Chapter 109

Not long after arriving in South Korea, Yo Han found himself visiting the headquarters of an entertainment company.

An old friend from his uncle’s theater days worked there as an executive director.

Officially, the purpose was to get introduced to someone who could help correct his awkward Korean and coach him in acting.

But underneath that was another motive entirely.

It’s a major entertainment company. Doesn’t hurt to make an impression. The guy’s been in the industry forever, so he’ll know whether you’ve got what it takes.

“LM Entertainment.”

Yo Han checked the name on the building against the map his uncle had written down, then stepped inside.

At the front desk, he gave the executive director’s name along with his own and explained that he had an appointment. After confirming through the intercom, the employee allowed him past the security gate.

“Unfortunately, he’s in a meeting right now, so he asked if you could wait until three o’clock. Would you mind staying at the café on the first floor for a bit? I’ll come get you afterward.”

There were still about forty minutes left until three.

A faint tension settled at the root of Yo Han’s tongue. Never mind the fact that he’d arrived about ten minutes early—making someone wait thirty minutes was rude no matter how you looked at it.

Still, what could he do? The one asking for a favor was the one who had to bend.

Left with no choice, Yo Han headed toward the café.

The place was quiet. After ordering an iced Americano, he took his drink and sat at an empty table.

With nothing else to do, Yo Han rested his chin on one hand and stared out the window.

The midsummer sunlight blazed mercilessly bright.

Seoul summers felt hot enough to melt people alive. Having lived in San Francisco until recently, where summer temperatures hovered in the low-to-mid twenties Celsius, Yo Han still hadn’t adjusted to Seoul’s heat.

Maybe he was a little tired.

A new environment full of strangers. A new beginning. It sounded impressive on paper, but even for someone who had spent his entire life drifting from place to place, crossing national borders was a different matter altogether.

Yo Han had always thought of himself as someone destined to live as an outsider. But only after setting foot in Seoul did he finally begin to understand the true weight of that word.

Some time passed. He killed time sipping at his Americano now and then when sudden noise erupted behind him.

A group of boys had entered the café.

Every one of them looked young and bright-faced. It only took Yo Han a moment to realize they were either Korean “idols” or trainees sharpening themselves in hopes of becoming one.

“What are you getting to drink?”

“What do you mean what? Dumbass, we can only have Americanos. Or tea with no calories. Green tea.”

One of them appeared to be their guardian or manager. He looked at least twenty years older than the boys, but he treated them warmly, and the kids spoke to him with easy familiarity.

I heard Korea’s strict about age. That younger people are supposed to treat elders with total respect.

He found it mildly interesting that reality differed from everything he’d picked up through media and hearsay.

Only briefly, though.

Yo Han quickly lost interest in the group.

“Thank you, Kisoo! We’ll enjoy it!”

“Hey, why does Gyeol get chocolate latte when we can’t?”

“Because Gyeol needs to gain weight and you need to lose it. Do you really want to hear that from somebody else’s mouth?”

“Look at that bastard Jun Shin doting on Gyeol again.”

Guess teenagers were the same everywhere. Loud, talkative, full of slang, always sounding halfway to a fight.

The group was so noisy they threatened to destroy the peaceful atmosphere of the café, and Yo Han considered moving to another seat. Somewhere deeper inside, by the window instead of the aisle.

He picked up his cup and stood.

That was when it happened.

“Quit screwing around, asshole.”

The boys had been roughhousing among themselves when one shoved another, triggering a domino effect. A pushed B, and B stumbled sideways into C.

C failed to catch his balance and missed his footing.

The drink in his hand spilled all over Yo Han’s shirt.

“Oh shit.”

“Holy fuck. Gyeol really did it now.”

For an instant, Yo Han vaguely thought that was an unusually distinctive name.

Then all coherent thought vanished the moment he looked down at the thick cream sliding down his shirt and dripping onto his shoes.

Of all things, the drink the unfortunate Boy C had been carrying was a chocolate latte piled high with whipped cream.

As sweet scent rose heavily from his clothes, Yo Han thought expressionlessly:

So I’m meeting the executive director looking like this.

Then, just as flatly:

Well. It’ll definitely make an impression.

Around the time he concluded it probably wouldn’t be a positive one, Boy C bowed deeply with a deathly pale face.

“I’m sorry.”

What stood out most to Yo Han was what the boy had done right before bowing.

The way his eyes had widened the moment he saw Yo Han’s face.

“It’s fine.”

Yo Han was generally lenient toward people who knew how to apologize. Besides, the damage was already done.

But the boy couldn’t seem to lift his head.

“I’m really sorry, senior.”

Senior?

One eyebrow slid upward at the unfamiliar term.

“What happened here?”

The guardian who had briefly stepped away hurried over through the commotion. Water dripped from his hands, suggesting he’d just come back from the restroom.

“You little punks couldn’t behave for even one minute... God, I’m so sorry.”

The guardian reacted almost the same way as the boy had. The second he got a good look at Yo Han’s face, surprise flashed across his features before he turned pale.

“It’s fine.”

He genuinely meant it, so Yo Han couldn’t understand why they were acting like some catastrophe had occurred.

The boy who still refused to raise his head bothered him most of all. The gesture itself wasn’t one Yo Han was used to from the culture he grew up in, but more than that, Koreans surely didn’t act this guilty unless they’d committed an actual crime.

“Hey. Seriously, it’s fine—”

Not understanding any of this and mostly finding the whole thing cumbersome, Yo Han stepped closer and touched the boy’s shoulder.

The boy flinched violently before looking up.

And what Yo Han saw on his face was completely unexpected.

Fear.

The boy was afraid of him.

It was the same kind of reaction Yo Han used to get from nerdy classmates back in high school when he belonged to the so-called popular crowd. Even then, it usually disappeared quickly once people realized Yo Han was personable, polite, and careful about maintaining a gentlemanly image.

But this kid looked nothing like those nerds.

For one thing, his eyes were completely different—clear, steady, bright.

His face was pale, neat, almost pretty.

And this wasn’t school. Why was he making that expression over spilling a drink? Yo Han himself had said it was fine. He hadn’t threatened him or demanded compensation.

Yo Han was still wondering whether this counted as some kind of cultural difference when another boy abruptly stepped between them.

“Senior, we’re really sorry. We were messing around and made a mistake. Please don’t hold it against us.”

Boy B.

He quickly bent down, wiping the cream off Yo Han’s shoes first before offering him clean tissues.

At first glance, it looked like smooth conflict management.

But Yo Han noticed the boy had positioned himself directly between Yo Han and C.

As if shielding him.

What kind of scene is this supposed to be?

Feeling strangely like he’d somehow become the villain, Yo Han took a step back.

“That bastard Jun Shin’s something else. Seriously.”

“Shut up, asshole. This happened because of you.”

The other boys whispered behind them.

Yo Han accepted the tissues and started wiping down his shirt. But there was no way tissues alone were going to erase the massive chocolate stain spread across white fabric.

After scolding the noisy boys, the guardian stared awkwardly at Yo Han’s ruined shirt before speaking.

“Excuse me, but I don’t recognize you, so I’m guessing you aren’t from our division. You’re in acting, right?”

Yo Han didn’t immediately understand what he meant by our division.

Then he noticed the company ID hanging around the man’s neck.

Yang Kisoo. Team Leader.

So he worked here.

Now that he knew who he was talking to, Yo Han answered easily.

“That’s right. Though not yet.”

“Not yet? Ah, then you’re a trainee?”

“No.”

“Oh...”

The sudden interrogation seemed equally awkward for both of them.

“Hey, he said he’s not an actor yet. Doesn’t that mean he hasn’t debuted?”

“Then he’s not actually a senior, right?”

“No way. Haven’t you seen a face like that on TV before?”

The boys’ whispers reached him clearly as they openly studied him.

From what Yo Han could piece together, once you debuted, you became a senior. Some kind of industry professional and elder combined. A senior in the literal sense.

Only then did he finally understand the earlier reactions from Boy C and the guardian.

He’d heard that beyond Korea simply being age-conscious, the Korean entertainment industry was an extremely hierarchical world where distinctions between those who entered first and those who came later were taken seriously.

For whatever reason, they’d assumed he was an industry senior and thought they’d committed a major offense.

“Mr. Sung Yo Han. Uh...”

The front desk employee who had come to retrieve him spotted the chaotic scene and looked startled.

“The executive director asked you to come up to the small conference room on the ninth floor.”

Realizing what must have happened from the employee’s tone, the guardian looked horrified.

“You had a meeting with the executive director? What are we going to do? Your clothes are a mess...”

“It’s fine. Nothing to be done about it.”

Checking the time, Yo Han glanced at the mountain of used tissues piled on the table.

“We’ll clean this up. You should head upstairs.”

Boy B moved efficiently, gathering trash onto the tray and even taking Yo Han’s coffee cup.

At this point, insisting on cleaning up himself would only make things more awkward, and honestly, they’d probably feel better handling it themselves.

“Then I’ll be going. Don’t worry about it.”

Yo Han gave a light nod to the guardian, Boy C, and the others before turning away.

Then he suddenly found himself bothered by the worried look still lingering on Boy C’s face.

So he added:

“I’m not a ‘senior,’ anyway. It’s fine.”

Using the expression he’d just learned.

“Goodbye!”

“We’re sorry!”

The boys greeted him loudly in perfect unison.

Yo Han left the café without a second glance.

Since he had a black T-shirt underneath, he figured he should stop by the restroom and take off the ruined shirt before heading upstairs.

Thinking that, he came to a stop in front of the elevator.

Then someone called out to him from behind.

“Excuse me! Hey!”