Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
KIJA
Ihave twenty-six texts and five missed calls from Sun.
I haven’t spoken to him all day.
I know he’s figured out something is going on.
The messages from the morning were typical and sweet. By the afternoon, he was asking if my day was busy—if everything was okay. Then the phone calls started. The most recent texts are laced with concern, both for me and that perhaps he had done something to make me unhappy.
I hate that I’m making him feel this way, but I can’t talk to him yet.
Not when I’m this angry, more furious than I think I have ever been.
Because how dare she.
I can’t let him know about what’s happening. I will find a way to take care of it, hopefully without him ever knowing about any of it.
I feel so unworthy of him right now, unable to protect him from a threat he should never have to face.
As I hid in my office for the better part of the day, leaving Grace confused and disconcerted as well, I came to the conclusion that I don’t really care what happens to me in this scenario.
If the pictures were leaked, I would lose my job, for sure.
Task Force would make a statement formally condemning my actions and likely keep me from working with any other entertainment company in Seoul.
As much as I like what I do, I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter.
With my credentials, I know I could move to London or Paris or New York or Los Angeles and find work pretty quick.
I’m positive Dylan’s agency would hire me without so much as an interview.
What I’m afraid of is the fact that Sun’s life, as he knows it, would be over.
I know the members would fight for him and do whatever they could to keep him in the group.
They would support him however they could.
But I don’t know if that would be enough.
As much as I’d like to believe progress has been made, I can’t see the industry accepting RYSING’s maknae as a gay man.
I have a little bit of time until I’m supposed to meet Chaeji.
I’d briefly considered telling her no, accusing her of stalking and harassment, and going to the police.
But every single move feels risky—drawing attention, like I’m tempting fate and the secrets so many people are trying so hard to keep.
I’ve been sitting in my car, parked down the block from the restaurant, for the last 20 minutes, trying to think about how I want to handle this.
What I could possibly say that won’t cause more problems. The feeling of being powerless when someone else has the upper hand is almost akin to torture.
I can navigate any kind of negotiation at work, but this is my life.
This is our life—the one that Sun and I could share, if it doesn’t get taken away.
I have to fight for that.
My phone rings, and I’m fully expecting it to be Sun again, but it’s not. I answer, grateful for the distraction. “Hey, Taeha.”
“Is this an okay time?” he asks, like he always does. We’ve spoken fairly often since the day we ran into each other, and every time he is unfailingly polite and considerate.
“Yeah? Yeah it is,” I stutter a little, unsure of how to answer him honestly. This isn’t exactly the easiest situation to try to talk about. It’s like something out of one of Sun’s romance novels, a plot twist to keep the characters from their happily ever after.
“Are you sure?” I can hear the hesitance in his tone.
“No, you’re fine; it’s a weird time. I’m not in the middle of anything,” I stop myself with a humorless chuckle, because that’s categorically untrue. “Actually, I am in the middle of something, and that something is a mess, but I am currently available to speak to you.”
“No offense, Kija, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he tells me. “You don’t have to explain, but I’ll listen if you need to vent.”
I take a deep breath, debating quickly how much I want to tell him.
If we’re going to be friends, part of each other’s lives, I’m going to have to trust him.
“It’s not so much venting as trying to figure out what the hell I need to do,” I say.
“The short version is that someone has information on me that has the potential to fuck up a lot of things really badly, and I’m trying to make sure that doesn’t happen. ”
“Uhhh, that sounds like you’re talking about the kkangpae. Should we be having this conversation?” Taeha questions. “I don’t want to walk outside and find some mobsters following me later.”
The irony of his words is not lost on me. “Yeah, you never know who is watching,” I mumble.
“What’s going on, Kija? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Maybe,” I say. “But not… it’s probably not anything you might be thinking.”
“Are you going to explain, or should I stay out of this and move on?” Taeha asks. It’s a fair question. I’m not trying to be avoidant, but everything about this seems complicated.
“I have a boyfriend who is famous, and there are pictures of us together that someone took because they were following me,” I say in a rush, the words all smashed up in one breath.
“You have a… boyfriend?”
I chuckle a little, because it’s humorous to me that’s what he chose to focus on, even if it does make sense. “Yes. This is a recent development. But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how unfavorable it would be for the fans and general public to find out about his preferences or our relationship.”
“Yeah, I get it,” he agrees. “How do you know they have photos?”
“The images were sent to me.” I feel a little sick just saying it, my stomach lurching with that same nausea I’d felt when I first opened the message.
I can hear him shifting on the other end of the line. “Original, single-source digital content?”
“Um, I guess so? Or at least, that’s all I know of,” I answer, not entirely sure I understand where this conversation is going.
“I can’t just hack into someone’s phone, but if you think that’s where they came from, that’s probably to your benefit.” His tone is completely different now, speaking with a note of authority he didn’t have before.
All of a sudden I recall that he works in cybersecurity and probably knows what he’s talking about here. “Is there anything I can do that’s legal and doesn’t involve the authorities?”
“Unfortunately, no. But just because I have morals doesn’t mean that I don’t know other people who don’t have any, so if the situation gets dire, let me know,” he offers.
“And you were worried about me being mafia? That’s some mob shit right there!” I’m smiling as I tease him, the first time I have all day. I glance at the clock and notice I’m about to be late. “I have to go, but we’ll catch up more soon. I’m sorry I didn’t even ask why you called.”
He scoffs lightly, like it’s no big deal. “No worries. I was just going to invite you to a game night, but it sounds like you have a few things going on at the moment. We’ll catch you for the next one.”
“I’ll do better than that—I’ll host. Or get Jase to. Either way, I’m in,” I say. “Thanks, Taeha.”
Getting out of the car, I slip my phone in my pocket and walk briskly toward the restaurant, thinking of a thousand places I’d rather be.
Basically anywhere but here.
I still don’t know what I’m going to say or do.
As I approach the door, I notice a group of people loitering around, very much not looking like they are waiting for their reservations.
I hear, “That’s him!” just before the flash from a camera startles me, but I should have known.
Of course she would have called photographers.
She wants to be seen. Wants to be seen with me.
I shove my way inside as quickly as possible, unwilling to play along.
The hostess immediately takes me to a candlelit table where Chaeji is waiting for me, right by the windows, on display for everyone, both inside and out. Her smile is smug as she suggests, “Aren’t you going to greet me with a kiss?”
I lean down over her, enough that it might look affectionate, close to her ear to make sure she can hear me as I say, “No.”
Despite the rejection, her expression doesn’t waver as she gives me a moment to take my seat. “I ordered for us. I remember your favorites.”
“Very observant of you,” I remark, taking a sip of water and trying to stay calm.
“I’ve noticed a lot of things about you,” she tells me, twirling a lock of her long hair around her finger as she gazes at me.
I have to fight not to roll my eyes. When Sun tells me he pays attention, I believe him, flattered by his desire to know me better. Coming from her, I can’t help but ask, “Did you notice that I’m angry?”
“You weren’t giving me much of a choice,” she quips, just as the server appears, dropping off our appetizer. I hate that she did pick what I would have chosen.
“Choice? You’re blackmailing me into being here and you want to talk about having a choice?” I keep my voice low, but I am incredulous at the mental gymnastics she has to be doing to be so calm about all of this.
“I’m giving you the opportunity to take advantage of a situation,” she explains, taking the tiniest bite of food from the plate in front of her. “Your cooperation is beneficial to both of us.”
I am seething at her nonchalance—and the struggle to keep it off my face is real.
There are far too many people around, many of them watching us closely, for me to tell her how I really feel.
I hate that she knows about Sun, and that she’s infiltrated what is quickly becoming the very best part of my life by putting herself somewhere she does not belong.
Chaeji gives me a frown that I believe is supposed to be cute, her nose all wrinkled up. “You’re being awfully quiet, Kija. People will think we’re fighting.”
“We are.” I stab at a dumpling but don’t pick it up, very aware of the crowd of photographers pressed up against the window beside me. “How do you live like this? Why would you want to?”