Chapter 39

Eight years was a long time.

Even if they had spent it together, it would not have been a short stretch of time. Living alone while chained to the past was not easy.

Every day dragged.

As though longing had tied weights to time itself, the hours refused to move forward.

It wasn’t that Jun Shin had never thought about contacting Gyeol.

At the bottom of the contract he signed with Ronas Entertainment, it clearly stated: “All contents of this contract are to remain strictly confidential and may not be disclosed to anyone.”

Below that, in dense fine print, were additional conditions: he had to surrender his old phone and use the phone and number provided by the agency, and he was forbidden from communicating with anyone from LM Entertainment or his former idol group, SAVE ME.

There were penalty clauses for violations, but honestly, money was not the issue.

The manager who had pulled Jun Shin away from LM and into Moving watched him obsessively.

The man, who held both the position of manager and team leader, firmly believed Moving would solidify his standing inside the company. That made him even harsher. Ever since Jun transferred into Moving, the manager constantly warned him not to entertain any foolish ideas whenever he had the chance.

Now, looking back, it all sounded like excuses.

But perhaps the barely-adult Jun Shin really had been manipulated by that manager.

“What’s Gyeol Go doing these days?”

“Heard he got some tiny drama role. Guess he’s finally giving up on SAVE ME and trying to survive.”

“You can’t start getting stupid ideas for his sake either. Right, Jun?”

The words of a man more than twenty years older than him pushed Jun Shin deeper and deeper into a pit he could not escape.

He imagined it countless times—what would happen to Gyeol if he gave in to his own selfishness, contacted him, and got caught.

Even so, there came a day when he could not endure it anymore.

It was when he saw Gyeol on television, debuting as a minor actor.

Watching the face that looked far thinner than before, Jun Shin remembered that snowy day.

He wasn’t arrogant enough to think he still held such deep meaning for Gyeol after all this time, but the guilt of disappearing without leaving so much as a single word because he had bowed to the agency’s pressure strangled him harder than ever that day.

Even after taking medication to suppress the anxiety and panic, he could not bear it.

“I’m really sorry. Just this once. Please.”

After begging over and over, Jun Shin finally borrowed a phone from Michael, the quietest and most loyal member of Moving.

He dialed a number he could never forget.

But Gyeol did not answer.

Maybe the timing had been wrong.

Calling more than three times would obviously seem suspicious, so Jun Shin forced himself to stop.

The next day, the manager slapped him.

A fist came flying next, but Michael grabbed the man from behind and stopped him.

“Team Leader! There’ll be bruises on Jun’s face! We already had assault rumors before!”

It wasn’t the first time.

After barely calming down, the manager snarled and screamed at every member of Moving, including Jun Shin.

“I’m monitoring all of you, so don’t get any stupid ideas. You think getting first place on one music show means you’re somebody now? Everything you’re building is just a sandcastle. It could get washed away and disappear at any second!”

The control and violence were not directed only at Jun Shin.

The manager was a control freak, and each member had different pressure points he obsessively targeted. But that was the first time Jun learned the man was even combing through their phone records under the excuse of enforcing the dating ban clause.

“Jun Shin. I warned you.”

The manager dragged him into a separate room.

“I’ll tolerate it once. Since the call didn’t go through, I’ll think of it as a momentary lapse. But I won’t tolerate a next time. Understood?”

The “lapse” was the fact that the call had not connected.

And the “next time he wouldn’t tolerate” meant he would no longer allow Gyeol to continue working in the entertainment industry.

Jun Shin instantly sobered.

The thought that Gyeol’s entire career might be ruined because of his own carelessness and weak resolve made his vision go dark.

Meanwhile, Moving had risen into the top tier of idols, and their fanbase was still growing by the second.

If people ever found out that behind the catastrophic failure of SAVE ME, the group’s two core members had secretly been dating each other all along, the situation Gyeol would face as an Omega was unimaginable.

As long as they lived in a world where secondary genders existed, the odds were inevitably stacked against Gyeol.

Jun Shin had endured because the agency shoved him forward by force.

But with Gyeol, there was no telling how deep the bottom could go.

That was the unfairness of it.

I hate being an Omega like my brother.

Remembering the words Gyeol had once said, Jun Shin lowered his head before the manager.

***

Several years passed.

Every album Moving released became a hit, and they continued nonstop activities: overseas tours, solo schedules, endless promotions.

Meanwhile, Gyeol’s appearances grew infrequent.

After gradually drawing attention through minor and supporting drama roles, he suddenly disappeared entirely at some point.

Jun Shin searched endlessly. He asked around everywhere he could.

Still, he could find almost nothing.

It did not seem like Gyeol had caused any scandal either.

He had simply vanished from the entertainment industry overnight.

Jun Shin could not understand it.

That boy whose eyes sparkled whenever they talked about debuting, that boy who had possessed dreams far brighter than his own—there was no way Gyeol would abandon the industry without reason.

Was nobody casting him?

Were there really that few people capable of recognizing Gyeol Go’s worth?

Unable to resolve the questions and frustration eating at him, Jun Shin drowned himself in schedule after schedule until one day, by sheer coincidence, he ran into Kisoo Yang—the former manager of SAVE ME—in an airport bathroom.

The timing felt miraculous.

Jun Shin was overseas alone for an individual schedule, and by luck, that manager was not accompanying him this time. The road manager who had come instead said he would stay behind and watch the luggage.

“Kisoo.”

“...Jun?”

Kisoo Yang immediately startled when Jun Shin approached him.

But his reaction was strange.

Jun Shin should have been the guilty one here, the embarrassed one, yet Kisoo acted like he was the one hiding something. He could barely meet Jun Shin’s eyes.

Jun Shin found it odd, but there was no time to press him about it. He hurried straight to the point.

“Kisoo, could I ask how Gyeol’s doing? I know I have no right to ask, but... he hasn’t really been around lately, and I’m worried.”

“Uh? Ah? Gyeol. Uh....”

Kisoo stammered awkwardly. He looked genuinely flustered.

Frowning, Jun Shin suddenly felt uneasy and pressed harder.

“Wait. Nothing happened to Gyeol, right?”

“What? No! Hey, no. It’s not like that.”

Kisoo frantically waved his hands while making excuses.

“Gyeol’s just taking a break. You know how hard he’s pushed himself since trainee days. I think he overworked himself, so he’s resting for a while.”

“...Is he sick?”

Jun Shin’s thoughts kept spiraling in the worst direction possible.

Even when Kisoo patted his back and told him not to say ridiculous things, something still felt off.

“No, seriously. Gyeol’s healthy. He’s just resting.”

Bzzzz.

At that moment, his phone vibrated.

An incoming call.

When Jun Shin checked the screen, it was the road manager waiting with the luggage.

I can’t lose this chance.

Thinking quickly, Jun Shin dug through his bag and grabbed the first thing he could find—a tissue packet and a pen.

“Kisoo, could you give this to Gyeol? Whenever he’s comfortable, anytime at all, tell him to contact me here.... Please. I’m begging you.”

“Uh? Ah, um....”

What Jun Shin scribbled down was an email address.

Wearing a puzzled expression, Kisoo neither asked why it wasn’t a phone number nor immediately agreed. Instead, he hesitated over whether he should even take the tissue at all.

The vibration started again.

The plane was probably about to board. There was no more time.

Growing desperate, Jun Shin shoved the tissue into Kisoo’s hand.

“Please, Kisoo. I’m really sorry.”

“Uh? Wait—hey! Jun!”

Kisoo shouted after him as Jun Shin hurried out of the bathroom.

Passersby glanced curiously between the two of them.

Realizing too late they were attracting attention, Kisoo clamped a hand over his own mouth instead of chasing after him.

After that, Jun Shin logged in dozens of times a day whenever he found even the slightest free moment.

It was a new secret email account he had created not long ago.

Terrified of being discovered, he always logged out immediately after checking the inbox and meticulously deleted the internet history afterward.

Any time he saw even a single unread notification in the inbox, his heart leaped.

But every message turned out to be advertisements or spam.

Nothing ever came from Gyeol.

And still, Jun Shin never stopped waiting for the emails that never arrived.

***

“You’re the one who left me behind.”

The past came crashing back in fragments, only to be swept away again with the incoming waves.

Jun Shin wiped the tears spreading around his eyes with his sleeve.

He did not want to look weak in front of Gyeol. He did not want it to seem as though he were trying to atone for what he had done with something as pathetic as tears.

After steadying his breathing, he forced the words out.

“There’s something I need to tell you. I can finally explain everything now.”

Gyeol let out a hollow laugh.

His smile twisted bitterly.

“Something to tell me? If you had something to say, you should’ve said it eight years ago. Not now.”

“...Gyeol.”

“Why did it have to be like that?”

Jun Shin stopped mid-sentence.

Because Gyeol’s voice was shaking violently.

The moment he saw tears filling Gyeol’s eyes, it felt like Jun Shin’s throat closed up.

“Instead of disappearing... instead of ignoring all my calls. There were so many other ways. Do you know how long I waited for you to contact me?”

Another wave crashed over them.

Suddenly, Jun Shin worried Gyeol might be cold.

He grabbed Gyeol’s wrist and pleaded.

“Let’s get out of the water first. You catch colds easily—”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Gyeol jerked his hand away.

The sunglasses that had been hanging loosely finally slipped free and dropped into the ocean.

A wave crashed directly over them.

“......!”

Jun Shin lunged immediately, but before he could do anything, the waves swallowed the sunglasses whole.

For a brief second, guilt surged through Gyeol.

But he hardened his heart again.

“...They weren’t even that important anyway. You have way better sunglasses now.”

Gyeol staggered as he forced himself upright.

The sand kept sinking beneath his feet while the waves battered against him, making it difficult to stand properly.

Still, he somehow straightened his back and turned away.

He could not endure the emotional whiplash any longer.

He did not want to look at Jun Shin’s face.

Because it kept weakening him.

“Gyeol.”

But Jun Shin grabbed his wrist again.

His wet hand was freezing cold.

Gyeol tried to pull away once more, but Jun Shin’s next words stopped him cold.

“I love you. I’ve never forgotten you. Not once.”