FBPP C19

Chapter 19

However, for a first broadcast appearance, it was not ideal to get on the bad side of a writer right from the preliminary meeting. It was the writers who crafted the questions and structured the flow of the show.

Knock, knock—

The assistant writer opened the door with a light rap and stepped aside at an angle so Ji-han could enter first. Ji-han put on his softest smile again, dipped his head slightly, and stepped into the conference room.

“Hello, I’m Seo Ji-han.”

Ah, my head is fucking killing me.

Standing at the sink in the broadcasting station’s restroom, Ji-han carefully washed his hands while replaying the meeting in his mind.

The atmosphere? It had been good. Since it was his debut appearance, the writers had seemed worn out but were still welcoming, and the coffee Ji-han had brought had made the mood pleasantly cheerful. There hadn’t been any trap questions, and though he’d worried there might not be much to talk about outside piano and gaming—since his life beyond those was uneventful—the writers had looked satisfied.

But his lips and the corners of his eyes felt like they might start twitching.

The writer had insisted on walking Ji-han back to the parking lot, but Ji-han, exhausted from juggling three people at once, politely refused.

Given the choice between the elevator and the stairs, Ji-han unhesitatingly picked the latter. If he took the elevator, there was the chance of running into someone else, and without a mask or hat to hide behind, he’d be cornered into a conversation.

Arriving at the visitor parking section on the third basement level, Ji-han frowned. The sleek white sports car was definitely his—but a tall, broad-shouldered, all-black figure stood in front of it.

Checking where the CCTV cameras were, Ji-han deliberately made his footsteps loud as he approached.

“Who are you?”

The man, phone to his ear, turned his head. He was masked, hatted, fully covered. With that build and getup, he looked like nothing less than a mugger, and Ji-han’s guard went up a notch.

What’s more, when asked directly, the dark figure froze and said nothing.

Irritation spiked. He wanted to go home.

“Excuse me?”

As if shocked by a jolt of electricity, the man flinched and stammered out, “A-are you the car owner?”
“I am.”

The voice sounded a little nervous—strangely familiar to Ji-han’s ear.

The man lowered his phone, removed his hat, and then his mask. Running a hand through his flattened hair, he looked sheepish.

The face… he’d seen it somewhere before. Where was it? An ad, maybe? Glossy, polished features, and with that physique—an athlete?

“We keep meeting under bad circumstances. We saw each other once before, didn’t we?”
“Ah.”

A soft sigh slipped from Ji-han’s mouth. It was the guy from the gym—the one he’d briefly suspected of being a steroid junkie. Back then, the guy had his forehead exposed; with his bangs now neatly lowered, it had taken Ji-han longer to recognize him.

Still, it was funny—did this guy really assume Ji-han would remember him after such a fleeting encounter? For a second, Ji-han thought, What, is this guy self-absorbed on top of possibly being a roidhead? But his face was indeed memorable, so Ji-han let it slide.

“Yes. So, what business do you have with my car?”

He tried to smile, but the corners of his lips refused to lift. His facial muscles, the ones that made him look gentle and approachable, had clocked out for the day.

“I scraped your fender while pulling my car out. I’m sorry.”
“Pulling out… why would the fender—ah.”

Ji-han remembered: he’d parked at the far end, in a solo spot. There was a passage next to the driver’s side for other cars, but across from him, another car had parked badly—its nose sticking out past the line. This guy must have tried to avoid it and ended up scraping Ji-han’s fender and front bumper.

Closer inspection revealed black streaks scratched across the white surface. Ugly to look at, but Ji-han quickly smoothed his expression into neutrality, conscious of the man beside him.

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it. No real damage—it’s nothing.”

Because he had no plans to drive this car again. Whether totaled or scratched, in his eyes, it was already as good as junk.

“No, it was my mistake. Please at least let me cover the repair costs.”
“I said it’s fine.”

Why was this guy making a fuss? Ji-han had already decided to let it slide. He was tired, just wanted to get home, and here this man was delaying him over trivialities.

“It’s my job—I can’t just walk away from something like this.”

Job? Ji-han paused halfway into opening his car door and turned back. Broadcasting station parking lot, visitor section, handsome muscular man, private gym membership—the images connected, and Ji-han understood.

So, he was an athlete. And not just any athlete—one with media presence, someone known.

Ah. What a fucking headache.

The CCTV had no doubt recorded everything. A public figure like him couldn’t just walk away from an accident without processing it—if word got out, it would be messy. Ji-han would’ve waited, too, if the roles were reversed.

At least, since this guy was also in the public eye, he probably wouldn’t do anything shady with Ji-han’s number.

“Give me your phone.”

Ji-han entered his number quickly. Unexpectedly, the man dialed it right away. Ji-han had expected him to only jot it down and pass things along through a third party, but no, he’d revealed his own number directly. Which meant—he knew Ji-han wasn’t just some ordinary person.

But no vibrations buzzed in Ji-han’s pocket.

“It says unreachable.”
“I block unknown numbers.”

Ji-han pulled out his phone, unlocked the screen, and showed him.

“This the right number?”
“Yes, it is.”
“My line of work can’t risk leaks. So we’re done here, right?”
“Yes. I’ll be in touch. I’m really sorry again.”
“It’s fine. Honestly, that car’s more at fault. Anyway, get home safe.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Ji-han didn’t spare the man another glance as he pulled out of the garage.

But the navigation map was lit red—overlapping perfectly with rush hour.

“Fucking hell! That Lamborghini asshole couldn’t park properly!”

Time left to get home: 1 hour 29 minutes.

JiniHaniJihani has slain an enemy.

Quadra Kill!

JiniHaniJihani has slain an enemy.

Penta Kill!

[Team] RockGodYooTae-hyo (Horyeong): Legendary, holy shit. Boys, herd the mobs clean so hyung can farm easy!
[Team] Beomeo-dongNukeBat (Poporing): Be honest, I set up that last penta. Admit it?
[Team] RockGodYooTae-hyo (Horyeong): Who the hell are you?
[Team] Beomeo-dongNukeBat (Poporing): I’m PopoNoon team’s beloved ADC~

As Ji-han farmed the mobs the tank had herded up and pushed the lane, his eyes burned with fury.

He’d just come off another keyboard war with AkashaPhilban. He had planned to quit the guild after a week—but changed his mind.

Avoid filth because it’s dirty? No. That would just look like running away, and Ji-han’s pride wouldn’t allow it.

He’d already collected a decent number of guild keys and cleared several guild-war missions needed to unlock the new ultimate skin. Leaving now, waiting through the rejoin cooldown, then joining another guild? Why should he—Seo Ji-han—be the one to leave? They were all just guildmates, not some tight-knit clique.

And from what Ji-han had observed, AkashaPhilban wasn’t close with the guild members anyway. He only exchanged greetings with MondayToSunday, and even then, just surface-level. Never chatted in guild chat otherwise.

So it wasn’t Ji-han who should leave. He’d make sure AkashaPhilban was the one driven out—whether he quit on his own or got kicked.

WIN!

Congratulations. You have been promoted to Platinum I rank.

Now, how to screw this bastard over?

The guy was unshakeable at insults and sarcasm. Trying to attack him over gameplay would just look like grasping at straws. And after being impressed once by Ji-han’s Nasarun, he hadn’t said another word about Ji-han being unable to play melee.

“Of course. Who the fuck would dare diss my melee?”

This was worse than running into a wall—like being forced to melt through a level 30 melee into an enemy tank line. His main roles were tank and support, but was this freak some masochist who actually enjoyed being berated and beaten?

The game attracted all kinds of degenerates. Ji-han remembered someone who had given his voice-chat ID to Han Ji-han-jang and begged for a month: Please curse at me, I won’t report you.

So, maybe not insults. Should he troll in the same match? No—that’d just hurt himself too.

What then? What could properly ruin this bastard?

[Guild] MondayToSunday: Whoa?? Hani, congrats on Plat I. You’re climbing points crazy fast.

That was because JiniHaniJihani’s MMR was far higher than the Plat tier. Losses cost him little, wins rewarded him heavily. The system was rushing him up to his real tier to prevent smurfing and ensure fair matchmaking.

And Ji-han had only been queueing melee recently, expecting to meet AkashaPhilban and fight with him. Win or lose, Ji-han always walked away with MVP or ACE, boosting his MMR and point gains further. The system was screaming: Get to your proper tier already.

Since he was already in the #1 guild for conquest wars, Ji-han didn’t actually care much about his ranked tier anymore. 90% of his focus was just on gathering keys.

[Guild] JiniHaniJihani: Stay here any longer and I’ll catch rabies.

What the hell was he even doing? Ji-han laughed at himself, a little crazily.

[Guild] MondayToSunday: Uh, let me give you the password for our open chat.

MondayToSunday quickly shifted the topic. cjdvkehdzenox. Whoever made that was utterly lazy.

Ji-han, picking up his phone, unlocked it with a sigh. Clearing away missed calls and text notifications, his eyes landed on an odd message.

010-xxxx-xxxx

“Persistent bastard.”

He’d thought the guy would just let it slide. But here was another message. If Ji-han ignored it, this guy might deliberately leave behind evidence.

This should be a safe enough reply.

His OliveTalk messenger, long maxed out at 999 unread messages, was full of contacts trying to reach him now that he was back in Korea.

When he typed in the open-chat password, a pop-up asked whether to enter with his real profile or anonymously.

JiniHaniJihani joined this chatroom.
Please beware of fake agencies or friends, and report if anyone demands money or personal information.
You may temporarily be banned from using OliveTalk if other members report you for violating our Operation Policy.

The English-language OliveTalk app splashed warnings about phishing. Ji-han ignored them, muted the room immediately, and exited without a glance.

010-xxxx-xxxx

Ah. What the fuck. No means no. How many times do I have to say it?