Chapter 9
The soft clink of glasses and low hum of chatter filled the terrace, but Eun Wol barely noticed. His focus narrowed to the figure cutting through the crowd - confident, radiant, impossible to look away from.
Gyu In.
He moved like the room belonged to him, each step measured yet effortless until he slipped into the space beside Eun Wol.
"Thanks for holding down the fort," he said, voice smooth, gaze flicking to Hae Won. "I'll take it from here."
Hae Won dipped his head, a faint curve at his lips. "Of course. I'll be nearby if needed."
Their eyes met briefly, a silent truce. Then he faded into the crowd.
"So," Gyu In asked, tilting his head slightly, "how's it going?"
Eun Wol's fingers tightened around his glass. "Out of place."
The answer drew a low chuckle. Gyu In turned toward the glittering city beyond the terrace. "I supposed so. But don't worry." His eyes came back to Eun Wol, warm and steady. "I'm here."
Before Eun Wol could respond, a group approached. Curious faces. Hungry eyes.
One man leaned forward, sharp suit glinting under the lights. "Aren't you the actor from The Shadows We Cast?"
The wine soured on Eun Wol's tongue. His shoulders stiffened, gaze dropping.
But Gyu In saw. He always saw.
The air shifted. His smile remained, but something sharper lurked beneath it. "You're making my partner uncomfortable."
A ripple ran through the group. "Partner?" someone echoed, disbelief coloring the word.
"Yes," Gyu In said easily, lips curving into a grin that was all challenge. "My partner."
The declaration cracked through the noise like thunder. Conversations stalled. Eyes turned. A wave of disapproval flickered from one corner to the other until a woman with ice in her stare stepped forward.
"Mr. Kim." Her voice carried years of authority. "I trust you understand the importance of maintaining… decorum."
The temperature dropped. Eun Wol's grip tightened on his glass. His chest constricted, breath shallow.
But Gyu In didn't flinch. His smirk sharpened, unbothered, deliberate. "Of course. I'm simply ensuring my presence here is authentic."
The words landed heavy, a quiet rebellion no one could mistake. The tension stretched, then snapped as the crowd slowly dispersed, murmurs trailing in their wake.
Ms. Yoon's gaze lingered. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"Of course," Gyu In said lightly. "If you'll excuse us, my partner hasn't eaten yet."
He laced his fingers through Eun Wol's without hesitation, tugging him toward the buffet.
Eun Wol leaned closer, voice low. "Isn't that dangerous? Saying it like that. She looked furious."
Gyu In sighed, rubbing his temple. "Ah, she's just jealous. Who wouldn't be? Look at you, my own little bunny."
The flare of heat in Eun Wol's cheeks curdled quickly into annoyance. "I bet your whole family's annoyed by you."
Something flickered across Gyu In's face then an unreadable shadow. "Yeah," he murmured, "very annoyed."
They slipped onto the balcony, the city sprawling beneath them like spilled stars. Cool night air swept against their skin, soothing and sharp all at once. Eun Wol tugged his jacket tighter, grounding himself in the bite of the breeze.
Beside him, Gyu In set down his plate and leaned in, close enough for warmth to brush against the cold. He reached for Eun Wol's collar, straightening it with a touch too careful, fingers lingering a second too long.
"It's quieter here," he murmured, eyes tracing the skyline. "Less noise."
Less pretending.
Eun Wol ignored the light weight resting on his jacket collar, though a small part of him lingered on it, the quiet warmth of something human, something grounding. It was ridiculous, really, how the simplest touch could feel so steady. So easy.
He lifted the fork again, tasting the still-warm pie. The buttery crust gave way to the savory filling, anchoring him in something tangible.
Familiar. Safe.
But the comfort didn't stay.
It never did.
The moment from earlier pried its way back into his chest like claws - the sound of his name, the echo of that drama. Recognition. It rose uninvited, the same way memories always did, dragging him down into shadows he never asked to revisit.
His gaze slid to Gyu In.
The man stood beside him, leaning against the glass railing as though he belonged to the night itself, unbothered, untouchable. His body spoke of ease, his posture of defiance against everything that should have weighed on him. He looked like someone who could carry storms and still smile through the rain. And he had just called him his partner, openly, in front of half the industry without flinching.
Did he know?
Eun Wol's thoughts tangled into knots. Did Gyu In actually know who I was? Was he pretending not to? Or… did he truly have no clue at all?
The last possibility shouldn't have mattered, but it rattled him. Because if Gyu In knew everything… like his name, his scandal, the ruin he had become yet still treated him the same, it meant he was being seen. Not as the drug-stained headline, not as the fallen actor, but simply as… him.
And that was both a comfort and a terror.
He took another bite of the pie, though it had already cooled. The crust dulled, the filling bland. He swallowed hard, not the food, but the knot burning his throat and turned to Gyu In.
"If I told you that man was right earlier…" His tone was casual, but his grip on the plate betrayed him, knuckles white against porcelain. "Would it change anything?"
Gyu In glanced at him, one brow arched. "What do you mean?"
"That drama - The Shadows We Cast - I was in it." The words came steady, deliberate. He didn't flinch. His eyes fixed forward, out toward the skyline, never on Gyu In. "Not just in it. I was one of the leads."
The night air swept through, carrying city sounds and cooling skin, but not the heat in Eun Wol's chest. Silence stretched between them, long enough to feel like judgment. Long enough for his chest to constrict with old panic.
"Is that so?" Gyu In finally said, his voice maddeningly even. "The last time I had free time, I accidentally walked into the wrong meeting. Thought it was a meditation class. Stayed for twenty minutes before anyone told me otherwise."
Eun Wol blinked. "…What?"
"I mean, someone just said something about you earlier, right? That you were from The Shadows We Cast."
"Yes," Eun Wol said slowly, wary. "So?"
"Oh. So… that's a drama?" Gyu In tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "I thought it was a perfume line."
Eun Wol stared at him, completely thrown off. Gyu In met his stare, unfazed, as though this was the most natural exchange in the world.
"You really don't know who I am," Eun Wol murmured, disbelieving.
"Unfortunately, no." Gyu In shrugged with careless honesty. "If I had, I would've asked for your autograph."
Eun Wol let out a shaky laugh. "You are unbelievable. Don't you… do background checks before throwing contracts at people?"
"No. I prefer trusting my instincts."
He leaned in then, just enough to cut the space between them, the height difference nearly erased. His hand moved with casual boldness, plucking a bite of chocolate tart straight from Eun Wol's plate.
"But I do know this…" his voice lowered, edged with a grin, "you're someone who makes my life less boring. More colorful."
Eun Wol's chest tightened and loosened all at once. Heat rushed to his cheeks, cooled only by the passing wind. This man truly had no idea.
And maybe… that was why it felt safer. Safer to stand beside someone who didn't see the ruins first.
Just as that thought settled, Gyu In leaned in again and stole another bite.
Eun Wol swatted his hand, sharp but not harsh. "Can you not? Get your own food."
Gyu In blinked, then offered a crooked, sheepish smile. "I don't want much. Just… give me another tart. A small one."
"I'd rather not hear another earthquake later."
Gyu In paused. "Earthquake?"
"You don't remember? In the car. Your stomach was so loud I thought Seoul was collapsing."
Laughter exploded from Gyu In, sudden and bright, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "That was your scale for natural disasters?"
Eun Wol didn't respond, but his lips betrayed him, twitching upward.
Gyu In's grin widened, triumphant. He reached again, this time without the courtesy of stealth. "Just one last bite. Promise."
"Liar."
But Eun Wol didn't move the plate away.
From the shadows near the glass doors, another presence lingered.
Hae Won.
A half-finished glass of wine hung from his hand, forgotten. His eyes never wavered, fixed on the balcony where two figures leaned too close, laughter spilling too freely. His expression was unreadable, his silence heavy.
He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his phone, and typed.
[Chairman Kim Yong In]
Sent: Good evening. Sir Kim has brought someone with him tonight.
Just that. Plain words. Cold, stripped of any emotion. A line of data, nothing more.
The receipt showed "read" almost instantly.
Hae Won slid the phone back into his pocket. His face remained unchanged, as though carved in glass.
*
Elsewhere.
A man in his mid-fifties lounged in a leather chair, his posture deceptively relaxed. One arm draped over the armrest, the other idly swirling a half-filled glass of wine. Crimson liquid caught the light, glinting like blood with every slow tilt.
The message glowed faintly on his phone screen. He read it once, then again, though his expression didn't shift. The stillness was deliberate, practiced.
A soft chuckle slipped from his throat, slicing through the silence like a knife through silk.
"Ah…" His voice was almost fond, a quiet murmur meant for no one but himself. "My Gyu In is still a child."
The words lingered, tender on the surface, but the way he said child hollowed it of warmth—turning it into a dismissal, a claim, a verdict.
He raised the glass and took a measured sip, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. To him, it was no different from tasting victory.