Chapter 11
“Come on, let’s be real—I’ve got way more friends than you. I probably know all of yours, but you don’t even know half of mine, do you?”
“Yeah. I don’t.”
“……Fine. Go have fun with your friend I’ve never even met.”
Mo Eunje pouted dramatically, spinning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he caught Tae Igyeol calmly pulling a pair of cream-colored pants from his meticulously organized wardrobe. The guy had an obsession with white pants—over 80% of his collection was some shade of white.
Mo Eunje wasn’t about to waste a shower and freshly styled hair by staying in all day. If Ban Hajun’s birthday party hadn’t fallen through, he could’ve taken a million photos. It was a crime to look this good and have no one to show it to. After a beat of indecision, he wandered into the living room and dialed Gye Minho, his fellow heartbroken comrade.
—Hey, I called because I didn’t want my shower to go to waste.
No hello, no small talk—just straight to the point. It was their usual routine. Six years of friendship, seven if you counted the awkward pre-friendship phase.
“So what’s the plan?”
—Bring your laptop. Let’s hit a café and work.
“You’re out of your mind….”
Mo Eunje flopped onto the sofa, his head lolling against the armrest. No matter how he adjusted, it wasn’t comfortable. Nothing compared to using Tae Igyeol’s thighs as a pillow.
—Mr. Mo Eunje, the novelist. You’re famous enough to write whenever you feel like it because you got lucky with your looks, but I’m just a web novelist grinding out serializations to pay the bills.
“What do you mean ‘just a web novelist’? Aren’t web novelists raking it in these days?”
—Eunje, wake up. In any industry, the top 1% take it all.
“Fine, then at least tell me what you’re working on.”
Gye Minho had enrolled in creative writing with one goal: to serialize web novels. While Mo Eunje prepped for contests, Gye Minho launched a fantasy novel—only for it to flop spectacularly, averaging a measly 30 views. And 29 of those readers were probably bots. The one real reader? Mo Eunje. After that disaster, Gye Minho swore never to reveal his titles again.
“But Minho, let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t get famous just for my looks. My writing got recognized first, and then my face got leaked, and—oh, coincidentally—I happened to be good-looking. Is it my fault I’m handsome? If you’re jealous, just admit it.”
—Wow. Did you trade your conscience for a lollipop? Don’t you remember? Right after you won, your photo leaked, and suddenly people who’d never even read your stories were flooding SNS with your pics, hyping you up like crazy.
“So what’s the title of your new serialization?”
—You’re at Tae Igyeol’s, right? I’m already out. Take a taxi—it’s less than 10 minutes. Meet me at the café on the first floor of the intersection.
They volleyed back and forth until Gye Minho dropped the location and hung up first. Mo Eunje hauled himself off the sofa and shuffled into the alpha room to grab his laptop. He didn’t have anything urgent to write, but after turning down a string of commissions, a restless itch had settled under his skin.
“I’m heading out.”
Tae Igyeol, draping a trench coat over his arm, barely glanced up as Mo Eunje passed the alpha room. The study’s glass walls were transparent, so the whole space was visible from the hallway. Mo Eunje, clutching his laptop and tablet, gave a half-hearted wave in return.
***
By the time Mo Eunje reached the café at the intersection, Gye Minho was already camped out in a corner, laptop open. Mo Eunje had no idea why he’d dressed up so much for a work session. He slid into the seat across from him, decked out in his usual colorful tracksuit—green zip-up over a yellow T-shirt, red sweatpants—and grinned.
“Wow. You look like a traffic light.”
“You say the dumbest things. Do you know why traffic lights are red, yellow, and green? Because it’s the prettiest color combo. And what about you? Got a blind date or something?”
“You never set me up, so why rub it in?”
“Would you go if I did?”
“Blind dates stress me out—I never know what to say. But a group thing? I’m down.”
“So you just want to fill seats without putting in any effort.”
Mo Eunje and Gye Minho had eerily similar dating habits. Both had been in a few relationships, but none lasted past three months. Gye Minho would rather bury himself in fantasy novels than endure repetitive dates, and Mo Eunje found hanging out with Tae Igyeol way more entertaining than dating.
“But why’d you come alone? Where’s Tae Igyeol?”
“Said he had plans.”
“Of course. So my Eunje got ditched by his butler and called me instead….”
“Ditched? What ditched? I called you before he even made plans.”
“If that’s your pride talking, it’s not working.”
Gye Minho’s brutal honesty stung, but Mo Eunje, ever shameless, just shrugged.
“Why bring pride into this? I did call you first, and then Tae Igyeol made plans.”
“Come on, be real—have you ever called me first when you were with Tae Igyeol?”
“Why would I call you when I’m with Tae Igyeol?”
Mo Eunje blinked, genuinely baffled by the question.
“Ugh……. You need to retire from being Tae Igyeol’s stand-in. It’s exhausting.”
“Stand-in” was Ban Hajun’s nickname for Gye Minho.
“Stand-in? Our thighs alone are totally different.”
“Wow. Random attack. What do thighs have to—”
“They matter. Anyway, iced Americano, right?”
Mo Eunje left Gye Minho reeling from the abrupt defeat and headed to the counter. He ordered an iced Americano for Gye Minho and a peach iced tea with an extra shot for himself.
***
An hour into their laptop stare-down, Mo Eunje took off his glasses and stretched. He wore non-prescription blue-light blockers to fend off screen fatigue, but Tae Igyeol teased him for looking like a dork in them. Ban Hajun, green with envy, had called it “pretentious intellectual cosplay.”
“Hey, isn’t that Tae Igyeol?”
Mo Eunje, who had already polished off an iced Americano and a milk crepe cake, was about to order tiramisu when Gye Minho shoved his phone in his face. On the screen was a photo of actress Shin Dael—and Tae Igyeol, not exactly with her, but lurking in the background of her selfie, mid-conversation with someone.
“This totally looks like they’re together, right?”
“Seems like it… but where’d you get this?”
“Shin Dael just posted it on her SNS. I set up alerts for her uploads.”
“You still have a thing for Shin Dael?”
“Still? I’ll love her forever.”
Gye Minho sighed dreamily, eyes half-lidded. Mo Eunje scrunched his nose like he’d smelled something foul.
Shin Dael was an actress who’d signed with Taeyang Actors last year. She’d been a relative unknown until the agency snapped her up, but her first film under them—a role where she chopped off her long hair into a bold pixie cut—catapulted her to stardom overnight. Critics had hailed her as a “serious actress” who’d finally found her groove.
“Ugh, I’m so jealous of Tae Igyeol. If my dad were a CEO, I’d be living the dream. Instead, I’m stuck defending useless jerks all day…. But since this photo just went up, he’s probably still with Dael, right?”
“So?”
“So we should video call him! And get her autograph!”
Gye Minho bounced in his seat, buzzing with excitement. Mo Eunje clicked his tongue.
“Tae Igyeol would never take your call. Remember how Baek Suji begged him for a year to get an autograph, and he ignored her the whole time?”
“Wait, seriously? Isn’t Tae Igyeol close with Baek Suji?”
“Baek Suji’s close with Iden. They did that teen drama together. Tae Igyeol just nods at her when they run into each other.”
Tae Hyunseok, Tae Igyeol’s father, always dragged him to Taeyang Actors’ events, insisting he needed to “get his face out there” since he’d end up working for the company anyway. Mo Eunje had tagged along a few times, but after he started shamelessly asking actors for photos and autographs, Tae Igyeol banned him, calling it embarrassing.
“But if he’s with Shin Dael privately, they must be close, right?”
“Tae Igyeol wouldn’t meet up with someone he’s not close to.”
“So they are close.”
Mo Eunje had heard Tae Igyeol mention Taeyang Actors’ stars before, but Shin Dael had never come up. At last year’s end-of-year party—the one Mo Eunje attended after swearing not to fanboy—he was the one who chatted with Shin Dael, while Tae Igyeol hadn’t even glanced her way. It was weird that they’d gotten close enough to meet privately.
“Wow. He’s really not picking up.”
“Of course not.”
Gye Minho tried video-calling Tae Igyeol four times, but he didn’t answer once. Then Mo Eunje’s phone buzzed with a message.
***
Gye Minho [5:33 PM]: Tae Igyeol, please, just once…
Tae Igyeol [5:33 PM]: No.
Undeterred, Gye Minho tried calling again. After two more failed attempts, he switched to Mo Eunje’s phone—but Tae Igyeol ignored that too.
Tae Igyeol [5:37 PM]: Why do you keep spamming me with calls?
Gye Minho [5:38 PM]: Aren’t you with my goddess Dael right now?
(Attached: Shin Dael’s selfie with Tae Igyeol in the background)
Gye Minho [5:38 PM]: This is my dying wish—can’t you just pick up once?
Gye Minho [5:38 PM]: Please……
Gye Minho [5:38 PM]: This is the first and last favor I’ll ever ask of you.
Tae Igyeol [5:39 PM]: You’ve already asked me for way too much.
Gye Minho [5:39 PM]: Igyeol, please, just this once!!
Gye Minho [5:39 PM]: Hyung, I’m begging you.
Gye Minho [5:39 PM]: I miss my goddess Dael…
No more replies came. The only unread message was from Ban Hajun, who was probably still filming, so Tae Igyeol was definitely ignoring them.
After watching Gye Minho grovel, Mo Eunje sent a warm message to Tae Igyeol’s younger brother, Tae Iden.
Mo Eunje [5:40 PM]: Yo.
Tae Iden [5:40 PM]: Eunje hyung!!!
(Attached: wagging dog emoji)
The reply was instant, as if he’d been waiting.
