Chapter 61: I Wanted to See You Again.
by Gideon“This is perfect.”
They always say it’s a small world, but Jubin never imagined it was this small. He hadn’t expected to live in the same apartment complex as Yeo Si-ha.
“We’re going to arrive early thanks to you.”
Realizing they’d get there sooner than expected, Jubin pulled out his phone and struggled to type a message with one hand.
Come to think of it, he remembered that Zion used to smoke. He wondered how he’d managed to quit.
“Zion.”
The younger man immediately met his gaze. His brown eyes, flecked with green, widened in surprise.
Jubin pointed forward with his finger.
“Eyes on the road.”
“You’re the one who called my name, senior.”
“Even if a cop calls your name, you still have to keep your eyes on the road while driving.”
Zion slowly turned his gaze back to the windshield. Jubin’s heart hammered—he’d been terrified they were about to crash.
“Why did you call me?” Zion asked, turning the steering wheel.
“You used to smoke, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
Jubin licked his dry lips and deliberately stared out the window, trying to hide his awkwardness.
“…How’d you quit?”
“Curious?”
Zion’s voice was low and smooth, a signature of his. The way he drew out the end of the question, his breathy, slow-tempo tone sending a strange tickle through Jubin’s heart.
“Quitting isn’t easy. I figured there must have been a good reason.”
A soft hum escaped Zion’s throat. “Quitting was actually the easy part.”
“Easy?”
Startled, Jubin whipped his head back to look at Zion.
“Yeah. I guess the reason I started was the harder part.”
Zion’s voice had grown unexpectedly heavy. Jubin fell silent, wondering if he’d asked something he shouldn’t have.
“Aren’t you going to ask?” Zion prompted, his eyes shining with a hint of anticipation. “Why I started smoking?”
Jubin blinked, caught off guard. “…Huh? Oh, I just thought it might be too personal.”
A soft smile tugged at Zion’s lips. “You’re incredibly good at reading people, sunbae.”
What a pretty way to describe being a people-pleaser, Jubin thought.
“I’m actually jealous of that skill,” Zion added. “I really want it.”
Jubin was stunned. He’d always considered his hypersensitivity to others’ emotions a curse—a burden that kept him constantly on edge, forever walking on eggshells.
“You’re just seeing it as a strength,” Jubin murmured.
“Because you empathize so deeply with people’s words and actions, you’re incredibly nuanced. That’s why your acting is always so consistently high-level.”
These weren’t just polite words thrown out casually.
At first, Jubin was stunned. But then, he felt something he’d kept bound deep in his heart snap loose—a pleasant wave of genuine sincerity.
And to be recognized by the most beloved person in the world right now…
Jubin turned his head and quietly watched Zion drive. He wanted to be careful with his words, to choose exactly the right ones.
“…Thank you.”
He worried his answer was too simple after all that thought, but it was a sincere thank you, brimming with the emotions he was trying to keep in check.
He wanted to act composed, like a proper senior, but he couldn’t hide the subtle glow of pride.
“Don’t thank me. It’s just the truth.”
Zion brought the car to a smooth stop at a red light and continued the conversation.
“Actually, I started smoking because I hated swimming.”
Jubin had assumed it was just curiosity, but the real reason was far more shocking.
“Was training that hard?”
“No, training was the same as always. It was my mind that was struggling.”
Zion spoke calmly, but Jubin—who tended to absorb others’ emotions too deeply—could feel the weight of the struggle Zion must have endured.
“I don’t know if you remember, but you went to that fan signing for the A Clothing brand store opening. Do you remember that?”
“Yeah, I do. Were you there too?”
“Well, I was nearby. I was already hating swimming so much, but after seeing you that day, I hated it even more.”
Jubin started seriously wondering if he’d messed something up that day.
The truth was, he’d pulled an all-nighter filming the night before, and it had been pouring rain.
Because of that, he’d been running late, his mind was a complete mess, and he couldn’t stay long due to the crowds and safety concerns. That was all he could remember.
“Did I… do something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, sunbae. It was just… the period at the end of my swimming career, I guess.”
So you’re saying I’m the reason you put a period—not even a question mark—to the sport you were so good at?
“I realized I wasn’t doing it because I loved it. I was just doing it. I think it just took me a while to accept that obvious truth.”
“Have you ever talked to anyone about this?”
“No. Even if I did, I’m the only one who can solve it.”
He said it so casually, but Jubin could picture him—a young boy, alone and lost, unable to share his feelings with anyone.
“I hated it so much I started smoking, even though I knew I shouldn’t have. My coach must have been so frustrated that he just let me go through my rebellious phase for a while.”
Jubin listened intently, his focus entirely on the other man’s voice.
“He even encouraged me to do what other students did—watch dramas and play games. That’s when he recommended Sageukhan Romance.”
So that’s how he watched my acting… Jubin felt a wave of shyness wash over him as the story continued.
“I was skipping training, smoking in my room while staring at your face on the screen, when my dad caught me red-handed.”
Jubin’s heart sank. He winced, already imagining the lecture that must have followed. “Oh no… what did he say?”
“My dad just said one thing: ‘What will you do after you quit swimming that will make you stop smoking?'”
“Your father is really calm.”
“He is. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be as wise as him when I have kids.”
Jubin tightened the belt cinching his waist and turned his body fully toward Zion.
“So, what did you say to him?”
Zion was dying to know, but Jubin seemed to be enjoying the tension, teasing him without giving in.
“Can I be honest?”
“Yeah, tell me.”
“Listen, but don’t feel pressured or even think about running away.”
Jubin couldn’t understand why he was asking for permission.
“I wanted to see you again more than I wanted to act.”
Zion’s mind went blank.
His focus blurred in shock, and his mouth hung open awkwardly.
“Me…?”
The question, which had been stuck in his throat, finally escaped.
“I told you the first time we met. I couldn’t see anyone else’s face in Sageukhan Romance but yours.”
Zion spoke with casual ease, but Jubin found the words painfully embarrassing. When they’d first met, he’d felt like Zion was looking down on him. But now…
“Your face is exactly my type, you know.”
Jubin froze, his mind going blank. For a moment, he even forgot how to breathe.
“I was curious about you.”
What am I, some kind of prize? Jubin felt a flush creep up his cheeks.
“That’s why I asked my father for permission to become an actor.”
“…Wow.”
It was a genuine exclamation of awe.
Jubin’s own father had been a sailor since he was young, meaning he only saw him once or twice a year. His father was a stern man, and Jubin had never even managed a proper conversation with him.
It was a story I could never have imagined.
“I quit smoking easily thanks to my father,” Zion said.
“You’re lucky to have such a good father.”
Zion’s kindness seemed to be a natural part of his gentle nature, but his family environment clearly played a huge role.
“Are you disappointed? Because that’s not a very ‘actor-like’ reason?”
Cha Jubin shook his head lightly. “Disappointed? Not at all. It makes you even more human, which is better.”
For a moment, the tips of Do Zion’s ears flushed.
Seeing him so flustered was unfamiliar, but at the same time, it was incredibly cute.
Wanting to tease him a little more, Jubin pressed his thumb firmly against the back of Zion’s hand.
At that, Zion’s emotions, which he couldn’t fully hide, leaked out along with his pheromones. The subtle scent soon filled the car.
“…I’m going to roll down the window.”
“Ah, sorry.”
He apologized hurriedly. Do Zion’s new side… He’s actually cute.
The fresh breeze quickly carried away his pheromones. Just one question—how he’d quit smoking—and Jubin felt a sudden, intimate closeness with him.
“How did you get into acting, Sunbae?”
“I… just happened to catch the eye of BAY Entertainment’s CEO on my way to school.”
“Did acting feel right from the start?”
“Yeah. I just knew I had to do it.”
Jubin recalled the first time he’d ever acted. The intensity of that moment was still hard to forget.
“For me, acting was like being imprinted.”
“…That’s a cool way to put it.”
Jubin felt a strange surge of pleasure at the simple compliment. He never imagined the day would come when he’d be talking so freely with Zion.
“You know what?”
He picked up the conversation again with a casual tone.
“What?”
“Your voice is way different from how it used to be, sunbae.”
That reminded Jubin of Director Bae Eun-hye’s comment about how well Do Zion’s voice complemented his own.
“Really? How so?”
“Maybe it’s the smoking, but your voice has gotten much huskier. Back then, you were younger, so it was clearer—more refreshing. Now, it’s more… grounded? Stable?”
“Was it higher before?”
“A little.”
He added softly, “I like your voice much better now.”
“…Really?”
I don’t want it to get any lower than this, Jubin thought. If it drops too much, I’ll lose clarity. It’ll limit the range of characters I can play.
For a brief moment, a sense of professional crisis flared up in him as a senior actor.
“Maybe I could quit smoking if I made a bet with you.”
“No.”
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