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Chapter 11
Minseo’s mother barely survived.
However, she didn’t wake up and was moved to the intensive care unit.
A distant relative—someone who claimed to be family—showed up after hearing the news and paid the hospital bill.
“Um… what about the child?” asked a nurse carefully.
The relative responded indifferently.
“The kid should be with her mom, shouldn’t she?”
With that, the person turned around and never came back.
Whatever the backstory was, it was clear they didn’t want to get involved any further.
Perhaps she was used to such coldness—Minseo looked calm and detached.
“Excuse me, where can I wash up?”
The girl had gone to the police station to give her statement, then stopped by her house, packed up a bag full of belongings, and returned.
She ate simple meals from convenience stores and slept in short naps in the family rest area, never leaving her mother’s side.
The hospital staff didn’t have the time to take care of the child as well.
Hospitals were places where, just as soon as things got quiet, chaos would strike again.
The best they could do was to make sure nothing dangerous happened—and fortunately, Minseo managed well on her own.
“Minseo, aren’t you bored? Why don’t you go watch TV in the lobby?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then, um… do you want some snacks? These are pretty good…”
“I’m not hungry.”
Her calmness made her seem both admirable and pitiful.
Sometimes the doctors or nurses tried to strike up conversation, but Minseo always drew the line with short replies.
Except with one person.
“Here, use this blanket. You’ll get sick if you catch cold too.”
“…Thank you.”
Minseo hesitated, accepted the blanket from Go Suhyeok, and quickly ran off.
His colleagues snickered behind him.
“See? Even kids care about looks! No, seriously—sometimes they’re worse than adults.”
“At least she didn’t refuse him outright. Poor kid, she breaks my heart every time I see her.”
“…”
Suhyeok didn’t agree or deny it. He just fell into thought.
Minseo had looked at his face several times—but he didn’t feel that it was a sign of any fondness, as his coworkers suggested.
If anything… she seems to dislike me.
A few days later, something happened that confirmed his suspicion.
It started when a talkative nurse brought up a certain topic.
“Did you hear? They’re about to close the investigation on Kim Soohee’s hit-and-run case.”
“Already? Did they find the driver?”
“Nope. Seems like they’re just going to close it without catching anyone. Or maybe they don’t want to catch them.”
The nurse who felt the sorriest for Minseo teared up, and the others silently agreed.
The hospital bill paid by that so-called distant relative.
The credit card Minseo used—registered under no known owner.
Her refusal to testify about what she’d seen.
And the police, who simply let it go.
Everyone guessed the same thing—
the hit-and-run driver must have been connected to someone powerful.
“What a bitter world.”
“Poor Minseo. If only her mom would wake up…”
Everyone sighed bitterly, but no one dared to get involved.
Go Suhyeok understood them—yet he still felt his insides twist.
After all, he too had been sent here because he’d offended one of those powerful people.
Minseo’s situation didn’t feel like someone else’s problem.
That’s why, against his usual nature of keeping strict boundaries, he crossed the line and asked,
“Are you sure you didn’t see anything? The car’s color, or any distinctive feature—it might help.”
He knew it was probably pointless, but maybe if there were even the smallest clue, the police would at least pretend to investigate longer.
Maybe in that extra time, something could change—a small miracle.
But his question, born of hopeless compassion, was met with fierce hostility.
“Why are you testing me? Did that man say I’m suspicious?”
“What? What are you talking about—”
“I said I wouldn’t say anything! Just leave me alone!”
Minseo screamed like she was crying out in pain, then bolted out of the hospital room.
Suhyeok stood there, stunned—until a sudden realization struck him.
That face.
It was the exact same as his half-brother’s.
And then he knew—
who the culprit was.
CUT!
After carefully reviewing the footage, PD Gu Sumin finally shouted, “Okay!”
The nearby staff let out cheerful chatter.
“No NGs at all—it really ends fast.”
“She didn’t mess up once today, right?”
Except for a few early retakes to adjust the tone, every scene with “Minseo” had wrapped in a single take.
Work went smoothly, and the crew had nothing but praise.
“Isn’t her diction amazing? Her pronunciation’s clearer than most adults’.”
“She doesn’t even get nervous in front of the camera. Is she really only ten?”
Jo Yongjin listened quietly to their chatter.
True to his name, he was a quiet, reserved man.
He played Ha Minjun, the half-brother of the main character, Go Suhyeok.
Do Jehyeon had already told him countless good things about the young actress, but seeing her in person exceeded expectations.
He was glad he had squeezed time from his busy schedule to visit early.
This is going to be good.
He wasn’t the type to talk much—especially not to child actors—but seeing her act so well made him want to approach her.
Maybe I should say hi…
Just then, Lee Sua came out of the set to change costumes for the next scene.
She smiled warmly at every staff member she passed, looking completely comfortable and unshy.
Even if they hadn’t met before, if someone told her that the man nearby was a fellow actor, she’d probably run up and greet him with a bright smile.
Then, of course, everyone’s attention would turn toward them…
…Maybe I’ll do it later.
And just like that, Jo Yongjin quietly slipped away.
He was the most socially awkward man in the entertainment industry.
So it’s true—he really is shy.
He wasn’t particularly tall or broad, but he stood out among the staff because, well, he was an actor.
Watching him hover for ages, then flee instead of saying hello—it finally made sense why Do Jehyeon had said that about him.
A guy with zero social skills, but who’s great at his job.
Not a bad guy, just awkward.
Before the regression, Sua had never seen any scandals about Do Jehyeon or Jo Yongjin, so she could trust them to some extent—at least publicly.
When she came back after changing and fixing her makeup, Jo Yongjin was being scolded by Ki Sunghee.
Despite her busy schedule promoting the show, Sunghee had come again, saying she didn’t want to miss seeing this particular scene.
Next to them, the behind-the-scenes PD was filming, grinning from ear to ear.
“You ran away again instead of saying hello, didn’t you? Come on, how can you be scared of a kid half your age?”
“I wasn’t scared…”
“Then what?”
“I’m just… shy.”
“I’ve seen shy people, but never an adult who avoids a child. You’re older and her senior—shouldn’t you be the one helping her relax?”
Jo Yongjin’s face turned bright red.
The tiny movements around his eyes and lips showed not humiliation but genuine embarrassment.
A subtle difference—but Sua could tell the emotion clearly.
It was obviously teasing, but even being playfully scolded in front of everyone made him blush like that.
He seemed like a simple, sincere person. Shy, but good-natured.
Just then, Ki Sunghee spotted Sua and waved her over.
“Sua, come say hello!”
“Ah, um…”
“This guy’s terrible at greetings, but he’s a great actor to work with.”
“Hello, sir! I’m rookie actress Lee Sua. It’s an honor to meet you!”
As Sua bowed deeply, Jo Yongjin hurriedly followed suit—with a perfect “folder bow.”
The behind-the-scenes PD stifled a laugh behind the camera.
That’ll make a great clip once it airs.
Before the regression, Jo Yongjin had gained solid recognition for his acting in Records of a Master’s Diagnosis,
but he’d been typecast into villain roles afterward, which limited his growth.
Now that the script and characters had changed thanks to Sua’s influence, maybe this time would be different.
It was up to him how he used the opportunity.
“Jehyeon told me a lot about you, sir. I’ll do my best to learn from you!”
“Jehyeon… talked about me?”
“Yes! He said you’re always hardworking and a great actor to learn from.”
It’d be best if both the drama and the cast succeeded.
But, of course, it’d be even better if she succeeded the most.
No matter how much Go Suhyeok questioned, reasoned, or pressured him, Ha Minjun refused to turn himself in.
So Suhyeok dragged him to the hospital.
“You kept asking me about conscience, didn’t you? If you have any, then open your eyes and look! See exactly what you’ve done!”
He’d asked another colleague to make sure Minseo wasn’t in the room.
Minjun trembled all over as he was forced inside.
Behind the curtain lay his sin.
He had lived proudly all his life—meeting every expectation of his father and mother.
And when the weight of those expectations grew too heavy, he justified his “little outbursts” as harmless.
After all, who could blame him for slipping once in a while?
But now…
“N-no… that’s not…”
“What do you mean, not? Admit what you did and beg for forgiveness!”
“It wasn’t me! It’s not my fault!”
When Go Suhyeok tried to drag him closer to the bed, Ha Minjun shoved him away and opened the door to flee—
Only to find Minseo standing right there.
