“Ugh.”
The moment he opened his eyes, an overwhelming wave of muscle soreness crashed over his entire body. It felt like the day after a night march in the military.
The long-forgotten memory resurfacing made Hwi-gyeom’s brow furrow. There wasn’t a single thing from his time in the military he wanted to revisit.
Hwi-gyeom felt around his eyelids with his fingertips. The puffy, squishy texture was unsettling. Every time he blinked, he felt something off — he was almost afraid to look in a mirror.
Giving up on moving, he looked around. The room had a luxurious interior. The curtains were drawn, and only the lamp on the nightstand was lit.
“Nngh……”
Hwi-gyeom propped himself up on his elbows and pushed himself to sit. The moment he did, a lightning bolt of pain shot from his tailbone all the way up his spine, and he twisted the sheets in his fists.
The memory of the particularly rough sex with Seo-jin surfaced. They’d been pressed up against the door the whole time despite having all this space — no wonder his body was in this state.
Where did Kang Seo-jin go.
Hwi-gyeom narrowed his eyes at the absence of the man who’d put him through all that, then quickly relaxed his expression. The urge to use the bathroom hit him all at once, and he practically crawled out of bed. The plush carpet spread across the floor meant he didn’t need to actually walk.
He made his way painstakingly to the bathroom, took care of business, and then moved to the sink. The moment his eyes met the man in the mirror, he was startled.
No, this face……
The face that had seemed like it could survive any humiliation was now swollen up like a freshly steamed bun. Eyelids that looked like two glutinous rice cakes had been stacked on top of them, red and chafed skin around the corners of his eyes, and lips that had puffed up like sausage.
He glanced down at his half-exposed chest. His upper body was covered in marks — red bruises that had already turned a deep, angry blue. It seemed Seo-jin had devoured him quite thoroughly while he was unconscious.
The traces left on his body were a testament to a relentless possessiveness. The kind that would never share another person or an object — and yet, co-sponsoring Hwi-gyeom with others was a bit of a mystery.
Hwi-gyeom turned on the cold water, washed his face, and took out a individually wrapped toothbrush to brush his teeth. His body was at least clean, thankfully. It seemed Seo-jin had washed him out of what little conscience he had. Not a single drop of cum left inside him either.
After washing up, he felt hungry. He’d been rustling around in the bathroom for a while, but there wasn’t a single sign of anyone outside.
What time is it.
With a wide yawn, Hwi-gyeom looked for a clock. The one sitting on the nightstand read 10 in the morning. It was Tuesday, so Seo-jin would have already left for work.
Where did my phone go.
Hwi-gyeom stumbled out of the room on unsteady legs and searched for his missing phone and clothes. He found what he was looking for on the living room sofa. As he was sitting down, he noticed several checks sitting on the table. Money Seo-jin had left behind like payment.
If this were his actual body on the line, he’d have felt degraded enough to tear up — but Hwi-gyeom’s lips split into a grin. Seo-jin hadn’t disappointed him today, either.
Not 100,000 won checks — five checks for one million won each. Hwi-gyeom folded them neatly with a blissful expression and tucked them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
Checking his phone, there was nothing urgent to deal with. He ignored the message from the head of his agency. It was another reminder not to upset Seo-jin’s mood. Instead, Hwi-gyeom checked the notification that had popped up on the YeonStar app.
narinari_ Oh wow, thanks for the friend request!
It was a message from Na-ri, someone he’d gotten close with when he went to audition for a drama. He tapped into Na-ri’s feed. There wasn’t a single photo of Na-ri herself — it was packed entirely with photos of ThirTease’s Hye-ryeong.
Hwi-gyeom’s own feed, on the other hand, was still completely bare. His profile photo was set to the default, and both his following and follower count stood at 1.
He turned off his phone screen and got up, rubbing his palm against his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything since the snack at the shop yesterday, and the hunger was sharp. On top of that, he was thirsty.
Wandering through the room — as vast as an apartment — in search of something to eat, Hwi-gyeom discovered a meal laid out in the dining room.
Moments like this made it hard to call Seo-jin a complete bastard. He’d left a lot of money, made sure there was food to eat, and had even personally cleaned the body he’d dirtied.
Mood softened by the delicious smell, Hwi-gyeom pulled out a dining chair and sat down. A dull ache radiated from his lower back and hips, but the sight of food made him feel like he might actually survive.
He lifted the cloches one by one. Brunch-worthy dishes emerged. Cream soup with mushrooms, French toast topped with a pat of butter, an omelette filled with real crab meat — not imitation — a green salad with black olives and cheese, and a glass of orange juice thick with pulp.
Hwi-gyeom took a first sip of the juice, and his face flooded with something close to reverence. He’d never had orange juice with pulp this substantial before. There wasn’t a hint of artificial flavor — just intensely sweet and refreshing. His mouth filled with saliva on its own.
For a while, the only sound in the dining room was the quiet clinking of cutlery. Hwi-gyeom scraped every last bit off his plates and stood with a thoroughly satisfied expression.
Full and drowsy, he grabbed only his phone and crawled back under the covers. He planned to enjoy every last bit of a room he would never set foot in on his own dime.
The mattress was worlds apart from the one at home. It felt almost like floating on water. If it wasn’t too expensive, he’d want one for his place too.
With a full stomach, sleep crept up on him steadily. He still had a slight fever lingering, and he fell into a deep, heedless sleep. When he opened his eyes again, it was already 2 in the afternoon.
Rubbing his eyes and pushing himself upright, Hwi-gyeom spotted a text message on his phone and let out a shout.
“Oh my god!”
His eyes trembled with emotion as he read the message. It was from the production team of a drama.
This is Sun Ye-eun, casting director for the drama ‘Seoul Lonely Night.’ I’m reaching out regarding the role of ‘Cha Da-on’ you auditioned for. Following our internal meeting, you have been confirmed as the lead. Congratulations. Would you be available for a call today?
Holy shit.
Hwi-gyeom had received countless rejection messages over the years.
Thank you for your participation. Unfortunately, we were unable to move forward together. We hope to see you again under better circumstances.
Every time, the word “unfortunately” would spin around in his head. If my looks had been just a little better, would this message have been different? He’d thought that over and over again.
On the chance that it might be an acting ability issue, he’d practiced furiously whenever even a sliver of free time appeared. The number of films and dramas Hwi-gyeom had analyzed over the years had long since crossed a thousand.
He had pressed forward with the singular conviction that someday, he too would become someone like them. Even after receiving a terminal diagnosis, he couldn’t let go of his attachment to acting.
Hwi-gyeom bit his lip, and tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. He missed Yi-hyun so much all of a sudden. Of course, he’d gotten in on his own acting merits — but if it hadn’t been for him, even getting a shot at the lead audition would have been nearly impossible. His agency head would have done everything in their power to stop it.
Hwi-gyeom pressed his knuckle against the corner of his eye and rubbed, then winced at the stinging pain before breaking into a breathless little laugh. He raised his phone up with both hands and kicked his feet against the bed.
I can finally debut!
He had always given everything even when doing extra work, but it never felt like enough. Every time he saw lead actors surrounded by countless cameras, he had clenched his teeth and wanted nothing more than to stand in that place.
He couldn’t wait to become Cha Da-on. To step into that role and pour out in front of the camera all the passion for acting he’d never been able to release.
He thought back to the day of the audition. He hadn’t let it show, but he had genuinely envied Hye-ryeong — smiling so happily, surrounded by so many fans.
Perhaps one of the reasons Hwi-gyeom had longed for a career as an actor was the love of fans. Not knowing who had given birth to him, having grown up without a single relative — maybe that was why he had grown up carrying a sense of emptiness inside.
He wanted to be loved. He was curious what it would feel like to receive unconditional affection from someone.
The orphanage where Hwi-gyeom grew up was ordinary. The director and the staff all did their best. But the affection they could give was limited, and Hwi-gyeom was not a child who particularly stood out.
An average face and an unremarkable personality had made him a child with no real presence. Hwi-gyeom had always had to grow accustomed to being pushed to the back.
He had always wondered what it would feel like to have someone genuinely in his corner.
That was why he had envied famous actors. The idea that there were people who would cheer you on unconditionally, simply because you were doing what you loved.
In truth, he hadn’t even dared to hope for fame. Back then, he had just thought — it would be enough if even one or two people genuinely rooted for me.
He steadied his trembling heart and stared down at his phone. It was only a phone call, and yet he was already so, so nervous.
