She knew—anyone could tell she looked like someone eavesdropping through the wall.
But times like this called for confidence.
Gyeo-wool forced a dry smile, shaking the grocery basket full of leeks and vegetables in front of him.
“I was out grocery shopping, obviously.”
The man began to descend the stairs slowly, and Gyeo-wool’s heart started to pound.
“A-and what? You think you have this space all to yourself? It’s a shared area!”
Now standing right in front of her, the man sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair.
“Fine. What exactly did you hear?”
“N-nothing, really. I couldn’t hear clearly from this far. I just paused so you could talk on the phone without interruptions… I didn’t want to get in the way.”
“So you were eavesdropping.”
“I wasn’t—stop saying I’m stealing or snooping…”
As she scowled in protest, the man suddenly leaned in close.
A soft, sweet scent washed over her, stealing the breath from her lungs.
His deep, dark eyes—barely visible beneath his slightly lowered sunglasses—stared into hers in silence for a long, intense moment.
“You don’t recognize me?”
Don’t recognize him?
Gyeo-wool repeated his question silently in her mind as her gaze traveled slowly up from his feet.
Pristine white sneakers, faded light-wash jeans, a white T-shirt under a black bomber jacket. He stood well over 180 cm, with a lean but solid build—and though she hated to admit it, he had the kind of face anyone would turn around to look at, at least once.
There was no way she had ever known someone like this.
Even if they’d met briefly, she would have remembered him.
Gyeo-wool looked around awkwardly before replying cautiously.
“You live next door… right?”
The man grumbled to himself like he couldn’t decide if she was serious or just pretending.
He ran a rough hand through his hair again and repeated the question.
“You really don’t know who I am?”
Who does this guy think he is?
“Am I supposed to?” Gyeo-wool shot back, her expression annoyed.
The man scoffed in disbelief.
“You’re not Korean, are you?”
“I am Korean.”
“Then how could you not know who I am?”
He exhaled sharply, looking offended, and irritably pulled off his sunglasses.
Gyeo-wool studied the side of his face, now clearly visible.
His features were sharp but gentle, bold yet delicate—odd words to describe a man, but the only ones that fit.
It was a strikingly beautiful face.
Okay… he is good-looking.
Gyeo-wool finished her assessment and rubbed the tip of her nose with the back of her hand.
“What, are you a celebrity or something?”
The man repeated her words in a mocking tone, letting out an exaggerated sigh as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Looking irritated, he waved the coffee cup he’d been drinking from, right in front of her.
The holder had the bold logo “S coffee” printed on it.
“I wasn’t gonna say this, but…”
Just then, Gyeo-wool’s hands began trembling, her fingertips turning blue.
Her hands had been freezing ever since she arrived—but this was the limit.
“Ugh, this is heavy as hell. Could you move? I think my fingers are about to fall off.”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Nope.”
“Ha.”
The man still didn’t seem inclined to move, so Gyeo-wool gave his shoulder a firm nudge and forced her way past him, stomping up the stairs.
She didn’t have the luxury of caring about his feelings—her fingers were in crisis.
When she finally turned around, he was still standing there, staring blankly up at her.
__________⋆ 𖤓 ⊹₊˚࿔ ❄︎ᝰ.________
A week passed.
It was a calm afternoon, with gentle spring rain falling from the sky.
On her way home from the bank, Gyeo-wool spotted a man she didn’t recognize banging on the neighbor’s front door.
He didn’t seem to notice her approaching.
“It’s me. Let’s talk face-to-face, okay?”
When no one responded, he let out a harsh sigh and pounded on the door again.
“You can’t just hide like this! Do you really want to disappear from the scene? Come on, Eun-woo. Please. Huh? Seon Eun-woo!”
Just as he raised his fist again, he noticed Gyeo-wool and scratched his forehead awkwardly.
In that moment, a memory hit her—the voice from that phone call the neighbor had taken.
“I’m not coming back. So stop looking for me, hyung.”
Was that the same guy?
As she stepped closer, he turned away and started dialing someone, looking more anxious than ever.
What does this have to do with me, anyway?
Back in her apartment, an uncomfortable feeling lingered. To shake it off, she decided to clean—something she hadn’t gotten around to that morning.
She flung open the terrace doors and began shaking out the sofa cushions.
The dust instantly triggered her ever-present allergies, and she sneezed repeatedly.
After vacuuming and mopping, she pulled a freshly dried shower robe from the dryer and headed straight for the bathroom.
As warm water cascaded over her, she hummed softly—until, unbidden, the neighbor’s face popped into her mind.
“What’s your deal?”
That tense, guarded expression, sharp as a blade.
“You really don’t know who I am?”
The disbelief in his eyes, as if it was absurd that she didn’t recognize him.
“What, are you a celebrity or something?”
And the offended laugh that followed.
“Wait… is he actually a celebrity?”
Well, he certainly looked like one.
“But not every handsome guy is a celebrity, right?”
Still, she couldn’t shake the curiosity.
Partly to clear her head, and partly because she really did want to know, Gyeo-wool stepped out of the bathroom in her robe and opened her laptop.
She typed in the name from his package label: Yu Jun-oh.
Nothing came up.
“Figures.”
As she clicked her tongue, another voice echoed in her memory—the man banging on the door.
“Eun-woo, please. Seon Eun-woo!”
Swallowing hard, Gyeo-wool placed her hands back on the keyboard.
She typed the word ‘Seon’, and almost immediately, a name popped up in the auto-complete.
She hit Enter.
A smiling man appeared on the screen—his profile below brimming with awards and accolades.
“Whoa… he is a celebrity.”
There were clips of him giving acceptance speeches on music shows, and scenes from a recently aired drama.
He was a fairly well-known singer and actor, a member of a band called Midnight Blue, now approaching its tenth anniversary.
I thought he was my age or younger… but he’s two years older.
Listening to the soft patter of rain outside, Gyeo-wool scrolled through his photos in a daze.
Though there were many acting stills, it was the singing photos that made her feel more at ease.
His expression while singing looked more natural, more peaceful, than while acting.
Then, suddenly, she saw him smiling with an S coffee drink in hand.
“I wasn’t gonna say this, but I’m the exclusive mod—”
He had gotten that far and she still hadn’t recognized him.
No wonder his pride was bruised.
Now she finally understood that exasperated sigh of his. A small smile tugged at her lips.
But the laugh froze in her throat the moment she saw the woman beside him in a luxury brand photoshoot.
Her face went pale.
Frantically scrolling, she gasped for breath.
Choi I-ji.
Since that girl had smiled and danced on TV six years ago, Gyeo-wool hadn’t watched TV at all.
“Hey, Rice Cake Girl.”
The voice clung to her like a bad dream, but she forced it down with a gulp of cold air, trying to steady her breath.
And then, her gaze fell on a headline—one she had scrolled past and unintentionally landed on:
“Seon Eun-woo criticized for walking off set mid-shoot.”
“Will Midnight Blue’s future be affected?”
The article was filled with sensationalist headlines, and below were dozens of comments.
↳ “Oppa, where are you? Please come back 😭”
↳ “Are you eating well…? We miss you. Just come back safe.”
↳ “He’s alive and well, trust me—he’s eating fine here.”
(Gyeo-wool wanted to comment this herself.)
She muttered it aloud instead, swallowing the temptation.
↳ “What’s his agency even doing? They can’t track down one guy?”
↳ “He ran off ’cause he didn’t want to act anymore. Don’t blame the agency.”
↳ “Have you forgotten how bad he was at acting? I heard the director freaked out, so he bailed. Makes sense.”
↳ “Ever think why he ran? They worked him to the bone. He collapsed from exhaustion just a month ago.”
↳ “Didn’t he also have an attitude issue? He zoned out during an MC interview once.”
Some defended him. Others tore him apart.
What a suffocating life.
She didn’t know what was true, but she knew what it meant to have your life warped by others’ opinions—regardless of your own will.
“Why does that name sound so familiar, though…”
There was something oddly familiar about it.
Still deep in thought, she stood up to adjust her robe when—
Thud.
She turned toward the terrace and saw a man dressed head to toe in black landing on her balcony.
Startled, she opened her mouth to scream—but before she could, he slipped through the ventilation door and covered her mouth.
Her scream was swallowed in his large palm as she trembled in fear.
Then, a breathless voice whispered behind her.
“It’s me.”
It was the guy next door.
