Chapter Two: A Proper Job

"Damn it! This is a misunderstanding!"

Cha Lun-hoo was, at his core, a man of principle. Glancing back at the golden-haired woman's evasive gaze, he instantly concocted a tragic drama in his mind. She hadn't said anything at first, so he had played ignorant, but now, looking at the situation, he realized this punch might have been for nothing.

Fortunately, while Cha was no genius, he knew better than to show weakness now. Gritting his teeth, he feigned ignorance, and as the guy continued to clamor amidst the woman’s screams, he landed a few more slaps across his face.

"I have a clean relationship with Noona Soo-yeon! Why are you slandering me out of thin air?"

He followed up with a punch square on the nose, drawing a torrent of blood that flowed like a spice shop overturned—salty, sour, and spicy all at once. The pale-faced man couldn't get up, yet he refused to yield, shouting through the pain, "Well hit!"

"Aish! You still dare to talk back!"

Raising his fist, he struck the man in the head again. The guy saw stars as bright red blood trickled down his forehead onto his face, looking truly ghastly. Unable to take more, the pale-faced man began to beg for mercy.

Seeing Cha finally stop, the blonde woman hurried over to clutch his arm, signaling him to leave quickly. Her tears flowed uncontrollably, ruining her exquisite makeup.

Cha thought to himself, "I was originally just acting in legitimate self-defense, but I didn't mean to hit him this hard. It looks like his brow bone might be broken. If he presses charges, I'll end up in legal trouble with no one to bring me meals. Better to clear out now."

He let go and took off, pointing back at the man. "You’re too fragile! I’ll deal with you later when I have time!" He strode away, cursing as he went.

Returning to the nightclub, Cha hurriedly gathered his belongings. He knew a thing or two about the background of that retired "older sister," so he knew that man wouldn't dare touch her. Having just received a message confirming she was safe, he finally set his heart at ease.

He slung his gym bag over his shoulder—a birthday gift from his "little sister" from next door after he graduated. That ambitious girl had come a long way since then; over the years he was in the military, she had gradually made a name for herself in the entertainment industry.

Now, she was an idol who could act as well as she could sing, becoming the hope of her small agency. The burden of the entire group rested on her shoulders, yet she dragged that "aircraft carrier" forward with tireless enthusiasm.

Gazing at the neon lights of the bustling metropolis, Cha recalled the night he left his rural hometown. His parents' faces were etched with the guilt of being unable to help him. His father kept apologizing, while his mother blamed him for giving up on a prestigious university. It all felt as if it had happened yesterday.

He had dreamed of breaking through his family's poverty with his own two hands, but having transformed from a promising star in the military to his current state, he had truly lost his best chance to change his life.

"Should I go home and visit? Better not. I shouldn't let them worry until I find a real job."

Cha felt that selling liquor at a nightclub was a rather disgraceful pursuit. Although his good looks led many wealthy heiresses and socialites to swipe their cards wildly, he had ultimately maintained most of his bottom line, save for a few young and pretty ones he took a liking to—like that fading old idol, Ms. Jung.

He had managed to save some money, which would have lasted him a year or two if he were frugal, but he lacked the funds for a proper deposit and had just paid the rent for a year on an apartment in the remote northern part of the city.

"Should I buy a motorcycle? That dump of an apartment feels like it's almost in the Gyeonggi province, outside of Seoul."

The long commute made him dread returning to that cold, damp "home," but he didn't want to waste money on hotels—he wasn't wealthy enough to be that extravagant.

*Ding... Ding...*

The ringtone grabbed his attention. The prominent tag "Meal Buddy" on the screen signified the caller's special status.

"Oppa! Why did it take you so long to answer? I have something very important to discuss with you. What on earth have you been busy with lately?"

The girl’s voice on the other end was loud, forcing him to pull the phone away to save his eardrum. She was still a bit rough around the edges—which hadn't mattered before—but now that she was a famous artist, she really ought to have some "idol image" to maintain.

"I've had some work things come up. What’s wrong? Isn't your group about to launch a sub-unit? You must be busy!"

In truth, they hadn't met much over the years. Ever since she moved with her mother to Gyeonggi and Seoul to live as a guest in a relative's house, they had only kept in touch by phone, only meeting for the occasional meal during his rare university breaks.

"It's fine! In our profession, the busier the better! You still haven't found a proper job, have you? I found an opportunity here. Take some time to go for an interview tomorrow."

The girl had always worried about her neighbor-brother’s mental state; after all, having one's future completely ruined was a massive blow that few could recover from quickly. Recently, though, he had seemed indifferent to it all.

"What kind of job? I told you I have work and can make money. Why are you worrying about me for no reason?"

Though his heart warmed, he responded with feigned arrogance. How could he not be moved that this girl, despite the massive upheavals in her own idol career, was still thinking of her old brother’s dire situation?

Thinking back to when they were children, relying on government meal vouchers to improve their diet, she would always save the meager portions of meat for him. Fortunately, they had both grown up well. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I know you! If you had a real job, you would have told me to put my mind at ease. Listen, this job was introduced by a good friend of mine. You must dress sharp tomorrow; don't embarrass me! I’m sending you the details now. Make your resume look good."

The girl’s voice was steady but had an easygoing, refreshing quality. It just so happened that a friend—a former teammate from a temporary audition group—had come to visit today, and since a senior bodyguard at her company had recently resigned, she thought it might be worth letting him try out.

"A bodyguard? I might as well be your bodyguard! The pay isn't even that high. It's not as good as my..." Before Cha could finish, the girl cut him off sharply.

"You are not to sell liquor anymore! Somi told me everything! She saw you last time..."

Cha felt as if he’d been struck by lightning. Seoul was indeed too small. He had met that former teammate of hers, Somi, before—a mere kid, and she was already hitting the clubs? Foreign blood really was open-minded. He wondered if her loose-lipped friend had said anything else.

Fortunately, his skin was thick enough that he didn't need to put on a show in front of his closest sister. Since she knew and hadn't flown into a rage, she must have understood his difficulties. Of course, that was also because she didn't know *what* he did to earn money; perhaps Somi just thought he was a liquor promoter.

"Fine, fine! I'll listen to you. Just don't let it slip—if our parents find out, I'm as good as dead!" Cha flipped through the documents she sent, sat on a roadside bench, and slowly digested the information.

"JYPE? What the hell is 'Division 3'? Who am I going to be a bodyguard for? Suzy Bae? TWICE? Don't tell me I'm being sent to protect Park Jin-young!"