The Weight of an Apology

Jae-in trembled, recalling the moment he had witnessed Jun-o’s true self. Every ounce of trust he once held for the man had evaporated, leaving only a chilling realization.

“It’s truly terrifying. Everything Kim Jun-o said was a lie. How can a person be like that? And Ji-ho Hyung, why have you just stayed quiet all this time?”

“I stayed quiet?”

Ji-ho felt a sting of injustice, but he didn’t let himself get worked up. Instead, he felt a hollow sense of futility, realizing that was exactly how he must have appeared in Jae-in’s eyes.

“You should have just told me everything! That Kim Jun-o was lying, that I should be careful because I might get kicked out of Star Ent. If you had just said that, I… I wouldn’t have treated you like that. I would have believed you!”

Jae-in rambled on as if making excuses, seemingly having forgotten parts of what happened three years ago. But Ji-ho remembered everything vividly.

While he was close to all the members, Jun-o and Jae-in had been special to him—they were the ones he bonded with first. Yet, Jun-o had mocked him while hiding an unimaginable side of himself, and Ji-ho had desperately hoped that at least Jae-in would stay by his side.

‘What more should I have said back then? You were only seventeen. Should I have dumped the stories I couldn’t even tell the adults or the other members onto you? Did you really want me to tell you the cold reality when you were already so insecure about your own skills? Could you not have just… just believed in me?’

The words he wanted to say rose to the back of his throat, but Ji-ho swallowed them. No matter what he said, the past wouldn’t change. Moreover, looking back at three years ago, perhaps he hadn’t done his absolute best to convince Jae-in either.

“You’re right. My attitude was a problem too.”

He recalled the day he was betrayed by someone he trusted, the day everything became a blur of confusion. He could never forget Jun-o’s cold, sharp words.

‘Why? Weren’t you…ing too?’

‘Jung Ji-ho, stop acting so kind and innocent. It’s disgusting. I know everything. I know what you… saw.’

And then, the two-faced nature Jun-o displayed to keep Ji-ho silent.

‘Ji-ho, do you really not know why I did that to you? I just… you….’

‘Shit, go ahead and tell them. I won’t be the only one dying then.’

It was still horrific and skin-crawling. The shock of the event itself was one thing, but the deeper wound was that the friend he had trusted implicitly actually looked down on him. He felt pathetic for not noticing sooner, and the frustration of not being able to tell anyone was suffocating.

‘Let’s keep this a secret for now. If you want to debut as an idol, Ji-ho, making this public will be a huge blow to you too. What do you think… will you do that?’

On the day the CEO, Hyeong-jun, found out about the incident through the practice room CCTV—which no one even knew had been fixed—Ji-ho wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. When he heard that they would expel Jun-o but bury the incident itself, he had felt a secret sense of relief.

Even as everyone questioned Jun-o’s sudden departure—and even as he watched Jae-in begin to drift away because of it—Ji-ho had remained silent. It was a coward’s escape, and ultimately, a betrayal of his own people.

But the most horrific part was—

‘You and I have a lot in common. Being raised by grandmothers without parents, living in an orphanage, thinking of this place as family. Ji-ho, I wish we could be together like this forever. Just the two of us, even if no one else is there. Haha, was that too cheesy?’

It was the fact that he hadn’t been able to completely erase his affection for Jun-o even until the very day he was expelled.

Because of that, Ji-ho still couldn’t stand tall in front of Jae-in. That memory was something he hated to even mention—something he would pay any price to delete.

“I think I get the gist of it. Jae-in, you’re going to ask me again. You want to confirm exactly what happened between Kim Jun-o and me. You came all this way just to find a reason to hate him definitively.”

“Isn’t that obvious? So Hyung, tell me the truth.”

“And what if I still don’t tell you?”

“What?”

“Will you be disappointed in my silence again? Will you ask why I won’t tell you, and think that there might still be a reason it’s my fault? Or will you just decide on your own this time that Kim Jun-o was the one in the wrong?”

“In your eyes, I’m… No. I have nothing to say. You’re right. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about who was wrong without even knowing the facts. Because I didn’t know better, I foolishly only hated you, Ji-ho Hyung. But still, Hyung……”

How could Ji-ho not have been hurt by Jae-in’s choice to side with Jun-o so easily back then? Was it because of Jun-o’s smooth talk and warm care for others? Had he never been disappointed in himself for not being able to do the same?

He was only human. Someone who, when exhausted and hurting, could cut off even the most precious relationships.

“Let’s stop. Whether you keep hating me or start hating Kim Jun-o, I don’t care anymore. I accepted your request out of old times, but I’ve never thought about reconciling with you like Yong-ha Hyung wants. Sorry, but that’s the truth.”

“Ji-ho Hyung!”

“You said you wanted to take photos with different outfits and backgrounds? It’s still early, so if we move fast, we can finish quickly. Call your manager and tell him to turn the car back. There’s no need for you to stay the night. You can post whatever you want to prove we’re still close.”

Ji-ho’s words sounded like they were for Jae-in’s benefit, but they carried a clear intent to sever ties. The distinct sense of distance in his calm voice was undeniable. He clearly wanted to finalize and close the book on his complicated relationship with Jae-in.

“Then, Jae-in, go back to Seoul. I understand that you’re shocked by Kim Jun-o’s lies. But that doesn’t change anything. We’re all walking our own paths now, and we’re in a position where it’s hard to be intertwined. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Is that it? Even after hearing my story, this is how it ends?”

Ji-ho needed to draw a clear line to avoid being swept away by the frantic momentum of the “old” Jae-in.

“No! The reason I came down here… of course, part of it was to get proof with you, but I…!”

Jae-in seemed completely caught off guard by Ji-ho’s coldness. He stuttered for a long time, as if he hadn’t fully realized the true reason he had made such a long journey until this very moment.

However, Ji-ho had no intention of continuing the conversation.

“Let’s take the car and go around the village. If you change clothes, it’ll look like we’re traveling. We’re short on time. If you need, I’ll send you a night-time selfie after you leave. That’ll make it look like you were here with me for several days.”

Ji-ho stood up. Jae-in tried to shout to stop him, but his voice died in his throat when he saw the white scar on Ji-ho’s leg at eye level. He couldn’t easily stop Ji-ho as he turned to leave the room.

“Hurry up and get up, Yoon Jae-in.”

Those words felt like a final goodbye, a sign that they would never see each other again after this.

Finally, Jae-in blurted out what had been boiling inside him. Perhaps it was what he had wanted to say ever since Pentagram’s accident. It was the truth he had been avoiding because he didn’t want to admit he was a bad person.

“…I won’t. I’m sorry. I said I’m sorry! I wanted to apologize! I wanted to see your face and tell you I’m sorry! I really regret being fooled by Kim Jun-o’s lies, only trusting him, and hating you all this time!”

The moment he heard Jae-in’s shout from behind, Ji-ho stopped in his tracks.

“I’ve been thinking of you ever since the accident. I wanted to take your side and say you aren’t that bad of a person. But I’m sorry I pretended not to know. No matter how distant we got, I know you’re not the type of person to frame a manager or act sick. I know that best. And I’m sorry for picking fights whenever our promotions overlapped with Pentagram’s. I just… I was annoyed because you guys were suddenly doing so well. I felt like our group had no future.”

Was it because Jae-in’s desperate shout felt sincere? Was it because the raw honesty of his persistence was persuasive?

‘He’s… sorry.’

No, the reason Ji-ho stopped wasn’t because of Jae-in. It was because of the complex emotion he felt the moment he heard the apology.

It was the feeling of something knotted finally coming undone, a sense of relief as if a long-suffering problem had been solved, a catharsis like screaming a forbidden word into the void.

‘Ah, I just wanted to be apologized to.’

By the public, who cursed him based on gossip without knowing anything. By the agency, who draped their abandonment of him in the guise of “protection.” By the manager, who always put him last under the excuse of being busy and hardworking.

Even Jae-in, who he had been on bad terms with, had run all this way. Yet, the Pentagram members hadn’t even shown their faces. Ji-ho wanted to hear “I’m sorry” from those who had given him nothing but wounds without a shred of consideration.

“I’m sorry, Ji-ho Hyung. I’m truly sorry. I was wrong.”

I’m sorry for not recognizing your hard work and sacrifice for the group. I regret making you feel lonely and making you feel resentful. I’m sorry I wasn’t by your side when things were hard.

He had wanted to hear even a weak excuse. He wanted the certainty that despite temporary conflicts, their relationship—and Pentagram—would not change.

That was why Ji-ho, having realized a truth he hadn’t known himself, acted out of character. This time, he didn’t turn back out of a sense of tedious obligation or to forcedly maintain an old bond.

“…Then promise me. From now on, no matter what happens, you’ll only take my side. Even if there’s a misunderstanding, even if I’m actually in the wrong, you’ll keep believing only in me.”

It was a childish condition—a demand to be “his person” unconditionally. It was a ridiculous, incredibly selfish request that even surprised him as he said it.

But Jae-in was relieved by those words. As Ji-ho turned back to meet his eyes, Jae-in finally relaxed and smiled. He even shed a few stray tears, perhaps from the emotional toll he had been carrying.

“Yes, I promise! I’m absolutely on your side now. Even if a crazy guy like Kim Jun-o tries to drive a wedge between us again, I will never hate you.”

Looking at the brightly smiling Jae-in, Ji-ho thought it was strange.

He had believed that the hidden greed inside him would only hurt others and should never be revealed, but why did he feel so light now? He wondered why this one-sided demand, made without considering the other person’s situation or feelings, felt so good.

A shackle he hadn’t even known he was wearing had been unlocked somewhere within him. Although he had accepted it on impulse, he had a feeling that his relationship with Jae-in would be different from now on.

“Hyung, so can I stay the night?”

“Fine. But while you’re here, you have to listen to me. No complaining about it being uncomfortable or dirty because it’s the countryside. Got it?”

“Don’t worry! Countryside living is the big trend in variety shows these days. I’ve watched a lot of them. Oh! Hyung, did you know? There’s a new variety show on Web-flix about living in the country……”

The emotional turbulence had vanished, and a relieved Jae-in began to chatter about nothing in particular. Sitting back down on the floor, Ji-ho let out a hollow laugh at how seamless the transition was.

Suddenly, Ji-ho wondered: if his misunderstanding with Jae-in could be resolved so abruptly, could his distant relationship with his own members be fixed just as easily?

And he began to wonder if it might be okay for him to show a little more of his own “greed.”