Tilting his head in confusion, Gyeol quickly composed his expression for the camera and opened the first card.
The rolled omelet was really delicious. Amazing.
(P.S. The omelet is delicious, and the chef is pretty.)
The handwriting was slightly crooked, like something written by an elementary schooler. Next to it was a doodle—something that looked like either a potato or a sweet potato with eyes, nose, and mouth drawn on it, along with a “thumbs up” sketch.
That’s cute.
Thinking that, Gyeol checked the next cards one by one.
Sportsmanship. That was impressive.
Sportsmanship? What is that supposed to mean?
You were really impressive during the game. I’d like to go on a date with you later.
That card made the “sportsmanship” comment from before click. Giving up victory to help Isu had apparently been framed as “sportsmanship” and earned him favor.
Still, he hadn’t expected it to appeal not just to viewers, but to the Alphas as well.
Even so, getting all the votes in the first selection felt excessive. He had seen plenty of contestants who received a surge of votes early on, only to crash miserably later. And even they had never received unanimous votes.
Which meant—across both Alphas and Omegas—Gyeol’s case was unprecedented.
He couldn’t tell whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.
With a complicated expression, Gyeol opened the fourth card.
It’s been eight years. I missed you.
The hand gripping the edge of the card tightened slightly.
It was Jun Shin. The message might as well have had his fingerprints stamped all over it.
SAVE ME had disbanded eight years ago. And at the most critical moment—the one that determined the group’s survival—Jun Shin, the visual member and the decisive cause of the group’s collapse, had disappeared without even saying a word to Gyeol.
“I missed you.”
Gyeol swallowed a hollow laugh.
To him, Jun Shin was the most cowardly bastard in the world.
After he ran away, they hadn’t seen each other once. Not even a single message or call had been exchanged.
If you’re gone, we’re finished.
Please come back.
How could you do this to me?
Gyeol remembered every word of the messages he had sent back then.
But Jun Shin never replied. Never answered. Never came back.
And the following year, he debuted in the idol group Moving.
As the leader.
Shameless bastard.
For eight years, Gyeol had dreamed of confronting him face to face and cursing him out.
And now, of all places, their reunion was happening in front of cameras on a dating show.
It felt like swallowing fire—his insides burned.
You missed me? Eight years?
Fine.
If that’s how he wanted to play it, Gyeol would use him thoroughly.
Since Jun Shin had sent him a first impression vote, Gyeol decided to turn even him into an opportunity.
Lowering his gaze, Gyeol put on a sorrowful expression.
His lips trembled slightly before he folded the card. Then he wiped away the tear forming in his right eye with his sleeve.
Since switching to acting, shedding tears had become effortless.
After pretending to collect himself, Gyeol opened the final card.
Think only of me. Because I think only of you.
The neat handwriting carried a rather bold message.
There were four Alphas.
But five cards.
Late-entry twist.
The meaning of the extra card was obvious.
A “late-entry twist” came from the idea that introducing a powerful new competitor could heighten the tension and draw out the others’ potential—a concept adapted into dating shows.
A disruptive, game-changing presence.
But...
In every previous season of R-Connect, a late-entry twist had never shown interest from the very beginning. That meant this was a special rule unique to Season 10.
Gyeol decided to play along with the production team’s intentions.
As if confused, he counted the cards several times and tilted his head, then calmly stepped away from the mailbox.
Interview
— All four Alphas chose you. How do you feel?
“I was really surprised. I didn’t think I’d get zero votes, but... when I opened the mailbox, there were so many cards. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming.”
— The way you gave up first place to help Isu Yoon was impressive. It seems that really appealed to the Alphas as well.
“I think that’s a bit too generous. It wasn’t anything that grand... Isu is my roommate, and he looked injured, so I just couldn’t leave him there. I’m grateful people saw it positively.”
— What do you think about receiving five Alpha cards?
“It’s kind of the same as before—I thought I was dreaming. I even counted them multiple times. But it really was five. I was like, what is this? Why? I still can’t make sense of it. R-Connect is seriously something else. I’m looking forward to what’s next.”
***
After the interview, Gyeol walked along a narrow path, zipping up his hoodie. Maybe it was because they were by the sea—once the sun set, the wind turned sharply cold.
As he walked, he replayed the interview in his head.
Did I make any mistakes? Anything off?
Good thing Yo Han Sung wasn’t there.
That had been his biggest concern.
If Yo Han Sung had been present during a one-on-one interview, Gyeol doubted he could have hidden his discomfort completely.
But where did that guy go? Did he just show up briefly and leave?
Lost in thought, he turned onto a downhill path.
The surroundings felt eerie. Aside from a few scattered lights set up by the staff, everything was dark and silent.
Gyeol quickened his pace. He just wanted to get back to the lodging.
Then—
Someone suddenly appeared behind him and called out.
“Gyeol Go.”
“...!”
He flinched hard, his shoulders jerking visibly.
Embarrassed, he dropped his hand from his shoulder and turned around.
The moment he saw who it was, a second wave of shock hit him.
“What’s with that reaction?”
Then came the discomfort.
“Do you think I’m going to eat you alive?”
“...Yo Han Sung.”
Standing with the light behind him, Yo Han Sung’s face was cast in shadow. His eyes, however, gleamed unnaturally, creating an unsettling pressure.
“You’ve changed a lot. Too much, actually.”
His gaze slowly traveled up and down Gyeol’s body.
It was blatant.
Gyeol had deliberately adopted a “beautiful” persona for strategy—but perhaps because he himself disliked it, Yo Han’s gaze felt like mockery.
“...I prepared appropriately for the program.”
The man was a co-producer.
The past was the past. The present was the present.
Gyeol was no longer the helpless person who couldn’t hide his humiliation. He couldn’t smile it off—but he could at least remain composed.
“Hm. Seems like it worked. You got unanimous votes from the Alphas.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you? That’s funny.”
Yo Han tilted his chin, letting out a laugh.
It wasn’t just his imagination.
It was closer to a sneer.
“Looks like you’ve at least learned how to function in society. Former failed idol, aspiring actor Gyeol Go.”
Heat surged up the back of his neck. The cold wind brushing his face only made it more vivid.
Former failed idol, aspiring actor.
It was the same insult Yo Han had used in the past.
The hostility was unmistakable. The polished, gentlemanly demeanor from earlier had completely vanished.
The arrogant, tyrannical man Gyeol remembered stood right in front of him.
And his face was still devastatingly beautiful, which only made every cruel word feel more jarring.
“But somehow, your acting hasn’t improved at all. Forced expressions, artificial tone, stiff gestures... not a single thing is convincing.”
This was exactly what Gyeol had feared.
He could fool others.
But not Yo Han Sung.
As long as Yo Han sat in the producer’s seat, could Gyeol ever deceive him?
“Are you going to keep acting like that?”
The answer came quickly.
Gyeol clenched his jaw and met his gaze head-on.
Silence stretched between them.
His mind raced, searching desperately for a way out—but nothing came.
“Huh? What are you two doing here?”
An unexpected savior appeared—the youngest staff writer.
She waved as she spotted them from the top of the slope.
“I ran into Gyeol on my way up and was just saying hello.”
Yo Han smiled warmly and waved back, completely different from moments ago.
“Oh, you were heading up? You don’t need to! We’re wrapping up now!”
Staff members began to appear behind her.
“Then, Gyeol. Get some rest.”
Without hesitation, Yo Han extended his hand for a handshake.
I don’t want to.
But Gyeol had no choice.
“...Nice to meet you, Producer Sung.”
In taut tension, he took Yo Han’s hand.
It was just as large as he remembered.
Gyeol clenched his teeth, trying to push back the flood of memories.
“Is it really that hard to move your lips? Are they coated in gold?”
The man’s breath, lingering against his lips.
“Former failed idol, aspiring actor Gyeol Go.”
The crushing grip of his hand.
“If you keep acting like that, you’ll stay at the bottom forever. You don’t even deserve to be called an unknown actor.”
But this wasn’t the past.
This was now.
“Nice to meet you, Gyeol Go.”
The warmth in his palm felt like it might burn him.