Chapter 10: I Don’t Love Him
by GideonEpisode 10. I Don’t Love Him.
“How far did you go?”
“I didn’t stop anyone from coming my way. I didn’t care about gender, sub-gender, or personality.”
“Are you so sick of it that you’re done now?”
“It’s not that I’m sick of it, but…”
For some reason, the surgical site on the back of his neck itched so intensely it was distracting. Unable to scratch it, Cha Jubin clenched his left fist, his brow furrowing.
“I’m just tired of wasting my emotions.”
His light brown eyes darkened with seriousness.
“So, what’s my type?”
“A male Alpha. The kind who’s infinitely gentle with his own people, expresses himself honestly, and can never tell a lie.”
The other man nodded as if agreeing with Jubin’s assessment.
“You talk as if you’ve dated someone like me before,” he said, his tone subtly probing.
“Did that person make things difficult for you, sunbae?”
Jubin shook his head with a smile.
“No, it was the opposite. I’m the one who makes things difficult for my partners.”
“How so?”
Cha Jubin deliberately paused for a beat before answering.
“I don’t love them.”
He only liked them very much. He couldn’t share the final boundary they all desired. What could he do? He was born this way.
“Maybe they just lacked patience,” the other man remarked, his answer laden with meaning.
“Or maybe they just underestimated you?”
As he asked, the corners of his eyes crinkled softly. His eyelids dipped, partially veiling his light brown irises. The smile spreading across his lips felt like the faint scent of sweet osmanthus drifting through autumn sunlight.
Jubin averted his gaze from the smile that had spread across Zion’s face. Why do I feel like I’m the one who got played? He needed to change the subject before things went any further.
“You tell me something too,” Jubin said.
“I can’t. I’m under a non-disclosure agreement.”
“What?”
Got me.
Do Zion took a leisurely sip of his coffee, while Cha Jubin let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“You know I’m the type who can’t tell a lie, right?”
What a little brat. Fine, that was Do Zion—the most famous man in the Republic of Korea right now, known for having a spotless private life. Of course he wouldn’t spill his dating history this easily.
Jubin felt a little foolish for expecting anything special. He was the only one who’d just aired his dirty laundry.
“Sunbae.”
“What now?”
I’m starting to dread it when he calls me that.
“Since you’ve dated so much…”
I didn’t know it back then.
“Can you help me out?”
“…With what?”
His request for help hadn’t been as innocent as I’d thought.
“Be my love interest.”
“I told you, that’s not something I can just decide on my own.”
Cha Jubin drained the last of his milk tea. Just as he thought he’d swallowed the last bit…
“I’ll quit right after the Thyme Film Festival, so…”
“Pfft—!”
The sudden announcement of his retirement made me choke. I coughed violently, reaching for a tissue, and a startled Zion rushed over to pat my back.
“Did an ice cube get stuck in your throat?”
“K-cough, cough.”
Cha Jubin waved a hand, signaling he was fine. Ugh, I choked so hard my eyes are watering.
“Want some water?”
Cha Jubin nodded quickly. He brought over the entire water jug from near the stairs and poured it into a paper cup.
“Here, drink up.”
After swallowing the water, his coughing subsided, but a sharp pain still lingered somewhere in his throat.
“You didn’t just swallow the ice, did you?”
“No, I ate it all a while ago.”
“Ah, you scared me.”
Ahem. He cleared his throat, lifting his head slightly. The low rumble from deep within his throat sounded the same as before, thankfully.
“Sorry. I never thought about you retiring.”
“Am I not allowed to quit?”
“You’re loved by the entire nation. I don’t think you can just quit.”
Did I say that too bluntly? Cha Jubin glanced at him, gauging his reaction, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken so carelessly without knowing your situation.”
“There was no special reason. I just decided to do it that way from the start and stuck to the plan. I wasn’t thinking much of it, but hearing you say that… it’s making my head spin.”
His steady, light brown eyes seemed to bind Cha Jubin in place. The way he stared so intensely felt like he was constantly challenging him.
“Why? Why are you the one aiming for the Grand Slam at the Three Major Film Festivals?”
He leaned in, bringing his upper body close to the table.
“Are you asking because you really don’t know? Or are you just feigning ignorance?”
The burden that had been weighing on Cha Jubin’s mind finally spilled out. He let out a soft sigh and revealed his true feelings.
“Did you start with the Special Award on purpose? Just for me to see?”
“Exactly. Just for you.”
He still hates me, Cha Jubin thought. Just as much as he always has.
“Do you really hate me?”
His full lips parted slightly, revealing a glimpse of his white upper teeth. Even that fleeting expression was captivating.
“I’ve never hated you,” he replied. “But I have resented you.”
“What? Resented me? Why?”
He clasped his hands together, refusing to deny it.
“Why? Did I do something to hurt you?”
“You never officially announced a hiatus after your contract ended.”
He hadn’t known it would become a hiatus, and since he’d quit of his own accord, he couldn’t exactly broadcast it to the world.
He glared at Jubin with a gaze full of genuine resentment. Jubin couldn’t understand why he was being looked at this way.
“…Is that really something to resent me for?”
“Why else would I have walked into BAY’s agency on my own two feet?”
For a moment, my brain short-circuited. I blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with the gaze of those light brown eyes fixed on me.
“You’re trying to say it was all because of me, aren’t you?”
“I turned down every single offer from the major agencies. I only joined because of you, Sunbae.”
In the past, I would have been so flustered I wouldn’t have known where to put my hands, bowing my head in shame. But now, perhaps because I’d finally found some peace of mind, I could hide the frantic thumping of my heart.
“Is that so? I’m flattered. What am I to you, anyway?”
“To me, you were always…” He trailed off for a moment before continuing. “…the one I looked up to.”
The word longing—the kind that comes with admiration—felt incredibly thick in the air. It was a desperate kind of yearning, one that could be interpreted as missing someone, loving someone, or even worshiping them.
Perhaps it was a word often mistaken for love.
“I only signed a one-year short-term contract because I just wanted to meet him once.”
“Huh? One year? Were there even one-year short-term contracts back then?”
In this industry, a three-year contract was the customary tradition. If a company rejected a project, claiming it didn’t fit his image, the concept was poor, or the ratings wouldn’t be good, he had no choice but to stay put because of the contract period.
“They were the ones begging me to come. Why would I need to sign a long-term contract?”
Six years ago, sitting in a convenience store, he’d said things that sounded far too mature for his age—like asking if loyalty fed you—all while sipping beer he didn’t even know the taste of. Now, I finally understood why.
So that’s why he’s always playing his cards so well. He was an athlete.
And not just any athlete—a swimmer. The perfect sport for a goal-oriented Alpha, bred for competition and victory within the lines.
I didn’t want to pigeonhole him, but he was a textbook Dominant Alpha.
“If you’d kept going without taking a break, Senior, you would’ve swept all the awards I won,” Do Zion said.
The way he even used the word break to gently frame my absence felt so heartbreakingly considerate.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Jubin replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve never even come close to the Aristos or Dunamis Film Festivals. I don’t have a single international award to my name, so keep praising me like this and you’re still not getting anything out of it.”
Jubin added a short remark with a smile.
“That’s cheating.”
He meant it. He was so embarrassed that he’d rather be teased or mocked.
“Does it sound like I’m being humble? But I’m serious.”
“Who said your feelings were fake?”
The other man had performed countless miracles, a peerless genius who knew how to shine all on his own.
Now that he had developed a unique, iconic aura that made that light shine even brighter, he was a special star that would never fall.
For such a person to guarantee that he would lose to Jubin… It wasn’t exactly deception, but Jubin felt it was a bit much.
“I don’t know how great the past version of me looked in your eyes, but this is reality. Right now, only a few people would recognize me on the street. But you?”
Cha Jubin wanted to remind Zion, with his own words, just how incredible and famous the actor before him was.
After all, when you’re at the very top, it was common to get so absorbed in that life that you lost touch with reality. Maybe Zion had just somehow managed to avoid the “celebrity disease” that everyone else seemed to catch.
“If you went down to the first floor right now, people would be lining up to get your autograph, take photos, and tell you they’re your fan.”
“I’m your fan, Sunbae. So I’ll be the one lining up for you.”
Jubin let out a short, startled laugh, as if he’d been caught off guard. Just how highly had Do Zion regarded him back then? The lens of admiration was a terrifying thing.
“To think you’re my fan… I’m flattered.”
“I’ve been your fan from the very beginning, Sunbae.”
0 Comments