MHD - 53

Chapter 53: Don’t Mention It

“First of all, thank you.”

When Hee-soo began with words of gratitude, a soft chuckle came through the receiver.

[Guess it wasn’t too bad.]

His voice was dry and calm—so composed that even the staggering sum of 10 billion won he had invested felt almost trivial.

What on earth is he thinking?

Hee-soo pressed her hand to her throbbing forehead. She desperately wanted to understand his intentions.

“…It’s too extravagant to call it just a gift.”

[Does it feel like a burden?]

“Of course it does. Excessive gifts always come with a price…”

[Seo Hee-soo.]

His firm tone cut her off mid-sentence. After silencing her, Jae-hyuk let out another faint, derisive laugh.

[What could you possibly give me in return?]

The weight of his words pressed down on her chest.

What she could give.

What did she have to offer someone who already possessed everything? How could she ever repay him?

Hee-soo couldn’t answer immediately.

“…”

Silence stretched between them.

A soft sigh drifted through the phone. Jae-hyuk waited patiently, saying nothing.

What did Lee Jae-hyuk want from her? Her thoughts spiraled as the silence deepened.

If that’s what he desired, she could extend their nights together until the day he grew tired of her. She could count down the days until she would inevitably be discarded, clinging to him while enduring the misery.

That’s how they would exchange love—only in the dark of night.

There was nothing more pitiful than staring at the back of someone who had once loved you. That was why each encounter with Jae-hyuk left her feeling hollow afterward.

Though she told herself there would be no next time, she always ended up answering his calls, pathetic as it made her feel.

But if this was truly what he wanted—if he sought to make her feel wretched—

Hee-soo resigned herself to the thought and slowly opened her mouth.

“…If you wish…”

If you wish, I’ll wait until the day you grow tired of me.

Before she could finish, Jae-hyuk interrupted her with his dry, matter-of-fact tone.

[Think of it as a parting gift.]

His voice carried no trace of hesitation or lingering emotion. In that moment, Hee-soo forgot what she had been about to say. It felt as though an icicle had pierced her heart.

“…A parting gift?”

She couldn’t stop her voice from trembling. Was this because of her earlier attempt to end things? The first emotion that surfaced was regret.

Hadn’t she been wishing for this to end? Yet now, confronted with the reality of “parting,” her heart churned unpredictably.

[We both know this isn’t a relationship meant to last. Still, I couldn’t just leave without giving something. I’m not that ungrateful of a man.]

He was right. This relationship could end with just one word from Jae-hyuk. She had been the one clinging to misunderstandings, unwilling to untangle their complicated past.

In Jae-hyuk’s eyes, she was a woman who sold her affection for money. And the “parting” he spoke of likely referred to his impending marriage to another woman.

If that was the case, there was only one thing Hee-soo could say. She forced her lips into a smile, even though no one was watching.

“Congratulations on your marriage. If that’s the gift, then I’ll gladly accept it.”

[Don’t mention it.]

Tears streamed down her face, but her voice remained unnaturally bright.

“So… is this the end?”

[Yes.]

His acknowledgment of the finality felt like a declaration that he no longer held any attachment to her. Apparently, their brief encounters over a few nights had sufficed for closure.

“I’ll hang up now.”

A tear pooled at the edge of her chin before falling with a soft plop. Overwhelmed by a wave of emptiness, Hee-soo could no longer hold onto the phone.

[Wait. What were you going to say earlier? Something about ‘if you wish’?]

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

[Alright.]

Jae-hyuk didn’t ask again. After the call ended, Hee-soo slowly lowered her hand, still clutching the phone.

And then she stood there, frozen in place for a long while.

---

“If you wish, we could meet again. If you want me, I’ll stay.”

These were the words Hee-soo had wanted to say but couldn’t. They lingered on her lips like a ghost.

Hee-soo sat in Kang Jaemin’s studio for a script reading session, staring blankly at the pages in front of her as her thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Before the official filming began, this gathering was meant for the lead actors to interpret their roles and practice their chemistry. The three leads—Jin Yuna, Choi Han-young, and Hee-soo—faced a camera set up to record their rehearsal. The footage would later be shared to ensure everyone was aligned with their character interpretations.

She knew she needed to focus, but her mind refused to cooperate. While her eyes skimmed over the script, her thoughts replayed her final conversation with Jae-hyuk.

“Because it feels like all you ever do is lie to me.”

His piercing gaze returned to her memory.

He was right—it had all been lies.

The moment he mentioned “parting,” tears had spilled uncontrollably. She had convinced herself that she was trapped because he wouldn’t let go, but now, faced with the reality of an ending, she realized it was she who didn’t want to let go.

Hee-soo wrestled with this unwelcome realization, repeatedly denying her own feelings.

Pathetic. Foolish.

“…It was always you.”

Muttering her lines under her breath, Hee-soo suddenly heard a knock on the desk. Startled, she looked up to see Kang Jaemin watching her expectantly.

“Sorry.”

The other two actors were also staring at her. Jaemin frowned and asked,

“Hee-soo, are you not feeling well today? You’ve been distracted since we started. Take a break and clear your head, then we’ll resume.”

Jaemin grabbed his ringing phone and stepped out of the room. As soon as he left, Jin Yuna leaned toward Hee-soo and whispered sharply,

“Listen, we’re all here on tight schedules. Show some professionalism. Do you think anyone has time to waste?”

“I’m sorry.”

Hee-soo immediately apologized, catching Yuna off guard. Her wide-eyed surprise showed she hadn’t expected such a quick response.

“What’s with you spacing out and suddenly apologizing? If you’re sorry, put in some effort!”

“I’ll try harder. I’m really sorry.”

“…What’s gotten into you? Honestly.”

Yuna awkwardly turned away from Hee-soo’s compliant apology. Across from them, Choi Han-young chuckled softly and said,

“Hee-soo, it’s okay. Maybe it’s just been a while since you acted? You seem a bit nervous.”

Han-young had a gentle demeanor and was known for his versatile acting. A long-time fan of Hee-soo, he had always been kind and supportive toward her.

“I’m having trouble focusing today. I apologize.”

Hee-soo turned her attention back to the script.

The scene they were practicing depicted the female protagonist, consumed by jealousy and inferiority, watching the male lead interact with another woman.

“Shall we start again from here?”

When Hee-soo held up her script, Yuna’s expression shifted into something almost gleeful. This was the part where the female lead confronts the supporting actress, only to be scolded by the male lead.

“Go ahead. Let’s hear it.”

After taking a deep breath, Hee-soo immersed herself in the emotions of her character, Seo Eun. Yuna watched her with a faint smirk, even letting out a soft hum.

“…You…”

Hee-soo muttered the first line of dialogue, lifting her gaze from the script to meet Yuna’s eyes.

“Do you really have to take everything from me? My role, my man—do you feel satisfied now? You already have it all. Why are you doing this to me?”

Her rapid-fire delivery came with ragged breaths. Fully embodying Seo Eun, Hee-soo glared at Yuna, grinding her teeth. But instead of responding, Yuna simply stared back, dumbfounded.

“Yuna?”

When Yuna failed to deliver her line, Han-young gently called her name.

“Ah, um…”

Flustered, Yuna glanced down at her script, realizing she’d forgotten her lines under Hee-soo’s intense energy.

Face flushed red, Yuna stumbled through her dialogue.

“Senior… I don’t know what you’re talking about. We were just practicing…”

“No, that’s not true! I saw everything. What exactly were you two doing here? Can’t you just leave him alone?”

This was the emotional peak where the female lead explodes with jealousy, accusing the other woman of harboring romantic feelings for the male lead. Overwhelmed, Yuna froze, unable to respond.

“Great job, Seo Hee-soo.”

Kang Jaemin, who had returned unnoticed, clapped his hands in approval.

As Hee-soo broke character and smiled faintly, Yuna abruptly stood up.

“D-Director, I’m sorry, but I really need to leave now. I mentioned earlier—I have a CF shoot.”

“Really? Then go ahead, Yuna. We’ll reschedule for next week.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll excuse myself for today.”

With hurried bows, Yuna left the room. Jaemin followed briefly to see her off. In their absence, Han-young, who had been quietly observing, called out to Hee-soo.

“Hee-soo.”

Han-young grinned, his eyes crinkling warmly. His smile transformed his entire face, radiating charm that matched his rising-star status.

“You’re still incredible. Just like always. It seems Yuna got overwhelmed by your intensity.”

“Not at all.”

Though flattered, Hee-soo didn’t feel truly pleased. Her mind remained cluttered with intrusive thoughts she couldn’t shake. After such a long hiatus, she felt she needed something to help her fully immerse herself in the role.

Perhaps attending a ballet performance would help her focus on her character. Lost in thought, she was startled when Han-young asked,

“Would you like to go see a ballet performance? I managed to get tickets that are hard to come by.”