PAYBACK BOOK 1.

Chapter 7.

Something had changed when I came to acting class the next day. As a result of the agency enrolling them in a much stricter program than school, things had changed in the past. No one was absent from class before, but today three, including me, were absent. The ones absent were the ugly guy and the blonde guy. I punched them both hard, so it was only natural that they were absent. But I didn't expect the other two to show up, too. They probably couldn't even wake up early, but they still managed to crawl here. However, there's a reason they had to come to school today, even if it meant crawling. 

 

Today was the day the drill instructor was going to give out a role as an extra in a play after the audition. That's probably why the instructor looked so surprised that the unattractive student who was supposed to receive the award was absent.

 

"Where did everyone else go?"

 

Haven't you heard the news yet? I thought that after a day, there would be rumours spreading throughout the company that a thug had broken in, but it seems not. I felt taken aback and turned to look at the two people standing silently, meeting their gazes. The kind-faced man's expression turned strangely sour, in contrast to the sharp-featured man who had a smile in his eyes. He first told the instructor the name of the unattractive man, then provided further explanation.

 

"He went to the hospital. To get a new face."

 

"Smuggling a facelift? But his father objected..."

 

"Yes, that's right. He objected to why they have to change the title to 'the most handsome in the world,' but no parent can beat their own child." A look of absurdity flashed in the trainer's eyes. Finally, he shook his head, jotted something down on the paper in his hand, and glanced at the person. With a kind face, the person being looked at explained about the blonde person as if they had been waiting for it.

 

"He's sick."

 

The kind-faced man glanced at me once and then spoke briefly.

 

"I think he caught a fever."

 

I don't know why the instructor looked disbelieving, and then soon frowned. "Hmm, in that case, the performance competition that was supposed to be held today will be postponed to next time..."

 

"Just select us," I said.

When I interrupted, the instructor glanced up in alarm, looking uncomfortable at having to proceed with the selection process when the person who would be giving the reward wasn't around. He cleared his throat as he turned to the others.

 

"How about we hold the selection process again when everyone is back?"

 

The two people who were asked the question looked at me instead of the instructor, as if to say, "Do as you please." The instructor then looked at me with a bewildered expression.

 

"Because everyone else has probably practised. If we hold the selection process in a situation where people are absent from class, it will..."

 

"Didn't he say he went for plastic surgery?"

 

"But the other person is sick."

 

"Then you have to find a way to take care of your own body."

 

I interrupted before I could ask for their opinions. "How about we just select from among ourselves?" 

 

Both of them nodded readily, their faces showing a strange attempt to suppress smiles. My manager once told me that my acting was just imitation. He said I only knew the techniques for reading lines and was familiar with pronunciation and voice acting, which made it seem fluid. But that wasn't true. He emphasised to me that I should try to put some feeling into it, because the lines spoken aloud lacked my own emotions. I'm grateful for that comment, but it's impossible to even attempt because I don't know how. I even found it amusing that it was so impossible. Or maybe not. Luckily, I don't need to perform deeply emotional roles. If it's just facial expressions and tone of voice, like a smile or laughter, a joke, or overwhelming anger, I can practice and imitate them perfectly.

 

Then Han-Soo pointed out one of my strengths: I wasn't afraid. Anyone would hesitate and feel tense when speaking to or showing unfamiliar facial expressions, but I don't have those symptoms. The absence of fear is just Han-Soo's polite way of saying it. In reality, "numbness" would be a more accurate description. I might even be so numb that I'm indifferent to the tension of playing a role that isn't myself. Because of this, I couldn't achieve the depth the manager wanted, but I memorised my lines to the point that people said I played well, given the skills I had learned in that time.

 

It's only been a few weeks, but that doesn't mean I performed better than the three who came today. I still don't have enough practice, and, as a newcomer, I see one person who performed exceptionally well. His serious portrayal of the character, so different from his usual rehearsals, made me realise what the manager and Han-Soo meant by "a good actor who can play a role well." What kind of person? It's not just me; others can probably figure it out. That's why everyone was surprised by my suggestion, because I, who everyone thinks is the worst performer, preemptively spoke up, cutting off the trainer.

 

"All three of them have been practising hard, like really intensely, over the past week. And I promised I would choose the ones who would play."

 

"That's a good reward, but first, ahem, let me think about it..."

 

"Is it a difficult decision?"

 

The instructor turned to look at me with a furrowed brow, as if displeased that I had interrupted him, but I ignored him and offered him a solution.

 

"Come and vote!"

 

"Voting, huh?"

 

"Let each person say who performed best. Didn't you yourself say that our performance is best appreciated through others' eyes? Wouldn't it be more meaningful if we decided among ourselves?"

 

The instructor said, "Uh, well," and didn't give a clear answer. Looking at the other two, he reluctantly nodded. Both of them were still wondering why I said, but we agreed that voting would make the drill instructor glare at me.

 

"Then let's vote."

 

"The person with the highest score will win the prize, right?"

 

"…"

 

"Isn't that right?"

 

"...That's right." He answered in a hesitant tone, pointing at me first.

 

"Then, Mr Lee Taemin, you go first. Who do you think performed the best?"

 

A flash of mockery flickered in his eyes. He might have thought I was pointing to myself, that it was a pre-planned scheme to claim the reward. Because those two were acting strangely according to my words. Well, it's not like I've never thought that before. When I told my manager about the award, he said it was a great opportunity, and he wanted me to win it. I glanced at one person before opening my mouth to speak.

 

"In my eyes, you performed your best."

 

The handsome man froze, his mouth agape in shock as their eyes met. But it seemed he wasn't the only one surprised. After a strange silence, the kind-faced man asked me, "Are you serious...?"

 

"Yes", I nodded and gestured towards the handsome man who was still frozen in place.

 

"He performed very well. You're talented too, but they performed even better." The kind-faced man fell silent, then let out a wry laugh.

 

"I give up. Will it be different this time?... Instructor, that person performed better. Actually, I've long felt that there's someone among us who is so exceptionally talented that he doesn't even need to study. Even we know that, so of course the instructors would know, right?"

 

After class, I packed my things and was about to leave, but a kind-looking person called out to me, asking me to stop.

 

"You'd better watch out for Hyungseok."

 

The name of the blond-haired man slipped from his lips. As I slung my bag over my shoulder and looked back, I saw him give me a slight smile.

 

"It seems like Young-seok was ordered by someone to dig up information about you, even though you probably already know."

 

"Yes, I know."

 

I turned around as if to say I would leave if there was nothing else to say, but he grabbed my arm before I could.

 

"I always thought that my acting skills alone weren't enough to get the roles. So, in my fourth year, I thought I should play a prostitute, and then I started looking for opportunities here and there."

 

"Your business is none of mine," he released his grip on my arm and turned to look at the handsome man who was talking to the drill instructor in the distance.

"As far as I know, he hates the sponsors, so he chooses to side with the influential kids instead. Because he knows that just having acting skills isn't enough. Just having enough to succeed in this industry is unsuccessful. What I want to say is that you will encounter more disappointments than you think. From what I've seen today, it seems like Taemin has an unexpectedly innocent side. Things don't always go the way you want them to."

 

After he finished speaking, he released my arm and reminded me to be careful again. It seems like everyone I meet is giving me warnings. I must seem like such a careless person. Is that so? I thought about asking the manager, but when I saw him, he was too preoccupied with other work to focus on his tasks.

 

"Han-Soo auditioned for a role! Ah, even though my camera fear isn't completely gone yet, judging from the prior contact, it seems he'll get to see Han-Soo's stage play too." Because my manager expects me to win an acting award, I feel lucky that he's so excited about other things. I guess I can just ignore that for now.

 

Well, so that's it. Even though it wasn't planned, it feels like a really good day with everything falling into place. There aren't any rumours about a boxing match at all, and those two annoying people didn't show up either. I wondered if my luck would continue like this, but I had to encounter someone I'd rather not face in Alice's labyrinth, just as the blond guy had said, since I had to go to work every day. The club manager, whom I knew all along, led me to the door of that lunatic's office as if it were some kind of procedure. Then he spoke in a polite tone before opening the door.

 

"He's waiting inside."

 

Suddenly, the thought of that lunatic popped into my head, and I frowned, asking without thinking.

 

"Has the landlord returned?"

 

"No."

 

Before I could even ask what the big deal was, he gave me some strange advice.

 

"He's an incredibly sharp person, but also very warm."

 

This time, I didn't even ask who he was referring to. He just smiled like a robot and opened the door. In the middle of the room was someone incredibly sharp and warm-hearted. They're here to welcome me.

 

"Why are you four minutes late today?"

The boss asked in a firm, teacher-like voice, standing with his hands on his hips like before. Upon seeing who it was, I unconsciously let out a deep sigh of relief. Even though I had met him, I've met many types of crazy people in my life, but few have made me feel as tense as this one. Moreover, his eyes were even brighter and sparklier today. I stared at him silently by the doorway before speaking.

 

"The bus is late."

 

He narrowed his eyes and glanced at me from bottom to top.

 

"I'm not late for any other reason."

 

"Because of the bus."

 

I emphasised firmly, just in case he misunderstood again in a strange way, but my firm tone only fueled his misunderstanding instead.

 

"You're answering so firmly. Aren't you deliberately hiding something else? You can't fool me, Saidan." He curled two fingers and pointed to his own eye, then mine. Those fingers made me unconsciously furious.

 

"Am I hiding something?"

 

"Are you having any problems with your part-time job?"

 

I was so bewildered that I forgot my boiling anger and blinked. What kind of part-time job? He looked at me with a sly smile.

 

"I know everything. You usually come straight here after your part-time job, don't you?"

 

"...Who are you talking about?"

 

"Who else would it be? It's you, you two-hundred-won guy. You should be used to it by now. In front of me, no secret can be hidden." He spoke in a stern voice, like a top boss, making me think of the question he asked me when they first met: "Are you on drugs?"

 

These days, doing drugs doesn't destroy your sanity, but it makes your eyes brighter and your voice clearer, right?

 

"Oh, there's no need to be so surprised. You're always going back and forth, looking like someone everyone can tell. How could anyone not know you're working part-time? Even an inexperienced person can make such a guess."

"A sight so obvious to everyone, huh?" Suddenly, he raised his finger with a 'pop' sound and pointed at my shirt.

 

"The shirt? Well, you've been wearing the same shirt the whole time."

 

I glanced down at the black shirt and jeans I was wearing. I don't have many clothes, and I get annoyed buying shirts, so I usually just buy several of the same colour and style. But no matter what, I still have to endure my manager's nagging about improving my fashion sense. But what does wearing the same clothes have to do with my part-time job? The question was answered by my boss's compliment.

 

"These days, uniforms are nice and simple. Hey, do you work at a gas station?"

 

"It's nice that you're so busy you're out in your uniform, but try wearing some casual clothes for a change. You said you wanted to be a star, right? I want to see you dressed in everyday clothes. Hmm, why are you so stiff and not answering? Oh, I see. Are you afraid I'll be disappointed in your fashion sense, you two-hundred-won fool? Haha. It's alright. For manly men, just covering up *that* part is enough. Or do you usually wear those ridiculously unfashionable uniform clothes everywhere you go? Isn't that right? Hmm?"

 

"...yes"

 

After hearing my answer, he chuckled, thinking he'd guessed it perfectly again. After a long laugh, he told me to sit down on the sofa. I didn't really want to sit down and talk to him, but luckily, the topic he brought up caught my attention.

 

"By the way, what's the deal with that President Choi guy following you around so persistently?"

 

President Choi? Suddenly, something clicked in my mind.

 

"Is President Choi a sponsor of actor Song Yoohan ?"

 

The boss stared at me silently without answering my question, before suddenly breaking into a smile. Was it an illusion? His smile reminded me of that...A moment of nervousness struck me. I tried to double-check, but the boss's assumption interrupted my train of thought.

 

"Oh, so it's Song Yoo-han, huh? The one you're targeting. Ah, because of Song Yoo-han, you entered the entertainment industry that you weren't interested in, and then you started flirting with Jay, is that it? Hmm, is it because of some resentment? Or did Song Yoo-han kill someone?"

I used to think he was delusional, but then he suddenly hit me right in the heart of the matter. I must have underestimated his comical act of curling his finger and saying he knew. He was completely exhausted, too much to bear. He froze, unable to utter a single word. The mention of Song Yoo-han's name wasn't the problem...

'Did you kill someone?'

 

The word 'kill' made the inside of me dry up like a desolate wasteland. I couldn't breathe properly, feeling that if I revealed even the slightest emotion, everything. My question was about to be blurted out by him, but my attempts to conceal it were in vain. The boss, understanding that the silence was an acceptance, looked at me silently and then asked..."It seems the deceased were family."

 

Is it true that a lucky day can turn into an unlucky day? I woke up from a restless sleep, and the boss's words, which I'd been pondering all night, came to mind.

It all started popping into my head.

 

"Tell me everything, or let me investigate Him. But no matter what, I won't let you use Jay. I'll start by banning you from entering...I'm leaving here right now, so hurry up and decide whether or not you're going to tell them who you are."

 

He spoke in a harsh, sharp tone. The cold morning air that seeped into the sealed room seemed to transform into his voice, enveloping me. I had to tell my story. How pathetic that the request felt like a sharp, dark blade, but it was a result of my own carelessness. Unbelievable that I had lowered my guard like an idiot with the boss.

Everyone, no matter who they are, has sharp spears within them. Even if they claim to be good people, they can still stab and wound their opponents. Perhaps because we are just human beings, and I know this better than anyone. But because I've become accustomed to a life of wasting time, like a fool who feels nothing, I've forgotten it.

 

Or is it because I've seen firsthand how weak and honest people, merely attacked by the henchmen of ruthless capitalists, can wield their spears in rage? I think of my brother's blood, which once stained a still world crimson. Even today, I sometimes see this world as if it's been splashed with red. But even that seems insufficient. The regret for my past carelessness hasn't easily faded from my heart. Now I have to decide what's more important: the maze of hopes or the maze of disappointments? Alice in Wonderland and her own story. I got out of bed and pondered this while putting on my shirt. Alice's labyrinth is significant. But what about my own story? I'm not important at all, am I?

 

After getting dressed, I glanced around my room. It was a tiny, two-story rented room with no windows. The old wallpaper in the corners was wrinkled and peeling from the grey cement like a dilapidated pile of tea. There was nowhere for me to escape the mould and the cramped, stuffy view. This cramped room, apart from a bed and an old bookshelf, has just enough space for two people to stand squeezed together. It feels like a coffin, giving off a chilling vibe. I dug a narrow space, preparing to be buried. Sometimes, as I held onto the door, I wondered if I was already buried underground and whether opening it would cause the ground to collapse. But it wasn't scary at all. Sometimes I even wished it were. I wished I were actually trapped in a coffin, and that would be my whole story.

 

It ends because it's easy. Death is the easiest ending we can choose in life. As the door opens, the dark, narrow hallway is replaced by a chilling darkness. On the one hand, I'm disappointed that I'm still alive. Even so, I still keep moving forward. When I'm out in the open, I realise I haven't yet reached the goal. In short, between myself, who is not particularly extraordinary, and Alice's labyrinth necessary for revenge, which is more important?

 

A cross, a rosary, a beaded bracelet—three auspicious items waiting to greet me at the company office. Of course, I still don't need them, but it seemed absolutely essential for Han-Soo to hold hands with his manager and pray to every god in the world. I didn't want to interrupt their fervent prayer, so I stood quietly beside the closed door. So, the audition that Han-Soo and his manager were so excited about was today?

Han-Soo was dressed differently from yesterday, and his hair was neatly styled. The problem was that his face looked so grey that it seemed unnatural. I could see a drink cap on the table; he should have taken some anxiety medication. If he's still like this after drinking it, he will probably pass out during the interview. Another problem is that the manager's expression while trying to comfort him doesn't look any better.

"N-no problem! There are no cameras around. You'll pass with flying colours! Even if I told you there was a film crew watching your performance, you wouldn't be able to see them because they're sitting in the dark, just ignore them! You can do it! You'll land the lead role in one go! Just master the mind control technique you practised yesterday!"

 

Wow, that was a success!

 

"Right...right, manager? That's right. Just think of it as normal! W-today, just stand on stage and perform like any other day. I'll shout, I've got the lead role! As for those eyes staring at me from their seats, just pretend to forget about them!"

 

It was as if those words were etched even clearer in Han-Soo's mind than when he spoke them. Come to think of it, this wasn't even an official audition, and it was already like this. Even though I was watching the two of them indifferently, I felt a little worried. Next time, should we just not call a medium?

 

This morning was a little chaotic because the manager was chanting in a strange dialect, claiming that prayer would help relieve stress. Han-Soo was stiff as a board before the actual audition, as if the director were a famous person. Both of them were flustered by the director's name. Although it seems the real people coming are the film crew, from what I've heard, this is a great opportunity for me, someone who knows absolutely nothing about casting for lead roles. Because Han-Soo is so talented when acting without cameras, he should be able to showcase his full potential. I feel that if he just gets this chance, it could be a stepping stone toward overcoming his fear of the camera.

 

Even if those two are very positive, there will still be problems because positive thinking doesn't relieve stress at all; in fact, it should make them even more stressed, according to them. They said it was a once-in-a-year opportunity for Han-Soo. The way the two of them were simulating the audition, with me as part of the film production team, made it seem like they needed a hundred bottles of anxiety medication. Luckily, my hesitant words helped them a little, but it came at the cost of being held back for several hours while I tried to get them to speak more calmly. Seeing them reminded me of a movie I used to watch on TV as a kid. It was about a ghost possessing a little girl and then being driven out by a priest. I remember saying "That's amazing" rather than "scary," and then I was disgusted by the scene where the girl vomited green liquid, so I changed the channel.

 

"Escape!" I felt that even with the manager's efforts, Han-Soo, who was under extreme stress, still looked like he was about to vomit. Seeing that, I was even more certain that next time they would have to resort to the power of witchcraft. I left those two behind and walked out because I had an acting class to attend. As I walked, I felt a little anxious. Surely Han-Soo wouldn't suddenly develop a phobia of film crews, would he? I pushed aside the unnecessary worry before noticing that the number of people gathered before class was different from yesterday. There was one more person. I wasn't too surprised that the blond-haired guy, who had been bedridden before, had recovered in a single day. What caught my attention was just his expression and the bright, cheerful demeanour he displayed while chatting with the instructor before class. I put down my bag and watched the two of them.

 

As I walked across the wide wooden floor that resembled a dance studio, everyone was flexing their muscles in preparation for class, just like usual. So why did everything seem so distorted to me? After a particularly boring class session, one of the three approached me. I stared at him, having already anticipated his arrival. I wanted to talk to him. Originally, the handsome man was supposed to talk to me yesterday, but he said something I didn't expect.

 

"I didn't get a chance to thank you yesterday."

 

"..."

 

"Why"

 

"You should know I didn't do it for you. There's no reason for me to accept your thanks," he chuckled and nodded.

 

"That's right. I just said thank you out of politeness."

 

I, who had been listening intently, straightened up immediately. The awkwardness I had felt before the class started became clearer. The other person wasn't the type to offer polite thanks. And I'm not the type to expect a perfunctory thank you. There must be a reason I heard that. The handsome man even noticed the change in my expression, so he made a face as if he was amused by it.

 

"Do you realise that when we first met, you seemed so ordinary? But the more I saw you, the more different you became. That's why I underestimated you at first, thinking you..."

 

I thought I was just like those other aspiring stars who focus only on success, but I was completely wrong.

 

"What is the reason for all this nonsense?"

 

"I don't know. Just accept it as a gift."

 

I frowned before he shrugged.

 

"Anyway, I'm your senior in this industry, aren't I? I know a lot more than you do, like how to find rich kids to befriend and then wait to snag the remaining roles. "From that guy, it's one way to succeed without a sponsor. Should I tell you something like that?"

 

I found a reason why I felt strange about his words. They sounded like someone saying goodbye for the last time. I glanced at him. I glanced over at the blond-haired person and the kind-faced person who were talking as if something interesting was going on. The person with sharp features followed my gaze and lowered their voice.

 

"Or, you could take on the role of cleaning up after someone else's messes and solving their problems in order to build connections with sponsors. If you don't like doing all of that, then focus on competing with your own skills. You've probably been practising for four years and realised you never even had a chance to showcase your skills, so you opened your eyes and changed your mind later."

 

He turned his gaze to meet mine.

 

"I think if you don't have money, there are only these three options. In the end, you'll just have to give in and be submissive. But I don't know why, when I look at you... I think you're different. Go for it. Even if you choose the same path, you'll have something different about you."

 

"And then what?" I asked the question in a rather sarcastic way, and he responded as if it were nothing important.

 

"Do a good job, because I'm leaving."

 

The question, 'Why?' suddenly popped into my head. Even though yesterday's award was for a minor supporting role, wouldn't I be filming this weekend? Then he smirked as if he could read my mind.

 

"You don't know anything, do you? Yesterday, the role I was awarded to you was already taken by someone else."

 

My gaze automatically fell on one person. Today, the blond-haired person's laughter was unusually loud and clear before the sharp-featured person's voice interrupted.

 

"In the end, when the cat's away, the mice will play."

 

"..."

 

"Normally, that guy's backers don't work out, but because of you, he got lucky." 

 

"So, because I helped deal with that jerk, huh?" I heard another loud laugh. The kind-faced person just smiled. To the giggling blond-haired person who sounded like he had heard the most fun thing in the world.

 

"Just so you know, in case you misunderstand."

 

He paused, then continued, but it sounded like a couple of hours to me. When I looked at him, he opened his mouth and spoke again with a cold expression.

 

"I'm not leaving here because of this. In the year I've been here, I've experienced this countless times. This one's easy because I even heard from the PD on the day we signed the contract that that role wasn't even there anymore."

 

"Then why did you leave?"

 

The answer I expected was that he would take a break for a while because he no longer had the support of his former cronies. However, he didn't answer immediately, but instead swept his gaze across the room. He gazed slowly through the rehearsal room, as if wanting to imprint it in his eyes instead.

 

"I'm not sure if acting is really what I like anymore. Even if I use dirty tactics and stoop to subservience, I still need a genuine passion for it. You have to do it to make it happen, right?"

 

".."

 

"Don't give up on that idea."

 

"I never intended that from the start." He burst into laughter, "Ha!" loudly, at my answer. Then he grabbed my shoulder and continued laughing until his upper body shook.

 

"Sir...sir...I really feel a connection with you."

 

The laughter drew the attention of the blond-haired, kind-faced men, but the handsome man laughed loudly without paying them any attention, then muttered something for me to hear alone, with a softer laugh.

 

"As long as you don't change managers, you might continue to clash with Song Yoo-han," he said, suddenly changing the subject and warning me. He straightened his back to make eye contact while still resting his hand on my shoulder.

 

“I used to hang out with that guy who went to the hospital, and I went to places his father arranged for us a couple of times. One of those times I went drinking with very high-ranking people... two months ago, the other party was completely drunk and said this," a faint whisper escaped his thin lips.

 

"The demon that will take over the industry has appeared in Dream. What's terrifying is that soon, that demon plans to devour all of Cream, but nobody knows anything about it... If and when he starts wielding power, everyone will regret it later. Apparently, that devil is preparing to uproot everything rotten."

 

"Why are you telling me this story?"

 

"Think carefully about who that demon is. If it's that person, they should be able to confront Song Yoo-han 's big sponsor, who's running around as he pleases. Even though you'll hardly have any chance of getting involved with that person."

 

He released my hand and took a step back.

"I'm used to having my lines stolen right in front of my eyes every time, so it's not a big deal. But I'm not used to getting angry," he glanced at the blond-haired person one last time before walking away. I stared down at the floor, motionless, for a moment in the room, which had become silent for who knows how long. Then I heard footsteps approaching, clearly as if they were waiting in line. I saw shoes stopping nearby, within my sight. Slowly looking up, I met the gaze of a kind-faced person who had been looking at me from a distance for a moment, then he immediately looked away.

 

"Because of you, I got to rest all day," the blond-haired guy said, openly taunting me.

"And I told Yoo-Han, as you requested, that your sponsor seems to be an amazing man. Now, consider this a proper repayment of my debt. Okay then."

 

"Uh-huh."

 

I sluggishly replied. The blond-haired man narrowed his eyes for a moment before quickly returning to normal, but it only made things more endearing.

 

"Since you've already paid off the debt, I might as well add some interest."

 

I cannot give him a perfunctory answer to his next question.

 

"You already know, don't you, that Yoo-Han isn't just targeting you?"

 

I still don't understand why I was so shocked at the time. We had only met a few weeks prior, and he wasn't someone I was particularly attached to. He was just some lone wolf, a pawn attached to the manager, used as needed. For me, Han-Soo was just on that level, but I was genuinely shocked. It's like I was so focused on defending from afar that I didn't notice the dark side right in front of me. On the other hand, it was perfectly normal for Song Yoo-han to target Han-Soo, another actor employed by the manager.

 

"Yoo-Han hyung is really annoyed about your sponsorship. He said he'll trample everyone before he becomes famous, and now he's gritting his teeth waiting." 

 

At 7:30 PM, I boarded the subway, thinking about my manager and Han-Soo, who were probably busy performing at the small theatre. The creaking sound of the subway train echoed throughout the room. My body was gone, but what shook my mind were the last words of the blond-haired man.

 

"Before coming here, I saw Yoo-Han laughing when we met. When I asked if something good had happened, he said he had finally gotten rid of one of his obstacles."

 

After a ride on the unusually slow subway, which took about forty minutes, I arrived at the small theatre I'd been to once before. I didn't see the manager's old car nearby, so I opened the back door, wondering if they were there. I had to navigate a dark, narrow hallway to get inside the theatre. Upon entering, I saw Han-Soo sitting by the fire escape without even looking. Han-Soo looked up when he heard the door open.

 

"Huh? W-what are you doing here?" He tried to smile at me normally, but the expression was strangely distorted, and his face was wet and smudged with water. His eyes were swollen and bright red. How should I put it? It feels like I've just been struck by Myungshin. I've tasted a feeling of patheticness that I haven't felt in a long time, and that feeling became even more intense when I saw Han-Soo.

 

"I was completely devastated, like an idiot. Haha. There...there was a camera. I'd never heard of that before... When I saw someone holding a big camera and acting like they were going to film my performance, I..."

 

Han-Soo tried to explain with a forced smile, not saying everything. It was funny how the child hadn't even wiped away all the snot and tears yet, but was still worried. The manager was the one who reacted first. According to Han-Soo's account, it seems the manager chased after the film crew, while he froze the moment he saw the camera and couldn't say a word on stage. I can roughly picture the situation. Of course, I immediately pictured a situation with ulterior motives, like someone sending a camera.

 

Han-Soo bowed his head and cursed himself incessantly, tears streaming down his face and soaking the floor. I was amazed at how many tears someone could shed. So that's it. I watched him for a moment, then turned and walked outside. I watched the street darken as I stood in front of the closed iron gate. It was a narrow alleyway, and people only passed by occasionally after sunset. I don't know how long I stood there.

 

Soft music emanated from one of the shops. As the usual sequence of songs began repeating, I was struck by a familiar figure: the manager. He was walking unsteadily, shoulders slumped, and looking down at the ground. I didn't want to greet him first, so I hesitated a little, unsure how to act around the manager, feeling a bit out of place. It wasn't until the manager walked closer, noticed me, and spoke that I felt comfortable.

 

"Ah, it's Taemin. When did you get here?"

 

"I just arrived a little while ago."

 

"Really? Did the class go smoothly?"

 

"yes"

 

When I gave a short reply, he nodded, "Hmm," with a twisted smile. But that smile soon disappeared, and he looked down at the floor silently once again. Before opening his mouth, he sighed.

 

"Um... well, Taemin-ah, I'm sorry, but the scene you've been practising every day will have to be postponed until tomorrow."

 

"I have a question."

 

The manager blinked and asked, "What is it?" I focused on his face, which was too dimly lit in the shadows, and spoke Myungshin's name.

 

"Is Song Yoohan 's sponsor a very influential person?"

 

"Why are you asking that so suddenly?"

 

"I was just asking. If we're going to fight, we should know this."

 

I spoke softly, as if it weren't a big deal. The manager frowned for a moment before muttering something.

 

"That old man is really influential. He's been able to push insignificant extras into leading roles in the blink of an eye, or make them mainstays in popular variety shows."

 

"But why is Song Yoohan  still targeting other people?"

 

"Someone else? Ah..." The manager murmured softly about someone, as if remembering something I had mentioned earlier.

 

"You mean Director Yoon, right? Because he is Director Yoon," I stared at him, trying to explain my lack of understanding, before he glanced up.

 

"No matter how great the sponsors are, it won't work on Director Yoon. He's probably the only one in this industry whom you can't pressure effectively. That's why I have so many rejected candidates that I'm afraid I'll get kicked out of Dream."

 

If Director Yoon is a demon, as that handsome man said, then my purpose for approaching him becomes even clearer. What should a nobody like me, with nothing, do? The heartbreaking sight of Han-Soo crying tells me that simply vowing revenge on Myungshin isn't enough. Even so, I still go to Alice's Labyrinth every day without thinking, following that lunatic's orders. And today, I'm here, not knowing if this will be my last visit, to deal with what needs to be done. But I have to leave my pathetic ego behind.

 

"Do you have anything to say to me?"

 

The boss looked up at me from behind a large mahogany desk.

 

"Let me tell you something, lies won't work on me, whose eyesight is sharper than a hawk's." 

 

If it were before, I would have laughed inwardly, but I just nodded solemnly. He, who had been silently watching me, leaned back from his chair and rested his feet on the table.

 

"Let's begin."

 

"What you said was right. I intend to get revenge on Song Yoohan ."

 

"Why"

 

"..."

 

"Did he really kill your family?"

 

"No, someone else killed my family."

 

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if to ask who. I opened my mouth to answer, but my indifferent voice sounded strange.

 

"I'm the one who killed my mother and sister."

 

They say time heals all wounds. As time passes, the pain and suffering from grief will fade. But what if we don't feel grief? From the very beginning, time hasn't healed anything, has it? I can't even remember what grief felt like. I don't think I felt any pain or suffering from it. Yet, that heavy burden, which hasn't diminished and remains the same as it was five years ago, still weighs down my heart.

 

I think that's why I confessed to killing my mother and brother. After saying it, I was worried my voice would sound strange, and the boss wouldn't believe me. First of all, I can always come here, even with that lunatic around. But the real owner is still the boss. I should have shown him my good side, and instead I said something so insignificant.

 

The lingering feeling of regret faded in the other person's long silence, before boredom took its place. The boss didn't show any expression of expectation towards me. To explain further, he simply stared at me silently. After enduring the boredom of not taking my eyes off him for a while, and when my patience finally ran out, I heard his command.

 

"Sit there."

 

He pointed to the sofa. My legs were aching, so I sat down on the soft sofa without hesitation. Then he immediately bombarded me with questions about what I had said.

 

"When did you lose your family?"

 

"Five years ago."

 

"Both of them?"

 

Because the boss's tone sounded normal after the long silence, I thought he was just asking a general factual question.

 

"Yes, my mother passed away about three months after my younger sibling died."

 

"How did he/she pass away?"

 

"..”

 

"I know you're the cause of the death, but explain it in more detail."

 

Did he really believe my words? What a strange man. I looked at him for a moment before recalling five years ago. "My brother was murdered, and my mother died at the hospital."

 

"Mom...did she have any underlying health conditions?"

 

"No, she suddenly fell ill, but it was too late to get treatment."

 

"The reason you couldn't treat her in time is probably because of you, isn't it? And you were the reason your brother was murdered."

 

I paused for a moment before nodding in acknowledgement of the question.

 

"Yes, it's because of me."

 

I didn't understand his question well, so I kept quiet again. Meanwhile, he got up and walked over to the sofa where I was sitting.

 

"After your family died because of you, what did you do next?"

 

"I'm paying off the debt."

 

"For five years?"

 

I replied yes and added that I had paid off all my debts because I was afraid of being seen as money-hungry. Surprisingly, he didn't ask about what happened five years ago, but He wanted to know what happened after that.

 

"What do you do for a living?"

 

"Well, I'll do anything that generates a steady income."

 

He made a strange face at my answer.

 

"Gradually, huh? It must be important."

 

"..."

 

"You."

 

He leaned over from the opposite side and asked me softly.

 

"Over the past five years, how many days have you taken off without working?"

 

"do not have"

 

His face was strangely contorted. Although I sensed something odd about his expression, hearing the question again didn't bother me to pay any more attention to it.

 

"Did you cry when your family died?"

 

"No."

 

I wanted to stop answering this awkward question. After giving a quiet reply, I wanted to ask him bluntly what he really wanted to know, but I couldn't, because the boss's previously distorted face was replaced by an expression full of emotion, and he was crying. The boss probably noticed my strange expression and realised he’d been crying. He said dust had gotten in the ceiling and rushed outside. Of course, I didn't believe it at first, because if the dust wasn't the size of a fist, he couldn't possibly cry like that. But when I was alone and reviewed our conversation, I could see why he wouldn't cry. Luckily, the boss came back in a few minutes. As soon as he sat down in front of me, he immediately emphasised his point.

 

"I'm just allergic to dust, that's why my eyes are a little teary. Don't misunderstand," I stared at him, his eyes and nose red from crying, before nodding in understanding. Then he started asking another unpleasant question.

 

"Okay, now explain about Song Yoo-Han. Why are you determined to get revenge on him?"

 

I hesitated a little because it was something I didn't really want to say, but he pressured me by saying, "No entry or exit here," so I had to explain the situation. That was inevitably abrupt. While listening to the story, his expression changed again, and even his voice seemed to tremble slightly.

 

"So you've been atoning for your sins for five years like that... without crying, and just squandering on debt... while you were trying so hard, Song Yoo-Han. Not only did he take the money and give information to the kidnapper, but he also lives a carefree and joyful life, and even succeeds by choosing dirty methods! What kind of person is this, a despicable scoundrel of three generations! Ugh... That 200 Won guy had to live in misery for five years without even being able to use a single 200 Won for himself..."

 

I never saw myself living a difficult life, and besides, I never wanted to do anything for myself either. But I couldn't stop him from talking because, if I did, it would require stopping him from crying first.

 

"Boss, it seems my dust allergy is acting up again."

 

"Song Yoohan is going to be punished by heaven... uh, allergies... ahem... um, my son is already very sensitive," he wiped away tears with his sleeve. "I don't know if my son is sensitive or not, but it seems like he's someone whose feelings are very clearly sensitive. When I said that..."

 

I guess I'm not lying about liking poetry. Then I remembered what the club manager said yesterday.

 

"He's an incredibly sharp person, but also very warm."

 

This isn't exactly warm; it's downright awful, isn't it? I was annoyed with the club manager for not giving me the correct information when I heard someone snort loudly. 'Sniff...' Before long, he stopped crying, and a look of sadness filled his eyes.

 

"That person who's living life without realising their own mistakes needs to be taught a lesson! Now's not the time to be sitting around like this!" I didn't want to sit here either, but I couldn't help but ask him, who was furious.

 

"boss"

 

"What?!"

 

"Did you believe everything I told you?"

 

Actually, I wanted to ask, "Are you thinking straight?" but I wanted to make sure of the basics first, and he answered immediately.

 

"Him, you haven't lied about anything, have you?" He asked innocently and then added..."If you're lying, I'll know it all."

 

He curled two fingers and pointed at his own eye, then at mine. I wasn't annoyed by his fingers like before; instead, I felt more curious... What was he up to?

Do you really know everything?

 

"So, what are you planning to do next, huh?"

 

Hearing the sudden change in topic, I stared at him as if to ask, "What is it?"

 

"Ugh, well, Song Yoo-han's sponsor is Chairman Kim Eng-chul, but yours is even better... Oh, right! Jay! Jay's here!" He was so excited that he yelled at me. What's wrong with him? I don't understand. I looked at him like I was looking at a madman again. He wasn't possessive of that crazy guy to the point of threatening me to pass.

 

"You want me to overcome the obstacles first, and then you want me to reveal my past? But because you're so affected by my past, you're telling me to make use of Jay, whom I cherish?"

 

"What are you doing? You should be flirting with Jay first!"

 

This is beyond shock; I'm starting to get a little angry. Isn't it time we reconsidered why we're discussing this? I'm prepared and about to speak. But then another voice brought the shop owner back to his senses.

 

A familiar, weary voice echoed through the room as the door opened. "Having a fun conversation, are you?"

 

The boss and I froze as we both looked up at the same time. Whether it was because we were tilting our heads back or not, that crazy guy seemed unusually big. He walked in slowly through the open door. Suddenly, I found myself breathless, even though I hadn't done anything wrong. He stopped near the sofa and looked at the boss and me, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he revealed his dimples. My eyes trembled involuntarily before he met my gaze and added...Slowly

 

"Hear my name too."

 

He spoke as if it were no big deal, but I couldn't open my mouth, as if my body were frozen. I'd hardly ever been so flustered by anyone before, and I hated being like this. But my mind was as blank as the still atmosphere in the room, as if cold water had been thrown at me. Why couldn't I react so easily in front of him? I stubbornly tried to open my mouth to speak, but someone else spoke first.

 

"W-what's your name? W-what are you talking about?"

 

The person who professes to be a professional investigator is telling a lie that anyone can see through. Even I feel embarrassed just looking at that stiff, emotionless face. On the side, partly because of the high-pitched, almost hoarse voice, all of the boss's words and actions seemed extremely unnatural.

 

"Haha, you're so confident, aren't you? We didn't talk about you at all. You know I don't care about you, you two-hundred-won guy."

 

"Are you interested in his affairs too?"

 

The jarring voice spoke every word as if it were an explosion. At this point, the madman stared directly into my eyes. I couldn't bear his gaze and averted my eyes for a moment before returning to face his smiling face. That smile seemed to warn me, 'Then I'll have to listen to you.' Before a chilling sensation spread from within, the boss, who had orchestrated this situation, called my name and forced me to participate in the lie, as if believing my acting skills were perfect.

 

"Isn't that right, you two hundred won?"

 

"…yes"

 

It was then that the boss spoke in a normal voice, sounding relieved.

 

"That's right, we weren't talking about you at all."

It was too late. Now the boss looked like someone who'd spent his whole life talking about that crazy guy. The regained boss, now confident, stood up and pretended to put his hands on his hips. That crazy guy...So he replied with a chuckle, without taking his eyes off me.

 

"Yes, I must have misheard."

 

"Yes, yes, you misheard. We weren't talking about you..."

 

"So, what were you two talking about?"

 

"...Hmm?"

 

"I asked what they were talking about."

 

"Well...it's nothing serious."

 

"If it's something trivial, then I can listen to it, right?"

 

The boss shifted his startled gaze towards me, a clear confession that he was discussing me. And, as expected, his eyes…That crazy guy turned around and glared at me, so I had no choice but to open my mouth.

 

"We’re talking about me."

 

I had no reason to hide anything, so I spoke frankly, but I had a bad feeling that if I lied, the other person would know for sure, as if they had psychic powers.

 

"Your story? I'm curious to hear it."

 

The charming smile lingered on his face, but the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly tense. If I had been a little more timid, I would have confessed everything we had been talking about. Whether it was good or bad luck, my old, reckless nature, the kind that was always ready to fight no matter how strong the opponent was, was still present. So, I responded in a firm tone.

 

"It's something you already know. I was just talking about my past, about my encounter with Myungshin and acting like a hooligan five years ago, and my plan to get revenge."

 

"Why"

 

Why? When I frowned in confusion, he explained further in a slow, deliberate tone.

"Why tell that story? Or are you one of those guys who brag about being a notorious gangster from years ago?" I glared at him as he spoke sarcastically, deep in thought, knowing it was hopeless. Would a fight here give me a chance to win? I stared back at the jerk, refusing to back down, before a genuine smile spread across his face. I felt like he was playing a game with me, and instinctively made to get up, but a clear voice from beside me broke the tension.

 

"Wait a minute, you 200 won guy, were you a big-time gangster before?"

 

The boss looked at me from head to toe with wide eyes.

 

"I thought he was just a thug. Turns out he's a thug like his father!"

 

I'd like to ask in return, what's the difference between those two words? Furthermore, if I were to ask that question in this situation, how would I explain it to that idiot just now?

 

"For what?" the boss pressed the crazy guy again.

 

"Is that really true? The story that five years ago, that 200 Won guy was a thug like his father? Looking at him now, I can't imagine. He seems like a man of few words."

 

"Seven pages with names like this... My God, is he a big thug? How despicable must he be..."

 

The repeated use of the word "boss" irritated me strangely, but I couldn't show my displeasure. The boss forgot about the interrogation and left. The drama quickly returned, just like before.

 

"He was getting drunk every day, fighting and brawling with everyone. His life as a notorious thug, who used to torment even his closest relatives, was turned upside down overnight."

 

It was all the work of that wicked, despicable man. After being so emotionally traumatised, he atoned for his sins and lived like a monk for the past five years...

 

"Fssshhh..."

 

He sniffled and bit his trembling lower lip. Seeing him like that, I suddenly felt drained of energy, and my intention to correct my words vanished. I might have been drinking. He did drink and party extravagantly, but he didn't get drunk every day. Even when he got into fights, he never quarrelled with everyone. And he never visited relatives or close friends, not even on holidays.

The boss looked at me, speechless, before abruptly standing up and claiming a dust allergy, then darting out again. It wasn't that he was putting on an act to avoid that lunatic, was it? It happened so quickly that I became suspicious. Silence enveloped the room for a moment. I reluctantly averted my gaze from the doorway before finally speaking to him.

 

"I'm not that kind of big-time thug."

 

He averted his gaze from the door and turned his expressionless face back towards me upon hearing my excuse.

 

"I don't care."

 

".."

 

"Your past is none of my business, but judging by the situation right now, the boss is deeply moved by your story... The boss is the one asking."

 

"Was it you who said that? He wouldn't just let you approach me without telling you, so he made you explain why you wanted to come here, right?"

 

I nodded slightly at the question, which sounded like he already knew everything. When I made a disgruntled face, as if to say, "You already know, why ask?", he paused before asking further. Originally, no, it was more of a sarcastic remark used to subtly deflect the question.

 

"If the boss hears about your past and is moved by it... He'll probably offer to help you, right?" He gave me another creepy smile. "Did he tell you to provoke me?"

 

It's not like he's seen everything through the security cameras, is it? I instinctively glanced at the ceiling, wondering if there were cameras in this room as well. Meanwhile, he continued to taunt him, taking note of his persistent interest.

 

"Hmm, you told me to flirt, but don't worry, just getting to know you now is enough." 

 

After that, I lowered my gaze from the ceiling before he asked with an emotionless expression.

 

"That's enough for now...because your target is Director Yoon, right?"

 

"Yes, because you're not him, are you?"

 

I didn't really want to discuss that topic in front of him, so I wanted to end the conversation quickly. I thought a gentle reply from Ronaldo would suffice, so I asked him back without thinking. What? But a wondrous silence passed before he asked, just as I was starting to feel uneasy.

 

"How can you be so sure?"

 

I felt there was something too suspicious for him to ask about, simply because he was angry that he wasn't my target. That feeling was so irritating that I shut my mouth abruptly. He spoke up again.

 

"I might be Director Yoon."

 

I already knew your last name was Han. I swallowed the words I wanted to blurt out with difficulty. Actually, I was a little surprised as I thought about what the boss, who had subtitled me to keep it a secret, realised that his demeanour must have seemed unusually nervous. And he didn't miss the opportunity to capture my hesitation.

 

"So you know my name now, 'Hanjay'."

 

A sound like a cold wind mixed with ice swept in. Why did I react so sensitively when he mentioned his own name? No, there was another one. The boss also reacted strangely when that man's name was mentioned. No matter how hard I tried to think of a reason, I couldn't. Meanwhile, he figured out who had said his name as if it were obvious, before pointing out the door in a languid voice.

 

"So this was the secret the boss told you earlier?"

 

"Why does your name have to be a secret?" Instead of answering, he grinned, revealing his dimples.

 

"Because it's too cute."

 

"Don't joke around."

 

"I'm not joking."

 

He repeated words I'd heard many times before, then added softly...

 

"I don't like that name."

 

Is that all? You got so upset because you didn't like cute names? And the boss kept it a secret? I'm still bothered by this whole thing. He probably noticed my puzzled expression, but he didn't care and just grinned as if he had something amusing in mind.

"So you'd better not mention that name."

 

His threats were more effective than holding a knife to my head. Why would he be so cruel just because of a name? Is he crazy? The moment I got In conclusion, the man with the sensitive eyes reappeared. The boss entered as if he had been prepared, before speaking firmly to the madman.

 

"I didn't tell him anything about you."

 

Everything's out in the air. I can't keep quiet about what I said. I wanted him to understand the situation through the incredible investigative skills he's so proud of.

At a time like this, it's quite something. But someone with eyes sharper than a hawk's must have been slanted, judging by the way he didn't realise the lunatic was deliberately smirking even more as he replied.

 

"I know. I overheard your conversation. He explained his reasons for wanting revenge on actor Song Yoo-han, right?"

 

"Hmm, yes. His reason is quite sad, so I decided to help him out..."

 

"Just helping me contact the sponsors should be enough, I think," the boss was startled, but immediately showed a look of delight.

 

"Yes, that's it! Haha, that's what I was thinking!"

 

He winked at me with one eye, as if signalling that everything would go smoothly. However, I clearly saw an obstacle. While I was wondering whether I should stop him from going there, it was already too late.

 

"Ahem, that's why I just suggested it before you came along. If you want to succeed as a star and overthrow Song Yoo-han, you have to...be..."

 

"Someone who can really challenge that guy's sponsors...hmm, if I had to give an example, someone like you..."

 

"I need someone else."

 

"Im, that's right. It's not you... huh?"

 

The boss turned around to look at me, creating a loud gust of wind!

 

"What?! Are you eyeing someone else? Not even my Jay?!"

 

I feel guilty because he was the one who genuinely wanted to help me. Even so, I couldn't hide the truth, no matter how much he glared at me with a murderous look.

It's like looking at a traitor, no matter how much you dislike them.

 

"Yes, I already have someone else in mind."

 

"Who is it?"

 

"This is Director Yoon from Dream."

 

"…"

 

"Shocked, aren't you?" He froze, his face vacant for a moment. I couldn't help but be amazed by the person named Director Yoon from Dream, thinking that he was the one who could do that. Could this eccentric boss really be so surprised? He sees that lunatic next to him every day, but is that man even more of a monster than that sly, amused fool? Even though they've never met before, he's already overestimating the other guy. While he was thinking this, he heard a whisper.

 

"...Who is it?"

 

"This is Director Yoon from Dream."

 

Silence enveloped the boss once again. At this point, I seriously wondered about this person named Director Yoon—what could have startled the boss, who wasn't even an employee, so much? While waiting for the boss to speak, I saw his expression contort strangely. He moved his lips as if muttering something before finally speaking a few words.

 

"Who?"

 

It seems I'm not the only one who's uncomfortable; that jerk just chimed in.

 

"That's Director Yoon from Dream, not me," the boss turned his stiff neck towards the man like a robot.

 

"Isn't that you?"

 

The crazy guy nodded slightly before flashing a bright smile.

 

"You probably already know my name is Hanjay."

 

The boss's face instantly turned pale. My mind went blank for a moment as well. I could feel the gaze fixed on the boss's traitor, and then I glared at the idiot with a similar look, but my gaze had no effect on him whatsoever. "Who told you my name?"

 

The smooth, flowing tone of the nerve-wracking guy didn't fit the tense atmosphere.

 

"I...I don't know."

 

The boss turned his face away, crouching as if he were being strangled. Although I had narrowly escaped his deadly gaze, I was even more uneasy. I was worried.

 

"Wouldn't the boss get revenge later if I said that?" Before the crazy guy's next words diverted the boss's attention elsewhere.

 

"I'll introduce him to Director Yoon myself," the boss's face contorted, no longer showing the expression of anxiety or anger.

 

"You?"

 

"Yes, because this guy keeps coming in and out of this club for that reason. Of course, I get paid for it too."

 

"What kind of compensation?"

 

The boss's gaze was fixed on me, so I looked at his still-furred face and replied briefly.

 

"That's me."

 

There were a few strange points in our conversation today. I didn't understand the boss's next reaction the most. He slowly relaxed his eyebrows as I glanced at the idiot, and I could sense the expression on his face instantly. It was the face of someone desperately trying to suppress laughter. Why the face like that?

 

"That two-hundred-won guy offered himself... and you accepted the payment, didn't you?" The smile faded from the madman's face for just a moment, in stark contrast to the boss's face, which finally broke into a smile he couldn't contain.

 

"Hmm, if you decide to help him on that condition, I will gladly cooperate..."

 

"It's not necessary."

 

"Then just cheer..."

 

"That's enough."

"I just want to keep an eye on things..."

 

"Stop paying attention to the winner."

 

The crazy guy interrupted, making those listening nearby look crestfallen. The boss glared at him for a moment, but soon smiled again, a wide, toothy grin as if to say something to that guy. Speaking of which, I can't go against the boss's interests and intentions.

 

"Ah, I understand. Well, you know I'm usually so busy I don't even have time to pay attention to you." Even so, the boss gave me a fierce glare at the end of the sentence. The message was clear: 'I'm going to meddle in your affairs,' I thought.

It might be better to let the boss take revenge on me instead.

 

"Alright, if you understand, then hurry up and leave! Once you're out, you can quit your job, lie around, or do whatever you like!" Suddenly, the boss told us to leave the room. I reluctantly stepped out, glancing back at the boss one last time before stepping through the door. Suddenly, then a worry arose: would there be more annoying things happening next? And the boss, who only had good intuition when necessary, sensed it immediately. I saw him secretly give a thumbs-up. He patted his own leg and whispered softly. "Don't worry, actually, I'm not busy at all."