Chapter 37: Dissolve: His Last Choice

“You’re telling me this is the same cold bastard who didn’t even flinch during the final episode of <Eternal Night>— the one that made everyone cry?”

“So why’s he like this now?”

“Probably got too into it seeing it live. But seriously, your acting back there felt real. Did something like that actually happen to you?”

“……”

Yoon Jooho, who had paused the camera recording, didn’t answer— just gave a shrug. 

That alone said yes.

He stepped away from the camera and sank into a single-seater sofa, picking up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

He looked exhausted. 

Not just because of the shouting and fury in the scene, but because even the restrained, subtle emotions took just as much focus to portray.

As he sipped the tea brought by Bang Isa and lit a cigarette, Song Hyunsoo, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him, asked cautiously:

“It’s true, then? You actually know what that kind of feeling’s like?”

“You really think I’m that shallow?”

“You, sunbae?”

“What, did you think this face only knew pity?”

“No, I mean, obviously not… It’s just, people like you usually sleep around a lot but never actually fall in love, right?”

“You watch too many dramas.”

“So you’re saying you have been in love?”

Song Hyunsoo wasn’t just surprised— he was shocked.

He’d always figured Jooho had probably racked up a lot of one-night stands, but love?

Yoon Jooho? 

The guy who seemed incapable of loving anyone but himself?

Things like carving out time for dates, whispering sweet nothings while gazing into someone’s eyes, running across town in the middle of the night just because you missed them… 

He couldn’t imagine Yoon Jooho doing any of that.

Jooho leaned back in the sofa, flicked ash into the tray, and said with a wry smile:

“True love? That’s a good one.”

“But you said to yourself— that kind of performance only comes from experience. So that was real love, wasn’t it?”

“Hyunsoo.”

“……”

“You know how many roles I’ve played over the years? You really think all of them came from personal experience?”

“Okay… yeah, when you put it that way.”

He had a point. 

Jooho hadn’t only done melodramas. 

He’d played characters with all kinds of jobs, backgrounds, and time periods. 

No way he’d lived all that.

“Well, I do know what rejection feels like. Maybe I put some of that into the scene without realizing it.”

“……”

Hyunsoo winced sharply.

“What’s that look for?”

“You’ve been rejected? You?”

“……”

“Was that person blind or something?”

Jooho’s hand froze halfway to his lips with the cigarette. 

Then he lowered his head and chuckled, shoulders shaking. 

The words had slipped out before Hyunsoo could stop them, and now he felt a little embarrassed— but not enough to take them back.

“Well, thanks for saying that.”

“I mean… it’s true, right? You’ve got the perfect exterior. It’s just hard to imagine someone turning down a top star like you.”

Clamping the cigarette between his lips, Jooho exhaled a long breath of smoke like a sigh. 

Then, as if tossing the words out in passing, he said:

“She told me our time together meant nothing.”

“……”

Hyunsoo couldn’t even joke about that.

Meant nothing? 

The fact that someone could say that to Yoon Jooho was unfathomable. 

He wanted to meet that idiot and see what their face looked like.

“Wait… don’t tell me— it was unrequited?”

“Unrequited?”

“You liked him, but he didn’t feel the same way, right? Isn’t that just unrequited love?”

With the cigarette resting between his fingers, Yoon Jooho let his arm hang over the sofa’s armrest and fell into silent thought for a moment. 

Then, as if reaching a conclusion, he shook his head.

“It’s not quite like that. While we were seeing each other, I wasn’t even thinking about love or any of that. It’s complicated.”

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, then gripped both armrests of the sofa and pushed himself up with force.

“I charge a hundred thousand won an hour. You didn’t come here just to chat, did you?”

As Yoon Jooho walked toward the camera, Song Hyunsoo found himself glancing at his profile, feeling inexplicably unsettled.

Someone said they didn’t like Yoon Jooho.

It felt like hearing thunder on a clear day.

Yoon Jooho returned to the sofa after turning the camera back on. 

Glancing down at Hyunsoo’s hands, he clicked his tongue in disbelief.

“What are you doing? Rolling gimbap?”

Only then did Hyunsoo realize it—

He had unknowingly rolled the script into a tight tube in his hand. 

Almost compulsively, like wringing it dry.

■

With his right hand buried deep in his padded jacket pocket, Song Hyunsoo held the cigarette filter with his left. 

He was right-handed to the bone, so his left hand fumbled awkwardly. 

But the cold was so biting it felt like his hand might shatter, so he had no choice but to switch hands back and forth. 

Even his toes, sticking out from his slippers, were starting to go numb.

Was it really worth smoking in this kind of cold? 

I honestly don’t understand myself sometimes. 

That thought brought a hollow chuckle to his lips, but it faded as quickly as smoke in the wind.

Yoon Jooho had wanted someone before— deeply, intensely. 

That alone was a shock. 

To Hyunsoo, Yoon Jooho had always been the one people longed for, not someone who could long for anyone else. 

He’d never imagined Jooho capable of that kind of yearning.

But that wasn’t even the whole story.

Yoon Jooho hadn’t gotten what he wanted. 

Yoon Jooho of all people.

He insisted it wasn’t unrequited love, so… what? 

They dated and then broke up?

That didn’t make sense either. 

I mean, who would break up with Yoon Jooho? 

Sure, his personality was kind of twisted, but come on— have you seen his face? 

It’s practically a lethal weapon. 

Just one look and any breakup plans would probably melt away. 

That face alone was high-performance-grade.

Someone dumped Yoon Jooho? 

There really are all kinds of people in this world.

The cigarette had burned down to the filter before he noticed. 

He flicked the butt away with a twitchy snap of his fingers, the motion edged with irritation.

Whoever dumped Yoon Jooho, or whoever he was hiding away, what did that have to do with me? 

Why can’t I stop thinking about it?

He considered lighting another cigarette, then thought better of it. 

He stuffed the remaining smokes and his lighter back into the pack and stepped inside.

Even the freezing rooftop room felt warm after standing outside. 

His frozen toes began to thaw, prickling with a strange, itchy warmth.

No way I’m sleeping tonight. 

Might as well have a beer.

He opened the fridge and reached for a can, then paused. 

It hit him— there was someone he could call, even at this godforsaken hour. 

He shut the fridge and instead pulled out his phone from his pocket.

3 a.m. in Korea. 

That meant it was 7 p.m. in Paris.

He scrolled through his recent calls as he walked into the room.

Jin hyung – France number

The call rang five or six times before connecting.

“Hyung!”

On the other end, there was no response— just the sound of someone laughing.

“What? Why are you laughing as soon as you pick it up?”

[Just… when you say ‘hyung,’ it sounds like a puppy going ‘woof.’]

Was he really that happy to hear from me? 

Embarrassed, Hyunsoo scratched the back of his neck and plopped down on the mattress.

“Is this a good time? Are you free to talk?”

[Just finished dinner. Waiting for dessert.]

“Oh, should I call back later then?”

[Nah, it’s fine. I’m at home, taking it easy. Nothing’s wrong, is there?]

There was a warm concern in Jin’s final question.

“I’m doing great these days, right? Nothing but good news. I just… I couldn’t sleep. And this seemed like the perfect time to call you.”

[That’s a relief.]

He peeled off his padded jacket and tossed it haphazardly under the mattress, then slipped his feet under the blanket. 

The electric heating pad was already doing its job, making his whole body feel like it was slowly melting into the bed.

The phone moved slightly away from his ear as a faint male voice bled through the line. 

It sounded like Korean, though he couldn’t make out the words clearly. 

Something about a dog…? 

The tone was definitely annoying.

“Hyung, are you sure you’re free to talk? I just called to say hi— if it’s a bad time, I can call back.”

[No, seriously. It’s fine. Totally chill. How’s the script reading going? You were really agonizing over it.]