The man who said that flopped down on the couch opposite him with a snicker. “Man, you kept me waiting forever. I’ve been rotting here for a week, thought I was gonna fucking die when you never showed.” “The hotel staff kept glaring at me. Took all I had to stop them from throwing me out.” Sung Jiwon let out a sigh of disbelief. He had noticed the receptionist sneaking glances ever since this guy sat down across from him. The weird part was, instead of suspicion, the look in the receptionist’s eyes was almost... sentimental? “Oh, and by the way, our cover story is that we’re long-lost half-brothers. It’s the perfect setup—cuts the bullshit and gets you sympathy points.” The lunatic who had just barged in said it like it was no big deal. A laugh escaped Jiwon before he could stop it. Even with the cap shadowing the guy’s face, he looked older than Jiwon. ‘Still... he seems a little too young to be someone from D.go’s exec team.’ Whether he was a scammer or some D.go flunky, Jiwon didn’t really care. Everything was annoying. And honestly, whether he was one or the other, what did it matter? “My name’s not Chulsu.” “Yeah? Then is it Younghee?” The man crossed his legs and stared at him from under his cap. Then, with a practiced motion, he reached into his inner pocket and rummaged for a moment before clicking his tongue and giving up. “Tch. I don’t feel like dragging this out either. Just hand over the keycard.” “What, did that sound like a threat? Hmm, maybe I am threatening you. So how about you cooperate with your big bro?” Why the hell did he want the keycard? How did he even know about it? Jiwon tightened his grip around the card in his hand. “Oooh, dropping honorifics?” “...What are you gonna do with it?” He raised his voice slightly, and the man curled his lips into a smirk, leaning back lazily on the sofa with his chin in hand. “Hmm. Curious, are we?” He was smiling, but his eyes were cold, and his tone dripped with mockery. Like he thought Jiwon was pathetic. “Why does a perfectly healthy kid like you insist on crawling through shit? People like you are the hardest for me to understand. Why even bother?” His voice was light, but the words were razor-sharp. It was like he knew exactly what was going on here. Each sentence landed like a spear in Jiwon’s chest. ‘Seriously, what is this guy?’ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novelFɪre.net “Hand over the keycard and go home. Wash your feet, go to bed.” Jiwon wished this guy would just disappear. He needed to go upstairs and take photos as evidence before it was too late. And what made this guy think he’d just hand over the card? But the man shamelessly held out his hand. “What, you think I’d trust some guy who shows up out of nowhere to pick a fight?” The man chuckled softly, brushing a long finger along his eyebrow. “You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” “Must run in the family. You are my long-lost half-brother, right?” Even with ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) the sarcasm dripping off his words, the man just laughed louder. In fact, he seemed entertained. “You’re prickly as hell. Don’t let a single word slide, do you?” “Right, right. I had some business with the guy you were supposed to meet today. Some piece of shit made a mess, and now I’m stuck cleaning up after him.” Jiwon kept his eyes fixed on his hand, casually tapping the keycard against his palm. The man leaned forward like he was trying to meet his gaze, but Jiwon’s cap blocked his view—he could only see the guy’s chest. “I know why you’re here. You wanna debut, right?” “You really think going up there means you’ll debut? Hell, even if you do—what then? You think you’ll be free from this forever? You think you’ll be able to face your fans without shame?” His voice had lost its edge. Now he sounded almost... gentle. Jiwon didn’t feel like arguing. He wasn’t going upstairs to debut. He just didn’t have many choices left—and gathering evidence to expose D.go was one of the few cards he had to play. Just then, a default ringtone came from the guy’s pocket. He pulled out his phone, checked the caller, and immediately hung up. But the phone rang again. And again. And again. Muttering curses, he finally turned it off. “Anyway, about that keycard—” Jiwon, who had been silently observing, let out a frustrated breath and took off his cap. He ran a hand through his messy hair—and locked eyes with the man, who had just shoved his phone into his back pocket. The guy inhaled sharply, his words catching. As the silence stretched, Jiwon tilted his head slightly. “What are you doing all this for, huh?” “How old are you, anyway? You look young.” “Why are you suddenly asking that?” “Twenty-one? Huh. Yeah, that lines up if you’re debuting soon...” The man’s eyes swept up and down, taking in Jiwon’s full figure. What the hell is he talking about? Jiwon narrowed his eyes, studying him. The man rubbed his chin like he was deep in thought, then softened his tone. “Let me ask you something. Did you come here because you were forced to?” “...And if I say yes? What difference does it make? Nothing’s gonna change.” The man burst out laughing. He met Jiwon’s gaze, deadly serious. “Give me the keycard, and I’ll flip the whole damn thing upside down.” “You’ve been gripping it like you’re planning something. Whatever it is, forget it—it won’t work. Let me handle it.” “I’m good at causing trouble. My team says I’ve basically got a PhD in being a thug.” It sounded ridiculous, but the guy looked dead serious—and confident. And maybe that’s why... it almost felt believable. “So give it to me and forget about it. I’ll take care of everything from here.” All Jiwon could see in his lowered field of view was his own uncertain feet. He didn’t know this guy—didn’t know his name, his job, his age. There wasn’t a single reason to trust him. And yet he wanted to believe him. It felt like being seduced by the devil himself. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.” As if sensing his hesitation, the man gently tapped the hand holding the card a few times—then slowly pulled it from his grasp. He whispered softly, gave Jiwon a light pat on the back, and walked off without looking back. Jiwon sat frozen for a long time after the man left. ‘...Why did I let him take it?’ He didn’t understand it himself. Everything had happened so smoothly. Like it had been planned from the beginning. As he sighed and rubbed his face, he suddenly realized something: If that guy did use the card, any fallout would land squarely on him. He was the one the card was registered to. He couldn’t just go back now. He wasn’t going to let some random incident ruin everything before he could even expose D.go. He had to find the guy and take the card back—or at least figure out what he’d done with it. He lingered in the lounge for another 30 minutes. Just as he was debating whether to go upstairs, it occurred to him—there might be another exit. He approached the receptionist who’d been giving them side-eyes earlier and asked, using the “half-brother” line again, if there were any other doors. Sure enough, there was a back door leading to the parking lot via the emergency stairwell. The moment he stepped outside, raindrops started falling from the pitch-black sky. He broke into a fast walk, feeling like he might already be too late—but then, a strong whiff of cigarette smoke hit him. “Fucking told you not to make me do this shit.” It was the voice from earlier. “I’m at the point where I don’t even know what I do anymore. Did I get hired to clean up other people’s messes? —And what the fuck was I supposed to do? He’s got nothing but money and goes ‘How much do you want?’ Like he’s some goddamn VIP. Everyone ends up the same once they’re dead.” The guy was standing in a dimly lit smoking area outside the hotel, ranting into his phone with a mouthful of exquisite profanity. Jiwon realized—so that was him holding back earlier. This was the real deal. “...Anyway, I’ve cleaned up over here. Don’t worry about it. Just show up for the meeting like you promised. And give the kids a fucking break.” The man finally took the phone off his ear, casually digging in his other ear with his finger. Even from a distance, Jiwon could hear the other person yelling on the line. “Yup. Hanging up now~.” He cut them off mid-sentence and shoved the phone into his back pocket, then took a long drag from his cigarette. “If you’re so annoyed, do it your fucking self...” As he exhaled a puff of white smoke, he turned—and locked eyes with Jiwon, who was awkwardly standing beside the door. There was so much he wanted to ask—so much to confirm. “...I’ll take Younghee instead.” But that was the first thing that came out of his mouth. The man chuckled and asked nonchalantly, “Came to see how the chaos went?” “...What kind of chaos?” “Worse than you imagined.” So, no, he wasn’t going to explain. “Don’t worry. I made sure none of it will blow back on you.” With the cigarette still between his lips, his words came out slightly slurred. “I must be getting old. Even knowing it’s none of my business, I can’t keep my damn mouth shut. Don’t do this kind of shit. You’ll regret it.” He pulled out the keycard and crushed it in his hand, right in front of Jiwon’s face. Then he tossed it into the overflowing ashtray and crushed it under his cigarette. “Shit sticks with you forever.” It was a warning—don’t even think about going back in there. Then the man rummaged through his coat and added, almost like an afterthought: “...There are people like me who jump to conclusions.” He was likely referring to the snark he’d thrown at Jiwon earlier. But seeing the man look a little awkward somehow made Jiwon feel... amused. “Is that your way of apologizing?” “You really had to say it out loud? Damn, you don’t look like it, but you’ve got some serious spine.” That made him laugh a little. The man pulled out another cigarette but didn’t light it—just held it loosely between his lips. At the sound of Jiwon’s soft chuckle, he blinked lazily. “...So what do I do now?” “Figure it out yourself, dumbass. I’m not living your life for you.” He spat the unlit cigarette from his mouth and let it fall to the ground. “You’re with D.go, right? Idol trainee?” “How long you been training?” “Seven... seven? Not months—years?” His eyes widened in pure disbelief as he stared at Jiwon. “Dude, with a face like that, what the hell are you still doing here?” “Is your agency blind? Are you tone-deaf or just a total klutz?” I used to be center, actually. Still ranked #1 in the latest monthly eval. Apparently, looks, talent, and effort just aren’t enough. Jiwon swallowed those words and only shrugged. He was well aware that he’d had rotten luck all his life. “...Jiwon. Sung Jiwon.” The man muttered the name to himself a few times, looking strangely conflicted. “A long-time trainee with decent visuals... Just hang in there a little longer.” “...Why do you care?” “Oh, stop pretending. The way your eyes are still burning with regret says it all.” He chuckled, loosening the shirt tied around his waist. Come to think of it, he had been wearing that earlier. “I’m just saying—you might be getting a good break soon.” The man made the cryptic comment as he slipped the shirt back on. Jiwon was about to ask if he worked at a broadcasting station or something, but then froze. When the man shifted slightly, a pale scar became visible beneath the sleeve of his black T-shirt—a jagged, snake-like mark that stretched across his upper arm. There was no way he hadn’t noticed Jiwon staring at it, but he said nothing. Instead, he opened an umbrella. His grandmother always made sure to tuck a three-fold umbrella in his bag. “Figures. You look like the type who’s got their shit together. I bought mine earlier.” The man gave a little wave and walked off with the umbrella over his head. Jiwon stared at his retreating back, then raised his voice. “Wait! What was that supposed to mean? That we’ll meet again?” “Sigh... You getting clingy already, kid?” He was just starting to regret asking when the man turned and laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll know right away when you see me.” And with that, he left without hesitation. Jiwon stood still under the thickening rain until the man’s footsteps were completely swallowed by the sound of falling drops. “...He looks like a different person when he smiles.” He never got to ask anything, never got any answers. Even if everything that man said was a lie, and even if this ended up hurting him tomorrow, he didn’t feel bad right now. As he mulled over what to do next, just like the man told him, he heard voices whispering nearby. “Yo, did you see that maniac on the 41st floor earlier?” Must’ve been hotel staff out on a smoke break. “Shit was insane. He barged in, screaming about a trespasser, then started throwing everything in sight...” “The other guy was even crazier. Got ashtrays and who knows what else thrown at him, but just smiled like a psycho. Then he said something, and the asshole shut right up.” Jiwon immediately knew who they were talking about. “Don’t you think it’s weird, though? That’s the VIP floor—you can’t even get there without a registered keycard. How did a rando get up there?” “Whatever. I felt so refreshed when that guy drove the asshole out. Honestly, I wish he’d show up every time a jerk makes a scene...” When they finally noticed Jiwon standing in the smoking area, the employees clamped their mouths shut and scurried back into the hotel. ‘So he really is a chaos artist.’ Long-lost brother, intruder, chaos artist... Jiwon chuckled at the absurd labels he’d racked up in his head. He pulled out the umbrella from his bag and opened it, then headed for his agency. It was late, so the company lobby was quiet. After seven years as a trainee, he knew how to get in without swiping his access card. He also knew how to disable the CCTV. Tricks like that had been passed around by long-time trainees looking to sneak out for smoke breaks or midnight snacks. Inside, he disabled the cameras and made his way straight to the CEO’s office. In one corner sat a putting mat and golf clubs—the CEO’s latest obsession. He picked out the heaviest one and headed down to the practice room. The mirror he’d faced every single day for seven years stared back at him. The reflection looked unfamiliar. Was this really what I looked like? He lifted a hand to his cheek, paused, then slowly stepped back. He smashed the mirror with the golf club. The crunch of glass underfoot followed as he moved to the next one. Shards flew everywhere as each mirror shattered. It didn’t take long to destroy them all. He dropped the golf club and looked around. The practice room seemed smaller and darker now. And for the first time, he realized—none of this had really meant anything. He suddenly missed his grandmother. As he exited the building, someone shouted behind him. “Hey! You crazy bastard!” He turned to see the trainee who was always picking fights with him. He must’ve been in the building and heard the commotion. “Did you really break the mirrors in the practice room, Sung Jiwon?! I’m telling the CEO!” Jiwon tilted his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hyungjo.” Then he smiled brightly. He left the guy standing there with his mouth hanging open and walked out of the company. His steps grew quicker the closer he got to home. As soon as he opened the front door, he ran straight to his grandmother. The warmth of her hug and the familiar scent of home brought tears to his eyes. Even as he sniffled with his face buried in her shoulder, she just held him tighter and didn’t ask anything. Only then did the urge to throw everything away begin to subside. Jiwon knew himself well. He wasn’t someone who could easily give up the dream he’d held for so long. “Grandma, your baby’s home.” Even now, even in this moment, he desperately wanted to sing onstage. The next day, just as the man had said, nothing happened. That day, Sung Jiwon walked out of D.go for good.