Chapter 6: Who Would They Believe If I Screamed?

“This time, my close-protection officer is back on the job. I choose him.”  

Eunha spoke brightly to the PD.  

“Close-protection officer?”  

Yoo Jaesan asked.  

“Yes, my close-protection officer. Since I handle major responsibilities at Seongpoong, he’s been with me since I was a kid. My ‘family,’ you could say.”  

Eunha emphasized the word *family*.  

“What kind of responsibilities?”  

“Cuteness, of course.”  

Her playful remark sent the cast into laughter.  

“Rich people’s jokes hit different. Wow.”  

“Hahaha!”  

“That got me crying!”  

As Eunha and the cast bantered, the PDs scrambled to find the “mysterious bodyguard who worked with Joo Eunha!”  

“That’s him over there.”  

“Oh.”  

Eunha pointed directly at me for the director.  

Now even the massive camera was sizing me up.  

‘Oh no. Gotta escape.’  

Too late. 

The PDs hovering nearby had already vanished.  

The area was blocked off by filming equipment. 

In short, I was trapped, exactly as Eunha intended. 

All I could do was sip my canned coffee alone.  

“There he is! Ahjussi!”  

Eunha called out, and every eye shifted from her to me.  

The cast—each a big name—stared. 

One wrong move, and not only would I be slandered, but Seongpoong’s reputation could take a hit.  

Even with Chairman Joo’s health declining, his ears and eyes were still sharp. 

My throat burned with no way out.  

“That’s the kind of guy who does security?”  

“He does look tough.”  

I forced an awkward smile at Eunha.  

‘Save me! I’ll give you anything—my conscience, my house, everything!’  

Haha.  

I had to play along.  

If I ignored her, Eunha might stir up trouble.  

“Actually, I’m dating ahjussi.” 

She was the type to casually expose our forced secret relationship. 

My situation… it was heart-wrenching.  

I’d hold firm like a man. 

The attention soon faded.  

“Ahjussi, I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

Eunha waved playfully, her eyes twinkling with a smile.  

I pursed my lips awkwardly, stood from my chair, and walked stiffly.  

Looking at her face any longer would shave ten years off my life.  

It was fine if the camera caught me, but having all eyes on me was a different kind of fear.  

The shoot went smoothly without me. 

Eunha seemed fine too.  

Bzzzt.  

My phone vibrated. The caller ID read “No. 1.”  

In this line of work with the group’s kids, this number always followed.  

No. 1 was the heir—Joo Seongyoon.  

Clearing my throat, I answered.  

“Hello, everything going well there?”  

“Yes, Vice Chairman. The young miss is starting her shoot without issues.”  

“I’m watching the live broadcast now. It was worth entrusting Seongpoong’s marketing division to her. Father opposed it as overstepping, but still.”  

“Haha.”  

Good thing she didn’t say much to me…  

A relief, probably.  

I slipped away from Eunha’s intense gaze. 

It wasn’t my time to appear yet.  

“I’m watching the broadcast. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”  

“Understood.”  

“And even if Eunha talks like that, she’s like a parrot calling for you. Her way of expressing it is just… ‘unique.’”  

She said a few more words before abruptly hanging up.  

The Joo sisters always had this vibe, so I let it slide.  

But thinking of Eunha made my head foggy, my heart ache—everything hurt.  

An irresistible temptress, staring only at me.  

If that perfume cap opened… I wouldn’t control my desires.  

What a terrifying invention.  

After the call, I steeled myself and heard the PD tell me to wait in the lounge until called.  

“Is this it? Ugh, so shabby.”  

I hoped Eunha wasn’t resting in a place like this. 

Shaking off the unease, I entered the container lounge.  

The lounge was small but equipped—couches, snacks.  

A few typical ahjussis napped on leather sofas.  

This was the security team’s lounge. 

Finding a woman here was like finding a needle in the Sahara. 

Security was, as always, male-dominated.  

The faint stench of cigarettes hit me.  

Ugh, it twisted my insides every time.  

I sat in an empty armchair, waiting for the PD’s call.  

Scanning the room, I recognized familiar faces. 

Working the field, you build connections. 

They glanced at me, subtly surprised.  

Curious, no doubt.  

I get it.  

Today’s security team numbered about twenty.  

Reasonable, given the cast size.  

Some looked rough, but most were decent. 

This industry was small, and I was good at reading faces.  

Security—protecting people—required more than just a body. 

You needed brains and heart too.  

Wisdom, virtue, strength.  

Lack any, and you’re disqualified. 

No one here seemed worth watching out for.  

With the sudden shoot, my schedule had shifted. 

As I was about to call my café staff—  

“Hey, boss!”  

Someone approached from afar.  

A man in casual clothes, a leather jacket, and flashy blonde hair.  

“Youngchul!”  

I called his name, and Jeon Youngchul clasped my hands.  

Youngchul—once a Seongpoong employee, now a freelancer.  

I’d lost touch, unsure if he was even alive. 

To meet here, of all places.  

I wanted to catch up, but this was a professional setting, so it’d have to wait.  

“Wow! Heard you were back, but this is a triumphant return! Looking sharp! Where’d you get such an expensive suit? Five years in security, and I’ve never seen silk like that!”  

Youngchul’s eyes widened at my outfit. 

After Seongyoon left, Eunha insisted I dress up, shoving a card in my hand.  

She’d thrown a fit, threatening “naughty things” at night if I didn’t get a tailored suit.  

I usually dressed simply, not into this stuff.  

I’d bought it at a luxury department store, but the price? 

No clue. 

The tag was missing, and the clerk told me to check later.  

It was probably worth six months of an entry-level salary.  

Luxury, indeed!  

No wonder eyes popped.  

“I’m not a thug.”  

I reassured a stunned Youngchul. 

Then he sniffed, not crying but like a pig hunting truffles.  

“You wearing perfume?”  

“Uh, yeah.”  

I nodded awkwardly. Was he unbothered?  

Come to think of it, no one Eunha met, except me, showed any reaction to her scent. 

None at all.  

They’d ask what perfume it was. 

I swallowed hard, just in case.  

If the drug Eunha gave me was tailored to affect only me?  

Just a theory, but plausible.  

“What, you don’t feel anything?”  

Youngchul rubbed under his nose. 

I glared at him. 

This guy’s face betrayed everything after a single drink, yet now? 

Nothing.  

Utterly unfazed.  

He circled me.  

“Smells faintly like mint. Decent scent. What brand?”  

I spoke low. I couldn’t tell the truth—it’d cause trouble.  

“Borrowed from the miss.”  

Not a lie. 

Eunha forced it on me, after all.  

“Gasp! Hyung, isn’t that a problem? You know, those guys who got fired…”  

Youngchul covered his mouth, eyes trembling.  

Problems? 

Plenty. 

Eunha was crazy for an ahjussi like me, but I wasn’t sure why.  

One security rule: No dating the client. It caused too many issues.  

I started to respond to Youngchul but stopped.  

EunhaEunhaYa: I need to change.  

EunhaEunhaYa: Can you help?  

EunhaEunhaYa: (Eunha is cute! emoji) 

Eunha was calling.  

***

Heading to Eunha’s lounge.  

Celebrities are human; they need rest too. 

This prefab building was quiet, thankfully.  

Old and limited, even with renovations.  

Eunha’s lounge was on the fourth floor, practically the top.  

Around the third floor, a clear voice rang from above.  

Looking up, I saw a woman, maybe in her early thirties at most.  

“Oh my, who’s this!”  

Heavy makeup, like a gyaru from my Japan assignment days.  

Ma Joohui.  

Her aesthetic was unique, but she was a heavyweight actress—Angel of Arlenue, Patriot, Adult Prince.  

Why did she know me?  

I’d been her bodyguard once.  

“Teacher, good to see you.”  

“Oh, my darling hasn’t aged a bit!”  

“You’re too kind.”  

I bowed as I reached the fourth floor.  

Joohui and I were close, informally.  

I had no experience raising kids or even siblings, so guiding Eunha was tough. 

I’d enlisted outside help—Joohui.  

Despite her looks, she was fifty, a true patriot with three sons and two daughters.  

I recalled consulting with her and her husband about Eunha on weekends.  

“Eunha’s glowing lately. Something good happen?”  

“Haha, kids are like that. How’s hyung doing?”  

I scratched my head, laughing awkwardly.  

‘Raise her well? She’s dying to devour me.’  

Oblivious to my thoughts, Joohui slapped my back hard.  

“Oh my, my husband’s been moping without you. Cried over losing his drinking buddy. Come by the house sometime; I’ll whip up some snacks.”  

“I’ll visit then. Haha, thank you, Teacher.”  

“Any worries, come to me anytime! Ho ho.”  

Joohui trotted down the stairs.  

I hurried to Eunha’s lounge. 

Ten minutes late already—what an uncharacteristic mistake.  

“I-I’m here.”  

I opened the lounge door. 

Eunha sat on a round chair by a mirror, fiddling with her phone, likely scrolling through our photos.  

A brief, awkward silence.  

Without turning, she spoke, as if she had eyes in the back of her head.  

“You’re here. Where’ve you been?”  

“Sorry, was talking with the guys.”  

“Oh, really?”  

“Yeah. You know Youngchul, right?”  

Hmph. 

Eunha exhaled coldly, as if he didn’t exist.  

“I don’t care about anyone but you, ahjussi.”  

I approached her. 

She took a deep breath, her stiff posture loosening as she gripped the armrest tightly.  

“Ahjussi, who’d you just meet?”  

“Huh?”  

“I said, who’d you meet? Your scent’s different. The one I put on you.”  

“J-Just ran into Actress Ma Joohui for a bit.”  

Eunha’s eyes flashed darkly. 

She grabbed my tie, yanking me toward her. 

With surprising strength, she pushed me to the floor.  

It happened in an instant. 

No time to react. I fell—thud—and memories of the other night flooded back.  

At least that was at my place, where I could clean up quickly.  

This was a public space. If someone walked in, we were done for. I raised both arms, signaling harmlessness.  

I needed to calm her down.  

“D-Don’t. Eunha, I’m old— injuries take forever to heal. Hospital bills pile up at my age.”  

I pleaded.  

“…Ahjussi, this is your fault.”  

Eunha smiled faintly, unbuttoning her top slowly from the top. 

I scrambled toward the door like I’d seen a ghost, coughing from the dust, my shocked legs trembling uncontrollably.  

“Y-Yes, it’s all my fault. Let’s stop, please.”  

She strode past me.  

“Oh.”  

Click— 

“Ahjussi, if I screamed here, who’d they believe?”  

“W-What?”  

“A twenty-year-old influencer with two million subscribers, or… a man like you, charming women and trying to escape? This place isn’t soundproof, you know.”  

She smirked seductively, pulling a small plastic bag from her pocket—a pink pill inside.  

“Ahjussi, open wide.”  

…  

…  

…  

Hic.  

I couldn’t help but hiccup.