Yoo Sinju opened his eyes, the memory of that day — the deepest wound of his life — still fresh in his mind.
After that, Yoo Sinju had been discarded alone in a foreign country. There was financial support enough for basic living, but leaving a child that young without a guardian was no different from abandoning him. His movements were restricted so he couldn’t do anything out of line, and they made sure he couldn’t easily meet anyone. It felt exactly like being cast away on a deserted island, completely isolated.
It wasn’t so different from being trapped in that mansion on the outskirts of Seoul with his mother. The one difference was that he was truly alone. He spent his days by himself in a house where nothing but silence circled. There, Yoo Sinju grieved from the betrayal, then seethed, then resented — and that was how he endured one year, then two. Anger became resentment, and sometimes resentment became longing, endlessly stoking the bitterness inside him — and yet, at the same time, hollowing him out.
Living that way, hating that person relentlessly, he came to a realization. He didn’t even know the man’s name. Back then, names hadn’t mattered — his every nerve had been wholly consumed by that person. Someone he’d wanted to be family, wanted to be a hero, wanted to be salvation, wanted to be his one and only — a being he could only call a god.
He grew up cursing that version of himself, thinking him pathetic. Never again would he live that way. He would never give his heart to anyone, never even hope for anything. Since being abandoned was something he was sick to death of — he would become the one who does the abandoning. And if they ever met again, he would be the one to cast that person aside.
He had lived his life grinding his teeth against that thought. As if it had become the very engine of his existence, he waited for that day — and to make it happen, he debuted as an actor, built his standing, grew his wealth, became someone no one could look down on.
It was around the time that, too, was beginning to wear him down. When he was growing tired of hatred itself, tired of cultivating himself just to keep hating, tired of living hard and relentless — it was precisely then that the man reappeared, like something out of a lie.
Suddenly. Right before his eyes. Like a dream.
“You’re awake? God, I genuinely aged ten years.”
The moment he opened his eyes, the first thing he heard was Director Cha’s voice, exhaling with relief. Only then did Yoo Sinju realize he was in a hospital room.
“Things were quiet for a while and then suddenly this happens again.”
Director Cha pressed a hand over his chest, steadying himself. Hyperventilation had come over Sinju a few times before, but it wasn’t exactly common. If anything, losing consciousness from panic attacks was more frequent — the kind of hyperventilation where his breath cut out only surfaced under extreme stress.
“Did you use again last night?”
Director Cha asked, pressing his fingers to the corner of his eye as though nursing a headache. Yoo Sinju blinked slowly and answered with something else entirely.
“…That person.”
It was hard to put that name on his tongue — the name he hadn’t known his entire life. Moon Heesung. He’d only learned those three characters by overhearing him introduce himself to someone else. Three characters never directed at him. Even that felt like something to resent.
“Who?”
Director Cha didn’t catch on immediately and asked in confusion. Yoo Sinju looked away and answered.
“…Him. The new one.”
“Ah, Heesung?”
Yoo Sinju’s eyebrow twitched at the familiar way he said it.
“Hey, Heesung saved your life.”
The unexpected reply made Sinju’s brow knit together.
“What?”
“He handled it well — treated you right there on the spot when you stopped breathing.”
“……He did?”
Caught off guard, Yoo Sinju only then recalled the moments before he’d lost consciousness. The touch of his hand at his lips. Those eyes twisting in an anguish that mirrored his own. The moment their foreheads had pressed together out of concern. Sinju — Moon Heesung’s name nearly slipping through in his mind — swallowed hard, pushing down whatever was surging up inside him.
“Oh, and that jewelry. He actually found it.”
The next piece of news made Yoo Sinju flinch.
“I’d heard about the whole thing from Yanggu yesterday, and when I called and gave him an earful about it, he said confidently he’d find it — so I was just watching and waiting, thinking, well, maybe.”
“…….”
“And he actually found it.”
“……How…?”
“Apparently one of the part-timers came sneaking back in the early morning.”
Yoo Sinju turned to look at Director Cha with a deliberately blank expression.
“Some part-timer doing odd jobs outside the set — seems they spotted it without thinking and pocketed it.”
“…….”
“They must have seen the chaos on set, then crept back in the early hours when everyone had cleared out to put it back — and our Manager Moon caught them in the act.”
Director Cha corrected himself from “Heesung” to “our Manager Moon,” and went on with obvious pride.
“Didn’t I say so. My eye for people is unmatched.”
“…….”
“The more you look at him, the more capable he is. That man.”
Director Cha shook his head in disbelief, laughing despite himself.
“On top of that, it sounds like there was even a physical struggle while catching that part-timer.”
“…What?”
“You know what genuinely impressed me?”
Director Cha launched into it with enthusiasm.
“He didn’t land a single hit on the part-timer. Worried it might cause a problem.”
“…….”
“Looks like the thief got a few hits in on him, but he still didn’t throw a single punch back. Instead, he pinned him down, took a photo of his face, and held onto the access pass the guy had on him.”
“Was he hurt?”
“Hm?”
“That person — was he hurt?”
The abrupt question, cutting through everything else, made Director Cha hesitate for a moment. Sinju’s eyes had sharpened, asking after him as if nothing else had registered — and Director Cha answered with a carefully measured tone.
“Well… a little? I told him to get a medical certificate just in case, but he said it was nothing, said he was fine.”
“So he was hurt.”
“His lip was split a bit.”
“……Haa.”
Yoo Sinju let out a long, irritated exhale and lowered his head. The man was a headache in every sense. It was annoying that he’d actually stayed there all night to find the thing, and just as annoying that he’d ended up getting hurt for it.
Who does he think he is. Who does he think he is
He couldn’t make sense of why the man threw himself into this work with such intensity, and his head felt tangled up.
“…Fire him.”
Yoo Sinju decided this was the only way to rid himself of this wretched feeling. He didn’t want to see him. This man he had longed for so desperately — but life was all about timing. Showing up now, when Sinju was already burned out on everything, meant nothing. He didn’t care about hatred or revenge anymore. He just wanted the man gone from his sight. He had learned firsthand that this man’s presence was a danger to him — the man who had driven him to hyperventilation.
“What? Why?!”
Director Cha shot to his feet, visibly alarmed.
“I don’t like him.”
Yoo Sinju said it, turning his head away.
“No, why? I think Manager Moon handled things well this time.”
“…I said I don’t like him.”
“Heesung cleaned up the mess you made. What’s the problem? And didn’t you make a bet with Team Leader Song too?”
“Fire him. Let him go.”
“Team Leader Song reached out, by the way. Says he wants to apologize to you.”
“…….”
“You’re getting an apology out of the person who humiliated you like that — so why fire him?”
“…….”
“I’ve never seen anyone do your manager duties this perfectly in such a short time. Has my read on people ever been wrong?”
Director Cha fired back without yielding an inch, and Yoo Sinju whipped his head around to glare at him. Director Cha flinched slightly at the sharp look, then let out a short “Ha.”
“What is it, exactly. What’s your problem with him. Apparently you two already know each other.”
“He said that himself?”
“It was his idea to offer to be your manager first.”
“What? His idea?”
“Yeah. Said he’s your hyung.”
At Director Cha’s words, Yoo Sinju let out a hollow laugh of disbelief. The nerve of him. Going around calling himself his hyung. Not a shred of remorse for what he’d done.
“Hyung, my ass—”
Of course, somewhere in him he understood, vaguely. That the man had also been young back then. That it hadn’t been an easy environment either. Watching him look after a little brother like that, seeing both of them show up with fresh wounds time and again — even young Yoo Sinju couldn’t have missed it. But still. Even if he had left him behind that day. If he’d truly been sorry. If guilt had lived in him all these years over what happened — he would have at least made some show of looking for him in all that time. That was why Yoo Sinju had gone into acting. On the slim hope that if the man had any conscience at all, he would come find him.
“Said you were a neighborhood hyung from the old days.”
“…Shameless bastard.”
“What, did things end badly between you two?”
Director Cha asked again, thrown off by Sinju’s vicious reaction. His chest was a mess. Knowing the man had gone so far as to call himself his hyung made it sting even more.
Who does he think he is…. Who does he think he is, calling himself hyung, what the hell.
“If you don’t fire him right now, I’m retiring tomorrow.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I’ll hold a press conference. I’ll pay every last penalty on the remaining contracts out of my own pocket.”
“…What?”
“I’ll compensate the company too, of course. Though everything I’ve earned them so far should more than cover it.”
“Ha… Sinju. Why are you doing this again. Does not making my life hell for even a single day give you a rash?”
“If you fire him, I’ll behave from now on.”
Director Cha stared at Yoo Sinju with a completely dumbfounded expression at the absurd proposition.
