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Chapter 107: Another Face in the Mirror
A slice of pizza was growing cold in Min-jun’s hand. The heat from the cheese was dissipating, and the process felt like the life force draining out of his own body. Joon-ho’s words still lingered in the air, refusing to evaporate like the warmth of the pizza. It was as if the humid air in the pizza parlor was holding onto them.
“You said that lies grow bigger with each repetition…” Min-jun slowly opened his mouth.
“Are you still lying to me, hyung?” he asked, using the formal term for “older brother.”
Joon-ho didn’t react immediately. Instead, he picked up the pizza slice again and took a bite, savoring it slowly. The act seemed to be his response, as if the simple pleasure of eating was a profound answer.
Min-jun shifted his gaze to Joon-ho’s hand, the one that was now holding the pizza. Those fingers had rested on his chest the night before, and now they were grasping a slice of pizza with such normalcy, such naturalness. It was as if he might have misremembered the weight of that touch.
“Min-jun,” Joon-ho said, calling out his name. It wasn’t a question, just a summons, but it carried a certain weight, like an attempt to reaffirm his presence.
“Yes?” Min-jun replied.
“I’m not lying to you now,” Joon-ho said. “But you said lies grow bigger, so does that mean what you’re saying now is also a lie?” Min-jun asked, his voice measured.
Joon-ho paused, took a deep breath, and then continued, “What I’m saying now isn’t a lie because… I no longer have the energy to maintain it.”
The fluorescent lights in the pizza parlor cast their glow over them, making Joon-ho’s face appear even paler. Despite his neat appearance from the morning’s shave and shower, there was a fatigue lurking beneath his skin, like a slow, internal erosion.
“If you lied about the company that pushed you out…” Min-jun said cautiously.
“Does that lie still follow you?” he asked.
Joon-ho set the pizza down, and his hand began to tremble on the table. It was a minuscule shake, but Min-jun caught it, clear as day in the morning light.
“When I thought I was pushed out, I was a victim. But when I think I left on my own, I can be the main character,” Joon-ho said.
“Which one is easier, being the victim or the main character?” Min-jun asked.
“The main character,” Joon-ho replied instantly.
“Why?” Min-jun inquired.
“Because the main character can justify their choices. A victim can’t. But the main character can, and they must believe in their own righteousness.”
As they spoke, the cola glass on the table made a slight noise, accidentally knocked by Min-jun’s elbow. The sound made Joon-ho glance out the window, where the streets of Sinlim were coming alive with students heading to their destinations.
“What do you want to do now, Min-jun?” Joon-ho asked suddenly.
“Huh?” Min-jun replied, taken aback.
“In this moment, sitting here in the pizza parlor with me, what do you want to do?” Joon-ho reiterated.
Min-jun looked at his hand, the one holding the pizza, its steadiness a stark contrast to Joon-ho’s trembling. “I want to keep sitting here with hyung,” he said.
“Why?” Joon-ho asked, his curiosity genuine.
Min-jun paused, unsure how to articulate his feelings. “Because when I’m with hyung, I feel like I’m not alone,” he finally said, his voice soft.
Joon-ho looked at Min-jun, his eyes locking onto his, a silent understanding passing between them.
“Do you know what I did last night?” Min-jun asked, changing the subject.
“What did you do?” Joon-ho inquired.
“I thought about the company you got pushed out of, and why you lied about it. And…” Min-jun trailed off.
“And?” Joon-ho prompted.
“I thought about how lonely you must have been,” Min-jun concluded, his voice barely above a whisper.
Joon-ho’s face moved, a slight, almost imperceptible shift, but Min-jun noticed. The tremble of his lips, the flutter of his eyelids, it was as if someone was gently touching his face from the inside.
“Hyung…” Min-jun started to say.
“Hyung, are the things you said were lies actually true?” he asked, his question hanging in the air.
Joon-ho didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes as if waking up from a dream.
“About what you said yesterday, ‘my soul is gone,’ ‘I fought until my heart awoke’… were those lies or not?” Min-jun pressed on.
Joon-ho’s expression turned somber, his eyes clouding over.
Everything in the pizza parlor seemed to come to a standstill. The fluorescent lights, the cola glasses, the view outside – all frozen in time. Yet, time itself continued to flow, the digital clock on the table ticking away, now reading 11:14 AM.
“Min-jun-ah,” Joon-ho said, using Min-jun’s name without the honorific for the first time, a subtle but significant shift.
“The things I thought were lies, they were actually my hopes,” Joon-ho confessed.
“Hopes?” Min-jun echoed, surprised.
“Yes. I didn’t want to admit I was pushed out, so I said I left on my own. But that was a lie too. What I really wanted to say was that I could return someday, that I could rewrite my story,” Joon-ho explained, his voice filled with a deep longing.
Min-jun took a bite of his pizza, the cheese’s taste still lingering, carrying a warmth that felt like comfort, like someone had prepared it especially for him.
“Hyung…” Min-jun said after swallowing.
“Are you going to go back to your company?” Min-jun asked.
Joon-ho didn’t answer immediately. He picked up his pizza and took another bite, this time with a sense of determination.
“I don’t know, but… if I do go back, it will be with the truth, not with the lies I’ve told myself,” Joon-ho said, his voice firm.
Min-jun looked at Joon-ho’s face, the morning light casting a glow on his features. He saw the brightness in Joon-ho’s eyes, a spark that seemed to ignite a fire within.
“Do you want to go back to your studio, to see the mold on the ceiling?” Min-jun asked, a sudden change in topic.
Joon-ho laughed, a genuine laugh that seemed to come from his belly. “I don’t like that studio, but I want to see you, so I’ll go back,” he said, the laughter still in his voice.
Just then, Min-jun’s phone rang. The time was 1:07 PM. The call was from his company, Deastar Entertainment. Min-jun exchanged a glance with Joon-ho, who nodded for him to answer.
After the call, Min-jun stood up. “I have to go,” he said, his bag already in hand.
Joon-ho also stood, his eyes locking onto Min-jun’s. “Go. I’ll be here,” he said, a sense of reassurance in his voice.
Min-jun looked at Joon-ho, the man who had been a mystery, a man whose eyes now seemed to hold a glimmer of hope. “Hyung, do you really think you were lying?” Min-jun asked, one last question before he left.
Joon-ho didn’t answer, but instead placed his hand on Min-jun’s shoulder, a gesture that spoke louder than words.
“Go, and come back. After everything is over, I’ll be here waiting,” Joon-ho said, his voice low and steady.
Min-jun stepped out of the pizza parlor, into the cool afternoon air of Sinlim. The city was alive, vibrant, but Min-jun’s heart felt heavy, as if he was walking towards something significant, something that would change the course of his life.
He took the subway to Gangnam, the crowds and the noise a stark contrast to the quiet, intimate moment he had shared with Joon-ho. As he emerged from the station, the Deastar Entertainment building stood before him, its logo and glass facade gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Min-jun entered the building, his footsteps echoing in the lobby. He took the elevator to the 8th floor, where the CEO’s office was located. The doors opened, and he stepped out into the corridor, the fluorescent lights above humming softly.
He approached the CEO’s office, hesitated for a moment, and then knocked on the door.
“Come in,” a voice said from inside.
Min-jun opened the door and stepped into the office. The room was spacious, with a large window offering a panoramic view of Gangnam. The CEO, Lee Soo-jin, sat behind his desk, a smile on his face.
“Hello, Min-jun. It’s time we had a serious talk,” he said, his voice smooth and welcoming.
Min-jun remained silent, his eyes fixed on the CEO’s. He felt a sense of trepidation, as if he was standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into an unknown abyss.
“I want to scout you for our company,” Lee Soo-jin said, his words dropping like a bombshell. “You have the potential to excel, and I… I want to look out for you.”
Min-jun’s breath caught in his throat. The words sounded familiar, echoing what Joon-ho had said earlier. It was a declaration of interest, of investment in him as a person, not just as an actor.
As he looked into Lee Soo-jin’s eyes, Min-jun realized that the CEO’s gaze was fixed on him, intensely personal. It was a look that said, “I see you, Min-jun. I see beyond the facade, beyond the lies and the truths. I see the real you.”