Chapter 3
What’s he doing here? Don’t tell me they’re filming a movie…
Haein fought to compose herself, overwhelmed by inner turmoil. She straightened her posture, attempting to soothe her nerves, then rose to her feet.
Woohyun glanced at his phone, one eyebrow ticking up. Then he looked her up and down as she stood there, eyes averted, pretending he was a stranger.
He could feel her silently begging him not to let on that he knew her.
“Woohyun, I said, do you want to order anything else?”
“…One more iced chocolate.”
“Chocolate? You don’t even drink that. Can we add an iced chocolate, too? We’ll have it here.”
“Sure, have a seat and I’ll bring it right out.”
Haein spoke only to the man who seemed to be Woohyun’s manager, then turned her back on Woohyun to make the drinks. Her hands moved on autopilot, but her mind was a mess. She rubbed her damp palms against her apron.
“Oh my god, he said hi to us.”
The people who’d been sitting around to watch the shoot giggled like high school girls when Woohyun passed by and gave them a smiling little greeting.
Ahn Woohyun was the kind of star who never had a single scandal—just a steady stream of feel-good stories. He was famous for being a gentleman and for treating his fans well, so people of all ages adored him.
If they knew what a prick he really is, the whole country would be in an uproar.
Haein shook her head as she watched him flash that easy smile and sign autographs.
Seeing him for the first time in a year, she found he shone brighter than ever, right in step with his rising fame. Here she was in an apron, a stark contrast to her own situation. So much for her ambitions of writing.
“Hey, miss!”
A loud middle-aged man suddenly jabbed a finger at her from the pickup counter. He was the type who sometimes showed up drunk in the middle of the day and pulled every asshole-customer move in the book.
“Yes, sir. Can I help you with something?”
“Yeah—this coffee’s way too cold!”
Haein stared blankly at the cup in his hand. He’d ordered iced coffee, so of course it was cold.
“Sir, you ordered it iced, so—”
“It’s making my teeth ache! My gums are already killing me as it is.”
His voice was so loud that every eye in the cafe snapped toward him. Caught in the middle of it, she felt Woohyun’s gaze scrape across her cheek like a thorn.
“Would you like me to take the ice out and warm it up for you?”
“Why the hell can’t you get it through your head? Who drinks something hot in this blazing heat?!”
Haein had nothing left to say to a jerk coming at her with zero logic.
She was just so mortified by the whole thing. It was humiliating enough that she’d shamelessly thought of Ahn Woohyun the moment she wanted a little comfort, only to be caught looking like this… and now some jerk barging in without a shred of self-awareness heaped shame on top of it.
Being divided into two different worlds by nothing but a counter only deepened her sense of defeat. Every time his voice punched through the ceiling, her situation spiraled a little further toward the worst.
“Sir, if you’re just going to keep shouting, there’s nothing I can do for you.”
“What? Shouting? Is that any way to talk to a customer?!”
“You’re disturbing the other customers, so would you please leave?”
“You’re not even the owner. Who the hell are you to tell a customer to get out? You damn bitch—drink it yourself!”
The jerk stayed a jerk right to the bitter end. He hurled the iced coffee and ice all over Haein’s clothes. Shocked voices rippled through the customers—oh no, oh no.
Haein didn’t even sigh. She just looked down at her soaked top. Thankfully, the apron had kept it from soaking through to her underwear, but of all things, it was a latte with syrup, so it left her sticky.
Rather than fuss over clothes she couldn’t change anyway, she chose to quietly clean up the floor. A few customers on their way out even stopped to ask if she was all right.
Every time Haein forced a smile under those worried looks, she chanted to herself, Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
At the very least, she wasn’t going to embarrass herself any more in front of Ahn Woohyun.
After swapping out her ruined apron instead of her clothes, she made the drinks Woohyun and his manager had ordered. Through the gaps between the coffee machines, she could see Woohyun reading over a script. Just having his eyes off her was enough to let her breathe easy again.
“So what do you think, Woohyun? It’s a Writer Jang Seokwoo piece. That brand-new script that dropped last week came to you first, you know. The sound of our top star’s stock climbing even higher is so loud your Hyung here didn’t sleep a wink.”
Haein froze mid-step on her way to the table with the tray of drinks. The script Jang Seokwoo had stolen from her was in Woohyun’s hands, of all people’s.
‘I’ve taken a liking to Ahn Woohyun lately.’
She remembered how that bastard Jang Seokwoo had picked Woohyun. It was a script she’d written with him in mind, knowing him better than anyone, which only made her pray harder that he’d turn it down.
“I’m not doing it.”
Her jaw trembled with rage, and then came Woohyun’s flat, decisive answer. As if there was nothing more worth looking at, he tossed the script onto the table like he was throwing out garbage.
“Why wouldn’t you do this?”
“Hyung, did you even read the script?”
“Episode one was really good, though.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Woohyun idly flicked the pages, as if some other script would be a better use of his time. His clueless manager pressed him for a reason. Plenty of people went begging Writer Jang for so much as a bit part.
“Here are the drinks you ordered.”
Curious about the reason herself, Haein carefully set the drinks down so as not to break up the conversation. Woohyun’s gaze swung to her, but she did her best not to meet his eyes.
“The tension nosedives right from the middle of episode two. It wasn’t even worth reading through episode four.”
“But it’s still Writer Jang’s work, though.”
“It reads as if someone else wrote it.”
At that, Haein nearly fumbled the iced chocolate she was setting down. Her mouth went dry, wondering if the perceptive Ahn Woohyun had caught wind of something.
“Hyung, don’t even bring me anything that’s going to be the worst project of my career.”
“…Fine. I’ll tell the CEO as much.”
The manager looked plainly disappointed, but Woohyun couldn’t have cared less. If anything, he wasn’t even glancing at the script—he was just staring straight at Haein, until the manager’s eyes drifted to the same spot.
“Oh no, are you all right? Your clothes are completely ruined. There really are so many awful people in this world.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you. Where should I set the chocolate?”
“Oh, right here in front.”
“What—Oppas, you guys were here?”
A voice as bright and breezy as its owner came bouncing over. She was an idol-turned-actress currently filming with Woohyun.
“Ooh, is that a chocolate latte?”
“Ah, yes, it is.”
“No way! How’d you know I love chocolate? You really have the best taste, Oppa.”
Bright, bubbly Sena took the cup out of Haein’s hands, then settled in close beside Woohyun like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Woohyun didn’t let it show on his face, but he was clearly annoyed—a subtle shift only Haein could catch. Since this wasn’t a place where she could act like she knew him, she headed straight back to her station.
Good thing I didn’t send that message earlier.
Out of Woohyun’s line of sight at last, Haein pressed a hand to her chest. If she’d sent that pathetic little message, God, how desperate would she have looked?
Haein turned on her phone to finish deleting the message she’d never gotten to send.
-You look fucking ridiculous.
A reply had come in from “Actor Voted #1 Most Wanted Son-in-Law.”
“Ah!”
She clapped a hand over her mouth. The message she’d congratulated herself for not sending had already gone out to Woohyun. She must have hit send when she scooped up the phone she’d dropped.
At the faint, panicked little sound of her voice, Woohyun finally felt something in his chest loosen.
* * *
He’d only stopped by the cafe for a quick break after filming, so Woohyun had to be on his way soon.
The first time he got Writer Jang’s script, he knew it was Haein’s work. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize her prose—he’d read it dozens, hundreds of times—or a character built from nothing but his own sharpest edges.
This is where you go bang—! and fire the gun. The car flips over.
“Sounds to me like you’re just saying you want to blow a fortune on it.”
“That’s the only way it looks good. Hyun, if I actually debut with this, couldn’t you play the lead? Let a friend cash in on you a little.”
“You think you can cast me with a line like that?”
“Acting genius Ahn Woohyun, it would be a tremendous honor if you’d star in my very first project.”
Though she was playful most of the time, no one could match Oh Hae-in’s sheer dedication to her dream. So of course the toll it had taken on her was written all over her.
He had anticipated this when he received the script under Writer Jang’s name. Yet, Hae-in seemed even more devastated than he had imagined; dark, heavy circles shadowed the area beneath her large, once-vibrant eyes.
She was probably in that same state that day, too.
He’d been tracking her every move with his eyes, and now Woohyun stared for a long moment at the message glowing on his phone.
—Woohyun, I’m flat broke.