There are moments like that.Moments when the boundaries you’ve worked so carefully to keep separate—so solid you thought nothing could breach them—collapse over something trivial. When all the thin layers of composure you brushed over your heart to hide what was beneath crumble as if they’d never been there at all.This was one of those moments.When Seo-eul understood exactly what Sa-heon’s quiet words meant, he had to grip the steering wheel tighter—like it was his own heart he was holding together, knuckles whitening under the strain.Of course, Sa-heon must have known. Back then, Seo-eul had barely slept. There were no child-actor protection laws like now, and summer shoots filled with veteran middle-aged actors were anything but warm. The smallest mistake—a flubbed line, a delayed cue—would bring down a thunderous scolding that left his vision flashing black.But what scared him more than the shouting was the figure standing behind the camera. That smiling face, the silent mouthing of It’s okay. You can do it. Every time he saw it, a cold shiver crawled up his spine. He wanted to do better, had to do better, and he did. Those were the days he fought desperately to prove himself. Ironically, the harder he tried, the more he realized how easily replaceable he was—a tool, not a person.He’d never told Sa-heon. He didn’t want to worry him over things that couldn’t be helped. He’d just pretended everything was fine, answering the messages that always waited when he turned on his phone, playing the calm, confident actor. But in truth, there were times—rare, fleeting—when he wanted to run away.That must’ve been one of those times.That’s why he’d taken that taxi in secret, racing through the night.He only wanted to see the happy look on Sa-heon’s face when he got his present. But when the boy he cared about only got angry instead, something inside him cracked. Fine. If you don’t want it, throw it away. He’d hurled the box—carefully wrapped so it wouldn’t get scratched—to the ground and turned to leave. Tears had come before he knew it, sudden and hot, because somehow that scuffed box rolling in the dirt looked like him.That was when Sa-heon, just a kid himself, had grabbed him in a panic.The boy who’d never once asked his parents for anything looked stricken as he mumbled apology after apology, picking the box back up with dirty hands. It had been the monsoon season; the ground was a mess of mud. But Sa-heon hadn’t cared, hugging the box to his chest. That head that always stood so straight had bowed so easily for him, and only him.I’m sorry, he’d said again. I just got mad for no reason. You know me—I can’t stand summer. You came all this way and I… Ah, fuck, it’s just—my personality’s shit, okay? I tried to fix it like you said, but I’m still like this, see?His words were rough, but the hand that wiped at Seo-eul’s wet cheek was soft, trembling with care. He’d frowned, frustrated that his hands were too dirty to touch him properly, and sighed. So don’t cry, Lee Seo-eul. Why would I throw this away? You gave it to me.“……”Remembering that, the strength drained from Seo-eul’s grip on the wheel. Not because of the summer heat, or Sa-heon’s fiery temper—but because he had no idea what kind of face he was supposed to make at I just hated that you couldn’t sleep comfortably.This was exactly why he’d tried to quit.Swallowing down the sick swirl of feeling, Seo-eul clenched his teeth.No matter how much he told himself not to attach meaning to things, whenever he was near Sa-heon, his thoughts twisted. He just wanted to stay like the boys in the back seat—just old friends sharing a history—but he was terrified he couldn’t.He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice.He repeated that to himself, forcing his mind blank, when a sudden voice from behind broke the silence.“Sunbaenim.”“…Huh?”The call jolted him back. When he checked the rearview mirror, Ye Ju-yeol’s face was right there, leaning forward eagerly. Seo-eul smoothed over his expression and answered, a beat late.“So what happened to the shoes?”Of course. The story had been cut off halfway.After a pause, Seo-eul replied evenly,“What do you think? He still has them.”The shoes he’d given that day were still displayed in Seo Sa-heon’s collection room. They didn’t even fit anymore, but he’d kept them all this time. Not just the shoes—Sa-heon had kept every birthday gift Seo-eul had ever given him, without fail.Why would I throw it away? You gave it to me.Hearing that childish voice echo in his memory made his chest ache. The fact that Sa-heon still had them—it felt like he was still holding onto Seo-eul’s heart, too. And that hurt.***“I’ll drive on the way back.”They were just leaving the underground parking lot of the supermarket when Sa-heon spoke.The two younger ones had run off excitedly to grab carts, and Seo-eul was following them when Sa-heon came up beside him and murmured the words. Seo-eul, who’d been planning to drive again, shook his head automatically.“It’s fine. I’ll do it.”“You’re not in a good mood?”“Huh?”“You seem tired.”…How did he always notice things like that? Seo-eul faltered, forcing himself not to look away from the camera trailing them. He schooled his expression and replied lightly,“Of course I’m tired. We’ve been running around all day. But shouldn’t I be saying that to you? You’ve worked harder than me.”It was hard to believe the corn field mission had been just this morning. So much had happened since—it felt like days ago.When he looked over, Sa-heon just shrugged, like he didn’t know what “hard work” meant. Seo-eul gave him a playful warning.“And you’re going to have it harder starting tomorrow. I’m planning to swap you out like crazy.”“…You’re going to trade me, Seo-eul?”“Yeah. So ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ you can trade me, too.”Fair’s fair. As long as neither of them blamed the other for whatever partner or item came out of the exchange missions. With the final-day gift ceremony ahead, it was a straightforward truce. A quiet laugh came from beside him. The upcoming mission might be terrifying, but Seo-eul decided to trust the PD’s promise—they wouldn’t actually kill anyone.Right about then, a metallic rattle signaled the return of the two carts, racing toward them.“Couldn’t you just wait inside?” Seo-eul muttered, as Ye Ju-yeol skidded to a dramatic stop, spinning the cart like a drift racer.“What should we buy? Meat? Snacks? Watermelon?”“What, are we going to a river picnic? Why watermelon?”“Mm. Then instant rice? A box of ramen? Ah! Can we get a medium-sized army stew set? The meal kits here are supposed to be amazing!”They started with food talk, naturally. Well, it was a grocery store.Ignoring the flood of item names, Seo-eul said, “I saw a rice cooker in the kitchen earlier. Let’s just buy rice, not instant. If we’re doing army stew, grab some ham and baked beans too.”With four people, that would be more efficient anyway. All they’d need to do was toss everything in a pot and boil it. As he listed ingredients, both Yoon Hyuk and Ju-yeol turned toward him in unison, eyes wide.Their stares were so expectant that he stopped mid-sentence.“Hyung, you can cook…?”“Yeah. Just a little?”“Whoa. We can’t at all. Not that we don’t want to—it’s just, uh… talent? We don’t have it.”“Right. This guy burned fried eggs into charcoal this morning.”“Hey! Why are you snitching! You told me to make them!”“I didn’t say burn them.”Zap. With that sharp comeback, Ju-yeol’s mouth snapped shut. His glare said everything: I shouldn’t have tried to help you!Watching their little comedy act, Seo-eul concluded that their cooking skills were catastrophically nonexistent. Not just burnt—turning eggs into coal required effort. He didn’t even want to ask how. If they offered to demonstrate, it would be a disaster.He hurriedly recalled what the welcome packet had said.Meal prep and chores were up to the cast’s discretion—thank god. If they’d been required to rotate tasks, he might’ve had to witness that charcoal fry in person.So it seemed he’d naturally end up in charge of cooking. That was fine. He was used to it anyway—cooking for two wasn’t much different from cooking for four. Whether they liked his food was another matter. If they didn’t, well, the monk could always leave the temple.As they stepped through the automatic doors, the map showed the fresh produce section was one floor down. The trouble began when they stepped off the escalator.“Gah—”Seo Sa-heon had grabbed Ye Ju-yeol’s cart with one hand just as the younger man tried to bolt forward.The resulting recoil folded Ju-yeol in half like laundry as he flopped into the cart. Unfazed, Sa-heon dragged the whole thing back and parked it neatly beside Yoon Hyuk.“Should we split up?” he suggested.No need for everyone to crowd together.There weren’t that many people around, but since they each had to keep at least one VJ with them, space was tight.It was a reasonable idea. Seo-eul nodded, then hesitated. Something felt off.Why did it suddenly feel so awkward?He tilted his head—and then realized.Oh.Come to think of it… these three—Had they actually spoken to each other at all since their introductions?

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.