Chapter 33: Rivalries Rekindled and Debts Dissolved

“So, what, are your parents starving you? That’s child abuse!”  

Yeah, I snapped when I heard that.  

“Huh? Brother, actually… I eat a ton. I scarf down two bowls of rice at home, but then I get to the company and I’m starving again… I guess I just have a body that doesn’t gain weight easily.”  

Honestly, I’d wondered if my obsession with staying thin had pushed me toward something like anorexia. 

That’s why I avoided even joking about his skinniness, afraid I might touch a sore spot. 

Turns out, I was a fool all along.  

To cut to the chase, Seo Eun-jae’s parents didn’t distance themselves from him after his younger sibling was born. 

Far from it—they were devoted. 

His busy mother picked him up every day after practice, and they’d slip a credit card into his hand so he wouldn’t go hungry. 

Above all, the way his mother looked at him was unmistakably the gaze of a parent who adored their son.  

Then, when his mother noticed how close Eun-jae and I had become, she pulled me aside to thank me for looking out for him and asked me to keep doing so. 

That’s when it hit me. 

After his sibling’s birth, both Eun-jae and his parents had been so careful not to hurt each other that they stopped talking openly. 

Misunderstandings piled up, and that’s what drove the wedge between them.  

I worked hard to bridge that gap. 

In the end, parent and child unraveled years of hurt, embracing each other with tears. 

And Eun-jae said to me, “Thanks, Brother. Really. If it weren’t for you, I’d have spent my whole life thinking I didn’t deserve to be loved.”  

I hadn’t realized how deeply that moment had marked him. 

But it made sense, didn’t it? 

Eun-jae was the kind of guy who was loved wherever he went.  

It just took him a little time to accept that he was worthy of that love. 

That’s why I hate the idea of him feeling indebted to me, letting it make him soft toward me.  

“Even without me, you and your parents would’ve worked things out eventually. Anyone could see how much they care about you. And even if I did something good for you back then, you don’t owe me anything now.”  

Eun-jae pressed his lips together, silent. 

I didn’t push for an answer, just waited.  

It was a while before he spoke again.  

“People can see it clear as day, but I’m always the last to know.”  

“I—”  

“You say I would’ve figured it out eventually, but I don’t think so. We would’ve drifted further apart. Without you, I probably wouldn’t have debuted as an idol. I’d have run off to study abroad or something. Even if I had debuted, when the truth about me being adopted came out, I’d have crumbled.”  

It was the first time Eun-jae had ever pushed back against me so firmly, his tone sharp and certain.  

“Three things come to mind hearing that.”  

His eyes, full of questions, met mine.  

“First, if you could act like this on stage, you’d be unstoppable, you punk.”  

“…?”  

“Second, your family’s loaded anyway, so I was probably worrying about your future for nothing, haha.”  

“Third, are those jerks who exposed you still around? I heard that the newspaper went under.”  

Pfft. 

Eun-jae burst out laughing.  

“What the heck…!”  

“Just being honest about what’s on my mind. I haven’t been straight with you enough.”  

It was hypocritical, deceptive even. 

Here I was, preaching honesty while hiding the biggest secret I’d never share. 

Oblivious, innocent Eun-jae just stared at me, mouth slightly open, his expression a little dazed.  

“Honest…” 

“Yeah, honest.”  

The Eun-jae I knew was someone who buried his own feelings for others’ sake. 

If he could just admit this sense of debt out loud, maybe he’d rethink things. 

That’s why I was playing the honesty card now, even if it was an act.  

Eun-jae’s lips closed again. 

This time, they didn’t stay shut for long.  

“I’ll get the answer I want,” I thought to myself as his lips parted.  

“Just because I like you.”  

The words that came out were nothing I’d expected.  

“What?”  

“I like you, Brother. I like your acting, and I like seeing you happy when you’re performing.”  

“That’s all.”  

It’s a lie.  

‘Or is it? Can I even tell if it’s true?’  

I didn’t have some magical skill to discern truth from lies. 

For a fleeting moment, I thought of those “Insight” or “Truth’s Gate” skills from some shop menu in my head. 

Point is, I couldn’t deny his words. 

To do so would be forcing my assumptions on him, bullying him into agreeing with me.  

“…Fine.”  

Guess I’d have to try another angle. 

“Then let me ask you straight. Is it true that YM’s been sabotaging my career? And how do you know?”  

A long silence followed.  

***

The door to the dorm creaked open, a sliver of light spilling into the dark room. 

Ha Condescending, sprawled on the bottom bunk, squinted irritably at the figure in the doorway. 

When he saw it was Seo Eun-jae, he muttered a curse under his breath, loud enough to be heard.  

Their eyes met. 

Eun-jae’s bright brown gaze locked onto Ha Condescending, unyielding.

For a moment, Ha Condescending felt ignored, a spark of anger flaring—until Eun-jae brushed past him without a word.  

‘That little…!’

But Ha Condescending didn’t leap up to confront him. 

He didn’t have the guts for that.  

Eun-jae climbed to his top bunk, leaning against the wall with a sigh that seemed to rise from the depths of his chest. 

His mind was consumed with the conversation he’d just had with Jae-ha.  

“Then let me ask you straight. Is it true that YM’s been sabotaging my career? And how do you know?”  

Jae-ha’s eyes had been so clear, so pure, reflecting Eun-jae’s own face back at him. 

There wasn’t a trace of deceit in that gaze. 

When those eyes looked at him, Eun-jae found he couldn’t lie.  

‘I almost spilled everything.’

For the first time, his resolve wavered. 

He barely managed to hold it together, choosing his words carefully.  

“At first… I just overheard things by chance. Once you get some popularity and a bit of seniority, they start calling you up to the higher-ups. You do mini fan meetings with shareholders’ grandkids, sign autographs… and you start hearing things. Whispers in other rooms, in hallways, from the big shots.”  

“It was just fragments at first, bits and pieces of words. It took me a long time to realize they were talking about you. And even longer to confirm my suspicions by piecing together your moves with what I’d heard.”  

“Chairman Choi took a liking to you, apparently. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not. But when you left, he was furious. At first, it was his orders to block you. After that, some people treated it like a sport, eagerly reporting your every move.”  

“The chairman’s lackeys kept stirring the pot, saying you’d do this or that, that they needed to stop you. That’s how it kept going. The chairman probably hoped you’d come crawling back to YM, but everyone’s got their own artists to push, so they didn’t want you stealing the spotlight either.”  

Even as he spoke, Eun-jae wondered if he was saying the right things, if he was getting it across properly. 

Thinking back on it, his words had turned sharp with anger. 

Would Jae-ha be disappointed, realizing the naive Eun-jae from before was gone?  

“And the decisive thing was…”  

His mouth went dry as he said it.  

“I wanted to quit being an idol, like I told you in that text. I had no plans to renew my contract. But then I heard them talking about you at the company. They knew I’d been poking around, trying to confirm my suspicions.”  

Jae-ha finally reacted.  

“So you believed them when they said they’d stop sabotaging me, signed the contract, and switched to acting?”  

Eun-jae nodded. 

Jae-ha’s fist clenched, veins standing out on his lean hand. 

Eun-jae braced for a hit, but Jae-ha didn’t swing.  

“You idiot! You… you moron!”  

That was all he got. 

Eun-jae wanted to laugh in relief, but seeing Jae-ha worry about him even now made him want to cry.  

“You believed them? Was that written in the contract? You thought a verbal promise would hold up?!”  

‘I believed them. But they lied.’ He swallowed the words.

Jae-ha took a moment to catch his breath and then muttered in a low voice.

” I get it now. There’s nothing you can do. You haven’t really helped me and you have just left me feeling indebted to you.”

Those words were so sharp that it made Eun-jae’s heart ached Jae-ha’s expression was heavy with disappointment as he spoke. 

“Don’t even think about doing anything right now. Act like you don’t know and don’t care. If you’re distracted during practice, worrying about your own stuff, you’re just getting in the way. Got it?”

His face looked more pained than I’d realized before. 

The regret in his eyes was unmistakable now.

“Why do you look so defiant? Can’t handle it?” Jae-ha’s voice cut through. 

“Then listen up. There’s only one thing you need to do.”

In the dim light, his sharp gaze gleamed with intensity.

“Compete with me. Seriously.”

He was right. 

I was still acting immature, letting my attitude get in the way of facing Jae-ha properly.

“Alright,” I thought, resolving to settle in. 

“It’s time to get serious.”

Eun-jae stared into the shadowed emptiness, lost in thought for a long while.

***

Seo Eun-jae was transformed.

“No, Your Honor, I’m asserting that the prior incident was a prelude to this case.”

The words were the same, yet everything felt different. 

His gaze was icy, his voice gentle but commanding. 

The person standing before me wasn’t Seo Eun-jae anymore—it was Prosecutor Han Sang-woo, Joo Min-woo’s longtime rival, a calculating figure consumed by greed and contempt. 

The subtle remorse he’d shown during our last practice was now gone.

I fought to keep a smirk from creeping onto my face as I delivered my next lines.

“Pfft, you’re joking.”  

“What did you just say, counsel?”  

The voice of Lee Min-seok, temporarily playing the judge for this rehearsal, cut through. 

I flashed a sly smile.  

“Oh, nothing at all, Your Honor.”  

“Hmph. Regardless, the prosecution’s claim seems speculative at this point. Counsel, proceed with questioning the witness.”  

“Understood.”  

I approached Hang-yeol, who was playing the witness (also temporarily), his steps deliberate.  

“Witness, you testified that you saw the defendant on the night of the 23rd at around 11 p.m. Yet you just contradicted that statement. Why is that?”