Chapter 29 ..
[Do You Remember Now?]
I remembered. The day at the library when I was carrying rice balls, looking for my sister—I even remembered the scent that drifted through the library that day.
The human brain is truly amazing. To think it can erase even such painful memories. Probably because if you kept recalling them and getting hurt, it’d be impossible to go on living. So it just deletes them.
That evening, I’d been full because I got to eat both rice balls by myself. I remember how unpleasant that fullness felt. I think that’s when I first decided: poverty must always be hidden.
“Haha, what a coincidence! So your hometown was Gangwon Province, huh?”
I deliberately spoke lightly. In truth, the memory stung in my chest, but isn’t it pathetic to still be holding on to that as a wound?
Now, I’m not poor. I’m rich. So I don’t sit around hurting over the past. That’s what I kept telling myself as I spoke.
[ I’m sorry, Hyun-jae. ]
But Lee Joo-ah spoke in a tone more serious than ever.
“No. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Kids can be like that.”
[ Back then, I always lied and hid everything. Maybe it was because every time I spoke, my parents would fight, so it became a habit. That’s why I couldn’t say thank you, couldn’t say sorry, couldn’t even say I wanted to keep seeing you. Pathetic, right? From your side, I must have looked like trash, avoiding you just because I was poor. You cared for me so much… but that wasn’t how I really felt. I only ended up hurting you… ]
“Hey, don’t call yourself trash… I said it’s fine, didn’t I?”
[ When we ran into each other in college, I guess that’s why you ignored me too, right? ]
“Huh? In college?”
[ …What? You really don’t remember? ]
I didn’t know. I really couldn’t remember. My college life feels like it was entirely spent with Sora.
[ Never mind. Even if I say this, what’s the point? From your side, how could you know whether I truly liked you back then but was just too timid, or if I’m lying now just to latch onto your success? ]
No. I could tell if she was lying or not. Because right now, the ring bloomed with a purple flower. It carried a sweet, heavy fragrance like cacao.
[ Ha… if only you hadn’t become rich so early… If only I’d known sooner that you were at JM. Then I could’ve shown you that it didn’t matter to me whether you were poor or not… ]
And besides, even without the signal from the onion, Joo-ah had no reason to lie to me now. She’s a top star actress—why on earth would she lower herself to weave lies just to tie herself to me?
“I know. I believe you.”
[ I’m sorry for only saying sorry now. I’ll show you instead—with my feelings, with my ability. ]
And with that, Joo-ah hung up.
“……”
I stared at the purple flower blooming on the onion ring. In a way, hadn’t she already shown it? Who else would apologize so sincerely over something from ten years ago? Most people would just laugh it off with, “Ah, I was so young back then, haha,” and leave it at that.
A moment ago my chest had ached, but now I felt nothing. Thinking it over, it was almost funny.
“‘Why’d you have to get rich so early?’”
The way she said it, like she truly regretted it, made me laugh. And saying she’d “show me through her actions”—what did that even mean?
There’s no way her feelings for me have lasted ten years and she still likes me… right?
“Probably just means she’ll work hard.”
That’s what I thought as I was about to fall asleep—when my phone buzzed. A Daltok message from Joo-ah.
By the way, is it really true I was your first love?
Will you be at the office tomorrow afternoon?
I replied, then went to sleep.
The next day at lunch.
“What’s all this?”
“From Actress Lee Joo-ah.”
“Joo-ah? For what reason?”
“She said it’s to express her thanks.”
“Thanks? What would she have to thank us for? If anything, we should be thanking her for accommodating all our requests…”
“Wow, look how pretty this is!”
Lunchboxes had been delivered to the office. They were from Yoon Lunchbox, a luxury delivery service. Premium boxes worth 35,000 won each—definitely not the kind of thing an ordinary office worker eats for lunch.
Everyone in the office was delighted.
“Rice ball lunchboxes, huh…”
Team Leader Jo Min-su opened his box and looked at me. Inside were five neatly shaped little rice balls with various side dishes.
“Chief Yoo Hyun-jae, do you know why Ms. Joo-ah sent these to us?”
“Hmm… not sure.”
It felt like the first time I’d lied at work.
But really, what was I supposed to say? “Actually, Joo-ah was my first love, and she probably sent these because of that childhood memory.” Could I really say that?
“Lately it feels like every weird thing that happens is somehow connected to you.”
“Aw, come on, that can’t be right. I’m hardly the center of the universe, haha.”
“Hmm… so you’re saying this rice ball lunchbox has nothing to do with you?”
“O-of course not.”
For a second, I worried—if I lied, would the onion rot? But the onion showed no change.
Then Deputy Manager Kim Seung-mok chimed in with a sly grin:
“How could it not be connected? I bet she just wanted to thank you for always looking out for her so perfectly.”
It was obvious flattery, but so blatant it wasn’t even irritating. The others all nodded along, clearly just dazzled by the pretty, delicious lunchboxes.
Jo Min-su kept giving me a suspicious look, then finally nodded.
“Alright.”
Everyone dug in. The food was delicious. The rice balls weren’t just pretty; they were filled with high-quality ingredients—crab meat, pollock roe, even one with caviar.
Ten years ago, the ones I gave her had just a bit of canned tuna inside. Compared to these, it was overwhelming. The saying “you give a little and get back a lot” couldn’t be more fitting.
“If she keeps sending things like this, I’ll start to feel guilty.”
I was thinking that when—
“Chief Yoo.”
Jo Min-su’s voice dropped low.
“Sorry to interrupt lunch, but we’ve got a problem. Just got word—remember how one of the NovaGirls members was set to appear on Midnight Ghost Stories this weekend?”
Midnight Ghost Stories, an 11 p.m. talk show on MBM TV. Supernatural shows are on the decline these days—most people dismiss belief in the paranormal as foolish. But this program, maybe thanks to its witty MCs or just lucky timing, had grown quite popular.
Originally, they’d asked for me to appear alongside a NovaGirls member, but I’d refused—the onion had given off a foul stench. When I negotiated it down to just the member, the onion had released a pleasant fragrance.
So the deal had been settled. But now there was a problem?
“Turns out NobelBees’ Ha-yeon will also be appearing. Looks like Valhalla pushed for it.”
“Ah, I see.”
Assistant Manager Yoo Ji-woo, overhearing, said,
“Wow, so they’re really trying to pit us against each other, huh?”
“Exactly.” Jo Min-su nodded.
Having members from different idol groups on the same show isn’t unusual. In fact, it’s good for ratings. But in this case, it was tricky.
NovaGirls and NobelBees were direct rivals right now. NovaGirls had no variety experience yet, and they’d probably be nervous. Meanwhile, Ha-yeon? She was a variety show veteran, always delivering laughs with her candid remarks. Perfect for the style of Midnight Ghost Stories.
“The idea is to show Ha-yeon dominating while NovaGirls flounder. What do you think? Since they didn’t inform us in advance and sprung this on us, technically we could refuse, and they couldn’t object.”
“Let’s do it.”
“…Just do it?”
“Yes.”
On the ring bloomed four flowers—blue, green, red, yellow. No bad future in sight.
“You don’t think the girls will be scared off by going up against Ha-yeon?”
“Do you think our girls would?”
“…You’re right.”
He knew it too—NovaGirls were starving for success. They wouldn’t back down.
“Alright. So which one of the four should go?”
In that moment, one of the flowers shone brightly.
“Nari.”
“Nari? Nari and ghost stories… Well… no, never mind. I shouldn’t question you anymore.”
I knew what he was thinking, but the vision the ring showed me was clear—Nari smiling brightly.
“Alright. I trust she’ll do well. Even if Ha-yeon overshadows her, they won’t shrink back.”
“I don’t think she’ll be overshadowed at all.”
“…Yes, Director Lee. Hold the original author event, then immediately roll out the subway ads. After that, contact all the press for an open shoot. Don’t give them a single moment to rest!”
Valhalla Studio’s CEO, Park Min-gyu, was burning with urgency. He had to make the film Thieves of the Heart a hit—or more precisely, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing to Lee Jong-muk.
By all logic, Thieves of the Heart should win. Strong source material, proven director, likable leads, satisfying justice-driven story—safe and solid.
By contrast, Chalk and Spear had no original novel, a virtually unknown hipster director, and from what was revealed, an unbearably frustrating premise.
“This film doesn’t stop at avenging evil men—it strikes down ‘evil’ itself.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
Park Min-gyu was a businessman. He lived by logic and criteria. And by his measure, Thieves of the Heart was right, Chalk and Spear was wrong. He might not be a genius like Lee Jong-muk, but he was still a capable CEO. You don’t run a company on money alone.
Yet before him stood something that defied his logic—Lee Jong-muk’s trust in Yoo Hyun-jae, and Hyun-jae’s inexplicable choices. He couldn’t understand either.
When people face the unknown, first comes fear, then anger. And Park was angry. Furious, even. Search numbers for Chalk and Spear spiking after Joo-ah’s “first love” story on Star Behind—even surpassing Thieves of the Heart—infuriated him.
And then? Actor Jang Hyung-gun suddenly returns, only to sign onto some random death-game project?
“And now? Walking Man gets invited, but instead they go on Midnight Ghost Stories? What the hell?”
Walking Man was the #1 variety show. Midnight Ghost Stories barely ranked 8th. If box office was the goal, wouldn’t you obviously choose #1? Unless the artist threw a fit, but NovaGirls didn’t have that kind of attitude.
He just couldn’t understand. To him, Hyun-jae was like a random dice roll—utterly unpredictable. But Lee Jong-muk insisted there was a logic to it. That was what infuriated him most.
After days of stewing, Park reached a conclusion:
“What’s a businessman if he doesn’t trust his own management logic?”
He decided to push forward.
“Director Lee, NobelBees have no schedule two weeks from now, right?”
[ Correct. ]
“Then set a guerrilla concert. March 19.”
[ March 19? That’s… the day before NovaGirls’ UN visit, isn’t it? ]
“Exactly.”
[ Must it be that date? Won’t the public’s attention be divided? ]
“We have to outshine them, no matter what. Otherwise we’re finished.”
[ …Understood. ]
Even veteran staff questioned such moves. “Why deliberately pick a fight?” they thought. But that was a mistake. The fight was already underway—people just didn’t realize it. NovaGirls had already scored a win against NobelBees. Public perception had shifted: NovaGirls as winners, NobelBees as losers.
Unless they showed the opposite soon, that image would snowball. Why that date? He’d ask them back: if not then, when? If NobelBees didn’t make a stand, the media would be full of NovaGirls stories.
They had to show NobelBees’ victory, and soon.
Of course, it couldn’t be a reckless headbutt. They’d build up carefully.
“Ha-yeon’s in good shape?”
[ Yes. She went to the spa earlier, had a massage, had sushi for dinner—seemed in excellent spirits. ]
“Good.”
Park thought back to Ugly Syndrome, when NovaGirls had performed. Their stage was flawless. But their post-performance talk had been awkward.
“They’re still just chicks.”
Midnight Ghost Stories recording studio.
“Uh… what should I do?”
NobelBees’ Ha-yeon bit the inside of her cheek.
She’d been pampered all day—spa, massage, fancy sushi. She could feel how much CEO Park cared about this shoot.
Honestly, just earlier she’d thought, “How hard could it be?” Beating out rookie idols in a variety show for airtime seemed almost cruel, like wringing the necks of chicks.
But now…
“Nari-ssi, you’re not already scared, are you? The story hasn’t even gotten scary yet—I only said, ‘The car rattled a little’…”
“N-no! Not at all!”
