Chapter 3

“Not to me. Make a public apology. Tell everyone it wasn’t your story but your high school junior’s, and that you lied because life was hard.”

Mugyeong’s face instantly turned pale blue.

“W-whaaat? Unho, no, I can’t do that!”

“Why not? You said you were sorry. Don’t tell me you weren’t sincere?”

In desperation, Mugyeong dropped to his knees.

The waiting room floor was just as cold as Je Unho’s expression, but he didn’t even have the luxury of feeling ashamed.

“Unho, I really am sorry. But I spent all my time training as an idol, so I don’t even have a college degree. The only things I know how to do are dance and sing. If I quit now, how am I supposed to find another job? My life is over if this ends.”

He bowed repeatedly.

“You know me. I’m weak, and I’m dumb. If I try learning something new at this age, I’ll starve to death before I even manage to get good at it.”

Unho frowned as though troubled.

“Ha… hyung, why are you so selfish? You’re saying you can use me and hurt me, but you personally shouldn’t suffer any consequences at all.”

“I’m sorry. I really am sorry, but I’ll do anything except a public apology.”

“Anything?”

One of Unho’s brows twitched upward.

Mugyeong nodded frantically, desperate to grab onto the opportunity.

“Yeah. Anything.”

Unho sighed and rubbed at his eyelids tiredly.

Honestly, there wasn’t much a failed idol like Mugyeong could even offer him. If anything, seeing Mugyeong’s downfall would probably satisfy him more.

By the time Mugyeong’s thoughts had progressed all the way to Maybe I should promise him money first and figure out how much kidneys sell for these days later, Unho finally answered.

“Alright.”

“Really?”

“Yes. First, get up off the floor. Don’t kneel just anywhere. It makes me look like I’m bullying you.”

Overjoyed, Mugyeong jumped to his feet—

—and immediately the world spun.

As he staggered, a thick arm slipped under his armpit to support him.

“Hyung, you have orthostatic hypotension. Why are you standing up so fast?”

Sighing, Unho helped him into a chair.

Though his vision was still dark and blurry, Mugyeong couldn’t stop grinning from relief.

“Wow, you still remember that? Your memory’s really good, Unho.”

“Hyung, is this really the time to smile?”

Unho clicked his tongue in disbelief at Mugyeong’s idiotically cheerful expression.

“I have three conditions.”

“T-three of them?”

One of Unho’s eyebrows rose sharply.

Mugyeong immediately realized his mistake.

“Right. Three whole requests sounds troublesome. Let’s just make it simple and settle things with one public apology instead.”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I meant… are just three really enough?”

Afraid Unho might change his mind, Mugyeong hurriedly corrected himself.

“First, stop going around talking about my stories as if they’re your own.”

“Okay.”

“Second, take down every post about my story currently online. Everything except the original station footage.”

“A-all of it?”

“Why? Going to miss the attention?”

Unho’s voice turned icy.

Mugyeong weakly protested while carefully watching his mood, but it was useless.

“N-no, of course not. How could I shamelessly say something like that? It’s just… there are so many videos. We don’t even have a proper manager…”

“That makes it better. If you report them personally, they’ll get removed faster.”

“….”

“And second, I need you to help me with my work.”

“What kind of work?”

What could an ordinary person possibly help with in the shaman business?

For a brief moment, terrifying words flashed through Mugyeong’s head:

Human sacrifice. Curse rituals. Spirit substitution.

Watching Mugyeong’s face gradually turn bluer by the second, Unho finally spoke with obvious amusement.

“A paranormal YouTube channel.”

“…YouTube?”

“I’m going to run a channel dealing with supernatural phenomena. I want you to appear on it.”

“What would I have to do?”

The suggestion was surprisingly reasonable.

Still, it was too early to relax. What if he was supposed to act as the sacrificial offering on camera?

“You’ll verify paranormal phenomena from the perspective of a normal person.”

“Oh.”

Color immediately returned to Mugyeong’s face.

If it was just physical labor, he could absolutely handle it.

No— this was actually beneficial to him.

For a failed idol with no regular appearances and zero recognition, opportunities like this were impossible to get even with money.

“Sure! I’ll work hard. Just tell me what to do.”

His expression was so transparent that anyone could read exactly what he was thinking.

Unho raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“You’re not secretly happy because you think you’re getting appearance fees, are you? I can’t pay you.”

“Hey, what kind of person do you think I am? I have a conscience too.”

Mugyeong thumped his chest indignantly.

Unho looked unconvinced.

“And the third condition… I’ll tell you later.”

“What is it?”

“Even if I told you now, the current you wouldn’t be able to grant it.”

“…Money?”

“Do you even have money to give?”

Mugyeong puffed his cheeks out.

It was true, but it still hurt. Calling a beggar poor to his face was cruel.

“It’s not about money, so don’t worry. I’ll tell you when the time comes. Just focus on keeping the promises you’ve already made.”

“Okay.”

What kind of request was important enough to drag out like this?

A strange uneasiness lingered in the corner of Mugyeong’s chest, but he didn’t have the luxury of refusing. Right now, putting out the immediate fire came first.

“Give me your number. The PD will contact you with details about the broadcast later today.”

After Mugyeong entered his number into Unho’s phone, Unho immediately pressed the call button.

Mugyeong’s own phone— still in Unho’s other hand— began ringing.

After confirming the displayed number, Unho finally returned the phone.

What a meticulous bastard.

Mugyeong clicked his tongue.

“Come on, would I seriously lie about my phone number too?”

He looked slightly wounded, but Unho didn’t budge.

“Well… after getting stabbed in the back once already, it’s hard to trust you.”

Mugyeong grumbled internally.

What an asshole.

Back in high school he’d at least been innocently cute.

“Oh right, I almost forgot the most important thing.”

Unho smiled slowly.

“When you make a promise with a shaman, you absolutely have to keep it. Otherwise, divine punishment comes down on you. You know that, right?”

“D-divine punishment?”

Mugyeong’s face turned pale again.

His life was already cursed enough. How could it possibly get worse?

“That’s terrifying. Why are you so suspicious of me?”

“I’m just warning you in advance, just in case. Our spirits are especially strict.”

“Why would I break a promise with you when it’ll only make my life worse? Please put in a good word with the spirits for me too.”

Mugyeong pleaded desperately, but Unho only kept smiling.

“That depends on how you behave, hyung.”

On the way back to the dorm, Mugyeong’s steps felt light.

People always said to turn crisis into opportunity, and surely this was exactly what they meant.

He’d despaired thinking everything was over after his lie got exposed, but instead he’d gained a chance to appear on a brand-new program.

And meeting Unho again after losing contact for so many years felt like an unexpected gift he’d never even dared hope for.

At first, Mugyeong had started using Unho’s story simply to gain public attention and make money.

He had no intention of glorifying such a selfish motive.

Still… maybe part of him had secretly been waiting for this moment all along.

If Unho heard that thought, he’d probably snort and call it ridiculous.

Truthfully, Mugyeong and Unho had only been close for less than a year.

Back then, Unho had been a second-year student while Mugyeong was a third-year. They weren’t inseparable best friends hanging out after school every day.

Then Unho suddenly transferred without saying a word, cutting off all contact completely.

At the time, Mugyeong had thought it would become nothing more than a small memory forgotten after graduation.

But strangely enough, even through the chaos of the entertainment industry after graduating high school, his memories of Unho never disappeared completely.

When he passed his company audition.

When he cried after his first fan meeting.

Even on the night his group suffered a terrible traffic accident and he lay hospitalized—

Mugyeong would suddenly think of Unho.

Where is he now?

Did he end up becoming the shaman he hated so much?

…Is he even still alive?

The eerie and sorrowful stories Unho once shared with him always lingered somewhere in Mugyeong’s mind.

Mugyeong had such terrible memory that he forgot song lyrics he’d memorized the day before.

Yet somehow, the stories Unho told him never faded, no matter how many years passed.

Which was why, when Mugyeong brought up Unho’s story during a variety show recording, it had been entirely impulsive.

The company had barely managed to secure him what might’ve been his final chance to appear on terrestrial television.

He was so nervous that the script he’d practiced beforehand completely blanked from his mind. The red recording light was already on, and the director’s expression twisted with irritation watching a nobody idol stammer uselessly.

He had to say something.

But Mugyeong had never been good at lying or improvising.

And inside his now-empty head, the only thing remaining was Unho’s old story.

“Ever since I was very young, I could see strange things other people couldn’t.”

The moment those first words left his mouth, Mugyeong realized he’d messed up.

Using someone else’s deeply personal story without permission— especially pretending it was his own— was awful.

And it wasn’t just anyone’s story.

It was Unho’s.

Someone whose fate he didn’t even know.

Yet strangely enough, while memorizing scripted lines took dozens of repetitions, the story Unho had told him only once flowed naturally from his lips as though it had happened to him personally.

The cast members who’d been staring elsewhere from exhaustion gradually turned toward him with interest.

Even the staff eventually fell silent and listened.

That recording ended successfully.

Even the PD, who previously treated him like dirt under his fingernails, came over afterward with a huge grin and patted his back.

“Mugyeong-ssi, that story wasn’t in the script, but it was even better. Why didn’t you tell us something this interesting during the pre-meeting?”

The praise made Mugyeong happy.

But bitter too.

If this broadcast aired nationwide and Unho somehow saw it, he’d probably be deeply disappointed.

Still…

If Unho appeared just to curse him out, at least Mugyeong would know he was alive.

Thinking something ridiculous like that, Mugyeong laughed quietly to himself.

And now that half-joking wish had unexpectedly come true.

Je Unho was alive.

And not only alive— he’d grown into a strong adult man impossible to associate with the frail boy Mugyeong remembered.

Back in high school, why had he suddenly disappeared?

What had he been doing all these years?

Mugyeong had endless questions.

But now they’d be working together on broadcasts moving forward, so there would be plenty of time to find out.

Ever since debuting as an idol three years ago, Mugyeong’s life had felt like an endless downhill slope.

His steps toward the dorm were always heavy.

He never even knew if he’d be able to afford living expenses next month.

But today, for the first time in a very long while—

Mugyeong walked home feeling genuinely happy.

Beep—

The moment he opened the dorm door, however, that happiness rapidly began to sink.

The stale smell of old cigarette smoke and sour laundry rushed out to greet him.

It smelled like defeat.