# Chapter 63
“If you ever want to hear my boyfriend’s perspective, just let me know. My friends are curious and want to meet him, but since we’re dating secretly, I don’t have any friends to show them.”
“There’s Baek Suji.”
“Suji knows I have a boyfriend. But even if he is my boyfriend, Suji feels uncomfortable with strangers in private gatherings. Unless they naturally became friends through work.”
Tae Igyeol completely empathized with Baek Suji’s feelings. Meeting someone for the first time in a private setting was quite troublesome, tiring, and unnecessary. Watching people laugh at things that weren’t funny while reading the room and trying to match the atmosphere made him wonder what the point was.
“If you’re okay with it, let’s have a meal together sometime, using it as an excuse.”
“I’m the same as Baek Suji.”
“Ah… Yes, right. It would be uncomfortable, so there’s no need to meet together. Still, let me know if you need anything. I’ll pretend to reminisce about the old days and ask how you felt then, or if you felt any sense of betrayal.”
There was no need to go that far. The more he listened to Shin Dael’s story, the more he realized how different it was from his situation. The biggest difference wasn’t gender but age. Hadn’t Shin Dael said it herself? That it was possible back then because they were young, and that now she would be much more cautious.
Sigh…
Teenage Tae Igyeol, what were you doing…
Reflect on yourself.
Tae Igyeol stood up with little to show for his self-reproach. Since he had the handicap of different genders from the beginning, he hadn’t expected much, and because he hadn’t expected much, there was nothing to be disappointed about. He only regretted the time wasted in vague inaction.
No, knowing Mo Eunje’s unforgiving personality in certain aspects, even past Tae Igyeol couldn’t have done anything. That’s why his one-sided love had continued frustratingly until now.
“Hmm? What’s this?”
“Let’s consider this as having had a meal together.”
As Tae Igyeol was leaving the practice room, he sent Shin Dael a family restaurant couple dining voucher. Remembering her complaint about not being able to dine out alone with her boyfriend after becoming more recognizable, he chose one that could also be used for delivery.
“Thanks. I’ll enjoy it. Oh? This can be used for delivery too?”
“Why risk another scandal by going out to eat together?”
“See? You may seem cold, but you’re not at all. Anyway, hang in there. I’m rooting for you.”
“I’m going.”
They parted in the first-floor lobby, and he headed to the parking lot. As he got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, a message came from Ban Hajun with just two characters: “Gift.” It was the photos taken earlier when Mo Eunje was showing off by demonstrating sample photos.
The two men in the photos looked like a loving couple. Even though he knew it was acting, Mo Eunje’s gaze toward him looked like that of someone looking at their beloved. The image of him wrapping his legs around his waist, cupping his cheek and nape with his hand, and making eye contact was both dizzying and distant.
Even though just two days ago he’d heard astrological advice to remain vigilant, he had no idea what to do with Mo Eunje, who was so thoughtless, lacking alertness and any sense of crisis.
&
“Gye Minho says he’s writing a web novel at the intersection cafe right now.”
After leaving the tarot shop and calling Gye Minho, Mo Eunje spoke with a deliberately casual voice as if nothing had happened. Ban Hajun, who didn’t respond, had an extremely annoyed expression. No wonder, since the tarot had not once told him what he wanted to hear.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It was just for fun, you know.”
“What do you mean it was accurate? Why did you bring me when nothing matched at all for me?”
“Ah, Eunje was wrong. Let’s go to the cafe and get some sugar. Want me to buy you some cake slices?”
“…Three. Tiramisu, cheesecake, and carrot cake.”
Mo Eunje managed to soothe Ban Hajun and headed to the intersection cafe, about a 15-minute drive away. Ban Hajun continued grumbling even while driving. After complaining for over 10 minutes about how the tarot didn’t match at all and made no sense, Ban Hajun made a quiet request.
“Don’t tell Gye Minho about this.”
“Why would I talk about that unless you mentioned it first?”
“If it was good news, I’d share it, but there’s no point in telling him. That bastard is so timid and fearful, he’ll just worry. He’s already stressed enough with his serial publication, why add my worries on top of that?”
“Who said I would? I had no intention of mentioning it.”
“Good then.”
Perhaps because time had passed and it was now afternoon, his swollen eyes had subsided. They no longer looked like people who had cried so much yesterday.
Entering the cafe, they spotted Gye Minho buried in a corner at a four-person table, his nose practically glued to his laptop monitor. He was so focused that he was typing rapidly with an expression of intense concentration, as if straining his facial muscles.
“Let’s order first and sit at the next table to wait a bit.”
Mo Eunje made this suggestion because, as a writer himself, he knew too well how hard it was to concentrate, how much loading time was needed to get into the zone, and how infuriating it was when that concentration was forcibly broken by others. Ban Hajun nodded readily as if that had been his plan too, and they went to the counter together.
After placing their order, they played rock-paper-scissors while waiting at the pickup counter to decide who would get the seat against the wall. Mo Eunje lost. After the tarot reading he’d heard at the shop, he could have gladly yielded, but he felt a belated regret that he should have just pretended to be magnanimous and given up the seat first, since he was going to lose anyway.
Soon the vibrating pager in his hand trembled, and they carried the tray with their drinks and cakes to the table next to Gye Minho. Even though someone sitting nearby would normally be noticeable despite the gap between tables, Gye Minho paid no attention and just stared at his laptop. It was truly remarkable concentration.
“What do you think about trying MiTube?”
“Is that something just anyone can do?”
Mo Eunje and Ban Hajun leaned forward and naturally lowered their voices to whisper. It seemed wiser to sit at a different table, but once seated, it felt too troublesome to move.
“Even my parents do it, so why couldn’t you?”
“Your parents’ channel is super useful. I do skin care at home while watching it.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Seeing my parents do it, these days you can shoot with your phone, edit, do everything—I’m saying you should try it too.”
“What would I do on MiTube? I don’t have any content.”
“Guys. Your whispering is actually more distracting, you know?”
Mo Eunje and Ban Hajun, who had been huddled together whispering, turned their heads. Gye Minho was resting his chin on his hand, looking at them as if in disbelief, apparently having noticed them at some point.
“Did we… break your concentration?”
“No. I finished today’s quota earlier. Since you said you were coming, I was just organizing the content I’m planning to write next while waiting.”
Gye Minho turned off his laptop, gathered his things, and moved to their table. Ban Hajun immediately showed his curiosity with a bright voice.
“Our Minho, things going well with that friend from the blind date?”
“The atmosphere seems good so far. We’ve met separately four times since the blind date.”
“Ooh. That feels promising! Four times in two weeks means you’ve been meeting twice a week.”
As Ban Hajun encouraged him, Gye Minho blushed and became shy, which didn’t suit him. He was continuing to meet comfortably with the woman he had described as his ideal type at the blind date Mo Eunje had arranged.
“If things work out and I get a girlfriend, I’ll treat Mo Eunje to meat.”
“I don’t accept anything less than Korean beef.”
“I’ll buy you rib eye.”
“Really? What’s gotten into you? Do you want a girlfriend that badly? Enough to buy rib eye?”
“Absolutely.”
Mo Eunje, who had spoken jokingly, opened his eyes wide. Seeing Gye Minho volunteer to buy rib eye, it seemed the person really was his ideal type. However, Mo Eunje wasn’t interested in Gye Minho’s love life. There was a different, truly important topic he wanted to ask about.
“GyeBokChi. I’m asking this on behalf of all readers of ‘The Regressor’s Mnemonics.'”
“As long as you’re not asking for spoilers, okay.”
“How many chapters do you have in reserve?”
“About 34 chapters?”
“What? Are you crazy? Hey, shouldn’t you at least increase your publication frequency? Do you know how hard it is to wait for the next chapter? How can you keep 34 chapters to yourself? It’s not just 3 or 4 chapters. Where’s your conscience?”
After hearing about the backlog, Mo Eunje became excited and vented his complaints, spraying saliva. He felt betrayed that each chapter ended with a cliffhanger that made readers desperately curious about the next one. Perhaps this was the betrayal the astrologer had warned him about.
“No way. If my backlog drops below 30 chapters, I get so anxious I can’t sleep until I build it back up to 30. And do you know how hard it is to write the next chapter?”
“Yes. Sorry. I was too focused on the reader’s perspective without considering the author’s position. But what can I do? I’m a reader of ‘The Regressor’s Mnemonics.’ I don’t know, I’m dying of curiosity about the next chapter. I can’t sleep because I’m so curious.”
“Seeing your reaction reassures me. It seems I’ve been keeping the story interesting so far.”
“You call that a response? I’m worried about how you’re going to resolve everything after setting it up like that!”
“Don’t worry. That’s already been decided.”
Looking at the confident Gye Minho, Mo Eunje felt proud inside. Not only was the fantasy web novel “The Regressor’s Mnemonics” really entertaining, but having witnessed up close how disappointed, struggling, and frustrated he had been after serializing his first work, Mo Eunje found Gye Minho’s current confidence so wonderful and admirable.
