# Chapter 93
In a relationship with Tae Igyeol, he must not break free from the constraints of friendship. Any emotions that might have been latent without his awareness must be killed.
“That may be true, but wasn’t your debut work about that friend too? I first learned about gumbo as a dish from reading your novel.”
“Your imagination is something else, hyung. I just borrowed the concept for the story from that friend. We’re like brothers, practically family. Wow, I feel sick just thinking about it.”
“Alright. If that’s not the case, then I’m glad. It’s better to be careful with anything.”
Jang Jiha nodded with a slight smile. Eunje was about to emphasize again that they were really not that kind of relationship, that their parents had been friends even before he was born, and that they just had a special friendship, but he pressed his lips together. It was because the idiom “strong denial is affirmation” came to mind.
Strong denial is affirmation.
It was a phrase that made Mo Eunje think many thoughts.
“I heard from a journalist I know that something’s about to blow up with Seong Giha soon.”
“Writer Seong? Are you close with him too, hyung?”
Although it wasn’t a pleasant person to discuss, Eunje was grateful for the change of topic and reacted as best he could.
“Not exactly close, but I’ve seen him a couple of times with others at drinking gatherings.”
“But you don’t drink, hyung.”
“I don’t drink alcohol, but that doesn’t mean I don’t attend drinking gatherings.”
“That’s unexpected. I thought you disliked those gatherings too.”
“I do dislike them, but I still go. Anyway, I’m glad you never ask me to drink.”
Jang Jiha laughed as if stating the obvious. Suggesting alcohol to someone known not to drink was, by Mo Eunje’s standards, inconsiderate and lacking in manners. Besides, there was no need to drink just because they were meeting after a long time; they could eat a meal or have tea instead.
“I prefer drinking with friends too. It’s tough being the youngest at drinking gatherings.”
“Being the youngest is better than being treated like a designated driver. It’s also tiring to sit there sober listening to people ramble when they’re drunk.”
“Ah…”
“Anyway, at first Giha was very friendly, calling me ‘hyung, hyung,’ so I was nice to him, but when I saw him behaving in ways that made me cringe when drunk, my authoritarian hyung instinct kicked in and I scolded him a bit.”
“I see…”
Now that the topic had completely shifted, Eunje was no longer curious about Writer Seong Giha’s story. So instead of asking what happened, he just nodded and showed a measured response that didn’t exceed the bounds of politeness.
“But even if you try to be careful, habits don’t just disappear, right? He said he was sorry and wouldn’t do it again, but it seems he’s really gone and done it this time. It’s amazing the others have put up with him until now.”
“Yes, it’s going to get noisy soon.”
Even while responding with apparent sincerity, this kind of conversation made him uncomfortable. It would be awkward even if it was just gossip about someone else, but Writer Seong Giha happened to be a student of Kwon Jiyeon, who was Eunje’s mentor. There’s a clear difference between officially learning about something established as fact and hearing about it separately in a private setting. He couldn’t cut off the words of a senior and hyung, so he listened, but since the conversation seemed to be winding down, now was the right timing to change the topic.
“By the way, hyung, you mentioned you stayed in a residency leased through the literary support program when preparing your recent poetry collection, right?”
“Yeah. I included 60 poems in this collection, divided into 4 parts with 15 poems each. I wrote the second part at the residency.”
When he had talked with Tae Igyeol in Busan in April, if Igyeol had shown any discomfort, Eunje had decided he would go to a residency, and through Kwon Jiyeon’s help, he might have entered through additional admissions and could have met Jang Jiha. Looking back now, he should have gone to the residency then. If he had, he wouldn’t be facing this crisis now.
“What’s it like there?”
“Have you never stayed in a residency?”
“No. I’ve received recommendations a few times, but for about two years after my debut, I had too many schedules to enter, and after that, I was too stressed about new work to even consider it.”
Even without that, the alpha room in Tae Igyeol’s house, which was set up as a study, was the best workspace. That’s why, even during busy times with many activities, he’d gone to Igyeol’s place to write short stories that had been commissioned. But now he needed to find a different workspace since he was too conscious of Tae Igyeol to even sleep properly.
“It’s better than you might think. Meals come regularly, it’s easy to concentrate, and you can build friendships while feeling a sense of camaraderie with other writers there. You’ve been writing for three years now, right?”
“It’s my fourth year since debut, but I haven’t quite reached a full three years yet. I’ll complete exactly three years in early July this year.”
“Then it’s understandable that you have stress about new work. If your previous work did well, there’s the pressure of needing to succeed again, and if it didn’t, you worry about making a living.”
In that respect, Mo Eunje considered himself objectively lucky since he was making a sufficient living from his novels. Among writers he knew, though not closely, there were some who had to stop writing because they had to work to deal with financial difficulties. It’s just not widely known, but there are quite a few literary people with such stories.
“When you’re already stressed and burdened, and then add the pressure to write something, I ended up trying to escape reality but also developed insomnia.”
“So that’s why your name wasn’t seen in quarterly journals for a while? Struggles are inevitable in the process of becoming experienced from being a novice. If that’s the case, trying a residency might not be bad. There are plenty of writers there with similar concerns.”
“Wouldn’t that make me more depressed?”
“Well, that depends on the person, doesn’t it? From what I saw, more writers seem to find direction after constructively talking with others. They comfort each other knowingly and unknowingly.”
It might be somewhat comforting to know that he’s not the only one with such concerns. If finding a house immediately was realistically impossible, he was inclined toward entering a residency for about a month to write commissioned short stories while being temporarily separated from Tae Igyeol.
“I’m going to look into it, but if you see any recruitment announcements, please share them with me.”
“I don’t think there are any right now. Residency programs run only a few times a year at most.”
“That’s true.”
“Eunje-ya, don’t feel too burdened. Once a couple more works go well and that becomes your average, once you’re on a certain trajectory, you’ll naturally become psychologically stable.”
“Yes… Hyung, if it’s okay, could you let me stay over tonight?”
It bothered him that Tae Igyeol kept sleeping on the sofa. Even without saying anything, it was painfully obvious that he was doing so because Eunje might be uncomfortable. There’s a limit to being shameless; he couldn’t just take the bed for an entire week without feeling anything.
So on the third day, he deliberately pretended to sleep on the sofa, but instead of simply covering him with a blanket, Tae Igyeol had carried him carefully to the bedroom as if handling very thin glass that must not break. Since he didn’t have the courage to ask directly why Igyeol kept sleeping on the sofa, after that day, he had occupied the bed first with a feeling like holding a wet lump of cotton.
For the sake of that damned love, it broke his heart every time he saw Tae Igyeol recklessly taking risks and pushing himself, when he could have chosen the safest and surest method. The past week had been absolute hell.
“Letting you stay over is fine anytime…”
“Thank you. It’ll be the first time I sleep at your place, hyung.”
“Eunje-ya, did you fight with that friend?”
The same question that his mother had asked came from Jang Jiha’s mouth. It seemed that’s how older people perceived it.
“No, we didn’t fight. I just want to hear more from you, hyung.”
“I don’t think I have much more to tell you… Ah, there are people I can call.”
“People you can call?”
“I know a noona and a younger guy who had exactly the same concerns as you. It would be more helpful to hear from them than from me. Good timing, they were both shocked after reading your book ‘Class Villa.’ It would be good for you to inspire each other. I wonder if they’re available today…”
As they were talking, all ten plates were served, and Jang Jiha made calls to unknown individuals and set up appointments. Mo Eunje patted his full stomach and headed toward Tae Igyeol’s house in Jang Jiha’s car.
Upon entering the passcode and going inside, he found that Tae Igyeol had returned home. He had planned to stop by Ila Actors if Igyeol wasn’t home, but it seemed they had arrived around the same time as Igyeol was still in his outdoor clothes, not having changed yet.
“Here’s your phone.”
“Thanks.”
After receiving his phone from Tae Igyeol, he went into the alpha room to grab Jang Jiha’s poetry collection that he had bought the day before yesterday. As he was heading to the entrance, Tae Igyeol, who had been sitting on the sofa, approached and blocked his way with his imposing figure.
“Eunje-ya. Let’s talk.”
“Sorry, I need to go out again. Jiha hyung is waiting downstairs.”
“Where are you going?”
“We were talking about work and it got lengthy. There are also people he wants to introduce me to.”
“…”
Tae Igyeol stared at him with deeply sunken eyes. Meeting those eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say that he was going to stay overnight. It felt like he was doing something terrible to Tae Igyeol. However, rationalizing that Igyeol was the one who had first broken the taboo and done something he shouldn’t have, he forced himself to speak.
“I’m staying out tonight. I’ll sleep at Jiha hyung’s place and come back tomorrow.”
“Staying… at that person’s place…”
Tae Igyeol muttered slowly in a low, sinking voice as he touched his chin. For a moment, Mo Eunje’s heart tingled and pulsed anxiously.
