Putting aside Director Bang’s grumbling about why I was looking for a peach I’d never even tasted since birth, I dashed into Monroe’s room.
Even though Director Bang had left the door open, the little one still refused to leave its room.
But the moment Yoon Jooho appeared, it would dart down from the cat tower in an instant.
Rubbing against my calf and making a pleased sound, it seemed to follow me a few steps before turning back toward the door.
“Meowww. Meow.”
Then, it cried pitifully toward the door, still with that fragile, baby-like voice.
My chest tightened painfully. I had to squeeze my jaw and exhale sharply several times.
“Come here.”
“Aaah, aaah, aaah.”
It turned to look at me, lifted its chin, and let out a long, thin wail into the air—as if pleading its innocence, protesting.
“Are you really going to do this every time?”
“Meooow.”
“Hyunsoo’s dad… isn’t here. I’ll brush you. Come here.”
Every time I said “not here,” I felt resistance in my throat, as if my vocal cords were blocked.
Since the day Song Hyunsoo left this house, Monroe stopped leaving its room. Every time Yoon Jooho came in, it was like this.
Last week, on a day off, I thought maybe it was awkward after being away from home for so long.
But it didn’t give up—it just cried as if looking for someone, then came back to cuddle and play well with Yoon Jooho.
Still, every time it left the room and returned, the crying at the door kept repeating.
‘“But Monroe really looked for sunbae a lot.”
“How do you know it was looking for me?”
“It ignored its food and just stood at the door crying so much.”’
Back then, I thought Song Hyunsoo was just exaggerating because he doted on Monroe.
But now, I know that’s not the case. I know exactly who the little one is looking for.
I pulled out the cylinder that held Monroe’s brushes from the drawer where we kept toys and various items for it.
Sitting down in the spot by the window where I usually brushed it, the little one finally trotted over and flopped down right in front of my knees.
Starting from its head to tail, I slowly stroked it.
Feeling good, it squinted its eyes and wore a languid expression.
“Yoon Marilyn.”
“Meow?”
“You’ve always liked being brushed from the start. You’re a genius cat, aren’t you?”
“Meow.”
‘“Sunbae just made it almost to the dining table. Coming all the way here alone, isn’t our Monroe a real genius cat?”’
I’d teased Song Hyunsoo for being so doting, but before I knew it, I myself was praising the little one as a genius.
If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even be thinking about letting an animal into my home again.
If you made me raise one, you better take responsibility, you irresponsible kid.
“Do you miss Hyunsoo’s dad?”
“Au-uuuu.”
“I don’t miss him much.”
“Waaah?” Monroe perked its ears and raised its voice.
Maybe the brushing tickled somewhere, because it shook its head vigorously.
“This isn’t really missing…”
As if waiting for me to finish, Monroe turned its head to look at me.
Brushing its fur, I muttered to myself,
“I think you actually hate him to death.”
Just as I finished brushing, Director Bang appeared at the door and knocked lightly on the doorframe.
“Your Highness, I present to you a peach.”
After giving Monroe one last full-body stroke, I stood and put the brush back where it belonged.
As usual after brushing, Monroe went to its cushion and lay down, spreading out on top of its favorite toy—the rabbit slippers that belonged to Song Hyunsoo.
“Do you like being sarcastic so much? Makes you really happy?”
As I left the room, I smirked at Director Bang.
Both Seo Hae and Director Bang were unbearable. They just kept nagging without even being able to bring Song Hyunsoo here.
“Don’t send him away? Easy to say.”
On the tray atop the island counter lay a peach the color of an egg yolk.
I slumped down onto a stool. After going without food for over a day and vomiting several times, my body felt too weak to support itself.
“So, you’re wheezing, huh? That’s really satisfying.”
I glared at Director Bang standing across the counter. Though he wore a troubled expression, I had no energy left to care about that.
“If all you’re going to do is keep scratching at things, why don’t you just leave? You’re no help at all.”
“Funny. What help do you expect from me?”
“If you had just told me you were sick…!”
I raised my voice, then stopped abruptly and shut my mouth.
“So what? You think Hyunsoo would come back if he heard you were sick?”
“…”
“Wake up, Yoon Jooho.”
“Do you know what we went through?”
“If you knew so well, why did you lose him?”
“Even if you didn’t poke so much, I’m already—huh, never mind.”
I took the spoon and cut a piece of yellow peach. Bringing it close to my lips, the sticky, sweet scent hit my nose, triggering a violent surge of memories.
‘“Do you pity me too?”
“Yes. I pity sunbae. Someone like me, at the bottom of the world, pitying Yoon Jooho. It’s the biggest comedy of all.”’
When I didn’t show my pain and finished my work well, my parents called me a great pro, said they were proud.
But if I said I was sick and wanted to rest, I was met with cold criticism.
When I was young, I endured it for praise. When I grew up, I knew it wouldn’t change, so I endured.
The pity for Song Hyunsoo was like a spring of water welling up from a deep, black hole made by that past.
When empty, it’s a hole, but when clear water fills it, it becomes a spring.
The first precious thing I ever had.
I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to hold it forever, to press my lips to that flesh forever.
I was so afraid I couldn’t speak the truth. I was only focused on covering his eyes with sweet lies.
Because that was the only way I knew.
I couldn’t swallow the memories stirred up by that sickly sweet scent.
Eventually, I put the spoon down and leaned against the counter, biting my lip for a long time.
Director Bang watched silently this time, without touching me.
“Seo Hae said something.”
I opened my mouth calmly, as if indifferent.
“Because he tried everything to catch Jung Jin, he was able to let go without regrets.”
“That might be true. But that’s not all—life is like that. That’s why everyone tries their best in the present.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Yeah. Right. I did my best in my own way back then.”
“…”
“But it still didn’t work.”
I looked up at Director Bang. My eyes felt empty, without even a trace of hostility.
“So what do I have to do to catch him this time, hyung?”
I asked genuinely.
“Should I even stick out my neck in front of him? Would he accept that?”
“Why are you so extreme, man.”
“I dream that when I try to kiss him, Hyunsoo pushes me away.”
“…”
I crushed my face with my right hand.
“He keeps saying it won’t work with me… and he walks out that door so many times.”
Director Bang sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair.
“It’s better to try than to do nothing, Jooho.”
“What if it kills me this time…? What if I really end up hating myself? Then how do I live without him?”
“Jooho.”
“It was so hard when it ended before it even started. Like you said, he’s not all there is. He came into my house, climbed onto my bed, my…”
I cut myself off and closed my mouth.
Without realizing it, my fists were clenched tightly on the counter.
Director Bang looked at me with pity, already knowing the rest of what I wasn’t saying.
I got up from the stool.
“I’ll eat it later. Just leave it.”
Closing the door to the Master Zone, then my bedroom door, I locked myself inside.
I sat at the table by the window and lit a cigarette.
The emotions I’d tried to suppress flared up hotly. The internal pressure built as if magma was about to erupt.
Unable to bear the pressure, cracks were starting to form.
I picked up my phone from the table and opened the SNS app.
As usual, the notifications for new followers, likes, and comments glowed red.
I logged into my own account first.
473 posts, 47.21 million followers, 0 following.
The reason no one was followed was simple—I didn’t use SNS for personal purposes at all.
If you’re a public figure, it’s better not to engage in personal exchanges via SNS.
If you don’t follow anyone, there’s no one to feel hurt whether they’re seniors, colleagues, or juniors.
I’d never scrolled through anyone else’s accounts except Song Hyunsoo’s.
I clicked on the latest post: a photo of the actors of <Dissolve> in front of a coffee truck sent by the Yoon Gyeolho fan cafe.
Two million likes and over twenty thousand comments.
In the photo, Song Hyunsoo smiled brightly, making a peace sign with his fingers.
He had a cigarette dangling from his fingers, and I found myself chuckling without realizing it.
I zoomed in to look at his face—a gesture I’d repeated many times this afternoon.
I clicked the tag and went to his account.
602 posts, 4,233 followers, 324 following.
His followers had increased since the last time I checked a few hours ago. Probably because I’d tagged his account.
He had also uploaded the same photo.
On set of <Dissolve> with sunbaes.
Huge lunchbox and coffee truck sent by Yoon Gyeolho’s fan cafe!
Thanks so much, I ate so well!
I’m Yoon Gyeolho too ♡
I started scrolling backward through about 600 posts.
They were all photos I’d seen several times before, but they felt fresh and interesting like the first time.
There he was in a uniform, making cocktails at Jessica’s bar; grilling samgyeopsal on the rooftop with Jungho and Chaeyoung; shirtless and wearing work gloves on stage with his troupe; acting on that stage; walking on Hannam Bridge in the snow with a cool demeanor; and even the cats from the old Gukine lot…
Each moment from Song Hyunsoo’s past I hadn’t known about shone brightly.
Before I knew it, a soft smile filled with affection had spread across my face.
But at the same time, a painful sense of loss welled up inside me.
‘“Admit it, Yoon Jooho. You can’t live without him.”’
Seo Hae and Director Bang didn’t know everything.
It wasn’t that I resisted because I didn’t want to admit it.
From the moment I told Song Hyunsoo I wanted to date him, I’d already admitted it in my heart.
Back then, Hyunsoo got hurt and left.
He bled from my sharp words that I threw out first, not knowing what else to do.
Just like the lyrics of that song he often listens to.
Back then, saying “let’s date” could have forgiven everything.
What do I have to say this time?
I knew words like “sorry” or “my fault” wouldn’t work at all.
I stubbed out the cigarette and got up, heading to the dressing room.
After taking off my gown and finishing preparations to go out, I slowly walked to the drawer where the watch case was kept.
I put on the special watch I’d placed there over the past few weeks.
Covering the watch with my right hand, I pressed hard over my heart.
Before leaving the dressing room, I checked the SNS app again.
With a few taps, the numbers on my account had changed slightly.
473 posts, 47.21 million followers, 1 following.
Like the rusty old watch’s hand moving forward by one notch after a long pause.