* * *

After finishing up at the café, Yeongdeok arrived at the studio and sent Seonwoo a message.

[Open the door.]

He hit send and waited for Seonwoo to open the door, but the message went unread for a long while.

If he invited someone over, shouldn’t he at least check his phone?

Yeongdeok knocked on the door, but again, no response.

Yeongdeok wasn’t about to stand there like a dog waiting outside its owner’s house, so he turned the doorknob.

He was just about to leave if it was locked, but the door creaked open with a grating sound.

From the small crack in the door, a discordant mix of chaotic noises spilled out—like someone was slamming the piano keys in frustration.

The banging sound finally ended with a muffled, sob-like groan.

Anyone else might have cautiously asked what was going on, or backed away as if they hadn’t seen anything, but Yeongdeok confidently stepped inside and set the cup carrier on the round table in the corner.

“Not exactly the best welcome for a guest.”

He sat on a nearby chair, crossed his legs, and sipped his strawberry latte.

Seonwoo, who had been slumped over the piano, slowly lifted his head.

“Oh… Cha Yeongdeok, you’re here?”

Seonwoo’s eyes were puffy, as if he had been crying.

Yeongdeok gazed at him steadily, and Seonwoo awkwardly rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, forcing a weak smile.

“No, really. Spring must have arrived… The pollen’s just killing me.”

Though he didn’t believe the excuse, Yeongdeok lazily glanced around.

Not a speck of pollen, or even dust, was in sight.

“What kind of etiquette is it to call someone over and then not even check your messages?”

“Sorry. I got so absorbed in playing that I lost track of time.”

For some reason, Seonwoo apologized without any resistance.

For a moment, the atmosphere grew solemn, but soon enough, he returned to his usual obnoxious self, grinning and pestering Yeongdeok.

“By the way, where’s my chocolate latte? I’ve been craving something sweet.”

Though Yeongdeok was thoroughly displeased with the way Seonwoo acted like he had some claim over a chocolate latte, he lazily gestured toward the cup carrier on the table.

Only then did Seonwoo grab one of the paper cups.

“Did you get me a hot one? I prefer iced.”

“So many complaints.”

“Anyway, thanks for getting it. I appreciate it.”

Seonwoo lightly shook the cup in gratitude.

Yeongdeok, who had never agreed to buy him anything, thought it was rather sly how Seonwoo expected to get away with it so easily.

“XXX-XXXX-XXXX-XXXX, send it to me through Jjolboo Bank.”

“What?”

“The drink cost three thousand won. Pay up.”

“For someone who throws money around like it’s nothing, you’d think you could cover a three-thousand-won drink.”

“I don’t want to buy anything for you.”

“Wow, that’s stingy. Fine, I’ll send it.”

Grumbling, Seonwoo stabbed his straw into the lid of the cup.

Without even checking what was inside, he took a big gulp, only to find himself choking on the intense bitterness.

Gagging, he struggled to swallow it down and ended up coughing dryly.

“What the hell is this? Poison?”

“Espresso.”

“Wow… that really woke me up. I specifically asked for a chocolate latte.”

“And you thought I’d actually get what you wanted?”

Seonwoo involuntarily accepted the smirk on Yeongdeok’s face, as if it all made perfect sense.

With his head now clear, the sadness that had plagued him earlier seemed to melt away, and he burst into laughter.

Yeongdeok was confused.

There was nothing funny about this situation, so why was Seonwoo laughing?

When he wouldn’t stop, Yeongdeok finally asked what was so funny.

“It’s nothing. It’s just… you’re drinking a strawberry latte all to yourself.”

Seonwoo’s hand reached over to cover Yeongdeok’s, wrapping around the plastic cup.

He pulled it toward himself, placing his lips on the straw.

The vibrant color of the strawberry latte flowed up the transparent straw.

Though Seonwoo was usually reckless, his behavior now seemed especially over the top.

Yeongdeok shot him a dirty look.

Had he really lost his mind?

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Wow, now I feel alive. The rest is all yours, Cha Yeongdeok.”

With an air of generosity, Seonwoo pulled his hand away from the cup.

Yeongdeok, disgusted by the thought of drinking from the same straw Seonwoo had used, pushed the cup aside.

“No thanks. You can finish it.”

“Oh? What’s with the change of heart?”

“Your spit is all over it. It’s gross.”

Seonwoo’s sudden hiccup broke the silence.

Yeongdeok glanced at the now red-faced Seonwoo, whose pale skin had turned an embarrassingly bright shade of pink.

“Uh, uh… oh? Sorry! I didn’t even think of that…”

Seonwoo, who was usually so glib, started stammering and waving his hands in embarrassment, as if his brain had short-circuited.

“At least you know to apologize. So, what’s this important thing you wanted to talk about?”

Yeongdeok didn’t want to stay here any longer.

He wanted to wrap things up and leave, so he prompted Seonwoo, who asked him to wait for a moment while he rummaged through a drawer in the studio.

Soon, Seonwoo returned holding a white envelope.

He fiddled with it for a moment before extending his arm to hand it over to Yeongdeok.

“Here, take it. This is why I called you.”

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

Yeongdeok squeezed the flat envelope, pressing his fingers against it before shaking it by his ear.

It felt thin and flat, confirming that it was definitely just paper.

With a suspicious expression, he slowly opened it, revealing a concert ticket.

He looked up at Seonwoo, silently demanding an explanation.

“I really want you to come.”

The ticket indicated a time of 6 p.m. on a weekend.

That was when Yeongdeok would normally be busy with work.

Why would he have to attend?

Their agreement had only been up until the concert, with no mention of what would happen after.

Seonwoo, noticing Yeongdeok’s frown, quickly added, “It’s the last thing I’ll ask of you.”

Upon hearing that if he granted this request, there would be no more mentions of the past, no more picking fights or sarcasm, and no more clinging to Lee Eungyeol, Yeongdeok glanced at the ticket again.

Whether Seonwoo brought up the past, picked fights, made sarcastic comments, or stuck close to Lee Eungyeol—none of that was Yeongdeok’s concern.

Normally, these conditions wouldn’t even be worth considering, but for some strange reason…

His heart pounded heavily, as if feeling pity for him.

His rationality was getting blurred by emotions.

Though it was the third time he had felt this sensation, it still felt unfamiliar and far from being something he could get used to.

“Saturday at 6 PM is peak time, with lots of customers coming in.”

“Yes… is that so?”

Cha Yeongdeok was the kind of person who wouldn’t even blink at the most desperate pleas, so Seonwoo, worried that Yeongdeok might refuse, stood stiff with tension.

“It better be a performance worthy of making up for that prime time.”

Yeongdeok didn’t say a word about attending the performance.

However, the implication of his words was unmistakably positive, causing Seonwoo’s eyes to light up like a circle being drawn in his irises.

Seonwoo, suppressing the emotions that seemed ready to burst out, slightly moved his tightly sealed lips.

He tried to relax his facial muscles, but it didn’t work.

In the end, he smiled, his eyebrows furrowing into a triangular shape.

“I promise you won’t regret it.”

He had to say that. Seonwoo had essentially stolen a chunk of Yeongdeok’s precious time under the excuse of a performance.

Yeongdeok carefully placed the ticket back into the envelope and tucked it away.

“Ah, I suddenly feel motivated. I think I can get back to performing.”

Seonwoo, announcing that he would practice relentlessly without sleep, sent Yeongdeok out of the practice room, saying he needed to focus.

Despite having been invited and coming all the way there, Yeongdeok found himself abruptly kicked out like an unwanted guest.

He glared at the tightly shut practice room door with growing frustration. What a self-centered guy.

But, in the end, it was Yeongdeok himself who had accepted that self-centered guy’s request.

Yeongdeok couldn’t help but think that perhaps it wasn’t Baek Seonwoo who was crazy, but himself.

As he began walking, Yeongdeok took out his phone.

He scrolled through a list of potential candidates to find someone who could cover for him on the day of Seonwoo’s performance.

The names of chefs scrolled up and down his vision like the end credits of a movie.

* * *