A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive - Chapter 126 (END)

As I waited for the movie to start, I sat in a café, staring blankly out the window. The passersby outside were already shedding their heavy winter coats, their outfits lighter and more suited for spring.

Winter was ending. Spring was coming.

“That happy, huh?”

“…Huh?”

Lost in thought, I turned to see Changwook grinning at me from across the table. He grabbed my chin and turned my face side to side, clicking his tongue.

“Look at you, totally dazed at the thought of seeing Do Hyuntae! You’re completely gone.”

“It’s not like that! Let go!”

“Man, you’ve been in a weird funk lately, so I went through a lot to get these tickets.”

“…I know. Thanks.”

I finally relaxed my expression and smiled.

Changwook had managed to get us VIP screening tickets for Do Hyuntae’s latest movie. Even better, he was making a guest appearance at the event.

Normally, I would have been the first to know about his upcoming projects. I would have tracked every announcement from the first day of filming to the national promo tour. But lately… I had forgotten he even had a movie coming out.

I bit my straw absentmindedly, my gaze dropping.

I thought nothing had changed.

But everything had.

I was living in the same world I had always known, yet it felt like I wasn’t really here.

I laughed, ate, and slept as usual. But something was missing. Something that left me feeling hollow, restless, alone.

No matter what I did—spending time with friends, drinking, going out—I couldn’t shake the emptiness. It was as if I were constantly being pulled backward, like a film reel rewinding to the same moments.

The beach.

The abandoned building.

Taejoon’s house.

I couldn’t escape the past.

“Come on, it’s time to go in.”

Then, it happened.

“Wait—”

“What?”

“Hey! Wookyung! Where are you going?!”

Ignoring Changwook’s protests, I rushed after the man I had just spotted.

Same height. Same build. Same hair. Same way of dressing.

Same as him.

“Excuse me, are you—”

The man turned, looking startled.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“…Ah.”

It wasn’t him.

Again.

For what felt like the hundredth time, I had let my imagination run wild. Every time, I had to remind myself that Taejoon didn’t exist in this world. That he was just a mirage conjured up by my desperate mind.

Changwook caught up, grabbing my arm.

“What’s with you lately?”

“…Sorry. I made a mistake.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry. My friend’s been a little… out of it these days,” Changwook apologized, pulling me away.

My head was still spinning. My stomach churned.

“Seriously, Wookyung, this is getting bad. You’re acting really weird.”

“……”

“Who the hell are you looking for?”

The theater lights dimmed, and the film began.

“Just drop it and watch the movie.”

Changwook sighed, folding his arms as he turned his attention to the screen.

At first, I sat there blankly.

Then, as the movie progressed, I straightened in my seat, eyes locked onto the screen.

A political gangster film set in the ’90s.

A crisp suit, dark sunglasses, slicked-back hair.

Do Hyuntae.

No—Taejoon.

“…Taejoon.”

“Who?”

His voice. His movements. His presence. Every single line, every mannerism—they all reminded me of him.

A hot, searing pain twisted in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Tears welled up before I could stop them.

I couldn’t sit here any longer.

I bolted from my seat and ran out of the theater.

Changwook’s Messages

Changwook
Hey! Where the hell are you?

Me
Sorry. Something came up. I’ll call you later.

Changwook
Don’t lie. I saw you crying before you ran off.
What, did seeing a gangster smoke a cigarette make you emotional?

Me
Cigarettes, no. But I did get hit because of a lighter once.

Changwook
…Whatever. Listen, Do Hyuntae’s confirmed to do a stage greeting after the movie.
It’s in like 30 minutes. You really gonna leave now?

Outside the theater, fans were gathering around a makeshift barricade, cameras ready.

People were shouting his name.

Security was yelling at them to stay back.

I turned away.

Me
Sorry. I’ll treat you this weekend to make up for it.

I had no interest in sitting through the rest of the film.

And I had no desire to see Do Hyuntae.

Zipping up my jacket and pulling my cap low, I disappeared into the crowd.

The Audition

The waiting room for the Zombie in Hell audition buzzed with nervous energy.

This wasn’t just any minor role—it was a small but crucial part that could leave a lasting impression.

It explained why so many people had shown up, including a few familiar rookie actors and even some idol group members trying to transition into acting.

Scattered conversations drifted into my ears:

“Did you hear? The lead cast is insane—Do Hyuntae, Han Jiyeon, Yoon Kang, Joo Ha-eun, Kim Hyejin…”

“They’re already planning a Season 2. If this blows up, it could be the next Run Dead.”

“L-Flex is backing this, right? They’ll squeeze every drop of profit they can.”

“Shut up and focus. You know how this works. Even a tiny role could turn into something bigger.”

“Watch me. I’ll kill this audition.”

While everyone around me was fired up, I was anything but.

It wasn’t just the lack of motivation.

It was the creeping dread.

Because according to the <Terminal> script, Wookyung had once taken on a zombie drama role.

If this world was following that storyline…

Then my fate was already sealed.

In <Terminal>, Wookyung died from an incurable disease.

Would it happen here, too?

Would rejecting this role change anything?

Should I just walk away now?

“Contestant 303! Cheon Media representative.”

“…Ah.”

I had been this close to sneaking out.

But I got caught.

And so did my manager.

“303, Wookyung! They called you. Go do your best.”

“Hyung… I just remembered something important. Can I skip this?”

“Nope.”

Without hesitation, my manager shoved me forward.

“Absolutely not. Get in there and audition.”

He gave me a look—half disbelief, half exasperation—as he waved me off.

Defeated, I shuffled into the audition room.

The mood inside was a stark contrast to the chaotic waiting area.

Here, the energy was heavy.

Tired-looking judges sat behind the table, eyes dull from hours of watching performances.

I took a deep breath, bowed, and raised my head.

“Contestant 303?”

“Yes.”

At first, I thought I would just get through it quickly, but as soon as I stepped into the audition room, my palms started sweating from nervousness.

It might have been because of the person sitting at the far end of the judges’ table—actor Do Hyuntae—who had his arms crossed, head lowered as if asleep, not even sparing a glance in my direction. Normally, the thought of meeting Do Hyuntae would have thrilled me, leaving me giddy with excitement. But for some reason, I wasn’t feeling that kind of emotion today.

“Please take a seat over here.”

I took a deep breath, hesitantly walked over, and sat in the seat the staff member indicated. On the chair, there was a single A4 sheet of paper.

“Applicant number 303, you will be reading for role A. Actor Do Hyuntae will be playing role B. You have two minutes to prepare.”

I had heard that this audition involved performing an impromptu reading from a script provided on the spot. A quick glance at the script revealed a scene where A, surrounded by zombies, desperately clung to B, pleading to be saved.

I cast a brief glance at Do Hyuntae, who still had his head down, before shifting my focus back to the script.

Two minutes—a short time to grasp the emotions and fully immerse myself in the role—but since all applicants were given the same conditions, it wasn’t necessarily a disadvantage.

“Begin.”

At the assistant director’s cue, I delivered my first line.

“You can’t just leave me here! I’ve been hiding for three days without a single drop of water. Please… Save me!”

Upon hearing my voice, Do Hyuntae slowly lifted his head. It was now his turn to speak. His line was supposed to be: “You sure seem to have a lot of energy for someone who hasn’t had a sip of water.”

But instead of speaking, he just stared at me in silence.

“Mr. Do Hyuntae?”

His face was pale, almost ghostly, his eyes widened in shock, and his lips trembled slightly as he hesitated. Then, in a deep, steady voice, he finally spoke.

“…Hyun Wookyung?”

The assistant director frowned, clearly displeased, and shot a sharp look at Do Hyuntae.

“Mr. Do Hyuntae? Really, what is going on with you today?”

But it seemed as if he couldn’t hear anyone else. His gaze remained fixed solely on me.

“You… You know my name?”

At my question, Do Hyuntae slowly nodded. Everyone in the room turned their attention to us.

“You’re Hyun Wookyung.”

We had worked together once before on a film, where I had played a minor role. But that was all. It was a brief experience, just a small role requiring a day’s work, and there had been no connection beyond that. I had been a fan of his, but I was just one among countless others. There was no reason for him to remember my name.

His manager quickly intervened.

“Haha, my apologies, Director. Mr. Do Hyuntae has been overworked lately. Alright, Hyuntae! Here’s the script. Your line is, ‘You sure seem to have a lot of energy for someone who hasn’t had a sip of water.’ Come on now.”

Sweat beaded on the manager’s forehead as he pressed the script into Do Hyuntae’s hand, forcing a laugh. Meanwhile, Do Hyuntae’s gaze drifted from my face to the script.

Now that I took a closer look, the manager’s face seemed strangely familiar.

Wasn’t he exactly like the one from Alcohol Swab?

“Manager Kim, isn’t this too much? No matter how unwilling Hyuntae was to come here…”

Yes, that’s it! He looked exactly like Kim from Alcohol Swab!

“Director, what do you mean ‘unwilling’? That’s not the case at all! Come on, Hyuntae! Let’s go through the script reading, please?”

As he desperately pleaded, I found myself unconsciously gripping the script tighter. But then, Do Hyuntae brushed off his manager’s hand with irritation and looked straight at me again. This time, his voice carried even more certainty.

“Hyun Wookyung.”

Our eyes met and locked in the air.

One second. Two seconds… Three seconds. It was as if time itself stretched and slowed, making everything around us feel surreal.

“Ah…”

Something hot surged within my chest, and at the same time, a memory surfaced—Choi Taejun from Alcohol Swab.

“On days when I just wanted to quietly disappear somewhere, I thought of Choi Taejun. He was like a sorrowful riverbank, a dark dawn, and a dry winter sky…”

The script slipped from my hands, falling to the floor.

“…Could it be…”

Just as I hesitantly tried to say a name that should never exist in this world, Do Hyuntae spoke first—uttering something I could never have expected.

“Beef.”

“…What?”

Beef? What on earth…?

Ah.

Like a lightning bolt, an old conversation flashed through my mind.

The night Taejun had fallen asleep using my arm as a pillow—when we jokingly wondered, ‘If we ever need to confirm each other’s identity, how should we do it?’

It was our secret code—something only the two of us would recognize.

“It’s been a while, Hyun Wookyung.”

Do Hyuntae’s face flushed slightly, and a radiant smile spread across his lips.

“Ah… Oh, god… How is this… How did this happen…?”

I clamped a hand over my mouth, staring at him as my eyes burned hot with emotion.

Taeseong Corporation, the hospital, Alcohol Swab, Jeju Island, Manager Kim, ice cream, the coin karaoke room, the photos… Every moment we had shared flashed before my eyes.

“Are you really… Choi Taejun?”

His face may have been Do Hyuntae’s, but I knew—it was him. Slowly, he nodded.

“Oh… My god… This is…”

A radiant smile spread across my face, and seeing it, his own expression softened, as if he had been reassured.

A sudden fear washed over me—what if this moment slipped away? What if I closed my eyes, only to wake up and find it all gone, just like Alcohol Swab?

I never wanted to experience that kind of loss again.

“…This isn’t a dream, is it?”

As soon as Choi Taejun stood up, I rushed toward him.

“What—hey! What is this? Mr. Do Hyuntae? Do you know this guy? Hey, stop—”

Ignoring the frantic manager trying to hold me back, I threw myself into his arms.

“Choi Taejun.”

I held onto him as tightly as I could. Tears spilled down my cheeks in an endless stream. His voice trembled as he spoke, overcome with emotion.

“…Maybe I should’ve picked something cooler than ‘beef.'”

“No, no. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”

He was real. Choi Taejun was alive. He was neither an illusion nor a mirage.

“…I missed you. I missed you so much.”

I tilted my head back to look up at him.

Though his face was that of Do Hyuntae, to my eyes, he had already transformed back into Choi Taejun. The long scar running up from his right eye, the sharp intensity of his gaze, and those brilliant, gleaming eyes—they were his.

“I don’t have to die anymore, right?”

Taejun whispered with a quiet smile.

“Yes.”

A fate-defying miracle had brought us back together.

“I don’t have to die just to live?”

We gazed at each other, smiling brightly, and I nodded.

“Yes.”

“Thank god.”

“We’re never going to be apart again.”

At our absurd display, Do Hyuntae’s manager awkwardly clapped his hands.

“Bravo! Wow, our Hyuntae’s acting is incredible, isn’t it? Hahaha!”

The assistant director and L-Flex executives, though clearly bewildered, hesitantly followed suit, clapping along.

Taejun and I exchanged amused glances before smiling at each other.

“Yeah. Never apart.”

Even if we were to meet, part, and disappear like smoke again—

None of that mattered anymore.

“Me neither.”

Whether for eternity or just a single day,

As long as I could walk this uncertain path with him, that was enough.

The End.