이 포스팅은 쿠팡 파트너스 활동의 일환으로, 이에 따른 일정액의 수수료를 제공받습니다.
# Chapter 56: The Other Side of the Mirror
The Americano had gone cold long ago. Minjun knew this, yet he picked it up anyway—not seeking warmth, but needing something to hold. Junho watched his face intently, as if double-checking what he’d just done.
“So what now?”
Minjun asked, his voice low.
“Now we don’t go to Conference Room C.”
Junho replied.
“Why?”
“Because you need time to think. And so do I. So do we.”
Junho explained.
That word—we—passed through Minjun’s chest like a blade. We. Him and Junho. And probably someone else. Minjun searched the café for their presence, but found only silence. A college student with a laptop by the window. An elderly couple by the glass. A barista behind the counter. That was all.
“Are we already here?”
Minjun asked.
Junho didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up his phone, turned on the screen, and showed it to Minjun. A message thread opened. A message from them. Time stamp: 10:03 AM. Exactly sixteen minutes ago.
“Still not here? I’m already nearby. It’s the café, right?”
Minjun read the message and suddenly understood. Why Junho had already been sitting when he arrived. Why he’d chosen the corner table, not the window seat. Why he had a clear view of the entrance.
“What were we planning to do?”
Minjun asked.
“Monitoring.”
Junho answered simply.
“Monitoring what?”
“You. This situation. Someone needs to be here so you don’t make this decision alone. No matter the distance.”
Junho explained.
Minjun understood, but discomfort flickered across his face. The feeling of being watched. Or more precisely, the feeling of being judged as immature—incapable of making his own choices.
“Do I seem like that kind of person to you?”
Minjun asked.
“What?”
“Like someone too weak to decide for himself?”
Junho didn’t answer. Instead, he looked out the window toward Gangnam Station. People passed by quickly, all heading somewhere. No one stopped.
“Weakness and wisdom aren’t the same thing.”
Junho finally spoke.
“What’s the difference?”
“A weak person can’t decide alone. So they end up alone. But a wise person knows they can’t be alone. So they call someone. And they think together.”
Whether it was true or false, Minjun wasn’t sure. But it sounded wise. Like someone had translated his confusion into words.
“What about us now?”
Minjun asked.
“Now we wait. Until they arrive.”
Junho answered.
“And when they arrive?”
Junho didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up his own cold coffee. Brought it to his lips. But didn’t drink. Just held it, as if his fingers needed something to grip.
The café’s background music shifted. Pop this time. English lyrics. Female vocals. Something sad, yet the melody was bright. A contradiction that perfectly captured the atmosphere of this place.
Minjun picked up his croissant again. It had gone cold and hard. But he kept chewing anyway, suddenly aware of how absurd he looked—chewing tasteless food like he was chewing through his own life.
“Hyung, why did I ever want to become an actor?”
The question came out suddenly.
Junho’s eyes sharpened. A question mark formed on his face.
“Why are you asking that now?”
“Because until now, I didn’t know the reason. I just… wanted to be an actor. And I still do. But at the same time, I’m not sure if any of this was actually my choice.”
Something unfamiliar colored his voice. Self-mockery. Or more precisely, a deep questioning of himself—as if he were a stranger to his own life.
Junho was silent for a long time. In that silence, Minjun wondered how Junho saw him. As someone worthy of help? Or just an object of pity?
“Do you remember your father?”
Junho asked suddenly.
Minjun was startled. Father. That word hadn’t left his lips in a very long time.
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He was a film art director.”
“And now?”
Minjun didn’t answer. He understood what Junho was really asking.
“Didn’t you want to be different from him?”
Junho pressed.
“Yes. I wanted a different path.”
“That’s why you became an actor. To not fail like he did.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a confirmation.
“Yes.”
“So are you succeeding now?”
Minjun thought about the question. Success. What was it? Money? Fame? Or the feeling of being needed by someone?
“I don’t know.”
“Then think of it this way. Are you better off than your father?”
The question was cruel. But necessary.
“Yes. At least I’m still alive.”
Junho closed his eyes at that answer. Then opened them slowly.
“Then that’s enough. For now.”
Minjun considered what he meant. For now. Did that imply more would be needed in the future?
The café door opened. Someone entered. Minjun’s head jerked up instinctively. But it wasn’t them. A young woman in black. Wearing headphones. She ordered something at the counter. A latte. Another person’s ordinary day.
Time passed. Minjun remained seated. So did Junho. They didn’t speak. Just sat there, waiting. Or more accurately, waiting for someone.
Minjun’s phone buzzed. A message from Junho.
“They’ll be here in 5 minutes. Stay here until then. Don’t leave. Understood?”
Minjun read it and replied.
“Understood.”
Junho set his phone down. His face was already prepared. Like a soldier before battle.
“Minjun, there’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
Junho said.
“What?”
“When they arrive, we’re going to call Lee Sujin. Directly. And tell her we’re canceling Conference Room C. Without asking you first. You need to be ready for that.”
“What will you say?”
“We’ll decide that. But you need to hear this conversation. You need to be part of the process.”
Minjun felt the weight of those words. He was no longer a passive victim. He would become an active participant. It was frightening and necessary all at once.
“Hyung, can I ask you something?”
Minjun asked.
“What?”
“Why are you helping me? Really?”
Junho took time to consider. In that silence, Minjun studied his face. A middle-aged man. Tired eyes. But something deeper lived behind them—as if he too had once been caught in a similar trap.
“Because you could have been me.”
Junho finally answered.
“What?”
“When I was like you, no one helped me. I escaped that trap alone. And I lost a lot in the process. You… you can’t become that.”
The moment those words fell, the café door opened again. This time, it was them.
Black hoodie. Black sweatpants. A face drained of all color—as if they’d cried through the night. They scanned the café and found Minjun and Junho. A corner table. A place without mirrors. A space hidden from the world.
They approached slowly. Wordlessly. And stood before the table.
“Junho. And Minjun.”
They spoke. Their voice trembled.
“Sit.”
Junho said.
They sat. Across from Minjun. Beside Junho.
“Now we need to decide something together.”
Junho said.
In that moment, Minjun realized he was no longer alone. Three people sat at this table. And all three saw the same trap. And all three wanted to find a way out.
The café’s background music changed again. Classical this time. Violin. Cello. Piano. Every instrument forming a single harmony.
“Now we begin.”
Junho said.
Minjun realized his hands were shaking. But not from fear. This was a different kind of trembling. As if his life was beginning again from this very moment.
END OF CHAPTER 56
In the next chapter, they will call Lee Sujin directly. And it will change everything.