Chapter 13: Thresholds
Se-hee nearly tackled him as soon as he stepped off the bus. She grabbed him in a fierce bear hug, and despite the ache in his shoulders from a weekend of hauling equipment, Ha-ru couldn't help but laugh. He teased her about how much she'd clearly missed him as they rode through the neon-lit streets of Seoul back to the apartment.
"I have an amazing surprise for you," he whispered.
She spent the entire ride trying to pry it out of him, pouting and pestering him until he jokingly told her his ears were going to fall off. By the time they reached the house, she was still vibrating with curiosity. He insisted on freshening up first, leaving her to wait in the living room.
While he showered, Ha-ru looked around his room. Over the past few days, he'd begun the slow process of making the space his own. He had rearranged the furniture and done some modest online shopping,mostly organization tools and a few 90s-inspired decor pieces. Se-hee had gasped when the first box arrived, noting that the "original" Ha-ru hardly ever spent a cent on himself. He was careful with the savings he'd borrowed, promising himself he'd pay it back with interest.
The pay from the ad gig was in his pocket now. It was a good sum, but he was still shocked by how much the value of money had shifted. In his past life, this amount would have lasted a month; now, it felt like it barely covered the essentials.
Se-hee had a feast waiting for him when he emerged.
"Were you really that lonely?" Ha-ru teased again, taking a seat.
Se-hee growled at him. "Don't make it cringy," she retorted, though she couldn't hide her smile. "Now, what about the present?"
"Finish eating first."
She frowned, poking at her food with her chopsticks, but for once, she didn't protest. After dinner, Ha-ru insisted on doing the dishes. He wanted the house quiet and the chores done before the big reveal.
Finally, he sat down beside her on the floor. She was half-watching a Re-draft video, but her eyes were mostly on him. Nonchalantly, he placed the thick envelope on the coffee table.
Se-hee looked at the envelope, then at him, her expression skeptical. She picked it up slowly. The moment she pulled out the thick, holographic cardstock, the air left the room.
Then, a scream rent the air.
Ha-ru acted fast, clapping his hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. He knew the neighbors were already wondering what was going on.
"Oh my goodness!" she shrieked against his palm. He let go, and she immediately threw her arms around him, jumping and hugging him with enough force to knock the wind out of him. "How did you get these? Ha-ru! These are VIP! Floor seats!"
"A friend," he said, trying to sound casual, though the irony was making his chest feel light.
"A friend? What friend? Since when do you have friends who hand out VIP tickets to the biggest tour of the year?" She was kneeling on the floor now, staring at him with pure, unadulterated worship.
"Do you like them that much?"
"Yes!" she nearly screamed again, catching herself just in time. She leaned back against the sofa, the tickets pressed to her chest as if they were holy relics. "I can't believe this is happening..."
The apartment was filled with the electricity of her excitement long after Ha-ru retreated to his room. He lay in the dark, listening to her muffled voice on the phone, likely calling every friend she had to brag.
The following morning, the atmosphere was different. Ha-ru had a destination in mind. Se-hee had spent an hour briefing him on the bus routes, though she'd insisted on driving him. He'd declined; he needed to learn to navigate this world on his own feet.
The bus ride was easy enough, but the walk from the station was a challenge. He got lost a few times, taking wrong turns and doubling back. He could have hailed a taxi, but he wanted to walk. He wanted to see the people of 2026,the suits, the designer bags, the hurried, worried expressions of a city that never stopped moving.
Finally, he reached the address. He stood on the sidewalk, his gaze traveling up to a window on the first floor.
The logo was small, etched into the glass in a clean, modern font: Fei Entertainment.
Ha-ru felt a sharp, physical tinge of pain in his heart. His fingers brushed against the glass of the building's entrance, tracing the name. His sister's dream. His sister's company.
He stood there for what felt like an eternity, his confidence slowly draining away. He wanted to go in, but the weight of Sunghoon's past felt too heavy. What was he even doing here?
He turned to leave, his shoulders slumped, when a voice stopped him.
"Can I help you?"
He spun around to see a tall woman with eccentric makeup and a sharp, discerning gaze. She was chewing gum, dressed in a bright yellow suit and towering red platform heels. She looked like she'd stepped straight out of a high-fashion magazine.
"Oh... um..." Ha-ru scrambled for an excuse.
"The audition is already over," she stated, looking down at a file in her hand.
"Audition?"
She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing as she took him in. She had an eye for talent—it was her job to see what others missed. She looked at his face, his frame, and the way he held himself even when he was nervous.
"But," she said, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips, "I can make an exception for a face like that. Come on."
Before he could protest, she swept past him and pulled open the heavy agency door.
Ha-ru stared at the closing door. He knew that if he crossed this threshold, everything would change.
He bit his lip, torn between two lives. Was this what the original Ha-ru would have wanted? Was it fair to thrust this body into the trajectory of a struggling actor?
But then, he thought of his sister. He thought of the debt he owed the boy whose life he had taken. And more than that, he felt his own heart,Sunghoon's heart,beating in his chest.
He missed it. He missed the lights. He missed the way a script felt in his hands. Acting was the only time he truly felt alive.
He took a deep breath and stepped inside