently, it worked, as Ban Hajun downed his Americano in one go and immediately got to the point without delay.
“My parents want me to quit acting.”
“…What?”
“They said knowing when to give up and let go is also courage, and that I should stop being stubborn.”
“…”
Facing such a serious matter, Mo Eunje momentarily left the comfort of Tae Igyeol’s thigh-pillow and sat up. It was no wonder Ban Hajun had cried until his eyes were puffy—Mo Eunje could understand his pain to the bone.
“They said if I keep being stubborn, they’ll not only cancel my card but cut off all support.”
Among the four friends, only Ban Hajun lived with financial support from his parents. Tae Igyeol made money through stocks, and Mo Eunje and Gye Minho were financially independent from their parents thanks to their royalties, but Ban Hajun had been living relatively comfortably using his mother’s credit card. Now, on top of facing strong opposition, he’d been hit with this sudden threat.
“If they were going to oppose it now, they should have made me quit earlier, or they shouldn’t have let me start in the first place. Acting is all I’ve ever done, all I know how to do. What am I supposed to do now…”
While most people stop taking lessons after entering an acting and film department, Ban Hajun had been diligently continuing his acting lessons to this day. From the day Mo Eunje first met him until now, he had never once seen Ban Hajun skip a lesson. Regardless of his acting skills, that showed how serious he was about acting. However…
“They said if I’ve been acting for 10 years since middle school and I’m still like this, it’s not just a lack of talent, but a complete absence of potential. So I should stop wasting time and come to my senses.”
“…”
“Is that what parents should say to their son? I follow along even for bit parts in group shots where you can barely make out my face, desperately trying to catch one opportunity, working my ass off—why do they carelessly crush someone else’s dream? Do they think I’ve ever asked my mom and dad to even get me a background role?”
Ban Hajun’s voice began to break with tears. Sorrowful tears streamed down his already swollen eyes. Mo Eunje handed him an entire box of tissues and exchanged glances with Tae Igyeol. Tae Igyeol seemed equally at a loss, sighing and brushing back his wet hair.
Mo Eunje understood Ban Hajun’s unwillingness to give up on a dream he hadn’t even had a chance to fully pursue, but he could also understand the realistic concerns and decisions of Ban Hajun’s parents, who as a film director and drama writer probably knew more than anyone about actors. So Mo Eunje had no idea what words to use or how to comfort him—he felt completely helpless.
“I’m not even asking them to help me… Just… just to watch over me… Is that… is that… so difficult… for my parents…”
Ban Hajun’s words broke off as he tried to swallow his sobs. Mo Eunje, also choked up, got down from the sofa to sit face-to-face with Ban Hajun and held his hand. Having received genuine comfort earlier when Tae Igyeol held his hand this way, Mo Eunje wanted to share that comfort with Ban Hajun. He hoped that the warmth of their clasped hands would convey feelings that couldn’t be fully expressed in words.
Soon after, Ban Hajun burst into full-blown tears. Mo Eunje firmly held Ban Hajun’s hand with his right hand while extending his left arm to embrace him, as if telling him to cry as much as he needed. As Mo Eunje patted Ban Hajun’s back, his own eyes filled with tears.
&
“Should we just let him sleep?”
Mo Eunje, sitting at the dining table eating castella, nodded toward Ban Hajun who was asleep on the sofa. Across from him, Tae Igyeol, reading an economics book, also glanced toward the darkened living room sofa. After pouring out his sorrows for a long time, Ban Hajun had fallen asleep, exhausted from crying.
“Why?”
“I’m wondering if we should wake him for dinner.”
“Just let him sleep. He’ll get up on his own if he’s hungry.”
“What should we do about our dinner?”
Somehow it had already grown dark outside. Just as no one can bear or take responsibility for another’s life, Mo Eunje’s fear about his new work, Tae Igyeol’s alleged one-sided love, and Ban Hajun’s precarious dream—all of these were burdens each had to bear and take responsibility for themselves.
“How about chicken and beer on the terrace?”
“Sure.”
Tae Igyeol nodded. Mo Eunje opened a delivery app and ordered one boneless fried chicken and one seasoned chicken mixed with supreme sauce. Concerned that the doorbell might wake their soundly sleeping friend, he added the building entrance passcode and asked for the delivery to be brought to the rooftop. After ordering from a chicken place five minutes away on foot, a system message appeared saying it would arrive in 17 minutes.
“Do we have beer? Should I go buy some?”
When he asked Tae Igyeol, who was looking in the refrigerator, he replied that they had about eight cans left. Mo Eunje lowered the kitchen light intensity and pulled the blackout curtains over the living room windows that overlooked the rooftop. He grabbed four beer cans and headed to the rooftop terrace. While Tae Igyeol turned on the lights inside the canopy, Mo Eunje left the external door connecting to the emergency staircase open so the delivery driver wouldn’t be confused.
“Where do you want to drink?”
Although he wanted to drink at the fixed table under the canopy, Mo Eunje chose the movable table in the center of the rooftop, concerned that their voices might leak into the house if they got too loud. The May night breeze, still carrying some warmth, felt cozy.
After they sat down, Tae Igyeol opened a beer can and handed it to him. They clinked cans meaninglessly as if making a toast, and after taking a sip, Mo Eunje glanced at Tae Igyeol tentatively.
“What is it? If you have something to say, just say it. Don’t pretend to be cautious.”
“Can we… continue the conversation we were having in the car earlier?”
“…”
Instead of answering, Tae Igyeol met his gaze calmly. Somehow, Mo Eunje felt pressured, as if he needed to say something. With Ban Hajun going through trials and crying his heart out over a major life issue, perhaps he had failed to read the room and brought up something inappropriate.
“Well, we don’t have to talk about it now… Let’s talk whenever you feel like it. If you’re frustrated, don’t suffer alone—you can talk to me anytime. Even if I can’t solve it, I can listen. Like the teacher said earlier, sometimes just talking about it can be a relief.”
Though he couldn’t make Tae Igyeol’s one-sided love come true, he could listen with all his heart, sincerely and earnestly. If that helped ease his troubled mind even slightly, Mo Eunje was willing to listen for days on end.
“When did you say your contract with that agency ends?”
Seeing him change the subject, it seemed Tae Igyeol didn’t want to talk about it now. If so, there was no need to probe into those tender feelings. Mo Eunje was curious, but Tae Igyeol would tell him someday, so it seemed better to set aside his curiosity for now.
“I remember being offered a 5-year contract initially, but I can’t recall how many years we actually agreed on… I consulted with your uncle about it back then.”
“If it had been my father, he would have advocated for you and told you to shorten the period.”
“Ah, right. Companies typically want long contracts, but he said from a contractor’s perspective, it’s better to sign a short contract first, assess the company’s treatment and working style, and then renew.”
“So exactly how much time is left?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Check your contract. Find out exactly when it ends.”
Despite grumbling about the hassle, Mo Eunje dutifully turned on his phone screen. While drinking his beer, he went to his photo album to find the captured PDF file of his contract.
“It ends in August. They’ll be bringing up contract renewal talks soon.”
So that’s why…
That explained why the agency CEO, who usually only sent messages two or three times a year during holidays and year-end, had personally called the day before yesterday. On the surface, it was a courtesy call, but in reality, it was groundwork for a contract renewal. Not that it was necessary—Mo Eunje planned to keep renewing as long as his career as a novelist continued. That is, assuming Tae Igyeol didn’t join Taeyang Actors and start a parallel writer agency.
