“Ask me for a wish…? It was sudden, but a wish did spring to mind in that moment.
‘I really hope those fanatics would stop causing trouble.’
After all, I’d played friendly with Caesar just so he’d deal with that exact problem…
But was I bold enough to blurt it out?
‘If I ask right away, won’t it look like I approached him solely to get that favor? He’d feel used.’
‘Should I hold off? Maybe say I need more time to think?’
That internal wrestling match was underway when Caesar’s voice filtered through the speaker, deceptively casual, like he was asking, “What should we have for lunch?”
– So, do you have a wish in mind? A trip, a new car—whatever you want, I’ll make it happen. Even a second house in California is fine.
“…Caesar, are you moonlighting as Santa Claus?”
I know a house in California costs at least two million dollars (around 300 million won), so who the hell would wish for that?
“I’m not so shameless. Don’t scare me with stuff like that.”
A loose laugh came through the speaker.
– All right, then. Tell me something reasonable. Anything—really.
“Never been scammed before? Feels like you’d have.”
– I only do this for you.
I wasn’t entirely convinced, but hearing his words relieved my tension. If he’s offering a house, why would he get angry over my one request?
“All right, I actually do have one favor to ask…”
My voice lightened as I began.
“You remember those fanatics from before?”
– Oh, that group who worships me to a weird degree? Yes, I’ve known about them for a while. I only learned recently that they’ve been causing trouble, though.
There was a hint of displeasure in Caesar’s reply—not toward me, but at the topic.
“For some reason, they absolutely despise me.”
It had been going on for over a decade—ever since I was in middle school.
“I even moved to the upscale district with fewer fanatics… but they still show up.”
– That’s rough. Really rough.
“Yeah… I can’t deny it’s been hell. I’ve narrowed my social circle and limited where I go—all because of them.”
I’m not the type to travel freely, never knowing when a fanatic might pop up and attack.
“They hate me because they like you more, so… could you help me? That’s literally my only problem…”
I tiptoed around admitting my true feelings.
Caesar answered as if it were the most natural thing.
– Of course I’m looking into it. It’s about the safety of someone I care about.
Such shameless confidence. Even in a culture that values blunt honesty, who speaks that directly?
My face heated, and I fell silent, waiting for him to continue. After a sigh, his voice returned.
– But this isn’t a simple issue.
“Huh?”
– It’s not just a few bad apples in San Diego or Los Angeles. It seems like that attitude has spread across all of California. I’ve gathered reports from many places—far more widespread than I thought.
…It’s that serious?
In the U.S., people often live their whole lives in their hometowns because distances between towns can be huge. Many can’t travel without a car and never venture out.
‘Especially those who can’t afford a car—they grow up like frogs in a well, never getting to see the world.’
And it’s the poor who’ve benefited most from Caesar’s healthcare and education initiatives.
So most of these fanatics probably live in the slums.
– We need to dig deeper into this.
That implied someone was orchestrating a campaign: “Watch out for people with eyes like his.” Things were getting complicated.
“Is this impossible to fix?”
My voice fell, but Caesar immediately tried to reassure me.
– Not impossible. It’ll take time, but we can solve it.
His gentle words helped, but I still felt uneasy.
‘Maybe he’s creating an antagonist on purpose… people need someone to unite against.’
A sigh escaped me, and he framed his reply softly.
– Just hang in there. Once I find who’s behind this, I’ll dump them in the Pacific if I have to.
Wait—dump them in the Pacific?
“Are you serious? That’s a joke, right?”
He’d resorted to a threat just to calm me—and I actually laughed a little… but Caesar didn’t laugh.
What was I supposed to make of that?
“…That was a joke?”
– Of course. Murder’s illegal, you know.
He changed the subject, almost sheepishly.
– Is that your only wish?
“Yes. Nothing else.”
– Got it. If you think of anything else, let me know.
“I don’t have anything else…”
Watching a man so shamelessly offer “opportunities to make you happy,” the word Simp crossed my mind.
“Why go through all this trouble for someone like me? Plenty of people like you.”
– Maybe if I keep being good to you, one day you’ll return the favor?
…That was terrifying in its own way. How much longer would he chase me? At this point, it was obsession.
I struggled to keep my expression neutral and spoke.
“…I don’t know if I can ever reciprocate like that.”
– I’m not asking you to love me with the same intensity.
“…”
– It’d be nice if you did, but you don’t have to. The act of caring for someone I like is reward enough.
How many times can someone say “I like you”?
By then I had no energy to argue. I fanned my flushed cheeks and asked,
“Don’t you want anything? Anything at all?”
– Why wouldn’t I?
“Then why not ask? Just say whatever you want. This is driving me crazy.”
He laughed warmly over the line.
– Then let’s go on a date.
…Wasn’t that too fast?!
“Wouldn’t the tabloids plaster us across page one?”
– I know. That’s why we’ll stay in—no strange hijinks, promise.
The thought of a date made him sound almost giddy; his normally measured tone sped up.
– How about a movie? A romantic one for atmosphere, or even something scary.
“Is that really enough?”
– Of course. We’ll talk while we watch—that’s gift enough.
Then he asked,
– But you don’t have a TV? Shall I buy one?
“My place has one in the living room—for news. We have streaming, so we can watch there.”
– Perfect. I’ll come over, then. Send me your address.
Hearing his cheerful voice, I pictured a panting, grinning husky—true to McQueen’s warning that huskies look cool but act wild.
“Watch out for paparazzi. I’ll send my work schedule.”
– I’ll be waiting. Talk soon.
With that, the call ended.
“Ugh…”
I replayed what felt like a three-hour conversation and drew one conclusion.
‘I don’t have the patience for this. I’ll break down and fall for him at some point.’
I couldn’t just cut ties with Caesar—not until the fanatic situation was resolved.
‘If we fall out now, the fanatics’ problem might never get fixed.’
Even someone like Caesar wouldn’t abandon his promise, but with a personality like his, who could be certain?
‘So I need to maintain the status quo until the fanatic issue is resolved.’
That might lead to progress instead of stagnation… but only if he’s really my type.
‘If I drink even once, it’s over.’
My willpower is already thin; add alcohol, and I’ll lose all self-control.
‘Then he won’t be the problem anymore.’
The real issue is that I might turn into a complete beast…
‘I can’t. Once feelings mix with alcohol, it’s over. I have to keep my cool and keep this relationship…manageable.’
I slapped my own cheek twice to steel myself.