By Zephyria 
Only after hearing the sound of Yoon Joo-ho’s footsteps receding did Song Hyun-soo snap back to his senses and lift his head.
“Sunbae.”
“…”
But the action that stopped him in his tracks was something he hadn’t predicted himself. When Yoon Joo-ho stopped and turned back, Song Hyun-soo, despite having called him, was flustered. Yoon Joo-ho’s profile, illuminated by the dim streetlight, drew a perfect line that money couldn’t buy. His eyes, elongated to the side, were sharp to the point of being chilling, yet his pupils sparkled like sunlight on water.
Many people were captivated by exactly this gaze of Yoon Joo-ho’s.
In dramas, no matter how cruel the words he uttered with his thin, cold lips, he was forgiven because of those eyes that seemed to plead that he didn’t mean it. That gaze alone was a tremendous talent for an actor. Sometimes, because one has to express something that cannot be conveyed by any expression or line.
He clearly had something he wanted to say. That’s why he called him. But the words wouldn’t come out of his throat. Facing Yoon Joo-ho’s stoic expression, which revealed no emotion, the words felt even more like something he shouldn’t say.
“I’ll pay you the referral fee properly.”
In the end, he mumbled something else to cover it up.
Yoon Joo-ho let out a soft, dry laugh and turned away. With his hands shoved into his coat pockets and his head tilted, Yoon Joo-ho looked like he would walk not towards the company dinner venue, ‘Honey’s place,’ but somewhere into a back alley. Then, as if he would melt into the darkness and disappear, unknown to anyone.
The words he wanted to ask remained heavy in Song Hyun-soo’s mind, sinking down.
Sunbae, are you okay?
■■■
He unlocked the door with a key, not a digital lock, and pulled the front door open. It was daytime, and although it was on the second floor, not the basement, the interior was as dim as dusk. This was because it was so tightly packed with the adjacent buildings that no light could get in. Light fell onto the worn floorboards only as much as the front door was open.
Song Hyun-soo, whose gaze had been fixed on the floor, spotted unfamiliar shoes at the entrance. New, flashy, and expensive shoes that didn’t match this home.
“You’re here?”
He turned his head in the direction of the voice and saw Choi Hong-seo sitting in a chair at the dining table, smiling. Upon seeing him, Song Hyun-soo’s face instantly brightened.
“What, when did you get here? Mr. Busy!”
His slow movements suddenly quickened with joy. He quickly took off his shoes, stepped up, and greeted Choi Hong-seo, clasping hands as if shaking them.
“I was passing by nearby and had a little free time. I asked my manager to drop me off.”
“Wow, Choi Hong-seo! You look completely different, huh?”
Sitting in the chair opposite Choi Hong-seo, Song Hyun-soo scanned his friend’s stylish appearance with admiration.
“Do I?”
“You look like a top star now!”
“What top star.”
“What do you mean? Your new single is currently competing for first and second place on the charts. You even beat ‘NAF,’ who are supposed to be so popular!”
“You were keeping track of all that?”
“Of course. I stream it all the time too.”
Song Hyun-soo pointed at the earphones on the dining table and raised his eyebrows boastfully. Seeing Song Hyun-soo like that, Choi Hong-seo chuckled. They were close enough that they didn’t need to thank each other for such things.
Choi Hong-seo, who aspired to be an idol, and Song Hyun-soo, who aspired to be an actor.
They had lived together, enduring hardships, in this cramped, old dorm for years. Choi Hong-seo had debuted with a group called ‘Layered,’ but they hadn’t gained much traction, and Song Hyun-soo hadn’t even landed a decent debut role, instead drifting through company drinking parties.
Song Hyun-soo, who was like a prickly stray cat that didn’t let anyone close, was the first person in the dorm to open up to Choi Hong-seo. Choi Hong-seo, who took good care of all the members, never complained or slacked off, and was sometimes so diligently earnest it seemed foolish. He was different from the other members who were only concerned with the superficial dream of living a glamorous life as idols.
To promote their team, which wasn’t gaining popularity, even a little, Choi Hong-seo poured his body into solo activities. Variety shows, acting, solo singles. He didn’t discriminate. Solo activities where he worked himself to death alone, but had to share the earnings with other members. He would never have done that.
That’s why Song Hyun-soo had never imagined.
That Choi Hong-seo would also be in ‘debt’ to his agency, UB Entertainment, and to UB’s CEO, Myung Do-hoon.
Because the debt held by Myung Do-hoon was a debt that only grew, a debt that could never be repaid.
Who would carry water for two hours a day to a bottomless pit, knowing it was one?
Yet, Choi Hong-seo did.
He worked harder than anyone. As if he believed that one day he could clear all that debt and escape from President Myung.
President Myung would never let go of Choi Hong-seo, such a lucrative source of income. Even I can see that.
But even the direct Song Hyun-soo couldn’t say such things to Choi Hong-seo, who was clinging to a sliver of hope.
The ‘debt’ Song Hyun-soo owed was nothing compared to Choi Hong-seo’s. It was an amount that could be repaid by doing any other job besides acting. He didn’t have to take the jobs President Myung ‘introduced.’ Unlike Choi Hong-seo, he wasn’t being ‘blackmailed.’
President Myung burdened the children with potential with greater debt. To prevent them from escaping.
But at some point, the debt ceases to be just debt. The money borrowed initially might have been debt, but with interest, training costs, and various deductions, the debt only grew. Meanwhile, President Myung, at the opportune moment, finally commits a decisive illegal act. But after that, it cannot be reported. Even though President Myung committed the crime, that violence becomes a weakness for the victim too. If photos of the assault were spread everywhere, it would be the victim who couldn’t show their face in public. Strangely enough.
From then on, uninhibited exploitation occurs.
To prevent further damage, following President Myung’s instructions becomes another weakness. A vicious cycle. There is no way out.
When he first met President Myung, Choi Hong-seo was only twenty years old. That was right after graduating high school.
Children who had been neglected their entire lives, outside the attention of their parents and school, and were pushed into society without any protection, were President Myung’s favorite prey. Although he was twenty, Choi Hong-seo at the time was practically a minor in social terms.
Legally an adult. Because of that, it seemed like Myung Do-hoon had no responsibility for Choi Hong-seo at least stepping into the entertainment industry. He had subtly lured him in, not threatened him with a knife. Because of that, Choi Hong-seo and the other children were made to appear as if they had chosen that path themselves. Even if it was only about ten days after becoming an adult, they were adults nonetheless. To Song Hyun-soo, it was bullshit.
Song Hyun-soo and Choi Hong-seo shared a secret, known only to the two of them, unknown to anyone else they lived with in the dorm, not even Jung Ji-in. That bond connected them in a special way.
“Food? Should I go to Dong-a Bunsik and get something? Want some fried chili peppers?”
“No, I can’t stay long. I have to leave soon.”
“You said you wanted fried chili peppers. I’ll go get them quickly. If I say it’s for you, the owner will give me plenty!”
As he was about to slip his foot into his sneakers, Choi Hong-seo grabbed Song Hyun-soo’s wrist.
“Next time. I’ll come and eat when I have plenty of time. Do you have beer at home? Give me a can of beer.”
“Why beer in the middle of the day from someone who doesn’t drink much?”
Having no choice, Song Hyun-soo took off his sneakers again and walked towards the refrigerator.
“I drink a bit more these days.”
“You?”
“A can of beer after finishing the day’s schedule and showering is the best.”
“Oh, Choi Hong-seo, you know the taste now? You’ve really become an adult.”
He took out two cans of beer and handed one to Choi Hong-seo. Sitting opposite Choi Hong-seo again, Song Hyun-soo also popped the tab on his beer.
“I’ve always been more of an adult than you.”
“Yeah, well. I admit that.”
Song Hyun-soo nodded and offered his can for a toast. They clinked their cans together and took a sip of beer. It had been in the refrigerator for a long time, and while the outside of the can was cold, the beer itself was strangely not very cold.
Did I misjudge? Song Hyun-soo turned the beer can around, then soon lost interest and looked at Choi Hong-seo’s face.
“Is your rich boyfriend treating you well?”
“What are you talking about.”
“Your face has bloomed. Before, you only smiled in front of cameras, but at home, you always looked glum.”
At the mention of a boyfriend, Choi Hong-seo’s cheeks flushed red. It was closer to vitality than shyness. Song Hyun-soo found it pleasant to see.
Choi Hong-seo was dating the heir apparent of the ARA Group, a massive conglomerate. Song Hyun-soo thought there was no way such a distinguished third-generation chaebol would consider a serious relationship with an idol. He worried that Choi Hong-seo was foolishly believing the word ‘sincerity’ and that they were both being deceived, believing they were boyfriends.