APCA 04

Chapter 4

“What do you mean, what was I thinking?”

Haerin couldn’t make sense of the question.

Yeongseo’s lips parted as if to say something, then curved into a faint, twisted smile.

“I mean… If it were me, I never would have agreed to it.”

The atmosphere suddenly grew heavy.

Setting her fork down, Haerin asked quietly,

“What are you trying to say?”

“It’s true I said I wanted you in it. But I never thought you’d actually accept. Be honest—you know, don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“That if you’re in it, people will only tear it apart.”

Haerin gave a strained laugh, closer to a scoff than amusement.
She already knew what Yeongseo was trying to say.

Still… this is a bit much.

She ran a hand through her hair, buying herself a pause. Yeongseo’s eyes followed her, unflinching.

“Yeongseo. I turned you down three times.”

“……”

“I said I’d only hurt your first film if I joined. Don’t you remember?”

“That’s true, but—”

“And what did you say to me then?” Haerin pressed.

“You said you wrote the script with me in mind. That you didn’t want anyone else playing the role.”

That was why Haerin had finally agreed.
How could she turn down words like that—from Yeongseo of all people?

Yeongseo sighed.

“That was just… because I was alone at the time.”

“……”

“Do you even know why I’ve been so busy these days?” Her tone turned cold, biting.

“People hate you.”

“Yeongseo—”

“They all say the same thing: If Yoo Haerin’s in it, I’m out. So tell me, what am I supposed to do?”

Haerin’s head buzzed. Someone else’s face flickered through her mind.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you at all. Maybe I should’ve left you out from the start.”

“……”

“If I’d known everyone hated you this much…”

Haerin rose to her feet. Yeongseo’s words faltered.

“You really thought this kind of talk was better face-to-face?”

“……”

“You should’ve just texted. Why drag me out here just to wear us both down?”

“…Sorry.”

“It’s not like I wasn’t worried about it too. If that’s your decision, then fine.”

“……”

“But considering how close we were? This isn’t it. I’m leaving.”

“Unni.”

Haerin walked away from the table, ignoring Yeongseo’s voice behind her.

As she neared the entrance, the bar’s owner, who’d been leaning idly nearby, straightened up.

“Oh? Leaving already?”

“Yes. Yeongseo’s still drinking, but something came up. Could I pay first?”

“Shame. I was going to give you another round on the house.”

He handed her card back with a smile.

“Come back soon, okay?”

Haerin forced a smile in reply before stepping out into the night.

The wind had grown colder, wrapping around her like a shiver.

She wasn’t always this sharp-edged.

She almost drifted into memories of when they’d been cast in the same company, but stopped herself.

What’s the point in reminiscing now.

She used to say she only joined that company because of me. She used to follow me everywhere…
Now it’s all just old news, isn’t it?

A wave of bitterness hit her.

Did it really have to all crash down at once like this?

Minju, once her closest friend.
And earlier that very day—the anchor she’d once admired.

A lineup of people she never thought would turn their backs on her.

“Not unless it’s some cursed day or something…”

And today of all days—

Haerin remembered the horoscope she had glanced at that morning.

♐ Sagittarius ♐

A day like half-and-half chicken. You might fall backward and break your nose… but you’ll pick up a diamond instead.

Only by moving will you turn the worst day into the best. Get outside.

Lucky color: Black.
Lucky item: Coffee bean air freshener.

I’ve done plenty of moving today.

But instead of a diamond, she’d broken her nose twice.

“Maybe because my hat isn’t black.”

She shook her head, almost laughing at herself. Logic applied to superstition—what was she even doing?

At the very least, she didn’t need bad luck on top of everything else.

Half-and-half chicken, my ass. More like ordering chicken and only getting the radish side dish.

She reached for her phone to call a taxi… then shoved it back into her bag.

Her chest felt clogged, the leftover fries mixing with her unprocessed anger.

Going home like this was impossible.

She turned her steps in another direction.

* * *

In the heart of Sangam stood STB headquarters.

Like most departments, the newsroom’s windows glowed late into the night, heavy with overtime.

“What are you doing after work?”

“No chance tonight.”

“Yeah, figures. Sixteen hours trapped here, and this is what happens.”

“I usually grit my teeth and push through, but today? Today’s on another level. Ah—senior’s coming.”

Freshly changed after finishing the day’s broadcast, Ihyun walked down the hall.

The junior announcers who’d been chatting quickly straightened.

“Good work today, sir!”

“Good work.”

Ihyun headed toward his desk tucked in one corner of the announcers’ division.

There was a private anchor room reserved for the main anchor, but Ihyun never used it.
Isolation, he believed, didn’t help reporting.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you have something to ask me?”

“Uh—”

The bolder of the two nudged his colleague. Ihyun’s gaze shifted toward the hesitant announcer.

The weight of those cold eyes silenced him.

“N-no, it’s nothing. Please go ahead, senior.”

“Ugh, useless. He just wanted to ask if you’d ever come to a team dinner.”

“Hey!”

“Relax, I’m helping you.”

Ihyun regarded them briefly, then asked,

“Would I really be needed there?”

“No! I mean—not that you wouldn’t be needed, it’s just… we’ve never seen you at one, that’s all.”

“I don’t like drinking.”

“Ah… I see.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to enjoy yourselves without someone watching over you?”

“…Y-yes, I suppose so.”

“Exactly. Good night.”

“See you tomorrow, senior!”

The moment his tall figure disappeared, the timid junior got a round of scolding.

“You idiot. You say you want him as a role model, to follow in Shin Ihyun’s footsteps, and then you waste chances like this?”

“Honestly, you’re the weird one. Everyone finds him intimidating.”

“Sure, but all you’d need is one dinner. You could ask for tips on auditions, anchoring, anything!”

The conversation trailed on as the juniors packed their bags and left the newsroom.

* * *

Beep.
The black sedan unlocked with a crisp chime.

“……”

With a weary exhale, Ihyun slid into the driver’s seat.
For a moment he closed his eyes, sinking into the silence of the car.

This was the only moment of calm in his grueling routine.

The spotless anchor.

After years of flawless mornings on Today Morning…
After saving STB News 7 when the main anchor collapsed just ten minutes before broadcast—

That was when the nickname had begun.
Whispered among executives, then repeated until it stuck.

The spotless anchor.

It had propelled him to a meteoric promotion, the youngest ever main anchor.

And though it felt almost like a natural talent, it wasn’t a comfortable one.

Spotless meant sharp-edged.
As airtime approached, his standards allowed for no errors—neither from himself nor from others.

Normally, it ended the same way every night: with a dull, frustrating headache.

But tonight was different.

Instead of pain, something else filled his head.

He opened his eyes.

“…Why would you say something like that?”

That bewildered voice still wouldn’t leave him.

“……”

A coincidence, but a strange one.

Normally, he’d have just grabbed his coffee near the office.

But that day, he’d gone home first to pick up something he’d forgotten.

That was when he’d noticed the café sign.
When he’d walked in without thinking.

And there she was.

Not that seeing her face was what lingered.

It was her reaction afterward—her expression, her words—that refused to let him go.

That look of anger. That voice demanding an answer.

“Was she… mad at me?”

Reaching into the passenger seat, he pulled out his bag.
His hand closed around something inside—

The cardboard sleeve from <Serenade>.

“……”

Why did you say that, she’d asked.

Ihyun turned the thought over, expression unreadable.

The truth is… I’d like to ask the same thing.

Do you want me to continue translating Chapter 5 next in this same style, with block quotes for tension and novel-like pacing?