Chapter 20: Tensions and Bonds

“Ugh, Eun-jae, why is it so hard for you to get this? I’m explaining it simply, but you’re just not listening. Did you already forget the mentor’s feedback from earlier?”

“You’ve improved, sure, but you’re still way behind. Let me help you out. All I’m asking is for you to take one photo with me after this shoot and post it on your SNS. Just once, okay?”

That voice—it was Ha Condescending’s, dripping with that infuriating, patronizing tone.  

“I already told you that’s not happening.”  

The person standing in front of Ha Condescending was Seo Eun-jae. 

I’d half-doubted it when I heard him say Eun-jae’s name, but there he was. 

My head throbbed.  

‘Why the hell is he here with Ha Condescending of all people?’ 

The guy’s intentions were painfully obvious. 

Did Eun-jae just follow him here because he was called? 

Seo Eun-jae wasn’t clueless. 

No way he didn’t see through Ha Condescending’s flimsy excuse of being his “elementary school senior” to cozy up to him. 

Yet here they were, alone together.  

‘Spineless.’  

How had he even survived seven years in the idol industry? 

How did he make it in that cutthroat world?  

‘Whatever. No need to get involved.’

This probably happened before I died, too. 

Seo Eun-jae had gone through stuff like this and still clinched first place in (My Son-in-Law). 

That meant he handled it himself, right? 

Plus, Ha Condescending gets kicked off the show midway through some scandal anyway.  

I softened my steps, retreating as quietly as I could. 

There were plenty of reasons to avoid this, but above all, I didn’t see the point in letting other contestants know I was close to Seo Eun-jae right now. 

He hadn’t approached me during the first evaluation, so he probably didn’t want to make a show of knowing me either.  

Let me be clear: it’s not like I had no intention of leveraging my connection with Seo Eun-jae. 

Especially since he was openly targeted by other contestants early on in (My Son-in-Law). 

His fans would probably appreciate someone looking out for him.  

‘But I don’t know what Eun-jae wants yet.’  

It’s hypocritical to think about using our friendship while saying this, I know. 

But acting chummy out of nowhere after keeping my distance would make me no better than Ha Condescending. 

So, until I could confirm how Eun-jae felt, I wasn’t going to act like we were close.  

“Ha! Are you serious right now? You think you’re famous because people fawn over you as an idol center? You’re just a washed-up has-been crawling into the acting scene to scrape by. You can’t even act properly, and this is how you treat someone offering to help? Really?”  

Ha Condescending’s unfiltered words stopped me in my tracks.  

‘What did he just say?’ 

“I’ve told you repeatedly, this makes me uncomfortable.”  

Good. Well said, Eun-jae. 

You didn’t waste your years as an idol after all.  

“You’re really something else. Maybe a few hits will knock some sense into you, huh?”  

“…!”  

It happened in a flash. 

I’d already slipped into the deepest corner of the hallway, under the slope of the staircase.  

The sensor light flickered on, illuminating the two figures locked in a standoff.  

‘That bastard.’ 

Ha Condescending had his fist raised. 

When our eyes met, he flinched, hastily lowering it. 

Guess he had enough sense to know he shouldn’t be seen doing this.  

“What are you doing right now?”  

“Haha, no, no, don’t get the wrong idea! I’m Eun-jae’s elementary school senior, just giving him some advice.”  

Even now, he’s flaunting that “elementary school senior” nonsense.  

“Advice? With your fist?”  

“No, no! You’ve got it all wrong. It was a joke. We’re close, so we mess around like this all the time.”  

“Close, huh?”  

At my words, Ha Condescending’s expression shifted. 

He scanned me with a smug look before tilting his chin up.  

“Yeah, we’re pretty close. If you want, Kim Jae-ha, I can ask Eun-jae to take a picture with you too. You know how it works, right? Early voting lets you pick multiple people. It was like that in (Idol Maker) too—fans vote for their favorite and whoever’s close to them.”  

I tried to hold back, but something snapped in my head at that moment.  

“Are you out of your mind?”  

“W-what?!”  

Thinking I was talking to him, Ha Condescending exaggerated his shock. 

I shoved past him with my shoulder and stood in front of Seo Eun-jae. 

He just stared at me, wide-eyed with surprise.  

“You’re just standing there listening to this crap? Are you a pushover? You’re the center of Dreamer, for God’s sake—where’s your pride? Did you toss it into the Han River?”  

“Hey, Kim Jae-ha, who do you think you—”  

I grabbed Eun-jae’s arm, turned, and glared at Ha Condescending.  

“You’re his elementary school senior, huh?”  

“Y-yeah, and who are you to—”  

“I was Eun-jae’s trainee buddy.”  

“…What?”  

“I met him when he was fifteen. Practically raised him. We trained together, I brought food from home for him, and I dealt with the annoying nobodies who tried to mess with him.” 

“What, you think you’re closer because you knew him first? Did Eun-jae even know you existed back in elementary school?”  

Ha Condescending stammered, floored by my words, then his eyes flashed as he shouted, “P-proof! I’ve got our elementary school yearbook—”  

“Brother, let’s go.”  

Eun-jae grabbed my hand—the one still holding his arm—and stepped forward. 

Ha Condescending fell silent, staring at him. 

Without so much as glancing at Ha Condescending, Eun-jae led me up the stairs.  

It wasn’t until we reached the meeting room upstairs that Eun-jae let go of my hand. 

He stared at me blankly for a moment before dropping his head.  

“Sorry, brother.”  

“Sorry? You’re ‘sorry’?”  

“For making you worry…”  

I couldn’t hold back anymore. 

I raised my hand and gave his back a few solid smacks.  

“Is that what you’re saying to me right now? Huh?”  

“Ow, brother, that hurts…!”  

“Hurts, my foot! My hand hurts more. You’ve been working out, haven’t you? So why are you standing there taking that kind of nonsense?”  

“No, brother, wait, hold on!”  

I could see him holding back a laugh, the little punk. 

He was whining about the pain, but I knew Seo Eun-jae wasn’t hurt one bit. 

Eventually, my hand started stinging, and I had to stop. 

In that moment, I realized how tall he’d gotten—having to look up slightly to meet his eyes—and something welled up inside me.  

“Seriously… why were you just standing there, you idiot? You’ve grown this tall, and you’re still acting like this? It’s… it’s frustrating.”  

“Frustrating?”  

Eun-jae smiled faintly, his voice calm but heavy.  

“…Yeah.”  

The word slipped out before I could stop it, but it was true. 

I was frustrated. 

Frustrated that someone as incredible as Seo Eun-jae was dealing with this, that this kind of thing probably happened before I died, and that back then, I was too busy resenting and envying the Seo Eun-jae who’d transitioned to acting to even notice.  

I was frustrated because both he and I were so pathetic and foolish.  

I think I understood why Eun-jae had listened to Ha Condescending’s nonsense without pushing back harder. 

The industry wasn’t kind to idols trying to break into acting, and he probably wanted to start fresh, with a beginner’s mindset. 

Sure, he was the center of Dreamer now, but he’d had his days as a rookie, getting pushed around. 

He was probably worried about someone like Ha Condescending, with his loose lips, starting rumors.  

And more than anything, he knew that being a popular idol in a competition like (Casting With My Own Hand!), where votes decided rankings, made him a target. 

He probably felt guilty toward the other contestants.  

Did I not know this before I died?  

No, I knew. 

I’d been the one closest to Seo Eun-jae. 

Even halfway through (Casting With My Own Hand!) he’d been forcing smiles, his head always half-bowed. 

I saw it and looked the other way. 

No, worse—I hated him for improving despite it all.  

“Did you really want to be here?”  

My voice came out half-cracked. 

Eun-jae just smiled. 

That was his answer.  

‘Yeah, you idiot. That’s just how YM operates.’

A company that treated its artists like money-making tools. 

YM Entertainment probably threw Eun-jae into this for the buzz and the results it’d bring, without a thought for what he’d go through or how he’d feel.  

‘Someone like Eun-jae could’ve started with a lead role.’ 

Even if not a lead, he could’ve taken a solid supporting role in a web drama. 

He had options. 

But the company probably blocked them all.  

“And yet… I’m glad you’re here, brother.”  

And he’s saying stuff like this.  

“You idiot.”  

I couldn’t even imagine. 

Before I died, when Eun-jae told me about (Casting With My Own Hand!), what was he thinking? 

How did he feel? 

He must’ve known I was avoiding him. 

When we ran into each other at university, he’d rushed to tell me about it. 

Why? 

Because I’d ignored all his texts asking to meet up and talk.

If I remember right, I probably blocked him around then.  

“And you still wanted to tell me about this?”  

“Haha.”  

“What’s so funny?”  

I gave his shoulder a playful shove, then pulled him into a quick hug.  

“I’m sorry… for making you feel bad all this time.”  

That’s all I could say for now. 

But someday, I’d open up to him completely.  

Eun-jae’s eyes softened, a quiet intensity in his gaze.  

“It’s okay, brother. I’m fine.”  

“I’m all good now.”  

His voice was heavy, like water dripping in a shadowed place, thick with unspoken weight.  

***

When we returned to the meeting room, all eyes were on us. 

My teammates, who’d been waiting and rushed over excitedly, froze for a moment. 

I told them the truth—that Eun-jae and I had been idol trainees together. 

Choi Yul said, “So you guys are close?” and before I could answer, Eun-jae chimed in, “Yup, the closest.”  

Back with his team, Eun-jae seemed to be doing well in practice. 

Ha Condescending, who showed up late, flinched every time our eyes met. 

As we focused on practice, the day slipped away.  

“Tomorrow morning is free practice, and we’ll have mentor classes in the afternoon! The detailed schedule will be announced in the morning!”  

The announcement from the set played again on the dorm’s broadcast as we returned. 

Hang-yeol, half-asleep from exhaustion, jolted awake at the sound.  

With a click, the dorm’s lights went out. 

Lying in the dark, I cautiously opened my eyes.  

‘If I’m going to use my skill, now’s the time.’ 

Only two days left until the shoot. 

Using the skill now would barely give me time to incorporate what I gained into my acting and finalize practice. 

I’d hesitated to use it during the training camp because of the skill’s penalty. 

But…  

‘ “It’s a convincing interpretation. You should trust your conclusions more.” ‘ 

I wanted to confirm, even if it meant dealing with the penalty. 

Was my conclusion right?  

Finally, I made up my mind after wrestling with it all afternoon.  

‘Skill: Virtual Experience.’

A familiar window appeared in my vision.