The door swung open, revealing an unexpected figure standing there.
“Whoa…”
I never imagined I’d run into him here.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
Taehwan greeted the man with a calm familiarity, as though their handful of prior encounters made this meeting unremarkable.
He lives here?
It was none other than Han Jungwoo.
This apartment complex was known for housing celebrities, so his presence wasn’t entirely surprising.
But my heart?
It wasn’t quite so composed.
“Let’s go.”
Startled by Jungwoo’s sudden appearance, I froze, but Taehwan nudged me along, guiding me out of the elevator.
Jungwoo, barely glancing my way, stepped inside.
“See you.”
“Yeah, take care.”
Just before the elevator doors slid shut, Jungwoo’s eyes flicked toward me for a fleeting moment before dropping to the smartphone in his hand.
We’d met at a premiere once, but as expected, he didn’t remember me.
“What’s with you? Why’re you so rattled?”
Taehwan, noticing my dazed expression, elbowed me lightly in the ribs.
“Me?”
“Are you a Han Jungwoo fan or something?”
He seemed to think I was starstruck, awed by meeting an idol.
That kind of misunderstanding was the last thing I wanted, so I straightened up and denied it vehemently.
“Absolutely not. No way.”
“Okay, okay, no need to get so defensive.”
“Does he live here too?”
“Yeah. Moved in last year, I think? Not too long ago. Anyway, good thing you’re not a fan.”
There was a hint of something in his tone, like there was more to the story.
“Why’s that?”
“There’s this private celebrity clique Jungwoo’s tight with, and, well… they’ve got a bit of a reputation. Not the good kind.”
Of course, Jungwoo’s playboy personality wasn’t going anywhere.
“I got a few invites through mutuals to hang with them, but it felt off, so I passed.”
If even Taehwan found it shady, it must be pretty bad.
“It’s probably got nothing to do with you, but still, steer clear.”
They say people don’t change easily, and it seemed that saying held true.
Jungwoo looked like he was happily diving headfirst into a pit of trouble, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easily.
Just wait a little longer. I’ll climb to the top as fast as I can.
Inside his apartment, Jungwoo was on the phone with his manager, his voice rising with frustration.
“Why does that bastard Kim keep writing that kind of garbage?”
“We’ve warned the company multiple times, but…”
“Every time he’s bored, it’s either ‘When’s Jungwoo enlisting?’ or now, what? ‘Han Jungwoo’s predictable acting’?”
He was livid, fuming over the reporter who kept taking shots at him.
“What, they don’t work? I’m raking in millions for the company! Can’t they shut him up, throw some money at him or something?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll call that reporter and give him a piece of my mind, so don’t worry.”
“Worry? You think I’m worrying right now?”
The team leader, sensing Jungwoo was a ticking time bomb, stayed silent, knowing one wrong word could set him off.
If he died of stress, it’d be entirely because of this hotheaded punk.
“It’s suffocating. Nothing’s going right. Fine, what about that?”
“Jungwoo, that’s… it’s gonna be tough.”
“Damn it! Why not? Others pull it off just fine!”
“You know how it is. In this country, people only care about one thing with male celebrities your age: are you going to the army or not?”
“So I’m supposed to enlist just to appease them? Me?”
To Jungwoo, the idea of rotting in the military for over a year, when people would forget about him in months, was absurd.
I’m too busy cementing my place as a top actor.
Go to the army?
Am I insane?
“We don’t want to send you either, but it’s not something we can just—”
“That’s your problem! Find a way to get me exempted. There are brokers for this, right? Why can’t you handle it?”
He could already see the vultures circling, ready to snatch his spot.
Sitting idly in the army while someone took his place?
That was as good as a death sentence.
I didn’t claw my way up here to hand it over.
His rise to the top had been bloody, and he wasn’t about to let anyone take it from him.
Getting caught would be catastrophic—military scandals never washed clean.
“Just don’t get caught! Didn’t you see Park Jaehoon? He came back from the army and lost all his buzz!”
“That’s just because he hasn’t had a project yet. Jungwoo, why are you so worked up? There’s no actor in this country who can touch you right now.”
The team leader tried to butter him up, but Jungwoo wasn’t buying it.
“Hyung, don’t give me that crap.”
He knew this industry too well to trust those words.
Step away for a moment, and they’d find someone to replace you in a heartbeat.
That’s how he’d taken Jaehyun’s spot, after all.
“I’m not going. I told you, I’m not going.”
A heavy sigh echoed through the phone.
“Wait! What about Jung Jaehyun’s incident?”
An idea sparked in Jungwoo’s mind.
“That shock from back then—say it messed me up so bad I can’t enlist.”
Everyone knew he’d been tangled in that nationwide scandal. It could work.
“Jungwoo… come on.”
“Make up some mental health excuse, spin a story. I’ve practically written the script for you. You can do it, right?”
“Mental health exemptions are nearly impossible. I can look into some cushy public service gig—”
“Argh!”
Unable to contain his rage, Jungwoo screamed and hurled his smartphone across the room.
It crashed with a shatter, red wine from a gifted bottle spilling across the white marble floor, staining it crimson.
“Damn it, how many times do I have to say I’m not going? So annoying!”
Breathing heavily, he glared at the towering stack of scripts on his desk.
This is the most critical time.
The projects he’d taken from Jaehyun—films, dramas—had skyrocketed, turning him into a star overnight.
But now, Jaehyun’s scripts were gone.
If you’re gonna die, at least leave me a few more good ones.
Scripts were pouring in, but without Jaehyun’s guaranteed hits, Jungwoo felt the pressure mounting.
“Maybe I should’ve kept that damn dog…”
He recalled, too late, Jaehyun boasting that his dog picked his scripts.
“Ha, what am I even thinking?”
A dog choosing scripts?
It was laughable, even to him.
With a bitter chuckle, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
I’m never going down.
This world he’d only dreamed of was sweeter, more addictive than he’d imagined.
Everyone revolved around him, his word was law, and it felt like he was the center of the universe.
With a long exhale, cigarette smoke clouded his vision, but he didn’t care.
He gazed through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering city skyline below.
“How much for these?”
Under the faded sign of “Younghee’s Fresh Fruits,” a customer called out to me, standing in my apron.
“Oh, just a sec! Boss!”
At my call, a woman with tightly permed hair shuffled out in her slippers, looking like she’d never untangle that mop.
“How much are these?”
“Fifteen thousand won for a box.”
“Fifteen thousand? For one box?”
The customer gasped, tongue clicking in disbelief.
“That’s a steal! Big, juicy ones, and I guarantee the taste.”
“They’re delicious, I’ve tried them!”
With both the boss and me vouching, the woman hesitated, eyeing the fruit before making up her mind.
“Alright, I’m trusting you, young man. Give me one.”
“You won’t regret it!”
I tore off a black plastic bag and packed the strawberries, handing them over.
“Who’s this guy? New face around here.”
“I hired a new part-timer.”
“Haha, just a temp worker,” I said with a grin.
To prepare for a role, I’d taken a week-long gig at this fruit shop in the next town over.
“My, aren’t you a handsome one? Your parents must feel full just looking at you.”
“Flattery like that deserves a bonus—here, try some tangerines, they’re sweet!”
I tossed in a few extra tangerines, and her face lit up.
“Ho ho ho, such a smooth talker! You’re good at this!”
“Come back soon!”
Two years into rural life, I’d mastered this kind of banter.
“Young fella, you’re a natural. Come work at my shop sometime!”
The owner of the side-dish store across the way chimed in.
Being the only twenty-something in this market, I was a bit of a local darling among the merchants.
“What’d you say you do, kid?”
“I’m an actor!”
“Oh, come on, who says ‘actor’ like that these days?”
“What else you call an actor? An actor.”
“An artist. Right?”
“Same thing, honestly.”
The two shop owners, old friends of the market, bickered good-naturedly.
“Haha, you’re both right.”
“But why’re you doing this?”
“I’m shooting a drama where I play a fruit shop owner.”
“You gotta run a shop to act like you run a shop?”
No one told me to, but I figured running a shop was a skill worth learning, and I was enjoying it.
“Not exactly, but I want to do it well.”
“With that charm, you’ll nail it. Tell me when it airs, I’ll tune in. Where’s home, by the way?”
I must’ve been asked where I’m from a dozen times since starting here.
Why are old folks so curious about where you live?
Before I could answer, the boss cut in.
“His uncle runs the animal hospital in Sehari, next town over.”
“Oh, that place!”
This town was bigger, but Sehari’s animal hospital was well-known since there wasn’t one here.
“You’re that kid?”
“Yup.”
“I’ve got a dog at home, so cute. Wanna see?”
As the side-dish shop owner pulled out her phone to show off her pet, a commotion erupted at the end of the market alley.
“Hey! You, stop right there!”
“Agh!”
“What the—?”
A man in a hooded cap sprinted toward us, cutting through the alley.
“Stop, I said!”
“Move, damn it!”
Who’s that guy?
Before I could process, he reached the fruit shop and knocked over a display of fruit boxes.
“Take that!”
Tangerines and oranges spilled across the ground, the boxes tumbling into the path of his pursuers.
“Oh my gosh, what’s this?!”
“That jerk!”
The moment I saw the fresh fruit scattered, I took off after him.
You dare ruin perfectly good fruit and run?
A box barely makes a profit, and this guy was clearly a fleeing criminal, chased by what looked like cops.
“Huff, huff! Why’s he so fast?”
“Damn, does this guy just eat and sprint all day?”
The police, out of breath, struggled to keep up as the criminal darted out of the market, weaving between cars to cross the street.
He’s gonna get away!
If he caught a car, he’d be gone for good.
“Damn it, he’s gonna grab a car and bolt!”
“No, don’t let him get in a car!”
The cops, panting, tried to time their chase as the criminal moved.
I can’t let this fruit-ruining punk get away without paying…
Just as my frustration peaked, something caught my eye.
There!
Without hesitation, I shouted.
“Bite!”